If I´ve been looking a little shaggy lately, it's not because I tend toward unkempt (verklempt, maybe.) It's because
my barber died. According to local legend, he dropped dead mid-scissors, while tending his last customer. He´d had heart problems and had had a bad bout with the Gripe Porcina back when. I don´t know what I would have done if I´d been his last cliente ...would I have walked around with a half-shag look for a decent interval? The entire town is beginning to complain that men no longer look as well-shorn as they used to. Sleep well, dear Pino; you're still the greatest and I miss you.
The great salt mystery has been solved with a visit to
the great Mercado Central. We are pleased to report that Yanqui Mike's "N° 99" Pampas Smoked Bacon is in business ...like nobody's business!
50 kilos of non-iodized salt have been procured for curing.
It took some looking but we found it in a big way ...at a big place! Within the mercado is a place that deals with "small" wholesalers.
Diarco will make you feel like you have joined my peluquero in a heaven of unattainable prices for everything that you consume comestible-wise.
As I´ve said before, however, it's difficult to take advantage of the trove of goods thereabouts without the assistance of something along the lines of the
cutest camioneta in Argentina, the lovely Bianquita, who has been a true joy for my missus and I. My Blackberry kept me up-to-date with my Uruguayan counterpart,
Tom Frost, and his
thoughts about branding all the strange animules that wander through his little patch of heaven to our north. The hilarious visuals from a possible
"Frost Found" herd had me giggling.
The Road had more to offer this trip... we were treated with
bizarre cloud formations that seemed to melt sleet and snow from the sky from individual cotton-candy clumps that you could see for miles in the flat distance. Gratefully, it was sporadic if widespread ...and didn't keep some of our companions off the highway. While pulling off for provisions, I noticed
the coolest bike and rider that I've seen in a long, long time.
As you can see, the Yamaha is decked out in the colors of the local gendarmerie, resplendent in olive-drab and white stenciling of the local unit. I didn't snap one of the rider, though. Decked out in what appeared to be a special motorcyclist uniform every bit as rad as his ride, with 9mm and custom holster strapped to his thigh, he appeared to warrant a wide berth. Back at the ranch, the truck-patch / huerta / giant garden has been mapped-out in a fully sunny space and instructions have been left for the plowman in preparation for my adding various composted ingredients to the soil ...and my missus has instructed that it is time for me to come across with the domed woodburning oven I have planned for so long. The dead of this winter contains much that is waiting to be born! See ya when we get back.
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