Generally, I try to keep things here upbeat. But walking daily in a sprawling area whose owner or owners are unknown, that is sometimes difficult.
Consider this: from one day to another, a dumped load of furniture and windows appears in the middle of nowhere.
They could have left all of this near a trash container. They could have left some of it near a recycling container. Instead they just dump it carelessly. In fact, I would argue contemptuously, since they managed to smash at least one of the windows.
It’s not a spot where other stuff has been dumped. There are several of those. No, just a new, random location.
Update — per Syd comment. I took a marker with me on our walk today. The person who did this might pass by again, might not. But anyone who does will read it:
“Left by a human pig.” Play on ser humano, which means “human being.”
After days of clear blue skies, their mood has definitely changed:
You may remember my posting about the massive noxious cloud that ANCAP, the national oil company, releases daily over the most densely populated region in the country.
Here it is, in all its glory, from the airport at 7:58 AM Wednesday morning. Probably 15-20 kilometers away, blowing over the heart of the city of Montevideo.
Uruguay Natural, indeed.
Last year it was on June 11th. As usual, after a clear night, and bright sun made quick work of it.
And yes, I did by mistake leave the car windows down last night.
Several months ago, Ralf and I (if I remember correctly), wandering far from the usual paths, encountered a little pond, apparently where someone at some point dug sand for construction. We’ve been fortunate to have decent rain this summer, so on this very hot and muggy day the dogs loved the stop. From left to right: Leah, Kiya, Sofia, Jordan (front), Benji, and what looks like a black lump in some grass, Lorena.
Further along, from one day to the next — in the middle of nowhere — appeared a pickup truck load of construction trash. Yes, even with abundant trash collection containers everywhere, some troglodytes decided the best way to deal with their trash would be to drive into a large empty area and start a trash pile there.
Which reminds me of a story. In nearby Parque del Plata, when the trash containers first appeared a few years ago, my friend Carlos and his wife embarked on the project of cleaning up the trash-dump empty lot diagonally across from them. They filled the “dumpster” over and over, until finally the lot was clean. Then Carlos spots a middle-aged man carrying a bag of garbage to the container. No, right past the container, to the middle of the lot, where he drops it on the ground. Carlos screams at him to use the trash container.
“But this is the way I’ve always done it,” he says.
Welcome to Uruguay.
Carlos, who is Uruguayan, tells me they did eventually “toilet train” that troglodyte.
It took the better part of a year.