Nothing special today, but I found it interesting how wildflowers perfectly echoed the color of this wall. The color suits wildflowers nicely … and the wall? That’s up for debate.
A lesson from the feria (market)
That one produce vendor in the outdoor market, less than 48 hours ago, where you didn’t have to take a number and wait?
Perhaps other people knew something you didn’t.
Chimney Sweep
Guy shows up at the door. He was here a year ago, but we had just replaced our wood stove and stove pipes. Clean it? Why not. Gives me a price of $2800 (bit over USD 125) to do it three times this season. Turns out it’s pretty clean right now; he ended up treating rust (with stuff I happen to have) and sent me to the ferretería (hardware store) to get stuff he mixes with Portland cement and patches cracks and gaps on the bricks inside the stove.
By the time he finishes, he’s invited me (well, just about) to go dorado fishing in the western part of the country, made a mutual connection through the owner of the butcher shop in Estación Atlántida, en route to our chacra (country place a few km out of town), and told me exactly where he lives (three doors from it) in case I should need him. And I already knew he cleans the chimneys of our neighbors.
They always say in Uruguay—well, everywhere in Latin America for that matter—that you shouldn’t pay in full until the work is complete. I gave him $2800. He’ll be back.
Autumn is in the air
Big Boss
Our vet suggested a different dog food, one with less fat. She says less fat has solved skin problems of many dogs she knows, and ours is having issues.
The guy who sells the dog food displays it outside his house, fading bags in the full sun—who would buy that, knowing full well everything inside would be rancid? Turns out to be just a display. He gets a fresh bag from inside. Then gives me a refrigerator magnet, and say to call next time: he delivers for free, like many merchants here. I like that. I tell him my name’s Douglas, and there aren’t many of us in Uruguay.
He tells me his gardener’s name is Douglas.
Well, then.
No había nada.
Usually I walk the beach too late to the road repairs in action, but with today’s balmy weather I went early, and paused a while to watch the surprisingly quick maneuvering of the huge backhoe. The operator was really efficient. Of course, I also saw two guys sitting nearby, doing absolutely nothing.
I asked one of them what lay at the other end of the big pipes they had installed. Una cámara. An underground storage reservoir. Where did the water come from? I wasn’t too satisfied with the answer, since I still didn’t see how water would get into it.
¿No había nada? I asked, guessing there had been no drainage before, which is why the road kept getting washed out.
Nada, he replied with a smile, as if to say, can you believe this?
Der deutsche Angriffsfahrzeug
Whenever you see a vehicle like this, even without looking at the tags you can tell what language its occupants speak. Not French. Not Italian. Not Spanish (maybe), maybe English mit einem Akzent. They may be from Switzerland, but they will definitely speak German.
These things always make me think “assault vehicle” (hence the blog title). At the very least, the concept of “blending in with the locals” apparently doesn’t figure prominently in some people’s weltanschauung.
After lunch in Montevideo
Cuartel General de Bomberos, on the Plaza de los Treinta y Tres Orientales. Fire Department Headquarters. Today was t-shirt weather, the way it should be in March.
That was fast!
Look at the amount of tall grass on the left, then look at the photo from less than three months ago. Note the color of the water then …
… and now. I’m not quite ready to put fish in, but I’m tempted.
But guess what there’s no sign of? There should be lots of frogs, but I didn’t hear a single one—not a single splash.
Tourist season past; time to repair the big attraction
Well, now, looks like they’re getting serious about fixing the collapsed Rambla. Instead of just dumping dirt in the hole where the road had been, as before, some serious drain work is in progress.
As I walked down to take a look, my unofficial dog Huma (silent H, remember) went tearing ahead, and when I could see over the ledge, I didn’t see her. But not for long: didit, DiDit, DIDIT and she launched out of one of the tubes like a projectile, veered around and went flying into another. I tried to catch her emerging again, but she was too fast: you can see her if you look very closely in front of the nearest tube.
She stayed in “crazed mode” the whole time we were on the beach, running back and forth, in and out of the water at full speed. Something in the air, I guess.