Updated: Mar 18, 2019

Why there? And, where is it? And, can you drink the water? Were a few of the responses when I mentioned my intention to pass my New Year in Uruguay. Years ago I read there was a fabulous flea market in the capital, Montevideo, that spilled over with antiques left over from the generational waves of European migration to its shores. Travel books describe Uruguay (which means river of birds) as basically the narcoleptic cousin of Argentina, which was fine by me since I simply like to go to bed early and harbor an irrational resentment for people who can eat at 11 pm and stay out until 4 am.

A city’s flea market is often the resting place of a country’s culture, a place where sentiment meets functionality.

Montevideo’s Tristan Narvaja, Sunday morning flea market, which has been continuously run since 1909, reflected my theory perfectly with religious dearth and European home goods and Art Nouveau architectural accents that echo the surrounding buildings

Now it's time to make...

What I found on its way to being reincarnated

I made molds of what I found from other people's lives. Someone's belt is now going to be a piece of jewelry, if all goes as planned.Ooh, I forgot about that spoon. What should it be? #Uruguay #jewelry #Transformation #travel #fleamarkets #found

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