Doing a Slow BURRRRRN

They say not to blog when you are rolling in the deep in the Peace Corps. Well, I don’t have an actual journal and I say fuck it, read the sub-headline of the blog page. My ideas tend to reflect a brain like a drugged out spider spinning a web confused as to where it started and where it should go next or end, but when I’m angry and sleep deprived, my train of thoughts is an utter wreck, worse than the whole two kilometers of railroad in landlocked Paraguay…it’s going from nowhere to nowhere.

It’s almost 3:30 am on what is now officially a Sunday morning. If I were in normal world, I’d probably just be winding down from a night out, but this is far from normal. I have been quite sleepy since about 10pm, but there have been internal and external interruptions every twenty minutes. Now my brain is on overload and I have a dull, dizzy ache keeping me from sleep.

This is another negative blog, unfortunately, but it’s not about the people and their reta (way of life, customs)...(ok maybe the latter part is a lie). In fact I had a pretty good, but un-accomplished day. I spent the morning finishing the overdue bamboo garden fence that kind of fell apart a few weeks ago, and since it was friendship day (a big deal here), I invited three girls who live close enough to visit for chocolate cake and a movie, which was a great success for the girls. It was an ideal non-work day until they left at the last of dusk and I retired to idle for about an hour, pretending to clean and take care of my rabbit and her compost.

I then realized I start a series of 6-8 lessons at the elementary school for the upcoming 2-3 weeks, and the biggest one is Monday. So I convinced myself at around 8pm that I should wait on skype for my mom and sister while idling a little more. I tried to do a bellydance workout but was too drained for it, knowing there was no hope for a bodyrock work. By near midnight, I had lightly read through the research I had done, and kind of outlined the poster papers (I’m pre-powerpoint, let alone any technology at school) for the first lesson. I planned on taking some of this work and personal Guarani studies to the occasional visit I owe my host grandfather in the morning.

I tried to sleep but my mind was running on a different motor, generating new ideas about the school lesson and my Guarani language endeavors. To calm my thoughts I got up at about 1am to type out these ideas, saw my mom sent me a text message apologizing for not being able to skype, so thereafter I hoped for a good night’s sleep. Just as I was losing conscious thought….I heard cows grazing right outside my window again. GRRRRR

I am so worked up about this because there has been a problem with cows in my yard for the past month. My neighbors kind of have helped put up a part of the fence they knocked down once long ago and the crappy gate, but were never really in a hurry to finish anything. The only reason they did is because they HAD to. I finally realized that my landlord must know that the cows are responsible for many of the string of problems the water motor has. I think I have had a total of two weeks of running water without some crazy pipe leak in the past eight months. I was feeling a little responsible when my neighbor, especially the dad, kind of commanded me to not let HIS cows in my yard and IIIII need to chase them around if this happens…like I’m responsible for HIS cows too. And I began to feel really GUILTY when my landlord called me kind of mad for not reporting the currently enormous pipe damage to the water situation. I tried to explain as kindly as possible that I did not want him to get all worried about it (this old man lives like three hours away and is putting tons of money into fixing the water every other month, instead of fixing the fence to keep the cows out, or just killing all the cows). In reality, I chose not to do anything because I knew I had nothing to do with the problem (it happened while I was away for a couple of days) and in reality I don’t mind having to haul a bucket or two of water everyday (I live the furthest away from a well). We only turn on the water about 10 minutes a day to each get a few liters of drinking water, while probably ten times that is wasted by the damage. They insist it has to be done GRRR. My neighbor reminded me a few more times that it’s my responsibility to keep the cows out too. GRRRRRR. Just now, a cow came to the bunny cage right by my door and knocked the rain cover with brick weights off the top and started chewing on the plastic, scaring the shit out of my bunny and me. Another just knocked off a good amount of the straw off the water motor’s roof. GRRRRRRRRRR

