A Vehicle of Transport?

I was very excited to hear that quite possibly there was a vehicle of transport in the purchasing process. Although I hate vehicles, it means change and maybe a move from this place. I have spent near a month reviewing the options. They are endless. Go ahead...pick one!

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It's never easy at first...

For this posting, I’m going to do something different. I’m going to share with you what I found as I hacked into the female handler’s journal on her computer. It wasn’t easy with paws, but I found it. I must admit…she is trying her best…

As Mo’s caretaker, one of my biggest concerns is that he’s content. His dark eyes do not reflect contentment, and I’m trying to figure out what the next step will be. A few things on my mind:

• All three cats were on a hunger strike for about 17 days. As a life-long cat owner, it was nothing that I had experienced before. Even with humans, if you’re hungry enough, you’ll eat it no matter how unusual or disgusting it may be. I mean, look at Bear Grylls! But instead, I get…a stand-off: 
• We finally found some cat food that they tolerate, but it looks like Ed and I are going to have to cook up some food once a week, a combination of meat and grains with some carrots thrown in. It will be cheaper than the packaged cat food that we can buy here. Maybe then Ricky will get enough in his belly and cease his yowling for food at 3:30am.
• The citrus farm fell through. The story behind this is the dollar has tanked. Although they have it listed on their own private blog at a certain price, that price happens to be 2009 dollars (all real estate is sold in US dollars which dates back to the old days when the dollar used to be the only stable currency. How times have changed). It's 2011 now, and that same dollar won't buy as much. They decided to "increase" the price 25% to "better" reflect the 2011 dollar. Well...that bites. Further, the current owners put more emphasis on the cattle and sheep corral than we did. While we think we’ll have some sheep, it is highly doubtful we will have cattle. There are twelve times as many cattle as there are people in Uruguay. And the figure is even higher for sheep. But with sheep, how can you go wrong, though?! I must admit I am slightly biased, as I am half Kiwi.
• We started looking for another place as soon as we knew our value of the citrus farm did not even come close to the current owner’s value of the citrus farm. We looked at many places. Even an old wine bodega which was filled with character and marvelous spaces (to store the wine, and to partake in the drinking of it). 

My daughter had definite misgivings about us purchasing a bodega so that property was put farther down on the list.

