An inquisitive old fart with a camera
It will be a very long walk (notice switchbacks on far side), but the new pedestrian bridge will be wheelchair- and bicycle-accessible. Because of the distance from the last traffic light eastbound, on January weekends it is almost impossible to cross the road—no gaps in traffic whatsoever. Numerous people have been killed here, including the mother of our contractor, when he was a boy.
Today it was gas-bombing the casita (little house) for termites in the roof. Yesterday it was cleaning the grasera (grease trap) which was overflowing, which smells (probably) like spilled and broken human guts. My son gagged. I had to complete the task on my own.
Far as I can tell, all the houses near this fire remain completely unoccupied (seasonal). My best guess is the gardeners who maintain the yards dumped the trimmings there, lit them on fire, and left.
Fortunately, there’s little chance of it spreading, and aside from an occasional thatch roof, little in the way of structures that are flammable.
A smoldering fire of damp vegetation unattended on the side of the road,
an old tree caught in late afternoon light.
I see this dog almost every day, but always on the ground. As I approached, he got to his feet to bark at me. Heavy rain at home today, and I guess he got tired of wet paws. I was in Montevideo making an appointment to get our passports and dealing with ID nonsense for our son.
(This age and condition of car, by the way, is often seen in Uruguay. Probably 25 years old, it would still fetch USD 1,500-2,000.)
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That cat has gotten a little annoying the last few nights. If he doesn’t come in at dusk, he wakes us up in the middle of the night to get in. If he stays in at dusk, he wakes us in the early hours to go out.
Last night, apparently, he found something fascinating to catch by jumping up on the bathroom mirror…
…after stepping in toothpaste that had oozed out of the tube of locally-produced stuff.
I was very excited to see my loofahs growing, especially after transplanting them, which apparently they don’t like. Out of ten or so, it looks like only two will be useable. I was even more psyched when I got the skin off one and was able to use it.
When we got our first wood stove, I saw several places on very busy roads, with massive piles of firewood (leña), apparently for sale, unattended, and no way to contact the seller. Surely they would paint a phone number on the wall, at least?
After a few years here, despite some excellently run local businesses, the simple act of procuring materials often seems like a game of “catch me if you can.” Still, I think might suggest a sign if I meet the owner:
Still keeping himself amused, I’m happy to report.
His name has become Oscar Peepers, because he resembles our last cat Peepers, who came into our yard a very sick stray, got healthy, then died young.
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