This passive accusation for something that I absolutely nothing to do with but has lately affected me a lot, topped by my family’s neglect and my own procrastination is HORRRRRRRRificly beyond 4 am words. I laid in bed, adding fuel to fire in my head, relaying through how much I hate domestic animals and am now determined to be fully vegetarian again (gasp, even when visiting neighbors) and how I can almost be vegan and would love it. I used to be vegetarian because I really appealed to the energy efficiency argument, but now I have two reasons. Chickens, pigs and cows are disgusting, brainless creatures that if let run wild, without balanced meals, are savage and reckless. My own chickens don’t lay eggs anymore for what people call the normal clueca phase, which to me means I have absolutely no need for them, but can’t bring myself to kill them…let alone consume them. Thus, spending on feeding them is not so viable, but I do it to deter them from eating the bunny poop (but there are three chickens of mine and about 40 more visiting throughout the day). Lately, eggs have caused an unpleasantly odd sense, that if I eat them, my next couple of meals have a strong vestige smell and taste of eggs (almost rancid in my craziness) even though I do not use the same cooking/eating utensils, so much I am ready to cut them out other than in baked goods. I have cut out straight up milk, and so use powdered milk, but very little because it’s the lesser of two evils. I rarely eat cheese because what is most available is far from enjoyable. I laid in bed fully awake thinking about disgusting chickens eating rabbit poop and not laying eggs; pigs too often witnessed inside of people’s kitchens (I puked a mouthful of chocolate cake at those memories), tearing through my yard and knocking down my tree saplings, and making foul sounds; and cows eating my cilantro, carrots, and plastic bunny cage cover after also tearing through my yard and fucking up the running water.

What also vexes me is the irony of how lose these animals are, and how the reta of old world rural families is still strong in that women and whole families in general are on a short leash to their families and house. They rarely leave their house and fields except to buy the essentials, and in some cases some women only leave the house for an immediate family member’s death or wedding. I finally end here and hope I can get a wink of sleep before I hear my neighbors realize the cows are in my yard and am coaxed to help. It’s about one hour to sunrise. Good morning. Ha.

Stupid (and not so stupid) shit Paraguay has made me do lately

1. For some reason my bathroom is plagued by zillions of mosquitos (maybe it’s the toilet water that attracts them since it’s practically stagnant and since I can only flush it once a day if I’m lucky). So I used up a massive amount of mosquito repellent in the bathroom that I think I must have poisoned myself while inhaling, and was still so bad after half an hour I had to take the pee bowl outside so I could breathe while I peed (I use the bowl most of the time now since said toilet is not functional most of the day and I don't have a latrine on my property…but at least it’s a great nitrogen source for my compost).

2. Cows are strictly forbidden in my half acre-ish yard because they have been known to mess up the water motor (currently broken thanks to an evil cow). During the two days they had free admittance to my yard after they tore down the makeshift part of my fence they not only broke the water motor leaving three families and I without running water, but they broke part of my garden fence (it was already in really bad shape and I had it coming for procrastinating in getting bamboo to rebuild it), and tore through my garden eating my cilantro, basil, and most of my lettuce and carrots!!!!!!!

3. A couple of nights ago, at almost 11pm I heard a cow just outside my window. I ran outside with the dim light of my phone to hunt about 15 pairs of large luminescent eyes (Including one in my garden again!!!!) and chase them around my large yard, screaming gibberish (you’d understand how this is used against almost all animals if you lived in Paraguay) until they found the gate they tore down and got the hell out. That night I had a nightmare where evil cows with giant horns like guampas were chasing after me while I was on a jog around the community, and eventually there was a stampede of cows as all the cows around the neighborhood got together to take their revenge on me. Ok maybe that is not exactly how I dreamt it, but I did have an unpleasant dream involving cows that I don’t remember to exact detail.

4. Recently, I got a lovely large bunny, who resembles an English spot breed, and my 4 year old neighbor and I named “pelusita” (Spanish for little “lint” or “fuzz”). Other than having her as a pet and dreaming of one day having a side project in nutrition and breeding rabbits for their meat, I was pretty stoked about having a composter’s dream manure: rabbit poop. So I started a separate, small compost pile just for my rabbit’s poop, but I quickly learned that if I’m not around to sweep up her poop almost immediately, the chickens will eat it all!!!! After almost a week with a bunny, I have a pathetic pile of rabbit compost that is probably 98% kitchen scraps and leaves, and 2% rabbit pebbles (and it’s probably four handfuls big total).

I guess the only awesome thing is that I am probably able to count the average number of liters of water I use per day with my two hands. I have become much better at using the water I haul from my neighbor’s well to do dishes, laundry or bucket bathe, then recycle it to water my tree saplings and currently crappy garden or flush the toilet.

