Three months in Uruguay, and what one small nation taught us about trust, family and building for generations.
“When we thought we had all the answers, suddenly all the questions changed.” — Mario Benedetti
When we arrived in Uruguay, we came with a clear purpose.
Not to explore a new market from afar, but to become part of it.
We had chosen to build our Latin American team here because we believe some of the world’s most interesting conversations about business, family and stewardship are taking place in this part of the world.
At SeventyTwo, we often say that our role is to bring the right people to the table when the decisions matter most.
Those decisions are rarely financial alone.
They are about succession.
Stewardship.
Family.
Identity.
They are the conversations that determine not only how wealth is managed, but how lives are lived and legacies are carried forward.
To earn the privilege of sitting at those tables, we first needed to understand the country that shaped the people around them.
Three months later, we realised we hadn’t simply discovered a market.
We had discovered a way of life.
Most countries introduce themselves through landmarks.
Uruguay introduces itself through people.
Through the quiet confidence of a café owner who remembers your coffee after only two visits.
Through the neighbour who waves every morning without knowing your name.
Through conversations that begin with business and, almost inevitably, end with family.
In a world increasingly organised around efficiency, Uruguay still seems organised around relationships.
There is an unhurried quality to life that should not be mistaken for a lack of ambition.
It is simply ambition that has never forgotten its purpose.
The greatest lesson came through our son.
One afternoon our house was full of boys.
Then when they saw other children riding bicycles through the neighbourhood, instinctively they grabbed their bikes and joint them.
Not because anyone had organised it.
Because childhood here still has room for spontaneity.
Over the following weeks, we noticed the same pattern again and again.
Jack wasn’t simply visiting other families.
He became one more child within them.
He would leave with three friends and return with ten.
Here, all children belonged to the community we were in.
The school reinforced exactly the same culture.
Teachers welcomed him without hesitation.
Families quietly made space for him.
Friendships formed with remarkable ease.
In only three months, a place on the opposite side of the world somehow began to feel familiar.
Perhaps the greatest measure of a community is not how it welcomes visitors, but how quickly it forgets they were ever visitors at all.
That same spirit extended far beyond the school gate.
We arrived expecting introductions.
Instead, we found a business community wanting to hep and friendships.
Business meetings ended with referrals, invitations to family homes, estancias and long tables where conversations wandered effortlessly between children, companies, politics and football.
People were remarkably generous with something more valuable than their time.
They were generous with their trust.
No organisation reflected this more clearly than Winterbotham.
In our profession, client service is discussed constantly.
Yet genuine hospitality is rarely spoken about.
The experience reminded us that the highest standard of professional service is still profoundly human.
It also explained why trust remains one of Uruguay’s greatest assets.
Our work took us from boardrooms to farms, from logistics businesses to technology companies, from family offices to manufacturers whose histories stretch back generations.
One conversation in particular stayed with us.
We had expected to spend the afternoon discussing growth, investment and strategy.
Instead, almost without noticing, we found ourselves talking about grandchildren.
About responsibility.
About what it means to inherit not simply assets, but reputation.
Again and again, we discovered that the most important business conversations in Uruguay eventually become conversations about family.
Perhaps that explains why so many businesses here think differently.
Many are measured in generations rather than reporting periods.
Growth matters.
But continuity matters more.
There is another quality that quietly distinguishes Uruguay.
Confidence without performance.
Success without display.
Some of the country’s most accomplished entrepreneurs are remarkably understated.
The owner of a significant enterprise may be sitting beside you in jeans at lunch.
A global exporter might spend as much time discussing horses, rugby or their children as international markets.
Status exists.
It simply isn’t performed.
For families accustomed to places where wealth is constantly announced, that discretion feels refreshing.
There is also a reason why so many internationally mobile families quietly find themselves looking towards Uruguay.
Some arrive because they value legal certainty, a stable democracy and an internationally competitive tax framework that rewards those who genuinely choose to build a life here.
Others arrive because they are diversifying across jurisdictions in an increasingly uncertain world.
Yet almost everyone we met eventually stopped talking about tax.
Instead, they spoke about raising children.
Walking to school.
Trusting institutions.
Planning twenty years ahead rather than two.
It is one thing to optimise a balance sheet.
It is another to optimise a life.
Uruguay seems unusually capable of helping families do both.
Outside the cities, another rhythm emerges.
The great estancias.
The open skies.
The horses.
The eucalyptus-lined roads.
Morning fog lifting from the fields.
The slow passing of mate from hand to hand.
It is tempting to think this is nostalgia.
It isn’t.
It is simply a society that has managed to preserve certain rituals while continuing to build a thoroughly modern economy.
Uruguay exports sophisticated agricultural products to the world.
Its technology companies quietly compete internationally.
Its free trade zones connect global businesses with South America.
Its financial sector serves families whose lives extend across multiple jurisdictions.
Yet none of that seems to have come at the expense of community.
That balance may be Uruguay’s rarest achievement.
And if our experience has sparked your curiosity, we’ve captured many of the conversations, observations and insights that shaped our thinking in our report, Why Uruguay.
To everyone who welcomed us into your boardrooms, your schools, your homes and your lives—
Thank you.
