Here's the beach in between the two:
We ate lunch on the beach. El Suegro prepared lunch.
We (Suegro) waded into the water to retrieve a Frisbee.
We played Frisbee (actually only Suegro and TC did, but why break the pattern?).
A random dog looked on longingly at the Frisbee, the food, the people with potential to give him attention. Poor perrito.
This is what I look like when I'm cold on the beach. Thanks to newSIL for lending me her warm coat.
This is how I stay warm at a cold beach.
Then we drove to Piriápolis, which is a ways down the coast.
View from a monument. Pretty.
Me in front of the view, still cold.
Me trying to mooch off of TC's warmth.
The outside of the monument.
TC wondering if the statue works out.
The cute lovers.
And here are some sights around Atlántida.
Suegro and BIL and SIL standing at the water's edge.
Mother and son.
Trees growing crooked because of the wind.
Suegro waiting to cross the street.
Just a yellow lemon tree.
BIL goofing off.
Me posing. What a poser. :)
Tia Anahí posing. She's not a poser.
TC goofing off.
So that is our trip. By way of narrative, we took Buquebus back to Buenos Aires and flew out of there to Houston. On that long flight our assigned seats were not together, which is a tragedy in my opinion. For goodness sakes, I was assigned the middle seat in the very last row. I wasn't about to sleep next to two strange men the whole ten hour flight. Luckily, after some complicated musical chairs and seat swapping, TC and I were able to sit together. I still had a strange man on one side of me, but he wasn't too bad to sit next to. He kept to himself.
Being in the absolute last row of the plane wasn't too bad except for two things: the flight attendants congregated in the galley behind our seats and goofed off a lot, which made it kind of loud for sleeping; and the flight was turbulent so we felt like we were fish tailing the whole way. Lucky for me, I slept through it. Unlucky for TC, he does not sleep in airplanes (or cars or ferries for that matter, unlike me who can sleep anywhere). In Houston our flight was delayed or cancelled three times.
Now we're home and itching to plan our next trip. What's wrong with us? We're travelaholics. We're addicted to travelahol.