All in all though, I end on a good note! I’m becoming busier and thus happier! Working a whole schedule this upcoming month with the elementary school to start composting and starting a mini tree nursery, apart from random basic environmental/biology learning activities in between; continuing to figure out ways with the high school principal to get books for a library; the women’s committee is getting official paperwork done so we can figure out what we can hopefully produce for market (still a little of an obstacle in having everyone agree on something); starting a biodigester at home (to put evil cow poop to good use) and starting to pitch bunnies and biodigesters to two agricultural committees. Also maybe starting an English class…and this all I hope to at least start somehow before I go on vacation to Bolivia and Peru in about a month! These are great goals!!! So here’s to hoping I am not about to jinx any of it with the hesitant and adamant minds that tend to prevail around heres!!!

I am writing about this with the aim that by publishing it I will actually stick to it, and if you are reading this, can support me! Through a great but brief friendship with a girl who trained for Peace Corps with me, but left, I found out about this awesome fitness website that I’ve recently become enthralled with. It’s an online fitness blog called bodyrock where some crazy fit and scantily clad woman (who I heard was in the porn industry) does these crazy intense short interval training exercises that make you feel utterly elated at just being able to complete. I started these fitness routines almost three weeks ago and have only done about three a week, but I want to up it and commit to doing these on average of every other day, alternating with at least 1.5 hours every other day of biking or running (increasing it from my average of 1 hour every other day). So I write this not to try to show off, but just to let others know and that way feel like I have given my word to them, but most importantly to myself to commit to a healthier lifestyle and because endorphins are the only legal drug I'm allowed to do while in Peace Corps and I allow myself while in site (I don't do alcohol in my community, but mostly because it is completely crap beer you couldn't pay me to drink and too few people invest in wine)….Diet is hard to regulate when I eat with local families or out a few times each week, but I am successful at when at home. For example today I had an amazing salad made from homegrown lettuce and carrots with onion, tomatoes, bell pepper, grilled eggplant, black beans, some spices and balsamic dressing. DELICIOUS…but I ruined it by the three pieces of cake I bought to support the women’s group and ‘somehow managed’ to eat all today.

Don't Cry For ME

Just after a week in Argentina in late May, I stopped blogging and shaving my legs. I’ll start by posting about my time in Argentina before I forget it happened this year.

The week I spent in Argentina was bittersweet. I spent it with two great college friends and wandered around the city sometimes alone and never got lost! I stayed at the apartment of an insane lady just a couple of blocks from some giant government building. I shared a room with a really nice girl from Holland who wanted to visit South America for several months and was spending a couple months in Buenos Aires to learn Spanish.

In a nutshell, Buenos Aires is a city with beautiful European reminiscent architecture from colonial times, but the only thing to remind you of South America is the sometimes tasteful graffiti making urging you to take some kind of social stand with either scrawled succinct commands or a colorfully elaborate depiction. I did not feel like I was in South America, save for the one night spent at a tango bar and the classic argentine accent of which most y’s and ll’s slurred as a Spanish “j” or English “cho” that kind of makes me think the argentine’s European ancestors learned Spanish while they were piss drunk and it passed it on through the centuries.

The first day there, Elena took me to the Pink Palacio to a protest held by some old women’s group who lost their kids to some militia group in some kind of social mishap many many years ago. That night we went out to some bar where ALL of the study abroad students from U.S. went to hang out, and I got to see a few more familiar faces from Trinity like Alyssa and Jahn, yet the ambience of the bar was off key. I felt like the only one far removed and outgrown from college life even though I was not the only college graduate or the youngest, and on my first night I did not feel like sipping drinks with other Americans, I could do that in the USA anytime! I wanted to get out and meet some locals!

We then went to a club where they had a sweet break dance couple competition and Elena and I went to the balcony to observe man and woman couples face each other off with some impressive popping and locking of joints I wasn’t even aware one could move more than 180°. Shortly thereafter, more kids from the first bar joined us, and the floor opened up to dance. So I went with a couple girls to the floor, thinking it would be normal and we could enjoy the music, but really creepy drunk guys started to try to get us left and right and sometimes were too pushy. I have the impression that some were local guys, but the worst were probably under 21 tourists, completely drunk who thought that in Argentina you can just instantly get with anyone who seems of the desirable sex, so that a few times, a guy would come up to me and try to make out within seconds. It was in short REVOLTING and we were out of there less than half an hour after the dancing started.

