These motherfuckers sure do like standing in line.
These motherfuckers sure do like standing in line.
"Oh you're from Venezuela, GO MADURO!"
This, the Venezolana reported yesterday is the most common way that the Uruguayos react to the news that she is from Venezuala. Nevermind that Chavez, Maduro, and their Bolivarian revolution is why she lives in Uruguay as opposed to Venezuela. Similarly when I offer Estados Unidos as my place of origin, the Uraguayo tends to get exicited about Obama before wondering how things could go so Trump…
When I say the Italian descended Uruguayos are not people, it is because they are decidedly not. Left to their own devices they grow into reddit bucket crab form without the need for any discernable Reddit at all. Maybe they get their fake news from Facebook?
This country's saving grace is that the crab people need someone, anyone else to pull their weight for them. Economically the tourists keep things afloat and politically crab people are ineffective. Not comically so, because they aren't people and lack the ability to process or generate humor.
Every day I don't see ships towing Reddit bags past the Rambla and towards the Atlantic is one day too many. Not being people there's a deeply disturbing uncanny valley effect when interacting with Uruguayos, and I would like to be done with it. At least Petrus's folks have some discernable self interest and desires that doesn't lead to absolute nihilism.
87895000 kilograms of trash bagged and towed would probably be sufficient improve morale here significantly. As expensive as Brasilero soy is getting these days, maybe the Chinese would even pay for it? I really want to be done interacting with these things. The zombies are here.
There are too many of them here. They look white and they think they are people. The Italian population in Uruguay are an endemic nuissance. Before the Italians arrived in mass, Uruguay had a population under 100,000 persons. The country people and the city people would routinely gather a thousand or so folks for each side and work through their problems. Eventually they teamed up with Brazil and Argentina to wreck Paraguay's shit and ensure regional stability. This was a country of men doing men things.
Then the Italians came at the end of the 19th century. By the 1960's the Italian problem had grown to the point they were engaging in terrorism, and trying to do the communist revolution thing that is working out so well for Venezuela. The commie scumm did shit like steal a bunch of shit, get arrested, say it was because "X lives matter", get thrown in Punta Carretas prison1, and break out starting the cycle over. By 1972 the country had to adopt a civilian-military "dictatorship" in order to contain the problem.
A decade later, thinking the commie problem was solved, the dictatorship ended peacefully and every referendum the surviving commies pushed to punish the patriots has been soundly defeated.
Since democracy was restored the hundreds of weirdo Italian-Uruguayo political parties decided to unite in one coalition. The Frente Amplio, fat forehead en Ingles, was the result. Its only unifying thread is not being either of the two historical Uruguayo parties from Uruguay's brief period as a wild and cool frontier place.
Today Punta Carretas Shopping ↩
In a few hours it will have been 4 months since I first arrived in Montevideo. The past few days have beena return to almost summer weather, but the days keep getting shorter. Still living in the same hostel. Ergonomic girls are still good for a boost to the mood,1 but the general misery of the Uruguayo people continues to wear. Or maybe it's the distance from civilized AA wearing on the soul.
I look forward to December and the tourist influx relegating the Uruguayos to the shadows for a few months, but I'm not thrilled about more Brasileros either. Brasileras are fine, but the effete accent from near Sao Paulo makes the guys sound like huge faggots. Fat burned there isn't much room in the budget for terraforming or entertainment. Just have to keep grinding away and keep the burgeoning meat wot going.
At least Qntra's online, and there's management keeping from having to stress on the management of Pizarro even if I am stuck and bound in the geographic center of Pizarro. The irony of course is that having finally left the Middle West I understand why people go on vacation. And here I am having agreed to stay here for $600 a month of pocket money and a hostel bed in South America's most expensive city with what appear to be its most miserable people. Of course there may be some selection bias there as the people I meet from the rest of the continent are the ones cool enough to take vacations or immigrate. And thus questions like "How much fun would Peru be as worshipful as their girls in exile are of my gringoness" have to get tabled.
I neither want to go home nor do I want to be bound to Uruguay forever. Leaving this beef behind would be hard. The market for fun human shaped girls is much better in Uruguay. Back home medical expenses were ruinous. Here when shit breaks good luck finding a replacement.
All in all life is still a mixed bag. It would be nice if there were more baseball latinos and less football latinos here.
Logistic however have become more challenging since I promised to stop banging girls in the CoWork bathroom. ↩
There are very few truly concrete milestones I have encountered in my language immersion experience. However as time marches on speaking this language is getting easier. Whatever happened to those GAW people?
As this goes along I am continuing to take lessons, each new batch of strangers at the hostel meets a gringo more fluent in Spanish than the last did. By mid february the tables have turned and I have gone from the gringo overwhelmed by other English speaker's midling Spanish to being the gringo that overwhelms with midling Spanish.
There is still a long way to go until mastery of the language. Or educated literacy. Still taking 5 hours of private lessons a week, but… contrary to the value of the lessons appears to be going up as there is more Spanish language in my head to support boluses of new material.
Sure, every now and then I lose all my vowels in one or both languages. Or a girl will ask me if I am married and I respond in the affirmative because I though she was asking if I was tired. That last one's happened quite a few times, but it is nice having enough language to playfully make the save.
With the colder temperatures putting a damper on the tourist population, it is becoming easier to get a clear picture immigration trends in Uruguay without tourists dirtying the lens so much.
Absent from Uruguay is any notable Arab, Pinoy, Asian, African, or Indian subcontinental immigration. Welcome to Eisenhower's America.
They load up the ATM with explosives and see if they can get to the tasty filling. ↩
Naranjo! Naranjo! Donde estás Banano? Location: Mercado Agrícola de Montevideo, a sort of half food court half mall arrangement near Aguada Park
Estacionamiento para Mercado Ferrando. About half the size of Mercado Agrícola de Montevideo and located in the Cordón neighborhood. A free standing mall food court that happens to have a book store.
Make Montevideo, Great Again! For Perros!
Today was the uneventually big day where I finally had my appointment at Migracciones in order to begin getting the papers. The papers which would allow for deprecating the empire's set of papers without having a mature latino meatwot.
Pictured is the National Institute of Colonization, about a block and a half from Migracciones.
When I arrived, they had conventiently lost my appointment reservation. Thankfully I had my receipt from the Abitab where I paid for the Tramite in advance, or else I likely would have fallen into will call status waiting like the Dominicans. Instead I was rather promptly handed over to the services of una gordita, just young enough her skin had yet to suffer the coming damage weight accelerates.
For the price of making some eye contact and tossing a few smiles, she dug through my pile of papers and made things happen without the usual local obstructionism. My apostilled birth certificate? No need to find a "certified public translator" and that today was 7 days after the initial 90 days that automatic visa on arrival covers was not a thing asked about. I did however have to leave to to acquire a photograph of myself from a kiosk a block and a half away aptly named "Foto Carnet", and there are still other papers to be acquired1 before the application can be reviewed.
¿Qué podría ser esto?
Why it appears to be a Rare Pepe! Lettuce look closer…
This Rare Pepe appears to be on a date.
While we await the report and pictures from Señor Vulpes, a few quick thoughts on recieving a guest here in Montevideo: