Cold this morning, but we didn’t light a fire since we were out the door to Carrasco, Montevideo, for blood work. The Montevideo airport’s name is Carrasco, but Carrasco is also quite a charming beachside community. Going to the clinic there is a satisfying experience in every way: civilized, professional, pleasant. A total contrast to the dreary clinics in the Ciudad de la Costa, closer to us.
If I had to live in Montevideo, Carrasco would be my choice. Whether or not I could afford it – another issue.
Bright, sunny blue-sky day. Almost home, we stop to get gas. No need to get out of the car. Attendant fills the tank, without asking does a thorough job of washing windshield and back window. I usually tip 10 pesos (half a buck). In this case I give him 20. Some attendants ask if you want the windshield done (because they don’t want to expend unnecessary effort); others don’t even bother.
One of my son’s friends worked as a gas attendant for a while. Interesting stories. I know the tips are appreciated, and not always forthcoming.
I ask about a bus company’s location – we know one but not another, and find it challenging to sort out which ones run when to Montevideo. The attendant asks me to pull forward, away from the pumps, and goes to ask another attendant. Comes back with no clearcut answer. But he’s happy to chat, and offer suggestions for ferreting out info I need.
For an American, it’s like going back in time. In a nice way.
