Awww…

What is it about cats and boxes?

Warm!

No sooner do I witness heavy frost and order a ton of firewood, than the temperature gets positively balmy outside. Remember, July 27 here is the equivalent of January 27 in the northern hemisphere.

Yes, I did polish our car’s scratched windshield with cleaning wax, as I mentioned earlier, and it worked! Reduced the glare probably 90%. Much safer now.

Finally, a real load of really dry firewood…

stacked firewood

For the first time in several deliveries of firewood, it actually looks the full amount promised.

firewood moisture

And, to my delight, almost all appeared to be under 20% water. The two observations have an important connection.

Strangely (especially for such a humid area), firewood is sold here by weight. So (keeping it simple) if all the wood were 20% water, you pay for 200 kg of water and 800 kg of combustible material. When I did some readings at woodlots a while back after a couple days of rain, some were showing 35% water. “Oh but don’t worry,” they told me, “it’s just because of the rain. It’s been dried, and it will dry out again in a few days.” Meanwhile please pay the same amount for 350 kg of water and only 650 kg of combustible material.

The logic of which either escapes, or doesn’t concern, them the least.

Cold!

frost

Morning sun makes quick work of the heavy frost on the roof of the car, while the temperature hovers in the low single-digits Celsius. One more day I won’t be using my new polisher to get scratches off the windshield, I think.

Crazy gringo burns curupay as firewood

We inherited a piece of curupay lumber when we moved here. A meter long, perhaps 2″x3″, it weighs much more than any unsuspecting person would imagine. Curupay is used for beams, and though it has about the highest heat output of any wood here, its price is such that you’d be crazy to burn it. Unless, of course, you happen to have had incompetent local aluminum door installers destroy your floor and the frame of the wooden door they removed.

curupay wood

The pieces have sat, undisturbed, in our carport for a very long time. I tried cutting one with our crappy little German circular saw, which basically burned its way through the board, but my new table saw zipped right through them.

curupay board burning in wood stove

This is what just one of those pieces looks like burning. I’m scared to put in more than one piece. You can feel the heat across the room. Especially nice on a cold day like today, in a typically uninsulated Uruguay house.

Home-grown loofah: need instruction manual

I was very excited to see my loofahs growing, especially after transplanting them, which apparently they don’t like. Out of ten or so, it looks like only two will be useable. I was even more psyched when I got the skin off one and was able to use it.

Garam Masala!

A frequent discussion theme among expats is the number of things not available in Uruguay. Long-handled shovels. Even something as simple as a bevel gauge and rafter square, which a friend carried down from the States not long ago. But checking out a local friend’s recommendations, I found both in two different stores in Montevideo.

And so it was with Garam Masala: we thought it had to be brought in, since Uruguayans for the most part consider anything more than salt and pepper to be excessively strong flavoring. Imagine my surprise when I spotted it on a spice rack at our rural carnicería (butcher’s)!

curry powder

(From Hindi: गरम मसाला, garam (“hot”) and masala (spices).

curry powder illegible packaging

And, in true Latin American form (I noted this in Mexico as well), the graphic design renders the type almost illegible. But hey, garam masala is garam masala, whether you can read the packaging or not!

Baipa!

Went into Baipa for the first time since September 12, 2011. I remember the date well because we had guests from Punta del Este with whom we had a meal, visited the incredible vivero (nursery) Pacha Mama, and then introduced them to the this-could-be-Europe bakery Baipa. I told them it would be a year before I’d permit myself there again. 22 months: I’m feeling righteous 😉

So, invited to their place, we were instructed to bring goodies from Baipa. While waiting for my number to be called (welcome to Uruguay, please take a number), I told my wife to decide what she wanted, which turned out to be a bit of a challenge, given the sheer bulk of some of the other customers. Seriously, so big around that one could block the view of an entire display case.

Regulars, no doubt: or addicts. No doubt I”ll see them or some similar the next time I go to Baipa—which will not be before July 14, 2014.

Maybe.

Día del Padre

Father’s day meant to me finally, a circular from Tienda Inglesa whose front pages are filled with cool stuff instead of women’s clothes and processed food products.

It took on new meaning when Santi arrived waving a paper, which I took to be a bill he’d seen in our mailbox. But no, instead he gave me a father’s day note and a very nice bottle of wine I’d never had before. Sweet! (The P.D. says The bus was moving a lot [when he wrote the note].)

Particularly unexpected since he has a father and father-in-law living nearby. But that’s Santi; he bought a Hibiscus for my wife on mother’s day.

¡Que humedad!

First time we came to Uruguay from Mexico, we were amazed to wake up to passport covers curled by the humidity. Where we lived in Mexico, March was so dry it might have been called Parch. It was refreshing; our skin felt moisturized.

It has a down side, though. In many parts of the world, locals build houses adapted to the environment. Not in Uruguay: a typical house is a single wall of brick, stucco, and no insulation, as if the objective were to grow mold. Ironically, now mostly-eschewed traditional building with adobe rarely has problems with moisture, as long as the walls are protected.

Today, the temperature is almost balmy, but the humidity continues to be incredible. They’re reporting it at 88%, which I’m tempted to disbelieve. I delivered the bases for some kitchen cabinets to the chacra, and almost got stuck just inside the gate.*

I’ve never had this happen before. Our mason has had a tough time the last few days; each coat of paint on the kitchen light fixture I’m making takes a couple days to dry.

* Called a potera; were I to bring that gate 10km to town, it would become a portal. Go figure.