A change in our medical insurance involved a one-page form for each of us. The person sitting at the computer printed out the empty forms, then filled them in by hand.
So now I can only guess that someone has to type that information into the computer?
7 October 2019: the Intendencia clears out a popular brush dumping area and thinks a sign, in the absence of anywhere else to put brush, is going to make a difference.
Trying to find someone to install a rear-view camera in our car, one of dozens of extras that aren’t included because this is Uruguay. Prices range from USD 300 to USD 190, and require spending the day in Montevideo, never my first choice.
Couple days ago, on a whim ask in a local car alarm/stereo store. Sure, he can do it: USD 120. And walking distance from home!
Get there this morning, and he tells me he can’t because special plug, USD 365 camera blah blah blah.
It’s been a long time since I introduced the subject of electrical outlets in Uruguay. A visit to the hospital reminded me of their wonderful weirdness here.
Shuko is common in Europe; “Inclinado” the standard in neighboring Argentina, and “Tres en linea,” my favorite, apparently the standard in Uruguay. But when your whole country is 3-1/2 million people, who – meaning people manufacturing electrical appliances for worldwide sales – particularly cares?
And of course, if you’re installing signs in Uruguay, who particularly cares that you glue the capital B to the wall upside and backwards?
Which perhaps has you thinking, I want to visit your wonderful little country. What should I do about my electrical needs?
The obvious answer is to throw your hands up in despair, and leave all your damned gadgets at home.