Going Down South, Way South

“Uruguay is a land where dreams are made tangible amidst the poetic waves of the Rio de la Plata.”

– Cristina Peri Rossi (1982)

It's been a few days.

We drove to NYC on Friday night after P got off work, spent the weekend perusing used books, sampling Balinese cuisine, taking in a Broadway musical that was maybe the best we've seen so far (Schmigadoon), attending church at our favorite little parish in the Bowery, strolling weirdly dilapidated Governor's Island, and then back here Labor Day to hit the ground running in a deposition yesterday morning. Busy times, but some of it quite good.

The mood in our household, however, is turning darker these days, driven by outside events. Neither of us has any faith in November representing a political turning point for this country. I would be thrilled to see a blue wave sweep DJT into lame duck status, and maybe impeachment and prison, but let's face it: the bad guys have had a couple years to rig this thing, and the political math types say the Dems would need to win by at least 5% of the popular vote, nationwide, to retake the House. It may happen, it may not.

But watch the money, watch what the insiders do. The oligarchs are putting their bets on the Rs. Disney apparently non-renewed Jimmy Kimmel after 24 seasons--why do that, given his popularity, if you're expecting a change of political leadership?

So the signs and omens all portend more of the same, which means Trump and his minions truly unleashed for the second half of his nightmarish term.

Time to start making plans, if you have enough life left and some savings after the economic debacle that's building due to our inept senior leadership. But where to go?

We once fancied Europe, and the debates around the living room focused on Greece and Ireland, with France occasionally entering the discussion as an option. The political news from across the pond is, however, not so good lately. Right wing xenophobia seems the most popular political flavor of the moment across the continent and in the UK. Why leave MAGA land to move to its old world cousin?

Mexico's simply too scary--I know people who own places down there in walled compounds that seem like a target to me when Things Go Down. And rich Americans buying up residential property in Mexico City and Puebla, among other places, has driven locals out of the market and stoked resentment of us gringos.

Canada? That's always been P's first choice, but they don't want us there and, the way things are going, it may well be absorbed by its authoritarian neighbor to the south, by force if it doesn't bend the knee in this stupid trade war.

Which all leads me to what seems the best and least likely option: Uruguay.

Hear me out on this.

It's a stable democracy, and has been since the 1980s, just as our democracy began its long slide. It's only an hour time difference from NY. Its climate sounds a lot like California, with more wind. No jungle or desert discomfort there.

The economy is stable and thoroughly unremarkable. It's cheap as chips to buy a place to live there--for a half a million dollars, you can buy a villa within a mile or so of the ocean, or a luxury condo in the heart of Montevideo. The whole country is apparently soccer crazy, but we can learn to embrace that.

We'd be eligible for permanent residency after three years, with a modest annual income requirement.

Health care is excellent, and borders on free. No one files bankruptcy there because they got sick.

The next-door neighbor is a political and economic basket case, but the Argentines haven't tried to invade or destabilize Uruguay in going on 200 years. And Buenos Aires, which I have it on good authority is spectacular, the Paris of the Western Hemisphere, is right across the Rio de la Plata.

Finally, my 8th grade geography presentation was about Uruguay, which I selected because I figured correctly no one else would, and because I knew nothing about the place. I got an A, and have been fond of my subject ever since.

We'll keep researching and changing our minds, but the days are growing short, friends, and we all need to have our walking sticks beside us, passports and shots current, and the old A-3 bag packed and at the door. It's going to happen gradually then all at once, as Hemingway put it (sort of). Time to get ready.