Personal responsibility

trash left by fishermen on beach, Atlántida, Uruguay
Apparently not an issue for the city fisherslobs who come out for the weekend and leave their plastic and tangled fishing line on the beach, 30 meters from a trash receptacle. In the summer, a couple of people would come along at 8 AM and pick up everything. This time of the year it will simply blow around, wash along the shore, perhaps snare and kill a bird or fish.

Small-minded, selfish, ignorant people.

My thoughts jump to the geniuses of GE – who bring ‘good things to life’ – and the small-minded, selfish, ignorant design and management of the Fukushima nuclear plant – and the dozens of reactors in the United States sharing the same faulty and design (hence the blackout on the subject by GE-owned ‘mass media’).

If (when) the storage tank at unit #4 fails, there will be no one coming around at 8 AM to clean up the mess. It will simply blow around, wash along the shore, and quite possibly end civilization as we know it.

But the bringing good things to life ads sounded good, some people made a lot of money, and no doubt the fisherman took a couple of nice fish home to fry.

What else matters?

An argument for buying local?

Moldy shoes in Uruguay

The trusty Timberlands on the left have taken me through Mexico City, Paris, Prague, Bratislava, Buenos Aires. Notice the mold growing on them. The same is true of most shoes we brought to Uruguay.

The ‘Freeway’ shoes, made in Brazil and bought here, remain unaffected, even though stored in the same (ventilated) place.

What to make of that? Who knows.

If, however, you find yourself here and similarly afflicted, the answer (leftmost shoe) is Blem – furniture polish – and a rag.

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.