Easily the most obnoxious character who drives around blaring advertising. He buys old stuff (______ viejos compro=I buy old ________).
The last one, garafas, refers to the propane tanks that you have to buy, but which the company that sells them to you won’t buy back, even though there’s nothing unique to your tank: you swap it out for a full one—which is obviously a different tank that somebody else had to buy from a company that won’t buy it back.
The penultimate, fósforos quemados as far as I can tell, is weird—burnt matchsticks? Obviously I’m missing something here.
Let’s not forget the real reason for the season: to sell shit. In this case, remote-control dinosaurs. Alas, this ain’t e-gadget-obsessed Tokyo. I waited in line at Tienda Inglesa Atlántida in back of, and in front of, shopping carts laden with slabs of meat, chorizo sausage, cheese and baguettes, the ubiquitous gallons of Coca-Cola poison, plenty of beer, potato chips, plates and glasses for vacation dwellings, deli sandwich packs, a head of lettuce and some tomatoes (RIGHT ON!), but… …not one remote-control dinosaur.
While even the impoverished in the north remain enslaved by consumerism, here the holidays mean time with friends and family. Granted, shoppers in Tienda Inglesa Atlántida aren’t the social equivalent of the unruly crowd waiting for free toy handouts at a Salvation Army in Pittsburgh. Nonetheless, there exists in Uruguay a family “glue” that will trigger a touch of nostalgia in USA-Americans of a certain age.
Personally, though their presence makes my life a little more difficult, and a lot louder, I really do wish for our seasonal visitors a really enjoyable holiday time with their family and friends, playing with a soccer ball or fishing during their endless hours on the beach. I think they understand that a remote-control dinosaur adds little to that experience. I hope so, anyway.
I’m cleaning the casita and was glad to find in a bathroom drawer this large bag from Macro Mercado, because there’s a lot of crap in the casita that needs to go away and a big bag helps. Problem is, the bag, advertising its biodegradability, has already started to go away itself….
…speed test reports before and after today’s installation of fiber optic internet. I did a number of tests before and after; these two are the most extreme. All, however, indicate a speed multiple of at least five, enough to go full-time VPN, using Overplay. [Edit 11/24: as with other VPNs I’ve tried, too slow for regular use.]
The upgrade also cleaned out some of our electronic-device-and-innumerable-wires clutter. The three AntelData installers (run line, gte connected, install modem) were friendly, efficient, and competent. I guess they’re subcontractors, but no importa…job’s done.
The Mother Earth Nursery sells only food, medicinal, and a few entheogenic plants. I went yesterday and spent about USD45 on plants and potting soil. I don’t know what I paid for this tomato “plant,” but here’s the thing: the container contains a couple liters of excellent compost, and this one yielded 26 seedlings.
That’s going to be a lot of tomatoes, regardless of what I paid….
Here you see the local herrero, installing the metal gate posts he promised 3-4 months ago. He has a good sense of humor, and we have a running joke about his never getting anything done on time.
I stopped by his shop the other day and spoke with his wife. He wasn’t there. I mentioned there was no hurry, since since several months had passed, though the rotting wooden posts were getting worse.
The next day he showed up, and the day after that the job was done. I know who I’ll talk to the next time I need a response 😉
What you see in the foreground are the “ecologically” treated fence posts, that lasted (in sandy soil) perhaps three years.
Couple years ago, a Brazilian chef opened a slightly upscale restaurant in nearby and otherwise not-upscale Parque del Plata. I took the wife to have lunch there once, and next to the sign showing they were open was a very convincing chain holding the gate locked shut. I doubt it’s still open.
I mention it today because I’m trying to clear my desk of little pieces of paper, mostly presupuestos, or estimates which you get every time you ask a price here, and came across this advertising piece for the restaurant.
Why would someone go to the bother and expense of creating these things, using a defective Google map that shows significant residential areas underwater? Boggles the mind. This mind, anyway.
Inspired by local expats who have started making sausage, but not by their product or prices, the kid decided to make his own, and diligently cranked and cranked and cranked with a neighbor’s manual grinder. Lot of work.
So when we found an electric one at Tienda Inglesa, we said why not and shelled out some bonus points. The kid cranked it up, and it worked like a charm!
For an hour. Unfortunately, not completely unexpected with products sold here.
I had never seen anything like this before Uruguay. Obviously, the one time (you learn quickly) you stick a full ice tray into the freezer on top of another freshly placed ice tray facing the same way, you end up with a mess.
So why would someone design something so unpleasant for the user?
Can be shipped in one-third the space,
No one is accountable, and
No one but the end user cares.
I know (from experience with other products) that were I to take this to customer service at Tienda Inglesa to point out the user-unfriendly design, the girls there would simply explain to me how to stack them “properly.”
If you live in Uruguay, you have to get used to the idea that there exists very little expectation that goods will be well-designed, well-made, or durable. The amazing thing about these lavender-colored ice trays, however, is that they haven’t broken, and most of the time ice doesn’t stick to them. Unlike the red and blue ones, which yield shattered ice only with a struggle, and tend to break in short order.
Discovering how well they worked (stacked “properly”), I went back to get more. And found only red and blue ones. And have never seen the lavender ones again.