I spent the rest of the week visiting places and stuffing my face of alfajores and delicious food with Elena and Mike, Alyssa, and Sanne (the really cool girl from Holland). One of the highlights was being an observer at a Tango bar, where both young and old men and women sat behind little round tables around the perimeter of a dance floor. A tango song would come on, and the women would wait to be asked by a man for a dance, and so would ensue the dance and small talk to fit the length of a tango or two before each would retreat to their respective little table to start over with a new partner. To me, it seemed both much more refreshing, romantic and professional (especially in light of my experience at the club earlier in the week).

Buenos Aires was not as romantic as I imagined it to be. The people were too often rude, though I did find some nice eclectic people to chat with while exploring the city’s cemetery, zoo, arboretum and garden. The lady I lived with expressed how many argentines, especially in BA still ride a high horse about their European ancestry in an attempt to alienate themselves from the indigenous and mestizos, to consider themselves above them. In another occasion I heard, (and did feel it through my visit) that Paraguayans are not warmly welcomed, and their situation is much like that of Mexicans in the U.S. displaced from their home country in plight and search of an economically viable position elsewhere. On the other hand Bolivians are considered much worse than the already plebeian status of Paraguayans, twice hearing that they are lazy and dirty in comparison to harder-working Paraguayans. I met both some Bolivians and Paraguayans while visiting some of the tourist hotspots, and all were incredibly friendly (I got a mini tour from a cemetery employee) and respectfully hardworking (magnitudes more than the lazy Argentine host lady I stayed with). I left with the impression that any reason why Bolivians would be less regarded is due to their general more indigenous origin. With that said, I am not at all crazy about ever visiting Buenos Aires again. I had a taste of it, and once was enough, and look forward to Bolivia and Peru in September!!!

3 month update!

Its been forever since I last wrote, so I will only be skimming on the most important stuff (i.e. what I remember) of the last three months.

I have not made peanut butter since that last time I posted. I have about 3lb of peanuts I have already shelled and toasted and half of which I already pinched off the skin…but it’s so time consuming and I haven’t had movies or TV shows for about a month to spend the tedious time in making peanut butter. Last time, I also left the vestiges of the peanut butter in the blender with water to soak for an easy clean the next day, but forgot I had to go to Asuncion for errands and the Shakira concert, turning into a three night stay and returned to nasty stinky rotted-fermented peanut butter water. DISGUSTING. I will be making peanut butter with what I have this month, since the nights are much longer.

Peanut butter is only one of the American foods I have learned to actually enjoy while in Paraguay. Previously I preferred cream cheese and jelly sandwiches and thought of peanut butter as the gross lard consistency food you have no option of eating but on long hiking trips. I like olives and blue cheese now, which I used to detest…though I think it has something to do with the scant choices in cheese in Paraguay, and the plague of olives in Argentina.

Tomatoes, bell peppers, onions are the only staple vegetables available year round, so I appreciate that I learned to make caramelized onions during Senior Week at Trinity, because I eat those almost every other day with my amazing home made flour tortillas. But now I see my garden, the tomato plants that have grown bigger than I can handle, I see the garlic, onions, scallions, bell pepper, lettuce, cilantro, basil, oregano, carrots, beets, eggplant, jalapeno, cucumber, sunflower, broccoli, and my heart warms of the thought that I could soon make salad and salsa from stuff in my own garden. My sister sent me an awesome rosemary cracker recipe I was eager to try out, but the only thing that has not germinated AT ALL is the ROSEMARRRYYY!!!!!! Ah well, I will try again and play the waiting game.

