EXPAT FIELD NOTES | URUGUAY
The Ferry to Colonia
Colonia del Sacramento expat guide: Uruguay tax residency, banking, ferry times from Buenos Aires, and the real cost of groceries and utilities
Pick up my books on my Amazon Author Page if you want straight, raw stories. When you need clean copy that lands hard and runs on time, hire me on Upwork.
The ferry left Buenos Aires at eight. Ale had the tickets and both passports. I carried the bags and the thermos. The terminal smelled of diesel and burnt coffee. A guard waved us through.
We took seats by the window. The river was brown and flat. A man across the aisle read a newspaper and did not look up. Ale peeled an orange and gave me half.
“One hour,” she said.
“One hour,” I said.
The boat crossed the Río de la Plata. Buenos Aires got small and then it was gone. Gulls followed the wake and turned back. Ale slept against my shoulder. I watched the water.
We docked in Colonia at nine. An officer stamped our passports and said nothing. Outside the air was wet and smelled of the river and cut grass. We walked.
The Barrio Histórico starts at the Portón de Campo, a wooden gate set in a stone wall. The Portuguese built it in 1680. UNESCO put the quarter on its World Heritage list in 1995. The streets are cobbled and narrow. The wheels of our bags made a racket on the stones. Ale told me to carry them. I carried them.
A green Chevrolet from the fifties sat under a bougainvillea vine. Petals lay on the hood. A cat slept on the roof. Ale took a photograph. The cat did not move.
We left the bags at a small hotel with a courtyard. The owner gave us a key on a wooden tag. We went back out.
On the Calle de los Suspiros the houses were low, with tile roofs and blue shutters. A woman swept her step. She nodded and we nodded. At the end of the street the river opened and the sky was white and high.
We climbed the lighthouse. Ale counted the steps out loud. I lost count at ninety. At the top the wind took her hat and she caught it with one hand. Water lay on three sides of the peninsula. Across it a thin line showed that might have been Argentina.
“Is that home?” she said.
“Could be,” I said.
At noon I had an appointment. An accountant kept an office on Avenida General Flores, above a pharmacy. Ale came with me. I had written my questions on a napkin.
The accountant was a woman with gray hair and a stack of folders. She poured coffee and did not ask us to sit. Then she asked us to sit.
“Tax residency starts after 183 days in the country,” she said. “Or when your home and your main business are here.”
“I write for clients abroad,” I said. “What happens to that income?”
“Uruguay taxes what you earn in Uruguay. Income from outside mostly stays outside.” She tapped a folder. “Interest and dividends from abroad carry a rate of twelve percent. New residents can apply for a ten-year tax holiday on some of that. Bring your numbers. Hire a local accountant. Do not take my word alone.”
Ale wrote it down. I wrote it down. The napkin filled up.
“And a bank?” Ale said.
“BROU is the state bank. Itaú and Santander operate here too. They want a residency card, proof of address, proof of income. Dollar accounts are normal. Everybody keeps some dollars.”
“How long does it take?”
“Depends on your papers.” She shrugged. “Good papers, short. Bad papers, long.”
She gave Ale her card. Ale put it in her bag. We shook hands and went down the stairs past the pharmacy.
We ate lunch at a table on the Rambla by the water. Ale ordered grilled fish. I ordered steak. The waiter brought a bottle of Uruguayan white and set it in a bucket of ice. Two old men fished off the rocks below us with a thermos between them. They passed the mate back and forth and did not talk.
By three the streets were empty. The shops pulled down their shutters. A dog slept in a doorway. About 27,000 people live in Colonia, and most of them seemed to be indoors.
“No horns,” Ale said.
I listened. No horns. A bicycle went by. A church bell rang twice and stopped.
At the Tienda Inglesa supermarket we bought bread, tomatoes, two cheeses, olive oil, yerba, and a bottle of red. Ale read the receipt at the register. She read it twice. In the street she took it out again.
“IVA is twenty-two percent,” she said. “It’s in the price.”
“All of it?”
“Most of it.”
Get Jerry Nelson’s stories in your inbox
Join Medium for free to get updates from this writer.
She folded the receipt and put it back in her pocket.
We stopped at a rental office near the plaza. The agent slid three bills across the desk. UTE for electricity. OSE for water. Antel for internet.
“Light costs more than people expect,” she said. “Heat and cooling run on electricity. In winter you pay.”
“How much?” Ale said.
The agent wrote a number on the back of an envelope. Ale looked at it and passed it to me. I looked at it and passed it back. The agent said rents near the quarter move with the season. Summer is dear. Winter comes down.
“And a place outside the old town?” I said.
“Cheaper. You need a bicycle or a car.”
Ale asked for the water bill again. She read the line items with her finger. The agent poured three glasses of water from a bottle and we drank them.
That night we ate bread and cheese on the hotel courtyard wall. The tomatoes were red and cold. A bat crossed the lamp. Ale cut the cheese with my pocketknife and handed me the bigger piece.
In the morning we walked to the terminal to price the return. Two companies sell seats, Buquebus and Colonia Express. The fast boat takes about an hour. The slow boat takes about three. The man at the counter said weekends sell out and told us to book ahead. He checked our passports and stamped them. Both ways, every time.
Ale counted on her fingers. Boat, taxi, subte.
“Dentist,” she said. “Lawyer. Aeroparque. All of it is one boat away.”
“One boat,” I said.
We took the evening boat back. The river was black. The lights of Colonia went small and then they went out. A man two rows up ate an empanada from a paper bag.
Ale asked if I still had the accountant’s card.
“You have it,” I said.
She opened her bag and looked in it. She looked again. The boat kept going.
Author Bio
Jerry Nelson is a freelance writer, journalist, and long-time expat based in Buenos Aires, Argentina. He has more than twenty years of experience reporting across South America for international news outlets, and he is the author of non-fiction travel and relocation books. Jerry writes hardboiled, practical reporting on expat logistics, economic realities, and long-term remote living.
Call to Action
Weighing Uruguay against Argentina, Chile, or Paraguay? Put the numbers side by side. The complete cross-border comparison toolkit is on Gumroad and Amazon.
Keywords
Uruguay, Colonia, Expat, Residency, Ferry
Search-Intent Keywords
1. Colonia del Sacramento expat guide
2. living in Uruguay cost
3. Uruguay tax residency rules
4. Buenos Aires to Colonia ferry
5. Colonia Uruguay travel
Double check these before you visit:
• Tax details: The 12 percent rate on foreign passive income and the ten-year tax holiday are my recollection of the current rules. Confirm both with DGI or a Uruguayan accountant.
• Ferry times and carriers: Confirm the one-hour and three-hour crossings, and which carrier uses which Buenos Aires terminal.
• Utility and grocery costs: I left out dollar figures for utilities and groceries rather than guess. If you have your receipts and bills from the trip, send the numbers and I’ll work them in.
Send a message to +54 11 5348 1608 on WhatsApp. Let’s talk about your project before the dust settles.
Find my latest titles on my Amazon Author Page and see what cuts through the noise. If you have a real job that needs writing right now, bring the details to my Upwork Profile and let’s get down to work.
Quick offer for anyone reading this.
I will write the first chapter of your memoir for free. A full chapter, not a sample, written in your voice and yours to keep. All I ask is a credit for the work.
I do this because I have watched too many good stories sit untouched for years. People mean to write them. Life gets loud. The notes pile up and nothing gets finished.
One chapter changes that. You see your life on the page and the whole thing starts to feel possible. There is no pressure to hire me after. You keep the chapter no matter what.
If you have been meaning to start, reply to this.
