Windows

Earlier this week, a woman went door to door in our neighborhood, talking about a proposed project that sounded like it would make the large (1/3 of a block) round plaza near us much more attractive and interesting.

pamphlet for public improvements, Uruguay

There was a short window of time to vote for it, so we went today, curious about why there would be a vote for a single project. Yes or no? Turns out there were four different projects, and residents of Atlántida could vote for one. We got there with our IDs, waited for several people before us, then learned we needed a utility bill to prove our residence – last two lines of the blue part of the handout above, which I had simply spaced out. Simple: walk next door to ANTEL and ask for a free duplicado of our most recent phone bill.

I’ve only cast a vote once before in Uruguay, required because of country land ownership. That election was for the head of BPS, the social security system, if I recall. It involved going to the local high school, handwritten various this-and-that, taking an envelope into a room where I could privately chose and insert the “voting paper” for the candidate of my choice. Turns out there was exactly one candidate. I probably could have put it in torn in half, maybe negating my vote (fascinating subject BTW; I will have to return to it at some point), but eh: it was done.

Today was similar. The friendly lady behind the desk took my cédula (ID card), handed me a little slip of paper with four projects: our “Plaza Alondra” (which turns out means “lark,” as in the bird; I’d never heard it had a name before), a school sports facility, and two others I could neither figure out or particularly care about.

Then take a brown envelope out of the box in front of me, put my voting slip in it, tear off the end for her to register. The one I chose was fallado because it had no preprinted number. So I chose another, and all was good. After my other details, she entered the envelope number, then asked my age (why? Because for this election, you have to be over 14 to vote!), and handed me a blue envelope, into which to put the brown envelope. The blue envelope said something about “observed vote.” That then had to be folded in half to fit into the slot in the cardboard box, almost bulging full.

The process took several minutes per person, really laughably inefficient. But then I thought about voting in the Untied Snakes: here, a verified count and real recount is possible. There, it’s all as fictional as Disney World (to get a fascinating glimpse into the mechanism of electronic vote rigging in the Untied Snakes, check out this video: Fraction Magic).

So, several minutes of standing there waiting, watching a nearby unused computer display a generic screen saver for…

Windows XP in use at Uruguay government office, 2018

… Windows XP. Hang on here — didn’t support for Windows XP absolutely end a couple years ago? If networked, isn’t this computer susceptible to all kinds of hacking?

I didn’t think to angle the camera down, where, on the other side of the counter in front of us, were bound handwritten ledgers three inches thick. We both commented on how old they seemed. Who knows what’s in them, but chances are they won’t be hacked.

I wrote 5+ years ago about the Uruguayan education system and computers. I expect in 5-10 years you won’t see handwritten ledgers. I hope you also won’t see antiquated operating systems as well.

But I also expect then that, the amusement at the idea of handwritten ledgers will be accompanied by a nostalgia for a time when information was at least a little difficult to retrieve.

Mocha, then and now

Mocha today, running in the country.

Below are the x-rays of Mocha’s right thigh bone on May 1, less than four months ago.

Amazingly, the surgeon first cut into the thigh to align the bones, then inserted a pin the length of the femur, from the hip. We had our work cut out for us, keeping Mocha from playing with Benji. The pin had to stay in at least five weeks. After two weeks, the vet explained that Mocha hurt after being active from the pin rubbing the skin from beneath. He also told us that if the pin broke the surface, he would have to remove it, ready or not (oh shit!). Happily, Mocha made it to five weeks, and gradually started putting weight on the leg.

The cost of the surgery, including boarding a couple nights and all followups? 12,000 pesos, or about USD 415. No complaints!

What happened: on our way to walk with Syd and dogs, Mocha jumped or fell out the window. We had just gotten off the highway, thankfully, and I wasn’t going very fast. Just a sudden terrified shrieking, and there’s Mocha in the grass on the side of the road behind us. A friend who returned to the States for a while had generously loaned us his car for two months (I did spend USD 800 on repairs, but still cheaper than renting!) until we could find something to replace the Meriva. Unlike the Meriva, which had a child-safety switch well protected from casual switching, the borrowed car (also a Chevy) had a button near the window controls that was easily deactivated accidentally. The dogs stood up on the window switch in back to stick their noses out the open top, the window went down, and one way or another Mocha went out. I had only been manually checking the rear window controls every other day or so.

