On my last day in Buenos Aires, Marcelo took me to lunch at a lovely restaurant. We had a long chat as the business people from nearby offices flocked in, ate and then returned to their desks. I wasn't very organised - just for a change - and Marcelo gave me a lift to the Buquebus and we had a coffee as I waited to board the 19.30 boat to Uruguay. Meeting people like Marcelo, who are interesting and knowledgeable, is one of my favourite things about travelling.

We said goodbye and I boarded the boat, only to realise I had a stack of postcards with Argentinian stamps in my bag. Luckily, I managed to persuade one of the boat staff to take them with her and post them. The boat sailed to Colonia, where we went through customs and were met by a bus to take us to Montevideo. The other passengers were mainly wealthy Argentinians heading to Punta del Este, a swanky upscale beach town in Uruguay, where they were arranging places to rent for the summer season.

Montevideo was a nice city - not one to set the world on fire or anything - but quite pleasant. I spent a couple of days wandering around getting the lay of the land and seeing the sights. There were some interesting markets - one selling touristy tat, another with fruit and veg, one down at the port with loads of restaurants (and options for the non-steak-eaters) and then my favourite: a flea market in a park. I love shuffling around stalls, looking at other people's gems and junk, which in this market seemed to have in equal measure. There were pieces of beautiful vintage jewellery next to tacky plastic beads, and rare books and intricate ceramics near tatty old nightdresses and rubbishy magazines. The strangest thing to me was the sight of loads of boxes of old family photographs and postcards. I had a look through one carton and it was all so poignant and sad, these people posing decades ago, little knowing that they would end up one day in a jumble sale. I wondered whether the stallholders were being forced to sell these treasured bits of family history because they were so desperate for money, but when I asked about it, I was told that simply no one wanted the pictures anymore. I'm a real sentimental sucker, and I ended up buying three photos because I felt so sorry for them, all lonely and unwanted and forgotten, stuffed in an old shoebox. Then I watched some dancing and had a lovely cheap meal for tea...