Work has been fluctuating in productivity and though sometimes frustrating, is really rewarding. In March and April I learned a little bit about beekeeping, getting to use one of the bee suits with fellow volunteers on a hive transfer and was so elated and excited I wanted to bring it to my community. So I read the whole manual given to bee keeping volunteers, learned a lot, and tried to get others in my community to be interested in it too, especially since some already have hives. Yet two people basically told me I had to give them the suits and did not like the idea of making a beehive when other organizations have given them away in the past. Others just politely told me they had no equipment but where interested or I was told it was dangerous business and left it at that. There is much more to talk about this frustrating topic involving previous organizations that did a bad job of teaching others to keep bees and literally just gave people hives without adequate instruction or equipment and no follow-up so these have been under appreciated and neglected to rot. It makes me sad to realize that without equipment, if they venture to harvest honey, they just build a large fire under and around the hive, and likely deplete the honey storage necessary for the bees to survive the upcoming winter. This is one of many things I wish I knew more, and could do more.

Just before my much needed vacation to Buenos Aires, I spent a couple weeks preparing materials and lessons for both a reading club for elementary school kids and an English class for teens. I wanted to do the reading club, and the English class was something I felt much more insecure about, but after several nagging high school kids asked I gave in. So for both these, I announced at one of the PTA meeting in the elementary school just three days before hand, announced it to the kids at both the elementary and one of the high schools, and even sent text messages to most of the teens, especially to the ones who attend the school that’s further away and didn’t get to visit. So the time rolls around for the two events, and NO ONE shows up for the reading club, and only one of my closer neighbors comes to the English class. I was subsequently disillusioned and frustrated, my vacation couldn’t come sooner. I still wonder what it is that I did wrong, and a few women who I occasionally visit sadly assure me that the community is just lazy, and that many children live too far away for parents to want to send their kids to school again on a Saturday morning.

On the other hand, I’m working with the principal of the high school and a couple teachers there to start a library at the school. This woman is refreshing to work with, because she seem organized, and seems to really get it. She has done a lot to renovate the school and even has some bookshelves ready, a computer, all that lacks really, are books and order to the library system! This work was going smoothly until the week of the bicentennial followed by my vacation have really slowed it down, but I’m feeling optimistically about this one project.

Paraguay celebrated 200 years of supposed independence, though about two thirds of this time have not been really independent, more like dictatorial neocolonialism. But nonetheless EVERYONE was hooting and tooting for this "big" event. There was supposed to be a parade on the 13th and stuff going on through the weekend, so I made sure my vacation would be after the weekend of the 15th in order to not miss all this stuff that was to go on. So less than a week in advance, they changed this parade to the 20th, after I would be gone for Argentina. During May it was impossible to follow up the work started in the school tree and vegetable garden that I am certain they did not water it properly and then was asked what was wrong with the seeds that I got donated from agency. I would go into the school to finish labeling a world map unfinished by the last volunteer, and they were busy holding meetings with parents, and making decorations for the parade that took up most of the three-hour school day for at least a couple weeks.

The best worst singer is native to Paraguay, and goes by the pen name K-chorra (like puppy girl in misspelled spanish) (you should find her on Youtube to enjoy her whiney high pitched, off key voice and bad dancing) and preformed on the eve of the bicentennial in La Colmena, a nearby town! It was an awesome time to hang out with volunteers from my group in the area, as well a old and new, and a great time to meet locals of the area, including an awesome woman who lived in New Jersey for about 10 years, and just moved back with her adorable daughter and son.

Well, the bigger things I have upcoming are the continuation of starting a library, tree nursing on a small scale at the elementary school, world map activities since the map labeling is nearly done! The rest is hoping that I have the confidence to plant some green manures with a couple families who I picked cotton with, and the patience to work with the women’s group that is usually not apt to do things that require manual work like worm composting and raised bed gardening.

I know this post sounds really negative, and the last thing that I would ever have imagined I would want to say about my community is that they are lazy and not open to new ideas. But I remain optimist because I know that from their eyes, work and investing in anything that ha no immediate benefit is often a huge risk when money is so precious.

I went to some awesome waterfalls twice, since last posting. Salto Cristal as it's called, is a waterfall about 80 meters high that forms a nice, serene pool at its base that is perfect for swimming. We last got to hang out there just after the bicentennial because a friends of a fellow PCV friend were visiting and wanted to see it before they left. It is one of the most beautiful places I've been swimming in! I couldn't describe it fairly, nor could pictures do it enough justice. A friend posted pictures on facebook, and I think I will soon as well.

