How things work (officially) in Uruguay

confiscated motorbikes, Atlántida, Uruguay
Confiscated motorbikes behind the Intendencia.
Judging by the tree growing, they’ve been there a while.

How things work (officially) in Uruguay is seldom the same as how they work in reality.

When I realized, in 2012, that I’d forgotten to renew my driver’s license (doing the homologación from a foreign license is easy, but they only gave me two years), I researched and discovered that 1) if you miss renewal by under two weeks, no problem, 2) between two weeks and two years, you have to take the written and driving test, and 3) after two years you have to take driving school.

In my case, the two weeks had passed, and the two years would come next October, but my foreign license—from Mexico—expires two days from now.

Today was my appointment. I was a little nervous about taking a test in Spanish, though I had studied the Manual de Aspirantes and found nothing daunting. I figured the driving part was no problem. I’ve gone 40 years without an accident (other than bozos running into me).

The whole process took over and hour and a half: present required paperwork. Wait. Name called. Take paperwork to cashier, pay $1,000 (USD 45). Get in line. Give receipt. Wait. Name called. Photo taken. Wait. Name called. Sign here; here’s your license.

But officially ….

Wandering around Carrasco

Hotel/Casino in Carrasco, Montevideo, Uruguay

After a delicious lunch inside this splendid pile of rock yesterday, we wandered around Carrasco.

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I know what you’re thinking: Look at those buildings! We must be in South America!

Building in Carrasco, Montevideo, Uruguay

Amazing dwellings seem to be the norm.

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carrasco

And look at this—a fixer-upper! Some paint, a little TLC, and …oh. Actually, I don’t like the look of the vertical steel “I” beam outside the front door. Maybe we’ll pass on this one.

Lunch in Carrasco

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Lovely day to have lunch with friends at the refurbished casino in Carrasco, the closest part of Montevideo for us suburbanites. Also a lovely neighborhood, a place I’d find desirable if I had to live in the city. (And wanted to spend a lot more than I do.)

Hotel-casino, Carrasco, Montevideo, Uruguay

After seeing this building empty for several years, it does my heart good to see it alive again.

Delicious meal, and we got the full 22% tax knocked off when I used my US Visa card, and paid  in USD as priced on the menu, so no need to exchange to pesos. Sweet! The little things ….

Hotel-casino, Carrasco, Montevideo, Uruguay>

Plus we got to see not one, but two, full-sized plastic horses. With lamps sticking out of their heads.

Tell me it gets any better than that.

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.

 

Big Boss

Big Boss dog food

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.

cat

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?