Prologue

Uruguay is located between Argentina and Brazil on the Atlantic side of South America. It also has an evil twin brother, Paraguay (he has a thin mustache), landlocked near Bolivia. Where is Bolivia? It was kidnapped by Columbia, so I don't know.

The important question is really this: Kevin, why in holy Chipotle are you going to Uruguay?

It's really very simple.

I am going to be a translator, bodyguard, assistant, Spanish tutor, guide, and exotic animal trainer.

Here are my credentials:

Translator - I have a degree in Spanish language and literature (dónde está el taco, Sr.Bond?)
Bodyguard - I have a black-belt in Taekwondo. Granted, I got it in 2001. But, to me, kicking someone in the face is like riding a bicycle while kicking someone in the face.
Assistant - I am organized, resourceful, and I have a touchscreen phone.
Spanish Tutor - Rosetta Stone was actually a stone I passed through my urethra. Haha, that's gross. And true*.
Guide - I've been to seventeen other countries and have only gotten lost once... per day.
Exotic animal trainer - Sorry, that's a misprint, I meant, exotic animal eater. Can't wait to taste sloth!

If you're wondering how a job like this is even possible, I have to ask you a serious religious question: Do you believe in Oprah?

According to the scriptures...er... scripts, she's a mystical being that convinces people to be generous and caring; to give freely of their time and money.
I know it sounds unbelievable, but a friend of my mom's happens to be one of those people, duped into being generous with others. She, Patricia, is retired, and after once owning three restaurants with her late husband, she's looking to live an endless summer between Uruguay and the Dominican Republic. Although she doesn't speak Spanish, she plans to travel the country, see the sites, and settle down. Her thoughts were, "who do I know who isn't doing anything, knows Spanish, loves to travel, and is named Kevin?" Naturally, I was her fourth choice.

A string of coincidences lead us to the same restaurant; she asked if I was interested, and it took me at least two seconds to agree to leave everything and live abroad for six months. I only hesitated for the first second, because I thought I had to burp.
Another coincidence is that the exact amount of money she can afford to pay me, is the exact amount I need to pay my bills each month. (Oh, I know. Oprah does indeed work in mysterious ways).

All of this happened about a month and a half ago. So I've been quickly preparing to leave the country; which is difficult - It takes a lot of planning to subtly brag to everyone I know**.

Also, since my Spanish has gotten a little rusty sitting in the corner next to my yoga mat and ab ripper, I've started a marathon of Spanish soap operas. You may ask, "porquuuuue Kevin?? Porquuuue??" Because, concerned reader, Spanish soap operas embody all that you'll ever need to know about the Spanish language. It has drama, action, humor, intransitive verbs, and the notorious subjunctive. Besides, how else am I going to learn to seduce a Uruguayan maid?

En conclusion, Oprah loves me. I'll be documenting my travels even though I'm not sure what I'll be doing, except teaching Pat Spanish, relaxing at the beach, traveling around a few countries, and maybe learning the Argentine tango. It sounds positively grueling, I know, but don't pity me. I have a strong spirit, a positive attitude, and all expenses paid. However, if your heart throbs profoundly for my desperate situation, send an American care package to my future address. (Don't you dare send that care package without freedom fries!)

Stay strong here at the home-front. Don't forget to feed my uncle Chet when I'm gone. Only open my mail if it says "Sweepstakes winner!" (Hey, with my luck, why not?). Oh, and remember, most importantly, don't ruin the economy while I'm gone! I still have to exchange my American dollars to Uruguayan... um... rupees.

Hasta mucho luego,
Kevin "El Suerte Suave" Guertler


*not true
**In your face, grandma!