• We found an almond farm on 5 hectares (~12 acres). 1000 plants, with 500 having reached maturity last season and the remaining reaching maturity next year. The idea of being an almond farmer (and Ed does make the best biscotti…) has a nice ring to it. In addition to almonds, the owner had a good honey operation going on, with what looked to be 4 colonies on one section of the property. This sustainable circle hooked us. As an added bonus, the house was actually very nice, not needing any immediate repairs or changes. This condition is, quite frankly, unheard of…as we saw houses without fixtures and appliances (even hot water tanks are considered an appliance), and broken windows. Moving into a house that doesn’t need any repairs lightens our load considerably. So why the fuss? Make the offer and start the new chapter.
• The owners have two young elementary-school aged kids. Moving quickly just seems so radical. I didn’t want to put that sort of time pressure on them. We liked the couple immensely and we want to remain on good terms even after we’ve moved in. They are not leaving the area, but rather want to buy a bigger piece of property so they can establish a bigger cash crop of almonds. And he is instrumental in getting all the almond growers (less than 10 in this Departamento- county) organized to combine their crops and sell in a concentrated effort. We most definitely want to be a part of that…so be patient…
• Here in Uruguay, everything is on a sliding time schedule. While I haven’t worn a watch since my battery died in 2005, here “time” is just remarkably different. I will most likely come back to this topic over and over again until I hit that stage when I no longer notice, and then for all my gringo friends and family…I apologize in advance.
• The process of buying a house is also different here. We sat down with the owners over coffee and cookies, and chatted about weather insulation and growing almonds, although my daughter’s focus was on raising bees and discussing colony collapse disorder. We fell in love with the property minutes earlier, but this was the time that we fell in love with the owners. Quite honestly, this makes the world of sense to me. If you get good vibes that the owners really do care, you know that there is good karma, not to mention good upkeep (we certainly hope that the current owners of our Chapel Hill property felt the same in the very few brief moments that the realtors allowed us to communicate with one another). Then a day or two later, we came up with the price that we were willing to offer, and what we wanted conveyed. This was verbally shared with the owners. They took off our “conveyed” list a couple light fixtures and the washing machine…but otherwise accepted. Then the first document of acceptance was written up by an escribano (a person that fulfills all the normal attorney work but isn’t quite an attorney) and required signatures by us (the buyers), the sellers and the escribano. This went through a slight re-write as the escribano (rather, an escribana—ours was a woman) found out that this couple wasn’t married so this delayed it by a day. Once signed, then there is a 20 day period of backing out but with significant fines if either party does back out. In the States, this would be the time that the house is inspected. Not so here. It’s really just time for the purchase contract to be written up. After 20 days, 50% payment is provided. The remaining 50% is due 60 days later when the deal is closed. What this all means is that we are now…77 days shy of moving into a house. Specifically, do we want to be in an apartment without access to grasses and the outdoor litter box for THAT long a time? It'll be nearing spring by the time we do move!
• We spend our evenings and weekends walking around looking for signs “for rent by owner.”Rentals are hard to come by because of that monstrosity of a pulp and paper plant being built up river. The engineers need a place to live, and Colonia has opened their arms to those willing to pay mucho!
• Winter is coming on. The leaves are almost off the trees. The weather is cool, with sporadic winds making it cold. A yurt would be ok…but we failed to bring one in our luggage.
• Our ability to look beyond walking range is hampered by the fact that the car purchase which was supposed to take a few days is now entering its 3^rd week. The car has been selected (purchased from a friend’s friend in Montevideo) but the paperwork from that Departamento has yet to arrive at the escribano’s (I tell you….escribanos control ALL purchases!). So in the meantime, we walk. We’ll probably walk to the bike store today to see what we might be able to find there…but then will that purchase ALSO need to go through an escribano? Where would we store the bikes? We’ve gotten in the habit of walking up all the flights of stairs to the apartment instead of taking one of the two elevators. While a good habit to get into, I’m like seriously dreading when Ed suggests we must do the same carrying bikes. But bikes would allow us to cover more ground.
• Being in the “city” has its benefits. Little family-run grocery stores are dotted around us. We can buy bulk wine (they pour a great Tannat out of a 3L jug into any container that we provide), bulk cheese (the Sunday market two blocks away has an array of fantastic cheeses), the yarn store on the other side of the square, there are 4 butchers within a 6 block radius, the fish wagon comes every Friday morning, and let’s not forget the pastry shop that we found walking back from the escribano’s early last week.
• But being in a 7^th- floor apartment has its downside. Wireless internet is a given in this town (due to the one laptop per child rule), but being on the 7^th floor puts us above reach of the signal. Ed and I share one USB wireless flash drive. No grass and romping space for the cats. This apartment has no washing machine (we’ve been handwashing but did decide to take a few loads to the laundry mat around the corner. They said it amounted to 3 loads and cost $23. Ouch. We’ll be doing more by hand…). I haven’t started back up running because frankly I’m afraid of the first tumble I take. The cobblestone streets drain in the middle if the Portuguese built them in the 1600s or they drain to the sides if the Spaniards build them after the Portuguese were kicked out. The sidewalk tiles are forever popping up from the tree roots. Running is just plain hazardous! And bottom line, we’re so not “city” folks! Even if the "city" has a full time population of about 28,000.

It’s the weekend and time to explore. Maybe we’ll get lucky. Maybe we’ll find a house on the edge of town with a small inner courtyard that we can rent for a couple of months. Please forgive me for venting a bit. Given a bit of griping on my part, are we happy we made this move? Without a doubt…yes!

A Lazy Sunday

A slower day. I slept for most of it. Female handler (f.h.) tried desperately to force me to enjoy the porch. She picked me up, and would turn me towards flying pigeons and Quaker parrots. Like what am I supposed to do….leap off the porch in an attempt to catch them. We’re on the 7^th floor (yeah, I know she told you 6^th earlier, but the fact of the matter is that the folks here count the first floor as 0…ZERO). Any attempt to catch these birds would only create a mess 7 floors below. I’m seriously not into sensational endings like that.

The handlers were gone late this afternoon. Something about looking for a vehicle that cost less than the current rental that they would like to return (only after they clocked 200km in it yesterday checking out the country side that reminded them of scenes from The Man from Snowy River and the plains of Colorado and Nebraska. “No nonsense farming” is what the male handler called it).

They returned to the busy Sunday evening streets of Colonia and to see for the first time Candombe drums being warmed up by a group of drummers (called a cuerda). While we have heard them often and witnessed their progression through town, the early prep is something of a mystery to us. The drummers invited both my handlers to take pictures and welcomed the questions. They demonstrated how they needed to tune their drums by heating the skins by fire, and the warm-up time depended on the temperature and humidity. One of the drummers demonstrated what a drum sounded like when it was ready to use…and what a drum sounded like that still needed some warm tuning. And of course while the bonfire was being stoked, the mate (yerba mate is the beverage of choice) was being passed around.

Seeking Contentment

So…three hours from Cape Canaveral down to Miami (but this time in an air conditioned minivan which was a step above the back of a U-haul truck), arriving 3 hours in advance of the plane, then the female handler (f.h.) had to deal with airline paperwork which took an hour…then one final kiss by the family…and a body search by US Customs (ok, I made that up. I dare them to touch my body!! They did a detailed search of my living quarters and failed to leave a treat behind), and then we were left in the care of American Airlines for 11 hours along with some dogs. We emerged in another environment and were patiently tapping our paws waiting for one of the family members to hopefully …show up. Please don’t force us to stay next to these dogs any longer. The only thing we had in common were very large anxious eyes.

