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riogrande: where the heat rubs your skin and art plots its moves

@Mason Grey2/12/2026blog

i started writing this while sideways on the pavement near the rio river, notebook open, but my pen keeps smudging. the weather’s a joke here-29.88 degrees and feels like 33. that’s not even a number, it’s a mood. humidity’s clinging to you like a bad decision. i sweat through my brushstroke gloves, which i probably shouldn’t be wearing, but they smell like old paint and possibility.

someone told me that pelotas is just a stepping stone to somewhere else. ‘if you get bored, montevideo’s just a short drive away,’ they said. i don’t trust that person. they smelled like marmalade and regret. i hear pubs here stay open until 3 am, but i haven’t found one that doesn’t play the same disco track on loop. maybe i’ll find it. maybe i won’t.

i checked the weather app. it’s glitching. 935264? that number feels like a password. i tried typing it into my phone but it just opened a map to a gas station two blocks from here. strange. maybe that’s the point. this place doesn’t want to be found. or maybe it does, but it’s too hot to care.

the neighbors are… loud. not in a good way. there’s this old man who plays guitar at 4 am with a beat that sounds like a record skipping. i asked if he’d stop. he didn’t. he said, ‘music is pain, kid,’ which is deep or maybe he’s just a bad musician. i don’t know.

i heard that the art district has some sketchy deals. someone whispered it to me before i got here. ‘the guy in the blue van sells canvases for 10 bucks, but he’ll give you a deal if you promise not to ask questions,’ they said. i’m not sure if that’s true. i’m too busy trying to decide if i should buy that t-shirt that someone tried to make look like graffiti but it’s clearly just a lincoln hoon clone.

the map i embedded is a lie. google probably doesn’t even know where pelotas is. i put it there for the aesthetic. the blue line on the screen doesn’t match the chaos of this street. it’s like trying to draw a line through a graffiti mural-pointless.

here are some pictures. the first is a building that looks like it was carved from concrete by a drunk. the second is another building, but this one has a green lawn. i’m not sure if that’s real or a dream. i took this while half-asleep. the third is a field with green trees. i don’t know why i’m showing you this. maybe to remind you that nature exists despite the heat.


i recommend checking yelp for cafes. one place called café da floresta has bad coffee but great sandwiches. the write-up is from 2018, but i trust that person more than the weather app. link:. there’s also a tripadvisor thread about the local markets. someone said the meat was ‘so good it broke the internet,’ which is hyperbolic but maybe true. link:.

don’t ask about the busker. i saw one yesterday selling stickers that looked like they were drawn by a toddler. he said he’s from ‘a place where the sun never sets,’ which is either a metaphor or a lie. i don’t know which.

lying to myself here. this isn’t a blog post. it’s a nap interrupted by a thought. the heat is probably why i haven’t showered in three days. or maybe it’s the fact that i just saw a raccoon in a squirrel costume. that’s probably the raccoon. i’m not sure.

i almost forgot to mention the coffee. i tried a local place called ‘coffee snob run helter skelter’ and it was okay. not great. the barista asked if i wanted it black or with magic. i said black. he rolled his eyes. that was the entire interaction.

i should probably stop writing now. the sun’s directly overhead, the paper is yellowing, and my fingers are typing like they’re trying to escape. next time, maybe i’ll document this properly. or i won’t. who cares?

p.s. if you’re reading this, thanks. or don’t. it’s pelotas. it doesn’t care.

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About the author: Mason Grey

Observer of trends, culture, and human behavior.

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