On the dog walk

dog watering hole, Villa Argentina, Uruguay

Several months ago, Ralf and I (if I remember correctly), wandering far from the usual paths, encountered a little pond, apparently where someone at some point dug sand for construction. We’ve been fortunate to have decent rain this summer, so on this very hot and muggy day the dogs loved the stop. From left to right: Leah, Kiya, Sofia, Jordan (front), Benji, and what looks like a black lump in some grass, Lorena.

Trash in Uruguay

Further along, from one day to the next — in the middle of nowhere — appeared a pickup truck load of construction trash. Yes, even with abundant trash collection containers everywhere, some troglodytes decided the best way to deal with their trash would be to drive into a large empty area and start a trash pile there.

Which reminds me of a story. In nearby Parque del Plata, when the trash containers first appeared a few years ago, my friend Carlos and his wife embarked on the project of cleaning up the trash-dump empty lot diagonally across from them. They filled the “dumpster” over and over, until finally the lot was clean. Then Carlos spots a middle-aged man carrying a bag of garbage to the container. No, right past the container, to the middle of the lot, where he drops it on the ground. Carlos screams at him to use the trash container.

“But this is the way I’ve always done it,” he says.

Welcome to Uruguay.

Carlos, who is Uruguayan, tells me they did eventually “toilet train” that troglodyte.

It took the better part of a year.

 

 

DTOTB

It’s been a long time since I posted Dead Things On The Beach, but today’s was quite impressive.

Dead sea turtle and dog, Atlántida, Uruguay

As was Benji’s response. Until I got close, I was convinced the turtle was going to move.

As usual, how and why of its demise remain a mystery.

 

 

 

 

Bee attack

I did everything exactly wrong.

First, I wore a dark shirt. Most days I wear T shirts, and since yesterday was hot and muggy, I chose one with the thinnest material — which happened to be dark blue. Of course, I had no reason to anticipate what was coming. Have you ever seen a beekeeper’s outfit? No doubt you remember what color it was. Hint: opposite of dark.

Second, I did not immediately identify the insect that was buzzing me. This happened a couple months ago, and then I also did not identify the molester, but that passed with no harm.

Third, I did what most people would do without thinking: I swatted at it with my cap, then with a branch from a bush. I knocked one to the ground and stepped on it. It looked like a honeybee, and there are hives nearby. We’ve walked right by them at times.

When the first sting came, I kept walking. I had the urge to run, but I was with two other people. Gotta keep cool, right (as if swatting at bees with a branch from a bush is cool)?

Eyes after bee attack

This morning, over twelve hours later, I awoke with my right eye swollen almost half shut. I might have gotten as many as three stings in the right temple area, definitely my left ear and perhaps another on the neck nearby, and up to three on my left shoulder and back.


So this morning I did some research. When bees start hassling you, they’re telling you to go away, which is a good idea. When you wave your arms around, they take the motion as a threat because they use vision primarily to detect motion. And then —

Once embedded in the skin stingers also release tagging pheromones, potent chemical signals that attract and arouse other bees. When released near a colony, these pheromones can provoke a massive defensive swarm from the females guarding the nest. “The chemical signal says, ‘Here, sisters, here is where I found a chink in the armor of this big attacking predator,’” Schmidt says. “It really arouses them.”1

So more bees will be drawn to sting in the same area as the first stings. And the dark color (bees see red as black btw) reminds bees of dark-furred animals they have evolved to recognize as a threat.

What I should have done:

  • worn a white shirt
  • not automatically swatted
  • gotten the hell out of there
  • and, after being stung, gotten the hell out of the as fast as I could

I enjoyed a dollop of local honey (this area is big into bees) in my oatmeal this morning, after getting up early and walking Benji on the beach at 7. I think that will be my dog-walking routine for a while. Once stung, twice shy.

 

1Summer Safety: How to Avoid Bee-Swarm Attacks.

Digging it

As far as I can see, there’s no telling why a dog chooses to dig a hole. Kiya (pronounced KEEsha) decided on one particular spot in the trail, and has been working on it sporadically for months. Benji, who has only two speeds — ON and OFF — spotted Kiya taking a break yesterday and charged into the hole at full speed, half of him disappearing under the exposed root you can see.

dog hole, Uruguay
Alas, I didn’t catch his entrance.

