For a country that considers itself non-religious, Semana Santa – oh, sorry, Semana deTurismo – is a big deal. That’s Easter Week in case you’re still not up to speed 😉
Duly noted, of course, in my calendar:
Fortunately we had nothing of particular importance to accomplish this week. Our friends Sandy and Don, whom we just left at the airport for their move back north, were kicking themselves that they didn’t factor Semana de Turismo into their planning, but almost everything that needed doing got done regardless.
When you see chairs lined up either side of the road, it means tonight is the Carnaval parade in Atlántida. But they’re not there just as a nice gesture. If you want to sit, you have to pay.
I went out to see part of the parade one year, and haven’t felt compelled to do so again. You can find more in the Wikipedia article on Uruguayan Carnival(which apparently doesn’t meet Wikipedia’s high editorial standards, oh my!) and find videos of our local desfilehere.
Our first Uruguayan passports, good for five years, were expiring. Arranging to renew them turned out to be relatively easy; done and paid online. When we got to the passport office, though, we lacked our credenciales civicas, which after a trip to the Corte Electoral, turned out to be big pieces of paper we got with our citizenship.
So, the next day we returned with those. No, they were supposed to be renewed after three years. Though an Uruguayan friend told me the credencia civica is nothing more than a voting card, it was indeed required for a passport (which she doesn’t have). The clerk this time had a printed paper we could take to the Corte Electoral, where the same friendly person said no, that’s not here, that’s a block away. So we went a block away, got numbers, and started the process until we got to the address part. We don’t have/can’t invent an address in Montevideo? Then we’ll have to go to the office in our departamento, Canelones. After a nice lunch in a new restaurant (rated #1 in Montevideo), we found the office, and got everything done – until my wife’s fingerprints. They just weren’t sufficient on four or five fingers. So: make appointment with dermatologist, come back with doctor’s note if this can’t be fixed, and we’ll proceed from there.
Booking a doctor appointment online with Asociación Española is also quite easy, but the soonest we could get to a dermatologist was a month away, in Montevideo.
Which is how we ended up there on Christmas Eve. Would there be such a thing as a routine doctor’s appointment on Christmas Eve up north? It somehow strikes me as unlikely.
Anyway, it was a snap. We returned the way we came, which involved me making a left turn at a traffic light which invoked a chorus of blaring horns: yeah, OK, don’t turn left in Montevideo.
Nice lunch at Lo de Mónica, near Géant and Macro Mercado supermarkets, where we spotted this.
I’ve posted many times about Uruguayan handwriting, how 9s look like Ps or lollipops, but this a first: a Y written as a 7.
OK, that’s anticlimactic. So here’s a cool Dodge Power Wagon we then saw in the Géant parking lot.
I got change at the butcher today and thought I had been handed a bill from another country. But no – even though it was released three months ago, this is the first one I’ve seen
The polymer note is a welcome change from the tatty paper ones, though I’m not so sure the 50th anniversary of yet another Rothschild-controlled central bank is something exactly worth commemorating.
Though a week ago Saturday was the first public blueberry harvest, we didn’t get notice in time. I went yesterday. The number of bushes is down radically from a year ago, but fruit is abundant and I managed to pick 2.5 kilos fairly efficiently.
The price has gone from (pesos) $180 to $250 per kilo, or +39%. One dollar buys about 14% more pesos than a year ago, so in dollar terms the price has increased 22%, double the rate of inflation (that I assume). So, bottom line, USD 3.44 per pound. Most places in the US I found online are under $3 per pound. So, like most things in Uruguay other than property tax and medical coverage, not cheap.
But delicious!
And then, consider what they cost at the supermarket. Over USD 2 for a small fraction of a kilo. These plastic containers are about 3 x 3 inches. I eat that many when I pass by the bowl on the kitchen counter!
If you’re in the area and want instructions to get there, let me know. I’m guessing this will be on for three more weekends.
A little background: blueberries (arandanos, the same word used for cranberries, which are not available here) seemed to become trendy around the time we got here (late 2009). But unlike other kinds of fruits, blueberries are only good for a very short period of time. They can be frozen, but when thawed these have a mushy texture and much less taste. Given the short time window, commercial buyers can basically pay whatever they want. Or worse. The first year Pilar (the owner) had a harvest, an Argentine buyer took the whole crop. Literally. Didn’t pay a dime.
I’ve been walking with Syd in the VillAr wilderness* for a few years now, and know my way around. But I don’t have the paths mapped in my head the way he does, partly because he’s been walking there so much longer, and (muchly) because he’s the “Cruise Director” so that, like a passenger in a car (my wife marvels at my ability to navigate Montevideo!), I don’t have to pay particular attention: just along for the ride/walk.
