Back in Montevideo
Cool Bleak Dank Dark.
Smoking smokers and the strangely pleasant smell of diesel fumes.
Snarling dogs growling the night away.
Sassy birds and prancing donkies;
No need for alarm or alarms except whatever you doo watch out for dog poo.
Small ones. Mostly
Of European persuasion – Peugeot, Renault, Citroen, VW and Fiat –
All shapes and sizes from micro cars and tiny toy pickups to vans and trucks.
An occasional Chevy Spark and some strange unknown models to the U.S. and perhaps unwanted too. And over there – on the other side of 1961 Fiat 500 sits the confident and nimble Nissan March.
Manual transmission and automatic internet for the people.
Onward to Barra 7 for some veggies as Jimi plays Monterey on the big screen. Pink Freud on the wall staring us down, frowning upon the Patricia beer never to be ordered to sound like Pilsen. For Particia is not Pilsen nor is it soap in a bottle of Coke. A cistern and a stern warning. Student patrons with a gift of art hanging freely as the fruit juices blend and the pizzas mend the soul.
Last and Final stop: La Inglessa.