But what happened next was quite amazing. Our friend Isabel, who grew up in Uruguay but spent 45 years in the U.S., had introduced us to a wonderful vet who works out of a rather primitive space in her home in nearby Marindia. She speaks no English, and generally we have no trouble communicating, but obviously in this case a translator would be helpful. As I pulled into the block where Gabriela lives, what did I see but Isabel 30 seconds ahead of me, parking! I carried her dog in for her, as well as Mocha. After a brief examination, Gabriela said we’d need x-rays. Maybe she could get a mobile x-ray service there, or I could take him somewhere, or get the mobile x-ray to our house. This was all sounding complicated. For some reason, Isabel called a local vet, chatted a minute or two, hung up and said, “The mobile x-ray service will be at SAV in Atlántida in ten minutes. Take him there. There are four dogs ahead of you.”

Isabel arranged an appointment with the vet surgeon, and went with me every time (25 minutes toward Montevideo, in Shangrilá, near where we helped out the dog lady). Turns out not only did we know the vet from taking our dog Karma for x-rays years ago when he was nearer, but he was also a teacher of our neighbor, veterinarian Mariana, in the campo. And considered one of the three best veterinary surgeons in Uruguay.

I’m in no position to evaluate that. But seeing Mocha scampering around today, less than four months later, he obviously did a good job!

Taking down a tree

This is time of year, the sound of chain saws is quite common. But a couple days ago, I hadn’t figured out that something more interesting might be going on until my wife spotted a guy with a chainsaw high in a tree. Only once have I topped a tree as part of felling it, but it was a pine, nowhere near this size, and swayed like crazy after the top fell. And I did it with a bow saw – no way was I climbing up a tree with a chain saw!

So here’s this guy up a 15-meter (I presume) ladder. All rather impressive. Listen for the guy on the ground yelling ahora! (now!).

I hired tree people a couple times when we lived in North Carolina. We had a lovely old spreading oak that needed thinning. The tree people – who worked at the Augusta National Golf Club – said they never use ladders, but only free climb, and also don’t wear spiked shoes, in order not to damage the trees. Quite spectacular to watch!

No worry about damaging the tree in this case. Also, being eucalyptus, it will regrow. And regrow.

Unlike the last time, this does not affect the sunshine we receive in our yard.

Well, duh.

Not long ago, we noticed our water bill beginning to skyrocket. We had plumbers here to install whole-house water filters outside. Checking their work, they pointed out a little spinning disk that I had never noticed in the middle of the water meter. It was going spin-spin stop-stop. We had a leak. After a bit of checking, it was clearly not their doing.

After digging a dozen holes along the length of the pipe going to the casita (little house behind), and finding no moisture, I called Enrique, a nice, mellow plumber from Peru. We determined there was a leak underneath the casita (i.e., impossible to fix), so he installed a cutoff valve. At length we discussed how to re-plumb outside, tap into the cold line on the exterior bathroom wall, all without breaking tile inside – we had a plan!

Alas, perhaps Enrique has been in Uruguay too long. I said I’d get back to him when the weather got a little more pleasant for outside work. This has been a mild winter, but it’s still winter. So, sun appears! And no response from Enrique to text messages; phone calls terminated before a chance to leave a message.

Well, we have other issues with the main house, so I sought the advice of Daniel, the guy who will be solving many of them. I had bought bricks, and was preparing to create a subterranean box around the valve.

This is how you do it, with mortar, and when you’ve built up to ground level there’s a nifty little concrete frame and cover that fir perfectly. But, I thought, if they need to re-route the tubes, maybe I shouldn’t do this first. I explained to Daniel the plan Enrique and I had come up with. He agreed with the overall plumbing plan, but hadn’t answered my question.

So I asked again. Well, he said, if we’re putting a new cutoff valve on the outside bathroom wall, we will simply remove this one.

(See title.)

Anyone need a few crappy Uruguayan bricks and a kilo of Portland cement?

The rust bucket

Burkhard’s Model T has now moved from shipping container storage to his garage workshop, on borrowed wheels (his are being rebuilt). Because of course, just borrow Model T wheels. No problem! They’re actually from Francisco, who told him about using rear axle housings to keep the front end level — notice them to the left of the photo.

He thought the jacket draped over the back shouldn’t be in the photo, but it struck me as perfectly symbolic: well, at least this thing has value as a coat rack!

Burkhard chuckled as he lifted body panels, demonstrating how flimsy the whole thing is.

I think at this point I would decide that maybe this wasn’t such a great idea. Burkhard is undeterred.

The bodywork in a Ford Model T is build over wood framing. This door is mostly good, but much of the other wood in this critter is rotted or destroyed by bugs. Researching a while ago, I read that Henry Ford owned over 100,000 acres of forest land to provide wood for Model Ts. I also read that — perhaps — they cut up pallets from parts deliveries to use in Model Ts. Perhaps. Just under 15 million of these cars were produced, between October 1908 and May 1927. Insane!

Here’s another view of the Tin Lizzie.

