An inquisitive old fart with a camera
Remember the pond-digging last month?
After a few days of heavy rain, we have a pond which almost looks like it’s always been there.
And you spotted the local wildlife enjoying it? This is locally called Tero-Tero for its call. Up north, Southern Lapwing. Same bird exists in Australia: very territorial, spurs on wings. Rather aggressive if you happen upon them with young.
Inspired by local expats who have started making sausage, but not by their product or prices, the kid decided to make his own, and diligently cranked and cranked and cranked with a neighbor’s manual grinder. Lot of work.
So when we found an electric one at Tienda Inglesa, we said why not and shelled out some bonus points. The kid cranked it up, and it worked like a charm!
For an hour. Unfortunately, not completely unexpected with products sold here.
Given a bathroom space that didn’t allow for a full-size bath tub, we recalled the sitz bad of my wife’s apartment in Frankfurt. I made a wood model of the seat, and the albeñil Martín went to town. No doubt this will end up as the single most expensive item of construction, but we’ve lived with a place to soak for almost seven years, and will install a solar hot water heater when I get around to buying one.
Of course, there’s always got to be a surprise, and in this case it comes through the semi-Medieval plumbing they do here. The draining water from the bath (this was its first test) goes into that little floor drain, then exits the house. Except that it doesn’t go into that little box; it floods into that little box, under considerable pressure, of course flooding the bathroom if you don’t slow it down. Not a show-stopper, and not unsolvable, and fortunately the floors consist of tile over concrete, so even if it were to flood the adjoining room it would simply be an inconvenience.
A little over a year ago, we started construction on our remarkable new house. Have a look.
This is what it looks like now:
Looking from the sleeping toward the back back.
The storeroom on the right replaces the charming defecation facility I photographed in August 2012. All that’s lacking is the kitchen. I plan to build the cabinets, and been waffling and indecisive about how I want to do them. But, as Stuarte Wilde said: There is no hurry on the creative plane, nor is there any lack of opportunity.
I had never seen anything like this before Uruguay. Obviously, the one time (you learn quickly) you stick a full ice tray into the freezer on top of another freshly placed ice tray facing the same way, you end up with a mess.
So why would someone design something so unpleasant for the user?
I know (from experience with other products) that were I to take this to customer service at Tienda Inglesa to point out the user-unfriendly design, the girls there would simply explain to me how to stack them “properly.”
If you live in Uruguay, you have to get used to the idea that there exists very little expectation that goods will be well-designed, well-made, or durable. The amazing thing about these lavender-colored ice trays, however, is that they haven’t broken, and most of the time ice doesn’t stick to them. Unlike the red and blue ones, which yield shattered ice only with a struggle, and tend to break in short order.
Discovering how well they worked (stacked “properly”), I went back to get more. And found only red and blue ones. And have never seen the lavender ones again.
Some days, walking on the beach feels like a chore: crowds of fishermen and their litter, a punishing wind. Others, like yesterday, warm and still and uncrowded, make me feel like I’m walking into an art gallery, created just for today, just for me.
After yesterday’s pozo negro, our friendly backhoe (retroexcavadora) operator started in on the tajamar, or pond (background) in the local lingo, which we hope will fill with runoff water, for which here he’s digging a diversion channel from the road. ‘Tis an experiment; I’m not sure rainwater will be enough, but we always have the windmill, and by now a considerable length of hose, since I planted out fruit trees far from the house.
Last night he parked his backhoe at our neighbor’s, because someone lives there. He left on his moto, and I was wondering about the logistics of that.
Lo me encanta, I said as I watched him strap the moto into the bucket as he prepared to leave. I love it.
Uruguayo, he replied, beaming, of course pronouncing it ur-u-GUA-zho.