An inquisitive old fart with a camera
Sceneon the Ruta Interbalnearia today.
A worker earns 11,000 pesos per month, the Secretary General 97,000.
Sounds like a reasonable ratio of CEO-worker pay.
But:
132,000 pesos = US$6,600/year.
Sueldos de hambre (starvation wages) indeed.
The younger brother of our albeñil (mason/contractor) said the yellow squash and pumpkins should be brought in before the last rain, so I did last week. Except for the six in the foreground I found today. Yes, you would think they’d be hard to miss.
These all came from volunteer plants. I know of about a dozen more smaller, green squash still on the vine.
The green ones lower left are loofahs, which I did plant, from a loofah I bought at Tienda Inglesa that had plenty of seeds inside. When they dry out completely, the skin will crack off easily. I hope. I tried to speed the process using heat on the first I picked. Wrong.
Yesterday I shed light on one of the more stunning displays of Uruguayan bureaucracy.
Thinking they opened the door at 8:00, and got there early. At 9:00, after over an hour and a half of standing in the cold, windy street, we were rewarded with number eight.
TA DA!!!
Presenting an official translation of a document which it was not good for the notary to have seen, and not good enough for the notary to have described, I was assured that everything now is in order for a final decision on my son’s (home with broken ankle) 42-month-old, 75+ page residence application.
Umm, except they also said that last August, only to discover in October that “just one more document” was needed. Which had been requested by the uppy-ups in a letter from the previous January, and managed to remain completely invisible in the file during our reviews in May, June, July, and August.
Three months from now, we will be able to check on the status using the computer at their office (not online; why would you want to check conveniently?). If/when approved, we can then go early in the morning to wait in line to get a number to wait my turn to get approval to make an appointment to wait in line at the office that issues cédulas (ID cards).
It seems that everywhere you go in Uruguay, you take a number. And wait: the bank. The hardware store. The vegetable stand in the féria (street market). Welcome to Uruguay: please take a number. Though it takes some getting used to, in general the system works well.
When we started our residency process, there was a number dispenser on the wall of the residence section. When you went in, you took a number.
One day it was empty, and you had to wait in line at the reception desk, to be given a number based on which of the two number dispensers you would have previously used (the office has a residence section and a gratuitous-paperwork section). Often as not, you could explain by simply pointing to the appropriate empty number dispenser.
Then one day they only gave out numbers at 12:45 for the residence section that opened at 1:00. With no room for a line (the reception desk meanwhile giving out numbers for the gratuitous-paperwork section), a crowd gathered, more or less keeping track of who was before whom before piling into the reception desk line at 12:45 .
Now they give out only 100 numbers a day, starting at 9:00, and open the residence section at 11:00. Why not give out numbers at 10:45 for a section that opens at 11:00? Well, because the inevitable long line for residence-section numbers blocks the main entrance, hence access to the gratuitous-paperwork section, which opens earlier than the residence section.
And to think: I never saw a line at the (now empty) number dispenser on the wall of the residence section. I have pointed out before that many things seem to be improving here (and will post one again tomorrow). Unfortunately, the bureaucracy at Migración is not one of them.
Ahh, I know what you’re thinking. In fact, this apparently sloppiness involves a remodel job in our very crooked little farmhouse. The piece to the right is the ceiling; the top piece slants up to it. It will all look just fine tomorrow. Oh no, that’s Labor Day: Thursday. Or Friday.
As I watched Martín cutting sheetrock (yeso, pronounced jeso), I marveled at this knife. Turns out he bought a cheap one (made guess where?) that fell apart after three days. So he melted a piece of thermofusion water pipe around the blade to make a handle.
When we lived in Mexico, I thought the Mexicans were the ultimate do-anything-with-nothing people. Compared to the Uruguayans, though, they’re like USA-Americans hopping into their Dodge 350 to go to Home Depot to buy yet another specialized electric tool….
This baby is SOLID.
If you’re new to this, no, it’s not mine, but on our road in the country.
Related:
Uruguayans apparently find nothing annoying, unnecessary, or unusual about waiting 15 or 20 minutes for an ATM (even where it replaces what used to be two ATMs).
You could always go into the bank to withdraw money, but that’s a minimum of 30,000 pesos (USD 1,600; 28% more than when we first arrived). Inside the bank, you would take a number, and often wait 45 minutes or more before getting to the counter.
That, of course, only if you happen to be there at the right time.
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| To serve you better, we’re now open 5/5! |
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Have I mentioned that I was once a professional photographer? Good, then. Forget I said it.
Took off for the beach with the dog, and saw several squadrons of three prop planes (apparently the Aermacchi SF.260s I mentioned yesterday).
I remembered from yesterday’s Wikipedia check that the Fuerza Aéria Uruguaya has two C-130s, cargo planes I’ve always thought are kind of cool, and lo and behold, they flew overhead, the first of many many times. All two of them.
Then a screaming approach, and I could barely get my camera out fast enough to catch these guys:
… coming and going …
… which appear to be Northup F-5s, though according to Wikipedia the UY Air Force doesn’t have any. Oh my, Wikipedia not true? Who knew?
Then these guys, the Cessna A-37 Dragonflies I mentioned yesterday.
And the C-130s kept doing their circles.
I met my neighbor riding her 3-wheeled cargo bike to exercise her dogs. She asked about our big dog, and I asked her about the planes, and she said today is the aniversario of the Air Force. Lo and behold, from Wikipedia: Military aviation in Uruguay was born on 17 March 1913 when the Military Aviation Academy (Escuela de Aviación Militar) was formed at a small airport 50 km from Montevideo. The first aircraft were a Farman Longhorn biplane and a Blériot XI monoplane.So let’s put this in perspective: the planes flying overhead today, the current inventory of the Uruguayan Air Force, are all designs about 50 years old (C-130 a bit older). 50 years before that, the Air Force was started with this:
and this:
And the current technology? 100 years. You don’t have to be into planes, but they illustrate it well.
In the country, we often see one or two prop-driven trainers from the Uruguay Air Force, which has a base nearby in Pando. All depends on whether they have fuel or not. Seriously.
In town, the window near my desk faces the ocean, so I get to see what’s flying back and forth between Montevideo and Punta del Este. Very little, usually; some corporate-type helicopters occasionally, or a Vietnam-War-era Huey helicopter (introduced in 1956).
Today, three Air Force jets flew out and then back, and seven prop planes in formation, none of which I’ve ever seen before. I had to look them up: the jets appear to be Cessna A-37 Dragonflies (introduced in 1964):
The prop planes I’m guessing are Aermacchi SF.260s (also introduced in 1964):
Which all seems hopelessly quaint, especially compared to mighty (and mighty expensive) beasts like the US F-35 Joint Strike Fighter and the F-22 Raptor, but the fact remains that the little planes of the Fuerza Aérea Uruguaya are actually flying (unlike the F-35) and not killing their pilots (one of those unfortunate things the F-22 tends to do).
What a concept!
Last weekend, I drove with friends a frightfully long distance (for Uruguay) – five hours to Tacuarembó, site of the 27th annual Fiesta de la Patria Gaucha.
On Saturday, they had a parade through the town that included over 3,300 horses. Umm, yeah, get it. That’s a lot of horses.