This will be interesting. Stay tuned…!

The kitchen scale

I left my kitchen scale out after making bread recently, unwashed, and some else decided to wash it – not just the detachable measuring cup, but the whole thing. Electronics and warm, soapy water don’t go together well. After a few days, it began to work again, but then simply died for good.

So my challenge was to take it apart without breaking any parts, because that’s what I do rather than simply chuck things. I’m curious about how things work, and how they’re put together. Also whether there might be any parts worth saving.

dissected kitchen scale

Despite its apparent simplicity. it was a little tricky –– some well-concealed screws beneath labels and the plastic readout cover. Nothing really useful to save.

I’ve made bagels and pizza dough a couple times since, but I really prefer doing recipes by weight, so have thought about getting another.

I bought this one with points at the Disco supermarket a few years ago, not thinking about the actual cost. Now I see they sell it at Tienda Inglesa for 40 bucks – yikes! They also show one for USD 12 at Tienda Inglesa so maybe, just maybe, I can get them to bring one to our local store. I suppose I could try ordering one online but *shudder* that has not gone entirely well for me in Uruguay (think mattress and oven).

Except for socializing at the weekly feria, I find little fun in trying to find and buy things here. But maybe that’s OK, especially when I reflect on the inordinate amount of stuff we accumulated before moving to Mexico — and that was less than three years after moving ourselves across the country, from North Carolina to ~~Nelson, BC~~ Spokane, Washington.

UPDATE: Yes, this does seem like a rather pointless blog entry, but it reminded me to look at Tienda Inglesa, and guess what?

Trash tour in the Villar Wilderness

I took Mocha to run today. He was neutered one week ago and has been constrained as a result. The weather was on-and-off, and Syd had gone with his dogs earlier, during a clear break. So it was just us, traversing this route for the first time in a few weeks. Happily, no motos, no quads, no horses, no woodcutters – OK, a few cows that Mocha ran to and barked at – but with little apparent result (with Benji they would have been making noise and moving, not a Good Thing.)

I’ve previously written about trash dumped there in the middle of nowhere, for no apparent reason, but it continues to beggar the imagination. Consider this location —

— where we now find a discarded Epson printer. And not just discarded: the blue-green stuff to its left are the bits of glass from the deliberately smashed display. So somebody carried this thing far into an empty area, only for the purpose of smashing its display screen and leaving it?

deliberate trash Uruguay

A bit further along, new discarded clothing, apparently children’s winter wear. So we’re in the middle of winter, and the best thing you can think to do with unneeded clothing that can keep a child warm, is not to donate it to the take-anything thrift shop, or even discard it in the ubiquitous trash containers for some scavenger to find, but carry it hundreds of meters into the middle of nowhere and throw it on the ground where it will serve no one?

deliberate trash Uruguay

I’m sure at some point I documented the sudden appearance of discarded auto parts. These have in fact diminished – there were, if I recall, three windshields. The other two, unbroken, have apparently been harvested. And maybe other parts as well. I have photos here, elsewhere, somewhere.

deliberate trash Uruguay

At another location, where overnight appeared a huge pile of construction plastic sheeting some time ago, now widely scattered by the wind, a new visual accent: a smashed and probably UV-sun-rotted plastic dish rack. (But why so shattered?)

deliberate trash Uruguay

I discussed this over dinner with my wife. Perhaps we’re not witnessing a cultural manifestation (these people!), or necessarily a low level of awareness (these troglodytes!).

Maybe something different: an expression of frustration, anger. Not that you would experience that meeting them. But they are expressing frustration and anger about their environment – not discerning physical from emotional. Trashing their physical environment somehow serves an emotional need, not so much different from people who cut themselves.

Down the rabbit hole…

These is the image Paul refers to in his comment below.

Uruguay trash

How not to send money to Uruguay

After totaling the Meriva we needed cash for a new vehicle.

Bank wire transfers end up costing $60-80 for a realistic maximum of $9,000. Sure, I could have wired $20,000+ but that would have involved jumping through bank hoops. You’re not allowed to just have money somewhere else. You’re supposed to be able to document where it came from. Our local bank branch is considered by many people to be one of the worst for this type of inquisition.

So I was delighted to find I could send $3000 for only $6. This was through a thuggish untrustworthy mob-like operation (TUMO). I didn’t identify it as that at first. You’re familiar with TUMO. If you’re thinking it-which-must-not-be-named has something to do with a W and a U and started in the 1850s, you’re on the right track. TUMO gets seriously bad Yelp reviews. One reviewer who mentioned (not criticized) TUMO in a blog post got threats for “trademark infringement.”

Of course I had to provide ID to set up the account, as you would expect. Above $3,000, TUMO’s fee increases to $15, so I started sending $3,000 at a time.

