The Curious Incident of the Bull in the Nighttime

We don't know how it got there. The bull certainly wasn't going to tell us. It just stood there and chewed its cud, staring at us.

We noticed it this morning as we were leaving for a day trip to the next town north, Minas. On the way out, Cesar noticed a bovine on the wrong side of the fence. Occasionally, if we leave the main gate open, a cow will come in to browse the otherwise untouched grass at the beginning of our driveway. This bull was in the wrong area though - inside our fence. Closer inspection revealed that the wire fence had actually been opened. Considering that bovines lack the intelligence and equipment to open fences (this part of the fence has a complicated wire latch that was beyond my ken to figure out how to open - I didn't even know it was a gate at first), it is not a leap to assume that someone let it in intentionally.

Who would let in a bull and why? Perhaps it was to be delivered to another house and they accidentally dropped it off at ours. Not likely. In that scenario, someone would have closed the fence back up after the bull was delivered. Perhaps the bull was already on the street and someone thought they were putting it back where it belonged or just getting it out of the road? Or perhaps someone sees us as an opportunity to store their excess farm animals. This I think is most likely. It is very bad form here to let your animals on some one else's property without permission.

After consulting a close friend, we took her advice and visited the local police to inform them of the situation. We did this to protect ourselves in case someone thought we stole their bull. I am sure the incident report reads rather oddly, but I suspect the local police are not unfamiliar with this kind of thing - whatever kind of thing this is.

That done, I wanted the bull out of here. My hubby thinks I am hard hearted for wanting to kick it out. We have a very nice area for a bovine to hang out in, plenty of green grass and water. I am sure the bull was quite happy to be here, but I wanted its owner to notice that depositing farm animals on this property is not going to be tolerated. So, under the belief that most animals are more afraid of you than you are of them, big stick in hand, I went to chase off the bull. I guess I looked menacing enough. He went off towards the gate, did a funny little bucking jig that reminded me just what a big powerful animal I was dealing with, and stood inside the gate for a while. Feeling more brave, I walked in his direction, keeping an eye out for trees to climb. At this he trotted off down the lane and I swung the gate closed behind him.

Colita Dolorida

The title is my best shot at translating "sore butt" into Español. That is what I have after riding my bike on the bumpy roads here. Overall, the roads are kept in pretty good shape. However, most are not the perfectly smooth black-top we have in most places back in the States. You U.S. cyclists don't know how good you have it, with your bike trails and super smooth roads. However, the attitude here towards cyclists seems much better than in the U.S. As far as we have seen, drivers here do not exhibit the same sense of arrogant and sometimes angry entitlement that U.S. drivers have. Here they are accustomed to sharing the road. After all, it does belong to everyone, and bicyclists have the same rights and responsibilities as motorists.

Brief rant about sharing the road aside, this place has some lovely scenery to be enjoyed from a bike, but it is still not exactly a biking shangri-la. For instance, there are times not to venture out on a bike - like Sunday evening on the interbalnearia between La Barra and Jose Ignacio. Considerate as they may be, having one speeding car after another blow by us, we had had enough and decided to bag it for the day. This morning we did the same ride while the tourists were still sleeping off their hang-overs. Much better. The wind, see "On the Road Again" post, wasn't even that bad. The tone was dramatically different. Instead of tons of cars there were quite a few people out bicycling or jogging. Now I know how the beautiful people of Punta del Este stay beautiful. We even made a new friend, from Cordoba, Argentina. Barely understood a word he said, but I immediately liked him because he was a doppleganger for our friend Gaston.

Our rides are still on the short side while we get our legs back and my bum gets used to the bumpy roads, but stay tuned for the K&C Uruguayan Century!

A note on today's photos: I did not carry my camera on our bike ride, but wanted to post some pictures of Jose Ignacio, so I borrowed these photos from various websites.

Christmas Images from Punta del Este

Since I cannot attach photos today, here are some descriptions of things we saw on Christmas Eve in Punta del Este.

The large all-in-one grocery and department store, Tienda Inglesa, filled with locals and tourists finishing their last minute Christmas shopping. Some things are the same everywhere...

Now for something you will not see in Virginia at Christmas time - the bright pink bikini-clad girl peddling her bike through traffic on a busy street in downtown Maldonado.

A surfer dude crossing the road with his board, headed for the waves of Playa Brava.