Syd and Gundy have been in Buenos Aires for a couple weeks. Their house/pet sitters apparently saw little benefit in my accompanying them on dog walks (which shocks me; I find my company scintillating — but alas, perhaps therein lies the problem), and adopted no apparent (or at least shared) schedule. So today I took Mocha at 1:00 PM, (an unheard-of hour) so as not to run into them, and we wandered here and there for well over an hour. Several times I walked 50+ meters “the wrong way” down a trail, to see if I was where I thought I was: mapping. Sometimes I was right; sometimes wrong.
Philosophical outtake: when I was 14, I didn’t really perceive my evident cluelessness; things just sometimes worked, and sometimes didn’t. 50 years later, I find my cluelessness amusing – or at least, interesting. Sometimes I know where I am; sometimes not. It’s all good.
Along the way noticed details I might not have otherwise, like this:
The top hole is obviously a birds’ nest. What kind? Owl? Active? Not? I approached, but it was above eye level. Do owls burrow into tree stumps? What other bird might? In late October (equivalent of late April northern hemisphere), would this be an active nest?
Were I a National Geographic photographer, I might camp out here six hours – or six days, or six weeks – for answers. As it was, when Mocha crunched nearby returning from a thorough sniff-sniff of the area, we moved on. I will try to remember when we pass by again.
* about 150 hectares/370 acres of mostly no-man’s land in Vila Argentina Norte
A couple of weeks ago, I posted Quadruple bypass on a bun, amazed that such an excessively unhealthy thing could exist, even in Uruguay, home of the chivito. The other day, riding the bus back from Montevideo, I spotted this:
Curious, I went back to the Burger King site to see what this monstrosity might be. I found no “Ultra Whopper,” but there’s the same photo:
To refresh your memory, on the product page there is a link to “nutrition information,” consisting of
To add to your gastric distress, perhaps you’d also like artificial chocolate goop or acrylamides via potatoes fried in “vegetable” oil.
But wait, there’s a punchline here, in the last line: Frente a H. Clinicas. So after scarfing down all this “good stuff,” you may not even need an ambulance: they can just roll you on a stretcher across the street to this grim monstrosity,
I blogged about the last avocado on the “big” tree a short while ago. Seeing the new red leaves sprouting, we both got the feeling that the “little” tree was ready to be fully harvested, so today I scampered up the ladder and removed the last dozen or so,none of which is particularly visually appealing.
And I find this quite interesting: the last avocado (because I left it there) has been eaten on the limb, the first time (happily) we’ve seen this.
Likewise, as with almost every day the past few weeks, there was another half-eaten on the ground. I left that in place as well, for the critter/s to continue their end-of-season feast.
At least for paltas (avocados) in 2018. I took the last three off the “big” tree, including one that managed to remain hidden and is undoubtedly the record-holder for this year’s crop:
858 grams, or for those of you in Myanmar, Liberia, and the Untied Snakes:
1.892 pounds. Or 1 pound 14.271999979939547 ounces. Or if you want full ‘Murkan, 1 pound 14+34/125th ounces.
6-1/2 x 4.25 inches / 16.5 x 10.8 cm.
I decided that the overgrown nature of our yard needs to be addressed, and in doing so discovered the extent of the comedreja’s (possum’s) raids.
The tree above this pile still has 30+ smaller avocados. It’s fun to remember two years ago, when our total harvest was 30+ avocados, and the comedreja getting one was devastating! This year we (and friends) have had avocados for almost seven months!
Meanwhile, both small orange trees are laden with flowers. Not very many bees, but some, and doing their job. Hopefully we get more than three oranges next year.
Last couple days, I’ve had to venture past the peaje – tool booth – a couple times, to buy tiles. A phone call confirmed that what I wanted was en stock, and the visit to pay for them confirmed, as last time, that that means “come back tomorrow afternoon after they’re delivered from Montevideo.” That’s OK: it’s not far, and I like the certainty of seeing goods versus waiting around for delivery of – whatever….
And, of course, the odd chance for cultural enlightenment. At the Costa Urbana shopping mall, which sprawls above Avenida Giannattasio and contains perhaps 157 stores selling shoes (I’m not sure an accurate count has ever been done), I saw this appalling Burger King ad, for a quadruple-cheesburger with bacon.
I have noticed that Uruguayans have gotten noticeably fatter the nine years we’ve been here. Still not perhaps up to American Standards, but definitely noticeable. But – I immediately wondered – is this uniquely Uruguayan? Something in me said yes, but that seemed unlikely.
So I went online.
This horrific “flame grilled to perfection” culinary disaster represents the maximum extent of Burger King’s US offerings: a mere 1,480 calories and 2,340 milligrams of salt.
Now let’s look at Burger King’s Uruguay site:
OK, maybe I added something. Click on that, and you can see that they offer more info about “nutrition:” this should be interesting, no?
Ah, yes…
… their further nutritional info is also maybe you’d like some chocolate-cake ice-cream thing or French fries?
The type in red is my addition: also maybe you’d like a trip to the emergency room in an ambulance?
