Trash collection, mostly.

Yesterday morning, I stopped a half block away from the garbage truck workers. Most car drivers have some respect for occasionally ditzy dogs, but garbage truck drives go fast. Best to stay clear.

The lift on the back didn’t work too well, perhaps because—duh—there wasn’t enough space in the truck. Stuff kept spilling out. They lowered the container, compressed the load, and picked up most of what it had dumped in the middle of the road.

Which reminds me that…

This morning, approaching from the other side, I see that apparently a neighbor, perhaps Tabaré whom I met recently, cleaned up the bit in the road.

All the other stuff? One day, probably fairly soon as summer tourist season is winding down, they’ll come around with a loader and dump truck. Not pretty, admittedly, but eventually things do get cleaned up.

Just because.

Between the bank ATMs and the phone company office.

Nothing to see here, citizens, please move along.

Oh, but do watch your step.

A simple plumbing solution

I’ve been running longer than usual lately, so I’ll revert to “short and…” – well, come to think of it, talking about septic systems probably doesn’t qualify as “sweet.” In fact, it wasn’t at all when someone finally stayed in our little refurbished farm house and had to cover the bathroom floor drain with plastic wrap because of the smell.

When we finally got around to examining the mechanics, the problem was quite obvious. The toilet (which of course has a water trap built into it) dumps into a (how Pompeain!) concrete box. The sitzbad drain goes into the bathroom floor drain, then to this same box outside.

Uruguayan plumbing fail

So think about it: the residue from the toilet flows through this box to the septic tank (pozo negro), which then creates smelly gas that wafts its way back up the same pipe and follows the path of least resistance. The toilet is blocked by a water trap, and the concrete lid is more or less airtight, goes where does it go? Up the pipe to the floor drain, of course!

The solution was simple, and took just a few minutes: stick in a cut-off sifón (kitchen sink thingie) and make a little trap. The water in the bottom of the “U” stops gas in its tracks. (“Stop gas in its tracks!” I should be in advertising.) Anything to the right of the “U” I could cut off, but I left just because. You. Never. Know.

plumbing trap solution, Uruguay

Since I didn’t post it in my September 2013 Sitzbad post, I want to mention that the plumbing fail I describe here was balanced by ingenuity, a solution to the “geyser” problem of the floor drain when emptying the sitzbad. The next day Martín returned with one of his daughter’s glass marbles, dropped it into the bath drain, and – pim pam pum – problem solved! The marble reduces the flow by 75%, and it works!

I’ve mentioned before (I’m sure) that Uruguayans can be incredibly resourceful. Had we actually been using the farmhouse with its one bathroom, I have no doubt Martín would have sorted this, no doubt even more elegantly.

On the other hand, in testing this, when I went into the bathroom to turn on the shower/sitzbad water, one of the slate tiles on the step of his sitzbad creation came loose and dropped to the floor.

Of course.

Christmas drear

And in case we needed another reminder where we are — well, let me put this another way. Do you think that a person who makes his living installing windows should know how to install windows? If you answered yes, clearly you haven’t spent much time in Uruguay.

Incompetent window installation, Uruguay

What makes this even “better” — the guy who installed it has already been back once to fix the leaks.

And this is not BK Aluminios, an incredibly bad but high-profile business. It’s a little mom-and-pop shop that at least pretends to care.

Compet—

—Several years ago, getting a quote on a large order, I complemented the local lighting store on their prices, which were much better than another place I’d just been. The kid behind the counter said, ”Sometimes they’re more expensive. Sometimes we’re more expensive. There’s no real competition here.”

He used the word competencia.

competition and competence in Spanish

And today his statement was again proven true (with a twist, twice!) with a phone bill address and delivery.

ANTEL bill delivery fail, Uruguay

Greetings from ANTEL

In January, it will be ten years since I last lived in the United States, and one wonderful and immediate change was no more junk mail! Now all our utility bills are delivered electronically, which is great. There’s almost never anything in the outside mailbox.

But, yet to find and explanation: why they emailed yesterday’s bill ten times.

Well, some credit due — at least you don’t have to type “www” to get to their web page on this just-recently-introduced Internet thing.

Es lo que hay, ¡Uruguay!

I spent enough years in the USA to be predisposed to a gung-ho, get-it-done attitude, and a respect for quality products and services, so a couple of things here stand out for me.

Tolerance of mediocrity: Chinese electric hand tools with a two-month warranty that cease operating after three, for example. Well, you might say, it’s poor country. And you’d be right. But you won’t find anyone here who disagrees that lo barato sale caro — false economy: cheap things end up being expensive. *Shrug* Es lo que hay. That’s what it is.
Lack of situational awareness: as with people at peak season who pause in the exit door of the supermarket to have a conversation, or bicyclists, motos, or pedestrians who cross streets without looking. And let’s not forget cars.

Here’s a photo that presents a lovely illustration of both.

Es lo que hay, Uruguay.

The lady who apparently owns but doesn’t live at the end of Syd’s block had a hissy fit about the growing brush pile on her corner (but on the town right-of-way). She decided an appropriate response involved tearing the pile apart so that brush blocked both streets. Who did what next remains a mystery, but last week we returned from walking dogs to see two guys loading brush into a truck. Leaving Syd’s 5/6ths of the dog pack inside, we walked down to see if they’d be similarly taking away the 2+ year old brush pile next to Syd’s house. They indicated they would. Excellent!

They added that the current brush pile would require a second trip.

What you’re seeing in the photo is, left side, the remaining half of the brush pile. The blue and white stuff beyond is the non-brush trash that they carefully removed from the brush pile. The blue thing beyond that is (and was) an empty trash container that could have easily accommodated the trash they separated from the brush pile. But apparently for them when your job is to pick up brush, it doesn’t include leaving the street clean.

The rest of the story, as you might guess, is that they haven’t been back.

I’m guessing they will. Eventually. Meanwhile, es lo que hay.

A certain lack of [something]

At some point, we realized that the Disco “Hypermercado” gives a 10% discount for ten bottles of wine. In general, Disco has little to recommend it beyond perhaps-lower prices than Tienda Inglesa. But for a deal on wine, it’s fine. Unlike Tienda Inglesa — which has thicker bags — the cashiers at Disco put three, not two, bottles of wine in each thinner plastic shopping bag.

So what happens when you buy nothing but ten bottles of wine?

Three bottles in the first bag. Three bottles in the second bag. Clearly what remains are four bottles. Two more bags. So — ?

Three bottles in the third bag. One bottle in the fourth bag.