An inquisitive old fart with a camera
Beyond the corner, the builders buried about 50 meters of culvert, inaccessible except from either end, eliminating the drainage ditch. I could have told them this was a bad idea. A few days later, I didn’t need to. Simply demonstrates that the private sector can match the incompetence of the public sector.
I always enjoy looking at this house. In five years, I’ve seen people in it only a few times. Curupay, the name, presumably refers to the wood of the column (which needs some maintenance).
Sensibly, they’re not using it as firewood.
It has been 2-1/2 year since the trash containers appeared. And less than two years since the one on our corner was burned to the ground (for the first time).
The spray paint on this one has mostly disappeared, showing the UV protection it offered the otherwise now-faded plastic.
I don’t know if this resulted from rough handling or solar ultraviolet. Probably a combo. It’s not the only one, by a long shot.
Closed ports, sunken boats. The annual few days of very windy.
You might recall that the answer to “What do you get when you tell the leñero (firewood seller) that you don’t want pieces longer than 40 cm?” was “an excuse to buy a chainsaw.” This does not suggest that I went chainsaw shopping. However, seeing a small gas-powered chainsaw for sale at Géant for USD 119 — and with a one-year guarantee* — and having exactly USD 120 in my wallet … well, seemed that fate she was a-speakin’ to me. Starts right up, cuts well, even came with a replacement chain.
* typical no-name Chinese power tools typically sell here with a two-month guarantee.
The end of the veranillo, or little summer, rolling in from the west ahead of Nostalgia Night. Which is really just an excuse to party in the middle of winter, since much of the pop music played on the radio in Uruguay is at least twenty years old already.