I am happy to report that I have been quite healthy. No colds, flu, pneumonia, dengue fever, not even abnormal bowel movements for a while. I thank my family’s genes and upbringing that I am strong and healthy like a horse…with a little bit of osteoporosis maybe. Knock on wood I don’t fracture any limbs here!

How to Make Manteca de Mani (Peanut Butter) from Scratch in the Paraguayan Campo

Step 1: In late October or early November clean your field with an ox-powered tractor and plant your Mani depending on the time, rain fall, and variety of mani. But hey, it’s not an exact science, and what matters most is that you have the time and energy to do it and if need be that your neighbor may let you borrow the ox to do the cleaning.

Step 2: Generally, you pray (or maybe do some little dance and chant) for good weather and rain, no disease so the plants can grow happy and hoe those weeds between the rows of the mani at least once, ideally a few times through the season.

Step 3: It’s finally late February, and the temperature has cooled a bit, ideally after a light rain, but before heavy rain begins. Harvest the mani plants from the root. Load the mani on your ox-cart and take it home, or maybe you just carry it on your back in sacs, or use a wheelbarrow (made of wood through and through) to transport it home.

Step 4: Once home, you store the plants in a cool dry place if available, and most importantly somewhere the chickens don’t get to it, or at least under a tree, with a rope from the tree that has a couple large sacs tied to it, so that in the danger of hungry approaching chickens, you can sapucai (yell out) and tug on the rope from the distance to wave the sacs and scare off the chickens.

Step 5: Once you have the time, and hopefully some help, you yank those mani pods off the plants, choosing the ones that feel full from grown seeds, leaving behind the ones that feel hollow when pinched.

Step 6: Leave the mani pods to dry out in the sun at least for a day, also trying to prevent inconsiderate chickens from eating them all up, using the scare-off method described in Step 4 or some similarly devised method, like on some elevated surface the chicken’s won’t get to.

Step 7: Take the shells off the mani (by hand of course).

Step 8: Toast the mani in a single sheet on low temperature in your gas or brick oven, or fogon. Take care to not burn it of course. It may take 10-20 minutes, until the mani is smells and looks roasted but not burnt.

Step 9: peel the skin off each one. It should peel easily by pinching and be golden brown. It’s usually easier after toasting, but can be done beforehand too.

Step 10: In a blender, put a handful of mani in, and everything from here is basically to personal taste: a pinch of salt, brown or regular sugar, and a spoon or two of oil (preferably some neutral or sweet oil like soy/sunflower, but vegetable is ok). Then just blend until desired consistency.

Step 11: Store and enjoy! Delicious with some store bought or homemade jalea (jelly) of any variety of fruits. I’ve been using it with marmalade from the fruit of a tree, similar to a cherry, but more like a purple grape, which I have yet to identify. Similar to Yvapuru but not quite.

Jopara (mix of this and that)

Things are starting to become more normal and though still conscious of how successfully I’m integrating, I’m sure it will be so much that one-day I will not notice. Once upon a time, I couldn’t imagine why people don’t go anywhere including school on days it rains, or work only a couple hours in the morning and maybe a couple just before dusk on hot summer days. However, I’m starting to come to terms with justifying any feckless time spent either on my own or with neighbors on how hot/rainy/muddy the roads/windy/late/rain threatening/etc are. I once read that in Paraguay, no one is familiar with Carpe Diem, as today is a chill day, and tomorrow is a day to seize.

On the topic of weather…as that is what is most often talked about and can get crazy all up on us without warning….and because it’s just the quintessential small talk topic. It’s been generally sweltering hot since late December, so much so that within 15 minutes of hoeing in the garden or chacra (field) I’m dripping sweat and nearly soaked through my shirt it’s gross (thought I like to flatter myself and thing that it’s partially due to the humidity…because I never thought I could be that sweat so much so fast). However, in the past few days, the rain gods have graced us and quenched the baked and parched earth and nearly drowned it. Monday afternoon became overcast and very gray so everyone commented on how it was pretty ominous of rain. And rain it did. A thunderstorm came a rollin’ in just past midnight and it rained in buckets. Literally. The lighting was hitting nearby so I couldn’t sleep from the thunder and I figured I’d put an empty bucket to catch water near my patio, and noted that within an hour, the water was overflowing. Through most of the night lightning twinkled through my door; often the time difference between the lighting and pounding thunder was within a couple of seconds. The worst, twice, I saw no lighting through the windows, but only felt the energy run through the earth, rattle under my bed, similar to a little earthquake, instantly followed by an ear bursting thunder. I gotta admit it was pretty crazy awesome but the thought that lighting may have just as well struck at my doorstep made me feel like I could crap a brick. Since then, rain has just been a constant threat, but not attacking so fiercely, but it’s still kind of balmy warm combined very low hanging rain clouds, so that you can feel the drizzle falling but the air is saturated of humidity, it kind of just is near suspended yet falling…I don’t know exactly how to put it…it’s not like the cold thick fog we get in the California central coast, but it wasn’t uncomfortably clingy like in the Connecticut summer, it was like just drizzling in slow motion from clouds that were only 10meters overhead. It made the beautiful misty landscape feel quite exotic.

