Category: Travels

The Wayback Machine

Cold this morning, but we didn’t light a fire since we were out the door to Carrasco, Montevideo, for blood work. The Montevideo airport’s name is Carrasco, but Carrasco is also quite a charming beachside community. Going to the clinic there is a satisfying experience in every way: civilized, professional, pleasant. A total contrast to the dreary clinics in the Ciudad de la Costa, closer to us.

If I had to live in Montevideo, Carrasco would be my choice. Whether or not I could afford it – another issue.

carrasco

Bright, sunny blue-sky day. Almost home, we stop to get gas. No need to get out of the car. Attendant fills the tank, without asking does a thorough job of washing windshield and back window. I usually tip 10 pesos (half a buck). In this case I give him 20. Some attendants ask if you want the windshield done (because they don’t want to expend unnecessary effort); others don’t even bother.

One of my son’s friends worked as a gas attendant for a while. Interesting stories. I know the tips are appreciated, and not always forthcoming.

I ask about a bus company’s location – we know one but not another, and find it challenging to sort out which ones run when to Montevideo. The attendant asks me to pull forward, away from the pumps, and goes to ask another attendant. Comes back with no clearcut answer. But he’s happy to chat, and offer suggestions for ferreting out info I need.

For an American, it’s like going back in time. In a nice way.

Back from Argentina

No trip report because who cares. Me: back spasms, I presume from hours at a lovely outdoor cafe with slanting floor. Also fever, aching shoulder. Am I getting old and crotchety? The words of Ralph Waldo Emerson come to mind: The soul is no traveller; the wise man stays at home…. Bodywork this afternoon will helpfully cure all.

Back home, first an hour or two sleep to fill in the cracks from the night before at the dreary and overpriced Hotel Suiza in Neuva Helvecia, near Colonia. (But we had a lovely dinner with an ever-entertaining friend, so all’s good, except for my Tripadvisor report ;-)) Second priority: walk the dogs to the beach.

En route, watched an individual on motorbike pull up to a two-meter wrought-iron fence and put something in the mailbox, ignoring the huge black dog, jumping and barking inches away, reminding more of Cerberus than something that might be put on a leash and expected to play in the sand without killing every quadruped within 500 meters. But then I expect most of these crazy caged dogs become wiggling tail-waggers when free to sniff and circle.

Anyway: The utility companies, preferring their own messengers, deliver bills outside the aegis of the Correo (postal service). Which reminds that back north, putting unstamped mail in a USPS mailbox is illegal, though in fact the US Post Office could apparently not care less.