Several years ago, I bought a countertop water filter (and was amazed I hadn’t earlier). Offered at a discount at an “eco” or something expo I went to with Syd and Gundy, it seemed like a good idea. And it was.

Thanks again Syd, for your loan of a couple thousand pesitos cash to buy the Dvigi filter!

Anyway, got the thing home, and none of its half-dozen adaptors fit our faucet. Recall that Uruguay is a small country and not a powerhouse for standardization. Drove into the Dvigi “office” in Montevideo with the faucet spout (or whatever it’s called) and confirmed they had nothing that fit. Gave them back all their adaptors, left with a clunky rubber-hose-clamp device we’ve used for three years. Which shoots minuscule streams of water at the wall, which encourages mold growth, which — no it’s just a porquería getting worse over time.

Meanwhile: the kitchen faucet in the casita (little house), despite local retooling — an interesting concept — just ain’t up to snuff. So I had this idea: move our kitchen faucet to the casita (sans filtro) and buy a new faucet with a diverter valve that actually matched its threads.

Looked in all the local shops for a solution. Nothing. Mentioned it to Syd. He said, well the place in the Costa del Oro  with the big faucet sign has been good at solving problems for us.

I went there today. All female employees; not quite what one expects in a plumbing supply company. Explained situation and — BAM! — solution.Un milagro  (a miracle), I said. The girl helping me laughed at that (yes, I can say girl safely; today is my 63rd birthday).

This may seem trivial if you live elsewhere, but in a place like Uruguay it seems totally awesome.

Now to find a plumber who will actually show up to install it (OK, unfair: I know a couple).

I am neither a connoisseur nor regular consumer of beer, though I like it. In my callow (whatever that means) youth , I consumed various American too-cold soda-water-fizzy beers. I remember Pabst and Schlitz being shit, and maybe I favored Budweiser because my father did, and maybe settled on Michelob as the “good stuff” (cool bottles).

Fast forward, and here in 2017 the shit Budweiser from the U.S. (not the supreme Budweiser Budvar) is on display in Tienda Inglesa.

A standard six-pack of 12 ounce (.33 l) bottles rings up at just about USD 10.

A few meters away you can buy a 3-pack of Zillertal (.97 l each).

Almost 50% more of a superior beer for a peso more.

So who would want Budweiser? Maybe someone who thinks it’s a bargain because they advertise it in shopping points?

Last time I had a haircut — many months ago — it was by the Uruguayan husband of a German woman Katerina, who has a successful shop in Atlántida (calle 1 y Ciudad de Montevideo). He did a very nice job, and I was glad to make my (overdue) return.

But this time, the girly space had expanded to an additional room on the side, and he was waiting in what was clearly the man cave barbershop.

This is the view from the chair. You’ve got to admit it’s awesome!