Well, at least whoever wrote this got the nines correct, a minor cause of celebration in Uruguay.
But alas, those upside-down fours….
After five years, our backyard lemon tree has sprung to life.
But not without mysteries. For example, this fruit …
.. which appears to have the letter P on it. But before you crank up the synapses to explain this one, recall that your task is more difficult: because Uruguay: is that really a P or is it a 9?
I took this photo a week or two ago. I can pretty much make out what’s available.
This is the cuenta we got yesterday when we went with friends. I just realized it has nothing to do with what we ordered. Apparently.
If you’re one of my three (or is it two?) regular readers, you might recall that the 9s of Uruguay bother me. And if you look at this one, you can see that obviously the writer was taught to make a nine starting with a counterclockwise loop, which then rejoins itself and veers off at an angle to look like a 9. Unless it doesn’t, in which case it ends up as a P.
But what’s up with that first digit — ?
It’s a 4. It just happens to be upside down.
How the hell did someone learn, or decide, to write a 4 upside-down? Also, if you clicked on the link above, you might note that the 3 here is verging into the territory of the 2 on the linked page.
Uruguay is not an exotic country, but does hold some mystery. If you’re willing to squint just right, with your bad eye.
Last Friday, our fiber optic service crapped out. I called AntelData to file a reclamo, a complaint, and learned that service was down for an entire zone. Not much to do but wait.
Saturday I learned that our neighbors had their service back. Sunday we spent a delightful afternoon with a couple of friends with whom we explored northern Argentina a few years back, at our favorite restaurant. Got home: still no internet.
Monday morning, a computer-illiterate Uruguayan friend mentioned entering usario and contraseña, and suddenly it clicked: Antel insisted the correct modem lights were lit. Then I remembered that on my first call, they’d had me enter user name and password, which I did—obviously incorrectly?
So I wondered if what I took as a capital A at the beginning of the handwritten password the tech left months ago, was instead a 4. The passwords are all upper case. LATIN AMERICAN COUNTRIES LOVE ALL CAPS.
No, not 4.
Then I looked at out ambiguously written handwritten user name, one letter and 5 numbers @adsl… and wondered: was K supposed to be k?
Bingo! In a trice we were back to wasting huge amounts of time glued to the screen.