Battle of the stones

If it’s Monday, May 21, then it must be last Thursday, May 18, the holiday in honor of Artigas’ victory in the town of Las Piedras (‘the stones’) outside Montevideo in 1811, in which he vanquished the forces of the Spanish Viceroy – which outnumbered his troops until 200 defected and fought for him instead. He apparently exclaimed ‘Curad a los heridos, clemencia para los vencidos’ (Cure the injured, mercy to the vanquished), so that his followers wouldn’t hack the remaining Spaniards to pieces, as the vanquished most assuredly would have had they prevailed.

So today I don’t have to wonder if the chimney sweep who came two weeks ago, broke the inside of our wood stove, and never came back, will return. I don’t have to wonder if the refrigerator guy will have fixed the shelf he promised to deliver about the same time.

Mercy to those whose freedom he fought for, for no doubt one of these days – or weeks – they’ll deliver on their promises.

Fresh butter!

Friends who live near where we’re buying land came into town to go to lunch with us at the wonderful Garní Armenian Restaurant in Solís, a 20 minute drive from here.

They are milking a neighbor’s cow while he’s settling affairs in Nevada, so they made butter and brought us some. Fabulous!

Can’t help but reflect that in certain parts of the ‘land of the free’ these days they might be thrown in jail for daring to make their own food — and give some to friends.

A chemtrail in Uruguay

In over two and half years in Uruguay, it’s only the second or third chemtrail I’ve seen.

chemtrail
Pretty much what I saw: borrowed and altered photo

I’m not happy to see it, but living on the windswept edge of an immense expanse of water, in a thinly-populated country, it’s not as threatening as in the northern hemisphere, where blue skies frequently turn to gray under the onslaught of spraying.

Dealing with it

The connection between Bangladeshi refugees and Uruguay

When we left for Argentina, I unplugged my wife’s computer backup power supply. The switch jammed, so it had to remain plugged into the wall or go beep every five seconds until the battery ran out. Out of respect for lightning, that’s what it did.

Weeks later, I got around to disassembling it, and discovered that the button got its ‘spring’ from two little plastic hooks, one of which had become displaced. I fixed it.

This morning, faced with the same problem, I took it apart once again and simply tore out the plastic switch. New rules for the UPS: take a pen or finger and push white microswitch directly.

I spare you a closeup of the bar code label indicating country of origin, because after all everything is made in China.

But as our friend Patrick in Colonia explains, the Chinese make top-quality goods for consumers in first world countries. They make second-rate, but more affordable, goods for developing countries.  Then they make crap of such low quality that Bangladeshi refugees would refuse it. And that’s what they ship to Uruguay.

If that’s a complaint, it’s not limited to expats. Uruguayans say the same, in different words: lo barato sale caro – the cheap stuff ends up being the most expensive.

The Wayback Machine

Cold this morning, but we didn’t light a fire since we were out the door to Carrasco, Montevideo, for blood work. The Montevideo airport’s name is Carrasco, but Carrasco is also quite a charming beachside community. Going to the clinic there is a satisfying experience in every way: civilized, professional, pleasant. A total contrast to the dreary clinics in the Ciudad de la Costa, closer to us.

If I had to live in Montevideo, Carrasco would be my choice. Whether or not I could afford it – another issue.

carrasco

Bright, sunny blue-sky day. Almost home, we stop to get gas. No need to get out of the car. Attendant fills the tank, without asking does a thorough job of washing windshield and back window. I usually tip 10 pesos (half a buck). In this case I give him 20. Some attendants ask if you want the windshield done (because they don’t want to expend unnecessary effort); others don’t even bother.

One of my son’s friends worked as a gas attendant for a while. Interesting stories. I know the tips are appreciated, and not always forthcoming.

I ask about a bus company’s location – we know one but not another, and find it challenging to sort out which ones run when to Montevideo. The attendant asks me to pull forward, away from the pumps, and goes to ask another attendant. Comes back with no clearcut answer. But he’s happy to chat, and offer suggestions for ferreting out info I need.

For an American, it’s like going back in time. In a nice way.

Forty five, schmorty five

I called the guy who installed our Ñuke wood stove (two years ago) to clean the stove pipe. He finally showed up.

First he cleaned the stove. Then, unable to cleanly remove the bricks of the upper combustion chamber, he broke them in order to gain access to the stove pipe from the bottom. His cleaning tool: 1/2″ flexible black pipe with some wires stuck in the end.

He couldn’t get it past the second elbow. So they’ll have to clean it from the top. And replace the bricks. Some day.

I asked them why they didn’t use 45° elbows originally, which would have worked a lot better.

They were supposed to be, he replied.

As someone (was it me?) once quipped: How do you say ‘quality control’ on Latin America? – You don’t.

When the rain comes

When the rain comes, they run and hide their heads. They might as well be dead.

~ Rain, John Lennon

It rained much of the night, and the morning was unpleasantly rainy still. Our son went to catch a bus to his class in Montevideo.

There were no buses.

No strike, no holiday; simply no buses on the road in ugly weather.

My wife called the friend who agreed to translate for her at the hairdresser. Let’s do this another time, the woman said, it’s ugly today. This despite door-to-door transportation.

Perhaps the bus drivers knew no one would go anywhere, so they stayed home too.

My best guess is that people here have learned to avoid the risk of getting wet, and consequently chilled, because homes here aren’t built to be warm. There is evidence that this has a historical basis (1897):

In the winter, their surroundings are equally pretentious, but very uncomfortable, for the houses of Montevideo are as frigid as the white marble in which they are finished. The people believe artificial heat unhealthy, and in this city, which is as large as Washington, and quite as cold, there is not a furnace or a steam-heating plant. During cold snaps, a hostess often receives dressed in furs, with her hands in a muff and her feet on a hot-water bottle, and gentlemen and ladies come to state dinners in over-coats and fur capes. Source

Little brown waves

Little brown ocean waves, Atlántida, Uruguay
I’ve never thought of myself as  beach person. The thought of hanging out on a beach for hours makes me a little numb. That said, I love being able to walk to, and on, the beach daily. During summer – January and February – it has to be early or not at all (and I will find sun-worshippers at 8 AM). Off season any time of day works.
But there remain two issues: 1) the waves are tiny, and 2) they’re often brown.

1) Why are the waves tiny? Theoretically, you could sail in a straight line from Uruguay over 16,500 kilometers before making landfall (and you’ve always wanted to visit Myanmar, no?). That much open ocean and diddly little waves? Why?

Lots of water

2) Brown waves – let NASA tell the story (even if they can barely get within 90 degrees of correctly identifying north).

On the day of this photo, we enjoyed blue or green waves ‘north’ (actually east) of Montevideo. A little change in current and winds, and you have brown waves.

Sometimes we have fresh (brown) water; sometimes we have salt water at the beach. So sometimes the fisherman catch freshwater fish, and sometimes saltwater fish. And sometimes the wrong ones get caught in a shift, and their carcasses end up carpeting the beach.