Stage two to gaining the status of permanent residents of Uruguay AND maybe even citizens of this country.

The thumbnail is only a sample. No, I have not become that sexy over the last six month.

It has been six months since we moved to Uruguay. It has been an adventure to say the least. We have learned a lot and and achieved so much. But there is always parts that are not so exciting.

A day off is nice—but understanding why it exists makes it matter a whole lot more. Today, Uruguay pauses for Día de los Trabajadores, while I went down a historical rabbit hole that started in Chicago and reshaped labor rights around the world. If you’re here for the story, I’ve got you covered—history lesson included, parrilla included, and just a hint of side-eye at how different countries choose to remember it.

Different days, different buses, different routes. Regardless, every trip on a Montevideo bus is a story yet to be told. It can be from the quality of the bus, to the decorations, or the entertainment by the citizens of this amazing city.

There comes a point in every adult’s life when you realize success is no longer measured in promotions or savings—but in owning more than one set of sheets. Wednesday was that moment for us. What followed was less a casual shopping trip and more a heroic quest to escape the damp-sheet lifestyle.

Moving to Uruguay for “healthcare for all” sounded simple—almost comforting. Turns out, it’s less a straight line and more a bureaucratic obstacle course with a few unexpected plot twists. Here’s what it really took for us to get covered—and keep (most of) our sanity along the way.

We talk a lot about the logistics of moving abroad—visas, housing, cost of living—but almost no one talks about what it does to your mental health.

We set out for a day of food, music, and culture at a local criolla. What we got was all that—and an experience I’m still unpacking 24 hours later.

In a world that seems committed to beige, we’ve decided to embrace something far more radical—actual color. This piece is a small rebellion, a reminder that life is brighter when you let the full spectrum in. Because sometimes, “real color” isn’t just what you see—it’s how you choose to live.

I don’t usually celebrate birthdays—but apparently moving to a new country calls for bending a few personal rules.

There are some dates on the calendar that carry more than one meaning. March 20 has always been one of those days for me—marking a change in seasons and a moment to pause and remember someone who meant so much in my life.

Sunday brunch is a fairly universal concept. Add a rooftop, Tex-Mex food, drag entertainment, and about 80 LGBTQ expats living in Uruguay, and it becomes something a little more memorable. Mikey and I decided it would be the perfect way to spend a Sunday afternoon.

In this week’s episode of As the Expats Turn: one spouse becomes a permanent resident, one joins a chorus without sheet music, and both attempt to open a bank account without being mistaken for money launderers.

Moving to a new country teaches you many things—some profound, some practical, and some completely unexpected. For us, one of the great mysteries turned out to be something surprisingly basic: how mail works. What followed has been a lesson in patience, humor, and redefining what “delivery system” really means.

Three months into life in Uruguay, I’ve learned a few things: patience is not optional, bureaucracy is an endurance sport, and Carnaval does not wait for you to read the fine print. Some things have gone smoothly, others have tested my sanity, but one thing is clear—we’re exactly where we’re supposed to be.

Some places are more than just houses—they quietly hold the seasons of your life. This story is about one of those places, and what it means to say goodbye to a home that carried us through love, loss, growth, and change.

Some Sundays are for rest; others are taking on the the urban obstacle course known as Feria de Tristán Narvaja. The challenge took us three hours and finding treasures such as cinnamon, physics textbooks, and door locks. Ready, set, go!

My days are not complete until I have an adventure and I learn something new about this country. This morning was no different. I learned about pharmaceuticals drugs, took a wrong turn at Albuquerque, and find peace on the beach. Once again, new memories were made.

The United States recognizes Martin Luther King, Jr. today, a man who dedicated his life to dismantling injustice. His legacy stands in direct opposition to the political reality we now face. Honoring King while undoing his work is not remembrance—it’s hypocrisy.

Montevideo is revealing itself to me one bike ride at a time. This piece is less about mileage and more about noticing—parks, coastline, and the quiet observations that happen when you slow down just enough to pay attention. Also, it includes cold ocean water and at least one questionable political thought, so consider yourself warned.