Two men on mo-peds, shirtless and sporting Santa caps.

The sweet lady at the pastry counter at Devoto who offered me a free sweet, thrusting it towards me with a smile, saying "para ti".

A paunchy, tanned, middle aged man riding his bright yellow ATV down Gorlero street.

Cheerful, uniformed girls at the shops, providing free gift wrapping service.

Entire neighborhoods erupting with fireworks at midnight.

Seeing the Southern Cross directly over our house in the wee hours of the morning.

Obviously, from the attire to the constellations, things are different here from back home. However, some things are universal, like spending a delightful evening with new friends on Christmas Eve.

Merry Christmas To All!

I Wanna Be a Gaucha

A couple of weeks ago I had the pleasure of meeting Manchita. This sweet horse is hanging out in Gloria’s pasture, providing her with free fertilizer. In addition to making the veggies grow, she is incredibly patient, gentle and excellent for children or beginning riders, like me. Sergio, her owner, is also very patient, and indulged my curiosity by bringing over a saddle and other horse accoutrements and allowing me to go for a ride. His English non-existent, my Spanish very basic, he managed to show me the basics of what in the U.S. we call Western riding.

I didn’t realize it until after I had dismounted with shaky legs, but I was a little nervous at first. I am not what I would call a “horsey” person. Never begged for riding lessons as a kid and have only been riding on horses in groups where my horse simply followed the others with little direction from me. Being on my own on a horse was new to me. It is also something I want to experience again.

Telling a Uruguayan you don’t know how to ride a horse is like telling a Hawaiian you don’t know how to swim. They seem mildly shocked and sorry for you. Horses are an important part of Uruguayan culture. The true gauchos may have ridden into the sunset, but most modern Uruguayans have some longing for gaucho ways. Foremost in gaucho culture is the horse. There is a saying that a gaucho without a horse is a man without legs.

Where we live, horses are everywhere. People ride as a pleasant pastime or simply as a way to get from place to place. Some people own horses, but not land. One sees these horses of landless owners hitched in fields by the roadside. Several times on our way home from town we have seen men on horseback leading a herd of other horses. Where they were going, I’ll never know.

I hope to get to know horses better. I am certainly in the right place to do it. I think with help from Manchita, I will.

On the Road Again

After getting our house in some semblance of order after the deluge of stuff that came out of our container, we have fulfilled one of our top priorities of the week – re-assembling our bikes and finding places to ride. First of all, a quick thank you to Mike and Tom of Plum Grove for packing them so nicely. Thanks guys, we are going to miss you here!

So, bikes re-assembled and ready to go, where to ride? The road we live on is dirt, connected to another road of dirt, connected to a two-lane highway with large patches that are under perpetual construction, mostly involving, dirt. Therefore, biking directly from the house is a no go. However, there are stretches of mostly smooth highway nearby that are great for biking, with little traffic, enough inclines to be interesting and great scenery.

Ride number 1: We parked at a friend’s house in Punta del Este, near Playa Mansa, and headed east on the rambla. Tourist season is picking up, so we got an early start to avoid any traffic. Not a bad ride for the first one, we kept the pace nice and easy (mainly because our out of shape legs couldn't go any faster) and focused on how the bikes felt (put together right?) and avoiding potholes and insane Argentine drivers. The road heading east was pretty good. Except for cutting across the peninsula, we biked along the ocean the whole way. Being so close to the ocean, the wind was a bit brisk. It was a sign of things to come…

Ride number 2: “El Viento”. This time, to avoid the terrible stretch of pavement we encountered on the return leg of ride number 1, we drove to La Barra (a chic beach village outside of Punta del Este)and parked at Medialunas Calentitas, a hip little coffee and pastry joint with outdoor sofas you can lounge on while drinking your coffee. From MC, we headed East, through La Barra and beyond to avoid the Punta del Este traffic and the bridge of death:


Before we moved here, I was concerned that we would not find enough hills to develop really good bike fitness. I need not have worried; the wind here makes up for the relative lack of good hills. Our ride started out nicely. We have driven down this particular stretch of the interbalnearia many times, but seeing it from a bicycle saddle is like seeing it for the first time. The sea was a mesmerizing blue green and looked like liquid silver in the morning light. The wide beaches were empty and beckoning. And the colors of the green plants along the road, contrasted with red rocks, white sand dunes and blue-green ocean were picture perfect. However, my reverie was soon interrupted by a never-ceasing, brutal headwind. Never before had I experienced wind like this. I was reveling in it, having fantasies of training in it constantly to prepare for the Mount Washington mountain race. Those delusional thoughts lasted for a few miles, then all I could think was “make it stop”. I was comforted by the hope of a tail wind on the way home. Really, I don’t mean to bitch, this wind is a gift, but it wasn’t what I signed up for this particular morning. I knew Cesar was probably suffering too, both of us biting our lip not to be the first to complain. The point would have been moot, or should I say “mute” anyway since we would not have been heard over the roar of the relentless wind. We turned around at our pre-arranged midway point and headed back to La Barra. Just before town, a group of brightly jerseyed cyclists on road bikes passed us, heading into the wind in the direction we had just come from. I was happy to see fellow bikers. Naturally, I picked up my pace in an effort to look like the bad-ass cyclist chick I am, in my own mind at least. It didn’t matter, their broad grins indicated they were pleasantly surprised to see a woman on a roadbike, period. Of the many cyclists we have seen here, I have seen only one other female. A couple of minutes later, stopped on the side of the road in La Barra to make a phone call, they were headed our way. I thought maybe they wanted a second look at the odd woman on the nice bike, but I think they got one blast of that wind and decided to turn around.

Ride number 3: The Papa of El Viento. We decided that a break from the wind was in order for this next ride, and wanted to start a little closer to home, so we parked at our friend Gloria’s house and biked down Ruta 9 to Ruta 12, in the direction of Punta Ballena. This is a north/south ride, rather than east/west and instead of ocean views, it is along a gently rolling stretch of empty highway with vineyards, pasture and trees and a great lake view. It is a lovely scenic route that we like to take sometimes to Punta del Este instead of the much quicker route through the town of Maldonado. The wind started immediately. This time it hurled obstacles in our path as it shook loose bark and small branches from the eucalyptus trees. Turning onto Ruta 12, we headed into its strength. A semi passed me and I didn’t even hear it coming over the roar of the wind. Near the Alto de la Ballena winery, the donkeys in the pasture to our left stared at us with a bemused look. Stupid humans, they were thinking. We hung in there until our pre-arranged turn around time and headed back. When the wind stopped and the brutal heat and sun sent a shower of perspiration down my face and into my eyes, I wished the wind would return.

My former music teacher and mentor impressed upon me to embrace that which I hated. What I think he meant by that is this: You hate practicing the stuff you are no good at or which you find particularly difficult. However, those are precisely the things you need to practice. So, toughen up and embrace those things. It makes you stronger. Now I love the wind. Bring it on.

Godzilla?

Meet Lagarto. Tupinambis merianae to be exact. Commonly called Lagarto, this lizard is a member of the Tegu family and is often seen here. This particular specimen ambled across our lawn one day, pausing for a shady break under a honey-suckle bush, before making a direct line to the area in the backyard where I had been dumping kitchen waste (to be the site of our compost bin).

This one is about three feet long. I walked right along with him to take the picture above, and he didn't seem to mind. They are pretty well habituated to humans because they seek us out for the feeding opporunities we provide in terms of garbage and hen houses. Here he is, feasting on banana peels and egg shells with gusto.

Mutts

The puppies we found by the side of the road are still with us. And, bad sign, we have named them.

First, there is Red. He is my favorite because he is calm and rarely barks. He is also bigger than his brother and sister, so when he finally gets tired of their abuse, he just tackles them and holds them down. However, he is extremely tolerant of their antics, so it takes quite a bit to get him to the point of retaliating.

Next, there is Tip, named so because the very tipy tip of her tail is white. She is the smartest. While the others push around the bones we give them, she figured out immediately that chewing them is much easier if she holds on to them with two paws. Good girl.

Finally, there is Mooch. I saved him for last because otherwise he is always first. Aptly named because he is always mooching food and attention from his siblings. He is the biggest whiner of the group.

Red, on his second day at his new home:

Driving in Uruguay

Anyone coming from the U.S. is in for road culture shock if they try to drive here. Traffic signs are mere suggestions. What is more important than obeying traffic signs is maintaining the flow of traffic. Traffic does not really stop, it just ebbs and flows as cars merge in and out and slow down just enough to allow for turns.

