Let us look at where this city used to be:
We have the obligatory fortress hill across the bay surrounded by comparatively new ghetto. On this side of the bay the old city is distinguised from barrio Centro by the newer hood's wider streets capable of being lined with trees.
The footprint of the city as it was when the British occupied it with 10,000 men for 9 months, the footprint of the Capital of a newly independent country, of a country that fought decades of civil wars... It all sits there in an area I don't spend much time because it is too far from the parts of the city I use. The only streets in that footprint still regarded as relatively important are 18 de Julio which starts where the old city ends and the Rambla which hugs the coast. The city's major thoroughfares Avenida General Riviera, Boulevard Artigas, Avenida Italia, 8 de Octubre, and Louis Alberto Herrera don't even come as close to the city as it was as the building whose roof the city was photographed from.
It is a tiny portion compared to the size of the city's footprint today.
Coming from where I do, last week there was a holiday. One of two where everything shuts down back home as compared to the many down here where everything shuts down, though to a lesser extent in my barrio compared to the rest of the city. Here the billoards marketed the day after the holiday, as they do back home. Advertisements were everywhere though fewer people than normal were hanging out at the mall for Black Friday. I suppose big sales aren't much of a draw when the money with which to buy what is on sale is lacking.
Anyways, seeing as having particular foods is a major point of the holliday I had some work to do. With Gloria the Peruana as a competent cook, the bird problem resolved itself. The only turkeys were frozen US imports offered at 329 pesos a kilo, I didn't think to acquire a duck or goose for butchery at the Feria the Sunday before, and a whole splayed seasoned "pollo parrillero" was 400 pesos.
The concept of stuffing however didn't parse when described with words, so I had to demonstrate. Thusly a portion of the groceries were understood, and the purpose of a substantial number of the groceries was likely beyond the understanding of anyone other than myself in the store that the loaves of crusty bread, chorizo, cebollas, and pasas de uvas rubias had a common fate.
Here we have the chorizo browning with the onions, raisins, and mix of balcony grown and commercially acquired herbs. The two loaves of bread had already been torn and dried in the oven to the kitchen's puzzlement while the stock lay in wait to hydrate the whole orchestra before the much of hydration would once again be sacrificed and baked off in the oven. The result was understood and lauded. It turns out stuffing theory can indeed be grasped.
[...] absolutely horrified by the amount of butter, especially after it was bulked up by blonde sugar. Stuffing last month was simpler: make a sort of soup, mix a bunch of dry bread in the soup, and bake. She will expertly dice [...]
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