Finally…there she was….running to the cages slipping her fingers in to give us comfort.

I wanted to be angry, I wanted to just lay into her…but instead…I was just so freaking thankful that they were there…at the other end of this nightmare.

Anything from this point forward was manageable.

Another minivan. Another three hours. Not a peep out of us…. We were alive, and we were all together again. It didn’t matter that my bladder was the size of a grapefruit, or that I was hungry. There was a reason this was happening, and we were together.

More than a week has passed in this apartment, and I’m still adjusting. My days are spent sleeping and praying I never have to repeat that trauma. There’s a porch and I’m finally getting enough nerve to venture out on it.

Ricky hates the place. He’ll start his Maine Coon howls about 2am. It’s actually entertaining to watch his blatant impatience. I believe the early mornings are wearing on the f.h.

My mother, Keika, has had a complete personality adjustment with all this. She is the one who has no qualms looking out the window at the traffic below, venturing onto the porch for fresh air, and will even come purposefully to check out the caa-plops caa-plops of the horse drawn wagon going by in the wee hours. She watched a regatta on Sunday from the living room.

And when we have company, SHE is the first to come out to see who it is. I remain in the bedroom, and Ricky hides under the covers beside me.

The family is often gone in the afternoons. There is talk of a farm about 29 km (18 miles) from the apartment, and 10 hectares (~ 25 acres) of sprawling land to roam with established mandarins, oranges, pomelos, apples, and figs. Could be good. Most definitely an upgrade from the current 10” x 13” litter box we have to share now. Apparently there are current residents on the farm—3 horses, which mini-f.h. has fallen in love with.

(The horse whisperer)

We’ll have to see how this works out. I believe I could be content there.

Scaredy Cat

I guess it’s safe to say…I will never be a world traveler. This is how we looked upon arrival at Montevideo, Uruguay last week.

While I ride the heap of cages, I must admit, I am a scaredy cat.  

I am normally the most relaxed cat in the world. I am “Morris” resurrected. But this entire experience of flying and flipping hemispheres has given me challenges that will take time to heal. I’m spooked all the time. My normal green peridot eyes are just plain dark now with angst. The sounds are foreign to me, and I’m constantly on edge. Not even Tannat wine will help resolve these new issues I’m facing.

Our food was confiscated upon arrival. Bummer. It was a good Southern States variety filled with tuna. I really cannot understand why. It was a new unopened bag of dry cat food. If the humans can carry dried fruit in their luggage, why can’t I have my dried food? It really was a disappointment for the female handler (f.h.) who actually carried the carry-on bag containing the 20lb bag of food and emergency cat litter. If she had known, she could have avoided some heavy lifting of this suitcase.

The entire International Health Certificate document review at the airport by the Uruguay Agricultural Departument took….less than 10 minutes. The entire process of getting those documents ready in North Carolina took over 3 months. I’m glad it was quick. I was ready for the experience to be over.

But alas, it wasn’t over…

Having a place to go...

There was speculation that three gringos and three cats would be parked on the side of Ruta 1 between Montevideo and Colonia Uruguay ...camping. "Camping" isn't necessarily "homeless", is it?

But the good news is that we have a savior who goes by the name of "Patrick". He has a rental in Colonia, on the 6th floor (of 7 stories total). The bad news is that no animals are allowed in this building. The further good news is that no one really pays attention to that rule. We've got the place at least for a month. We imagine that Patrick will be checking us out, just as much as we'll be checking Patrick out. What happens beyond a month is anyone's guess. I've been told by the female handler (f.h.) that I need to be on my best behavior. Baaaah! Just give me the porch and the view of the birds, and I'll be good for at least a couple of days. Beyond that is ...anyone's guess.

Hating this look!

Prior to leaving Chapel Hill, my female handler (f.h.) attempted to dress me in rope. The only thing I was missing from completing my new look were chains...

This new contraption is supposedly a tool to allow me walk at Rest Stops, while giving my female handler a false sense that she's in control of my actions. Dudette....pleeeeeeeeeeease!! My front paws were out of these ropes within 5 minutes. If it wasn't for my robust girth, I would have bolted completely, leaving this red rope in the dust.

So, we left at 6am on Thursday. Quite emotional for f.h. as neighbors actually came over at the 11th hour for final hugs. In order to lighten the mood, she made sure everyone was indeed up...by honking the U-Haul horn all the way down the street. Bye Dot, Bye Valerie, Bye Lauren! I will miss your sun spot on the dining room table!

We were stuffed in our three respective cages, and the door closed, leaving us in the dark for 11 hours. Fortunately the roar of the road hid the fact that it was pouring rain, and we skirted tornadoes all the way down to Georgia.

There's talk that there's another road trip tomorrow. Can't wait....