Nonetheless, I have been up to doing some kind of work!! I have impressed my neighbors when they saw that I went out to collect a formidable amount of takuara (bamboo) for a fence around my huge garden all on my own. Over the week, I made several trips of a short distance of about 200 meters from my house to a neighbor’s land where three huge cohorts of takuara grow. It is of course an easy peasy walk there, but dragging many water heavy, fresh cut, up to 7m long takuaras makes the task a tad more grueling, especially when you are as stubborn as I and wanting to lug six at a time…I had to give up and carry no more than four of varying sizes to make it manageable. On the other hand, I’ve pleased myself that I’ve become a pro at chopping up the takuara, dragging it, cutting it to fence length size and slicing it half using just a small hand saw and a machete. The first couple of times, my arms were satisfyingly faintly sore from the work.

On the long term, I am determined to make my own way here, including possible vacations to neighboring countries in the future. The allowance we receive each month is quite modest, enough that one can well enough get by, especially in the campo, where the most expensive things tend to be imported foods in town, and trips to the city, but once it’s time to consider vacation it’s often necessary to tap into the pocketbooks of family at home. It’s something that I know I could count on in a pinch, but I admit I am stubborn in my independence and am conscious that there is rarely much to spare at home, nor do I count on the well paying college job to pay for vacations and superfluous commodities like I did in halcyon days. Therefore, I have tried to cut corners and save here and there. The easiest has been in transportation to town. The bus from site to town costs 6mil Gs (about $1.30), and I end up going about seven times a month rain or shine (as of late, more like scorching arid hot or pelt down rain). So if I were to ride on the bike I was given, I would save over $100 in one year, almost enough for a Brazilian visa…not so bad I guess. …I just have to now work on that garden and transplant the vegetables I have potted and hope they provide veggies that I won’t have to buy and transport from town in the future. It’s kind of exciting that my vegetable and tree planting efforts have been pretty successful.

Thus, since I was given the bike about a month ago, I have made the 20km roundtrip distance to town on bike. It hasn’t been so bad; I guess the previous summer spent in spinning classes at the gym wasn’t so futile. Though Paraguay is known for being quite flat topographically, I discovered I live on a very long and soft sloping hill that at one point abruptly erupts into a cerro, a very steep protrusion that is far too little to call a mountain, but much to steep to consider a hill. (I hiked the peak with a group of locals and spent about 75 mins from base to summit, but it felt like a rock climb for a good part of the way). Anyway, this bike into town makes it so that on about a straight km or two as I reach town, I’m coasting and picking up speed from the constant slight downhill slope so much that I was nervously clinging to the handlebars, catching a lot of attention from whomever happened to see, but trying not to brake too much because the pain of speed over the road paved by brick size gravel was something I wanted to instantly get over with.

