My exciting new calzados con Velcro

cheap shoes, Uruguay

Oh boy, you’re thinking, he’s really lost it now.

I know: shoes with Velcro are not exciting. But in Uruguay, cheap shoes that fit me are exciting. And most of what’s available is size 45 or less. These are 48. And they fit. And they cost under USD 30.

The ones I wanted they had, surprisingly, in 46, 47, and 49, but no 48. They called another store a few blocks away (I thought I’d been in every one in Pando already), and told me someone would bring a pair in size 48. Which they did, though the only similarity to the others was the color.

I have a special disdain for Velcro shoes, our nemesis in our early days of doing school author presentations. Well, not the shoes in fact, but the combination of the shoes and the kindergarteners in the front row who couldn’t stop sticking them and loudly unsticking them. I sometimes felt like screaming at them, WHY DON’T YOU BRATS LEARN TO GODDAM TIE SHOES? But I didn’t.

My neighbor Manuel told me that going to Pando used to be the butt of jokes in Montevideo, since it was popular for its whiskerías (whorehouses) and hourly motels. It’s significant for us because they deliver for free (the stores, not the whores): Montevideo is farther, and through the toll booth.

While in Pando, I found a 20-tube solar water heater with a 3-year guarantee for USD 675. So maybe one day soon I’ll actually get to do a hot baking-soda-magnesium-oil soak in our expensive bathtub.

My excitement today in Uruguay: cheap Velcro shoes. No, really.

Lazy gardening

The garden was totally nonproductive this summer. Horrible weather.

But so what. Throw the base of green onions in some water, even without roots, and they’re off and running in a couple days.

Here they are in dirt, between “recycled” bok choy in the foreground and a broccoli stem in the background (we’ll see). We may get a few green peppers, but meanwhile the only garden success are the very hot peppers on the left, called infierno negro (black hell) where they’re sold (they go from green to black to red), and otherwise known as puta parió, which sort of translates as “son of a whore.”

Not sure why they even grow them; generally anything spicier than black pepper is anathema to the Uruguayan palate.

Carnicería

I have an ongoing joke at the local carnicería (butcher shop). They ask me how much I want, and I reply 454 grams, una libra (one pound). Like every other country in the world except for Liberia, Myanmar, and one other, Uruguay uses the metric system—mostly).

Butcher, Carnicería Progresso, Atlántida, Canelones, Uruguay
Alvero reacts with dismay at widely missing the mark with bacon (though one time he hit 500 exactly)

We then asked if they had lamb. Siempre. Always. Who knew?

Sawing half a lamb, Carnicría Progresso, Estación Atlántida, Canelones, Uruguay
He brought out an entire frozen lamb carcass, cut the length in half with the band saw, then cut off the hindquarter we wanted. The band saw blade is within easy reach of the customer.

I grew up using, and still use, dangerous power tools. But band saws terrify me a little bit, ever since 8th grade (age 13) shop class, when the teacher demonstrated the capabilities of a band saw by cutting through a piece of 2×4 like it was butter, and probably at the same time encouraging us to imagine that 2×4 was some part of our body.

But hey, that was in the United States. It’s probably not too late to sue for psychological trauma, mental distress ….

Balloons

In the corner of my eye I spotted a couple of balloons blowing through our unobstructed front yard.

Damn, I thought, that would have made a perfect random blog image. Too late!

Later that day:

balloon-1

I spot a balloon in the back yard. Behind one of our two maybe-next-year-yielding avocado trees, snuggled next to an aloe vera plant, on the other side of which a bedraggled horseradish plant from Syd and Gundy, and comfrey, with its amazing healing properties.

balloon-2

The next day, I spot two more, tied together, in the corner. And one inside the barbacoa. Its door had been open all day.

All went back over the wall to the neighbor’s girls.

The strangest volunteer

It has been a strange summer, and horrible for gardening.Nonetheless, things I didn’t plant emerge, like this tomato plant

growing out of a hole in the lid to a plumbing junction box.

It’s right below an outdoor shower, so I watered it for a few minutes today. I put the fireplace tool holder to support it several weeks ago,  since it had grown beyond its ability to support itself.