I kept forgetting to bring our workers in the country a broom handle to replace the one that broke (goods sold in Uruguay being generally shoddy).
Problem solved.
Author: doug
AAH, indeed
Won’t last long at this price!
When I asked the clerk about this, he said the oferta referred to the bulbs in the black boxes.
Then he saw the humor in it, smiled.
Did he change anything? Probably not.
Why pedal?
I saw two guys on a motorbike, an arm extended and a bicycle rolling alongside.
Didn’t get a picture ’til the end of the road. The passenger had already dismounted.
I figured they were parting ways.
Silly me.
Another perspective
You may have seen the picture I posted of our little farmhouse here.
Here’s another view from the back corner of our property:
That white dot almost dead center is a neighbor’s horse (trees mark the property line) and there are a few cows as well, from the neighbor on the right. All with permission; happy to have them keeping the grass down.
Guy on a pink bike. Big deal.
It’s so common to see a man riding a woman’s bike, or a teenage boy riding his little sister’s pink bike, that I forget how threatening that would seem to a young male’s ‘manliness’ in the USA.
As with the need for punctuality, unlimited consumer choices, and total convenience, much of the message for stressed northerners living in Uruguay comes down to three words.
Get over it.
Put on your best foreign accent and repeat after me: Life is to be livid!
Escombro
About a month ago, I noticed someone had dumped some construction rubbish in the road near us. Then I saw a backhoe moving it onto the lot, which had clearly been very wet during the recent rains.
And a sign: Se recibe escombro. (Clean) fill wanted. Escombro refers to bits of what houses and such are made of: brick, concrete, tile.
From that, now this ungainly mess, including plastic. And a new sign: Propriedad privada – no tirar basura ni escombro. Private property. Do not dump garbage or construction waste.
More ironic, the rather brutal potholes in the road. In five minutes, someone with a shovel and wheelbarrow could fill them, with the material right there. No one has. I would (did once before) but my wheelbarrow is in the country. One of these days….
Resourcefulness +1
We’re still drawing water from the well with a rope, which gets completely twisted. Our ‘everything’ guy Martín suggested a metal thingie that allows it to rotate, didn’t like the way I installed it, and did it a different way, with a knot that left the bucket at the bottom of the well in the middle of my watering routine today.
He made a hook out of thin metal construction rod and started fishing. (He’s a fisherman.)
No luck. I was heading home for lunch; said I’d bring back a strong flashlight and another bucket so they could continue work in the meantime, since brickwork requires water.
Two doors down, on a whim, I asked my neighbor if by chance he had a strong flashlight. No, but he had a bucket I could borrow. That would definitely save time. Being only 100 meters away, I left the car and walked back with the bucket.
In the few minutes of my absence, Martín had fashioned a treble hook, fished out two buckets from the bottom of the well, and assured me there was a third, which he left for now. Attached a bucket to the rope in place of the hook, and went back to work.
Where not to get your auto serviced
Not auto as in automobile, but as in self. In some stores and market stands, you help yourself. In others you tell them what you want and they bring it or pick it for you.
I haven’t been in this store, but I imagine if you walked in and asked for a kilo of oranges, you’d get a funny look.
My new toolbox – imagine that!
Look what I found in the barn (galpon) – guess I get my very own Uruguayan toolbox after all. It even has a handle on one side!