Here are three interesting and completely non-intuitive local driving rules.

• If there are on-coming cars on a narrow bridge where one must give way, the car going in the direction of Montevideo will have the right of way. This rule calls for a good sense of direction.
• Traffic to your right has the right of way at intersections. I know what you're thinking "duh, everyone knows that", but imagine driving through a city where there are many four way intersections that have neither a stop sign nor a traffic light. Before we learned this rule from a local, our method was to slow down just enough to see whether there was traffic to our left or right and observe whether they were letting us go first. It goes something like this: Car slowing towards intersection. Driver: Who has right of way? Passenger: They don't have a stop sign. Driver: I can't tell. Passenger: go go go! STOP! STOP!
• Here is a rule which takes the cake for least intuitive: If you want to turn left, you must move slightly to the right while signaling your intention to turn left. This is so the crazy speed demon behind you can pass you on your left before you make your left turn. Paying close attention to this one is essential to your survival here.
  

Other interesting tidbits about driving in Uruguayan cities:

• Traffic circles. Lots of them. These work pretty well if everyone plays by the same rule: before you enter the circle, give way to traffic already in the circle.
• Windshield washers. Unlike NYC, the indigent guy with the squeegee and bucket not only will ask you first if you want your windshield washed, but will desist if you say no. If you say yes, he will actually do a good job cleaning your windshield for a few pesos.
• Motos everywhere. Expect to be surrounded with swarms of various two wheeled contraptions in cities, such as bicycles, mopeds and motorcycles, some of them pulling trailers, or stacked with entire small families. Seeing Dad on the front, Mom on back with a kid in front of each parent is not unusual. More than once, we have actually seen people riding mopeds and carrying bicycles at the same time.
• In some areas, the law says you must have a helmet, but I suspect it is vague as to where on your person you must wear it. We see a lot of people riding motorcycles or mopeds, carrying their helmet on one arm. Someone please call the folks who run the Darwin awards.

Cachorros

There are a lot of stray dogs in Uruguay. One sees them everywhere - walking on the side of highways, trotting around small towns, sleeping on the side of the road. For some reason which we have not figured out yet, most people here do not spay or neuter their dogs. Someone with a lot more local experience than we have said they believe it is cruel to spay or neuter dogs.

However, they don't seem to see the cruelty of abandoning an unwanted pup. Today on the way to town, Cesar noticed puppies on the side of the country road. Tiny puppies. We guess they are about 5 weeks old. There was no one in sight and no other dogs around. It was obvious they had been abandoned. When we found them, they were skinny, low on energy and generally pathetic looking. We felt the only choice was to pick them up, turn around and take them home. We will care for them while we try to find another home for them.

They are resting now, bellies full of milk and puppy chow.

Almost Christmas

Back in the U.S., the commercial frenzy that comes with Christmas began before Thanksgiving. Here, I am having trouble remembering what month it is. The reverse of seasons from the northern hemisphere plus the lack of hubbub about Christmas makes it easy for me to forget that it is December. Yesterday, however, was my Christmas. Our container arrived at the house.

The MSC Dresden container ship had come into port on the 28th of November, only slightly behind schedule. The journey from Baltimore to Montevideo, with many stops in between, was scheduled to take 22 days. Several days before the ship arrived, we contacted a despachante de aduana (customs broker) to get our things through Aduana (customs) and out of the port. What followed was a highly stressful debacle that seemed destined to end with us not being able to even claim our things, no matter what kind of deposit we put down. Then we found someone competent. Our new despachante de aduana whisked our container through the labyrinthine clearing process and had it delivered to our door exactly one week from the day we staggered, nearly hopeless, into his office. Everything worked out exactly as he said it would.

So in the 40 minutes it took us and two friends to unload the container, we went from a camping lifestyle to North American abundance. I did not really miss the stuff while we were without it, by oh my, is it nice to have after doing without it for a month. This little chacra feels down right luxurious to me now. And while opening boxes I felt like a kid again on Christmas morning.

A note on photos

Gentle readers, I would love to be able to post photos to go with my blog entries. Several of you have asked for more photos. I hear you, but am still dealing with abysmal internet speeds. According to speedtest.net, my upload speed right now is 10kbps. So, for now, I will continue this online journal and will upload photos when possible.

Be well and keep in touch!