While certainly enthusiastic, he lacks Kiya’s finesse. She first excavates, then backs up a bit to clear the hole. Benji’s approach is more bull-in-a-china-shop. Kiya doesn’t seem to mind. Or even notice, for that matter. When it’s time, she’ll start another hole somewhere else, equally for no apparent reason.

And Benji will be there to help.

Little things

A bird in our backyard pine tree, which is not particularly attractive but, as Syd told us long ago: “In Uruguay in summer, shade is good.”

bird

Volunteer squash plants from the mound of dumped non-composted compost, taking over the side passageway of our house, fortunately not otherwise needed. Slightly wilted in the midday sun.

volunteer squash plants

Did I mention the wind?

The squall-like wind did not last long the other day, but it came from every direction, which is why I so thoroughly sealed the stairway windows.

tree down from storm, Atlántida, Uruguay

In Atlántida, a rather majestic tree was uprooted, taking part of the sidewalk with it. I don’t think winching it back into place is an option. Too bad.

Tree downed by storm, Atlántida, Uruguay

A few meters away, the roots of another tree that fell the same direction, but was cut up to clear the street.

Tree down from storm, Atlántida, Uruguay

On a less-traveled street, a red rag warns passersby of a downed cable.

Feliz año nuevo

You’ll recall that Christmas Day 2016 was dreary as could be.

January 1, 2017, Uruguay: rain

So was New Year’s Day. I’m starting to wonder if this forecast “hot and dry” summer might end up looking like 2014.

Typical Uruguay quality?

I “repaired” the incompetent window installer’s botched fix (see first link above). Turns out when he smeared everything with silicon, he covered up the drain hole. Someone else advised me to drill holes on the outside channel every 20 cm or so, and I drilled through the aluminum — but forgot to cut away the silicon on the outside. Anyway, in the yesterday’s bad storm, it (finally) didn’t leak.

Sunset, Atlántida, Uruguay

The rain cleared and we had a lovely sunset at 8:30,

moon, Atlántida, Uruguay

and a clear view of the waxing moon.

The second of January didn’t bode well. I got bitten by a dog.

Alas, it was my own dog. Accosted by an obnoxious and too-often-loose dog, Benji and Syd’s five predictably went crazy. Apparently when I pulled Benji back quickly he assumed my leg was the enemy. No harm done.

Sunset, Atlántida, Uruguay

And another lovely sunset.

fake soccer ball in ditch

Yesterday brought the unusual sight of a fake soccer ball in a ditch, not far from where I once saw two real soccer balls in the ditch.

Beach house complete after two years

And I noticed for the first time that the townhouses are finally rented after two-plus years of construction.

house, Atlántida, Uruguay

Today I noticed that one started ten months ago is finally finished.

Meanwhile at the beach, the saga of the buried boardwalk seems almost over.

Rotting boardwalk, Atlántida Uruguay

The exposed part is getting a little dangerous to walk on (but could be worse),

Dune breach, Atlántida, Uruguay

and while the dune has regained its height on the left, burying the elevated boardwalk, the path of least resistance has once again become the breach in the dune, which is now larger than ever. For a fun comparison of its early days, see this from October 2013.

stick on beach

And a much-traveled beach throwing stick that now — after ten or more trips up and down the beach — probably deserves to be retired.

Finally, more rain is forecast. I’m ready!

No, these are not in progress. They are finished. They are above the stairs, where no one sees them, and even though I have repeated sealed them, after water pouring down the wall inside during yesterday’s rain/wind storm I said enough! The goop I happened to have on hand is white.

They don’t even open. I intend to replace them with glass blocks eventually.

Christmas drear

And in case we needed another reminder where we are — well, let me put this another way. Do you think that a person who makes his living installing windows should know how to install windows? If you answered yes, clearly you haven’t spent much time in Uruguay.

Incompetent window installation, Uruguay
Incompetent window installation, Uruguay

What makes this even “better” — the guy who installed it has already been back once to fix the leaks.

And this is not BK Aluminios, an incredibly bad but high-profile business. It’s a little mom-and-pop shop that at least pretends to care.