We don’t use that word here.

Unable to secure the pretty-but-pretty-malfunctional wooden doors of the barbacoa (which is an enclosed parillera, or cooking area), given the recent rains and humidity, I decided to abandon the door’s lock and install a hasp and padlock.

I didn’t know the word for hasp, so I looked it up: aldaba. (Fun Spanish fact: if a word begins with “al,” it came from Arabic.)

In the local ferretería, this word drew a blank look from the proprietor. I explained with my hands and a mention of candado (padlock). Aha! He knew exactly what I wanted and reached for it on a nearby display. It’ called [_____________], he explained, but the word went in one ear and out the other when I saw what he had just handed me.

aldaba

Fusca lampshade storefront

Because why not. (What’s a Fusca?)

The kitchen lighter

We bought a used gas barbecue grill without a functioning lighter. So I bought one of these for a few bucks. I was amazed how quickly it ran out of gas. Taking it apart, I see that, even though it has room for a regular lighter’s worth of gas, they’ve made the tank smaller. Because they can. Because you can’t see it. What a rip!

So I’m back to turning on the gas and throwing a match through grill. *POOOMP*

Really small writing

I cut the tags off a new shirt and spotted something that looked like it must be writing, but seemed too impossibly small.

label-1

label-2

label-3

Sure enough. No clue why. Another of life’s little mysteries.

Takes away all the fun

After losing the closest trash container to fire three times, and the next closest once, and both at the same time most recently, we were glad to see them replaced. In our case, however, replaced with other beat-up plastic bins.

trash-containers

Meanwhile, closer to the beach, new metal ones have joined the aging plastic bins. They still have plastic tops which will no doubt rot in the Uruguayan sun, but at least the whole thing can’t be burned to the ground!

Previous posts about the “modern” garbage containers.

Not sure what’s up with the basureros

basura: trash
basureros: them wot spozed to quitar the basura

Overflowing trash containers, days before tourist season starts, Atlántida, Uruguay
The day before tourist season officially starts, it appears the basureros have decided not to work.

When they resume, will they pick up all the overflow? Curiously, along the Rambla (beachfront road), the containers have been emptied. The two closest to us were burned to the ground (one for the third time) about a month ago. When I called the Intendencia to inquire, they explained that they were waiting for new, equally flammable (OK, they didn’t say that) containers, so at present had no replacements.

Overflowing trash bins on beach the day before tourist season starts, Atlántida, Uruguay
Meanwhile, the usually-diligent beach crew seems to have slacked off as well.

In case you’re curious, the breed of that hunkering creature in the background—who has gone from 10 kg to over 20 kg in less than two months—has finally been established. It’s a rare Oriental Spinkle-Faced Sand Hound.

More about the funky, UV-prone, flammable trash containers:

New passport, tires, and maybe blender

OK, nothing unusual about this. I went to the US spy center in Montevideo to renew my exceptional blue travel document for ten years: 10 minutes and 110 dollars. Concluded with a stop at an obscure repair place in an obscure part of Montevideo to see about fixing a Kassel blender, used gift from Syd and Gundy, that I managed to burn out (trying to process egg shells as a garden supplement).

Tire shop in Montevideo, Uruguay

In between, about an hour finding the tire place, negotiating one-way streets, and getting new tires for USD 59 each, balanced and installed (175/70/R14). In our local shop, they’d be around USD 85 each. Nothing exceptional about this, except that I’m obviously taking pictures inside the shop: anathema to OSHA and all the safety-nanny-priests of the Great North.

If I’m stupid enough to go to the car jack, release it with my leg underneath to be crushed by the weight of the vehicle, well, then, by golly, maybe I have learned anew about cause and effect. Don’t tell OSHA that people tend not to be so stupid.

Or maybe, in “Murka,” coached by their lawyers, they do.

As it is, I move myself out of the traffic patterns of the guys doing the work, and watch with interest.

It works.

Meet Luis, Señor increible

The bearings on my 6-year old wheelbarrow broke. You can’t replace them. You can’t buy a replacement wheel with the same size axle.

A South African guy named Geoff told me about buying a replacement wheel, then taking it to this guy who fabricated an axle to make it work on his wheelbarrow. So I went to buy the wheel, then after some discussion with the muchacho at the ferreteria (hardware store), decided it might be prudent to discuss it with Mr. Fixit, Luis, before purchasing it.

Luis said he could make a solution out of plastic that would solve the problem for a long time. Come back at the end of the day. So I did, to find custom-fabricated plastic bearings (they would be a T in cross-section, with perfectly fitting rubber grommets.

“Put a little grease on it when you put it back together,” he said, “and you’ll have no problem.”

And the cost? 200 pesos, around $7 US.

Yes, this is my 3rd post about plastic ice trays in Uruguay

I must admit, my first post from two years ago now strikes me as sort of silly, because the nesting ice trays design now seems quite clever rather than flawed.

And perhaps my second post, almost a year ago, struck some people* as somewhat silly, when I considered it a miracle to find ice trays that worked and didn’t break. (FWIW, I kinda still do.)

Orange plastic ice tray in Uruguay - that has lasted a year!

Well, here you go, muchachos, the orange plastic ice trays from Disco in Carrasco (Montevideo), almost a year later, still releasing ice cleanly (85% of the time) and not breaking.

not mentioning names, mm-k?

A certain lack of [something]

At some point, we realized that the Disco “Hypermercado” gives a 10% discount for ten bottles of wine. In general, Disco has little to recommend it beyond perhaps-lower prices than Tienda Inglesa. But for a deal on wine, it’s fine. Unlike Tienda Inglesa — which has thicker bags — the cashiers at Disco put three, not two, bottles of wine in each thinner plastic shopping bag.

So what happens when you buy nothing but ten bottles of wine?

Three bottles in the first bag. Three bottles in the second bag. Clearly what remains are four bottles. Two more bags. So — ?

Three bottles in the third bag. One bottle in the fourth bag.

This is not an isolated incident.

Why would a cashier not put two bottles in the last two bags? What am I missing here?