Uruguay is a country of 3.4 million people, one of the safest and most democratic in Latin America, but few travelers visit. And there aren’t a lot of obvious reasons to do so, to be honest. As a result, most people outside South America know very little about the place.

Olivia and I spent a bit more than 48 hours in Uruguay last week, split between a very small UNESCO protected town called Colonia del Sacramento and the capital of Montevideo, which contains nearly half the country’s population. We enjoyed our time. However it wasn’t the sites and sounds of Uruguay themselves that meant the most of me. It was simply being there.

One of the recurring realizations from our year of travel has been how little I and most Americans know about other countries in the world. They exist only as names written in articles, spoken in news clips, or listed in World Cup standings.

I grew up hearing about places like Rwanda, Afghanistan, and Colombia during only the most terrible events in their country’s histories: genocide, US occupation, and civil war. These are important stories to tell but leave Americans with scary and skewed impressions of other nations. And where there are few impressions to start, it is easy to fill the blank space with familiar images and ideas—lumping and othering—or simply ignore them altogether.

But nations are made of diverse cities and populations. They change over time. And statistics and negative anecdotes don’t give a visceral or even accurate sense. Nearly every experience I’ve had stepping off a plane in a new country or crossing an invisible land border has been refreshing and eye opening.

Uruguay was no different.

I had no idea it has some of the lowest corruption indicators in Latin America. That it is a very socially tolerant country. That it contains fewer people than my home state of Oregon. Or that the president is an oncologist and passed incredibly strong anti-smoking laws. All I knew is that they’re really good at futbol.

But simply crossing the Rio de la Plata by ferry from Buenos Aires to Colonia gave me an insight into Uruguay I’d never have had otherwise.

There was the wide smile of the woman in the sandwich shop who was patient with our Spanish; the time Roberto spent giving us local recommendations at his wine bar; and the conversation with Santiago in our taxi about his 12 years living in the country as an immigrant. There was the incredible amount of mate tea in the streets, being drank and transported in all manner of gourds and carrying cases. And there was the relaxed sidewalk leisure culture that reminded us of Cuba.

I will cherish each of these memories. But even more-so I will cherish that they filled an empty void in my world with a beautiful image of the space Uruguay occupies in our world. When I hear about Uruguay in the future it won’t just be the name of another country in Latin America. It will be a real place with real people, smiling and drinking tea.