Two or three months and over ten transactions later, I went to Abitab. TUMO had told me my money was waiting for me. Then some kind of glitch. The teller asked if I could come back in 15 minutes; no problem. When I returned, she said something I didn’t quite get, but it was clear I wasn’t getting any money.

Back home, an email from TUMO. They had cancelled the transaction (while I was there to pick it up!) and would refund my money within a week. (It actually happened quite quickly).

I phoned, but turns out the Impersonal Customer Scrutiny Department only communicates via email. Here’s the response I got:

Dear ________,

The reasons why a consumer is not authorized to use the services of Thuggish Untrustworthy Mob-like Operation can’t be disclosed since it is a private policy. [their emphasis]

As a financial institution, it is the policy of Thuggish Untrustworthy Mob-like Operation (“TUMO”) to conduct appropriate due diligence on consumers who utilize our services.

We are currently working to solve your issue.

Upon completion of the review, we will inform you of our conclusion.

Yes, you are reading that correctly. TUMO does “due diligence” on a customer only after two months and a dozen transfers. I provided them copies of Uruguayan and US passports, and explained exactly what I was doing and why. Two months later, this:

As a financial institution, Thuggish Untrustworthy Mob-like Operation is required to comply with industry legal and regulatory standards in the countries we do business. Part of complying with these standards involves performing due diligence to determine how customers are using our services to ensure that Thuggish Untrustworthy Mob-like Operation is meeting its obligations under applicable law.

We have reviewed your reinstatement request and have decided to uphold our previous decision [their emphasis] on this matter. This means Thuggish Untrustworthy Mob-like Operation will not accept any money transfers from you as sender and will not pay out any money transfers to you as receiver.

Thuggish Untrustworthy Mob-like Operation’s Money Transfer Service Terms and Conditions provide that Thuggish Untrustworthy Mob-like Operation and its Agents have the right to refuse service to any person. Accordingly, Thuggish Untrustworthy Mob-like Operation has made the business decision to refuse and refund any transactions you may attempt to send or receive in the future.

On behalf of Thuggish Untrustworthy Mob-like Operation, we apologize for the inconvenience this process has caused you.

So there you have it. I can almost imagine an employee wiping a tear from his/her eye while typing that heartfelt last line

A little geekiness

If you’ve followed my blog for a while, you know that occasionally it changes appearance. That’s because I change WordPress “themes,” the templates that determine how everything displays. Many themes don’t allow full-size photos. In my last change, I found one that did. So I was thrilled…

…OK, stop right there. Today I notice that this theme has decided to replace my changing Uruguay header pictures with a black and white photo of mountains with snow, of which Uruguay has neither. How the hell did that happen? Actually, I kind of like the irony. I think I’ll leave it for a while.*

But this theme had something I didn’t like: when I wanted to make something italic, the theme displayed it as bold italic.

So for weeks my daily to-do list has had a reminder to fix it.

But how? I went to the theme developer’s site to find a helpful forum, only to find that the theme hasn’t been updated in two years. Bad news. Kind of on my own.

I downloaded the theme’s stylesheet. Nothing amiss there: the <em> and <i> tags were probably mapped to italic. So what next? I looked at the source code of a blog entry, downloaded the header.php file, and there it was!

OK, not exactly in-your-face obvious. But in line 36, the theme is calling for Google web fonts, and font Open Sans italic is only specified as 700 weight, which as you know — because doesn’t everyone work with Google web fonts every day? — is bold. So I got the correct “call” code from Google fonts, created a “child” theme in WordPress, and inserted the “correct” code in the header.php file there, which overrules the original (without the risk of your changes being wiped out with a theme update, even though that seems unlikely after two years).

And it works!

I still have no idea how header.php was invoked by my blog posts, but perhaps that’s because…well, I did look into PHP programming at one point and essentially decided life is too short.

I’ll leave it at that.

* No doubt it has to do with my messing around with code I don’t understand.

Benji dream

I am walking with someone ahead of me on a path through an open area towards woods. Suddenly Benji and a black dog are charging full speed to the left through the field, towards a small yard where several children are playing. The children jump up on a small table for safety. But only the black dog is there. Behind them to the right is a fence, with Benji on the far side of it. (The side the dogs approached is open, but hey, this is a dream.)

I yell to Benji, and he runs back towards the right. Just at the point he has cleared the fence, and I think he is about to turn toward me, a large white horse appears, running beside him, between us. The horse abruptly drops to the ground on its left side. I think it must have landed on Benji, but then see him, also on his side or back on the ground. I don’t know what they do next, sniffing or rolling around, but they are completely preoccupied with one another.

And happy.