About the second or third time trippin to town on the bike and going over the speed limit on that long soft downhill part, I began to think of that time we hiked in the cerro and on other random hikes and such. I realized I’m pretty scared of going downwards, and just can’t fathom why some people are most scared of uphill. A guy who went hiking with us commented on how much harder it was to go up the cerro compared to going down, yet I was comfortable going up and not at all in pain, yet once we were downward bound, I was hugging the nearest tree at almost every step, holding my breath while concentrating on where to take the next step, afraid that if I took a wrong footing I’d slip and tumble or fracture something. I thought of the question one occasionally hears involving the fear of falling while going upstairs. Maybe I don’t get it, but I’m not afraid of it at all; I am pretty sure I have tripped while going upstairs, but I just brush it off and continue. Perhaps it’s my infamous accidents involving downward motion. In first grade, I dislocated my wrist while roller-skating down a handicap ramp; freshman year of college I caused a mini avalanche and deflated ego as I thought I’d have the balls to ski (more like tumble down half a snow covered mountain) down an expert ticketed mountain in Lake Tahoe, after only two days experience; junior year, I fractured my left ankle jumping off a boulder five days into what was supposed to be a two week hike. Yet, I seem to have never minded any cuts and scrapes or pains of extra effort when upward bound. So, can you blame me if I’m coasting downhill at what feels like 40km/hr on a bike over gravel road, and I hold my breath the whole way, praying to God that I don’t end up splattered and smeared all over the road, yet I don’t mind returning uphill, huffing and puffing with about 20lbs extra weight of groceries on my back??? My point is that this smells to me like I should be a winner in life, but I’ve never before considered even considering myself a winner. I suppose I’m content being a winning loser and admitting I need a little dose of daredevil to enjoy speeding downhill.

It´s february

I´m writing from an internet cafe, while I wait for pictures to take their sweet ass time uploading, and while I wait for a particular paraguayan to also take his sweet ass time to drive a couple hours to deliver some parts for the fogones the women made a few months ago. I can´t complain or stress out though because the pace of life is so laid back, I´d probably be drinking Terere with someone or sitting in front of my fan and reading otherwise, but there is plenty of time for that afterward.

Despite February being the hottest and slowest month for PCVs, especially new ones, I´ve been working! I came into town once and happened to meet some kind of important person from the local government (it would translate to couselor to the planning and development office of the city or something like that) and somehow profiled me as a Peace Corps volunteer (maybe it was my keen backpack, and sandals, or me walking around obviously lost and with the hurried gait tranditional of people from the USA). So I remembered I was in Paraguay, stopped to meet her and drink hot mate with her mother. All in all it was a fruitful hot mate session. She is interested in maybe working with me in planning a new city park near the plaza, or having me put her in contact with someone more competent, and applying for a volunteer to work in Acahay.

It seems exiting! Í´m sure that our visions now are a little different, but I hope to use her vision to put in light the fact that at the doorstep of the little city is a biodiversity hotspot and pretty cool crater-donut shaped cerro that has been designed to be a protected area for it´s habitat to many crazy awesome migrating birds. So very few local people are aware of this or care to protect the area, so I hope that there is something that I could do to raise at least a little bit of awareness about this, and maybe in the future, people will care enough to take care of their beautiful home.

Last tuesday, I went to my first regional meeting for volunteers, and it rained minutes after I got to the meeting, and wouldn´t let out most of the morning. Taking advantage of being in a slightly bigger town than my nearest town, Acahay, I went shopping for food, and the rain kind of let out, so headed home. Though it was barely sprinkling by the time I got to Acahay, there was no bus leaving town to my site! So enjoying that the rain had cooled down the heat of summer, I started the 1hour45min walk home, and about half an hour into it, it begins to pour again. I was jamming to my ipod and really loved it! In any other similar situation in the U.S. I think I´d probably be cursing the world and my life, and thinking about the million other things to do, but life stops in the campo when it rains, so I didn´t mind getting soaked while jamming my ipod and everyone hiding in their homes. I just got home, dried up and since the electricity stuck around through the rainfall, watched a movie. :)

For a real and brief update: I had summer camp for the past couple of weeks and was originally dissapointed that at the most, 5 kids would show up, but hey I´m out in the sticks, and it´s hard to get anyone motivated to get out of their houses. Nonetheless, we had fun, so that I had to cancel the last day in order to figure out the fogon deal with the women´s group, and the kids were heartbroken and trying to convince me to continue it next week! They even tried little teasing tactics like taking my backpack and soccer ball until I said maybe.

Sending my love and lots of hugs to say I misssss yáll!!

Connie

1+ month update

18 January: MAJOR UPDATE

Been so long, I don’t know where to start….

I’ve been an official volunteer for just over a month!!!! WOOO

So December 9th was swear in, at the huge US Embassy, where we met the Embajadora, and just all chanted in unison through a printed oath. It was a pretty big event, but not that interesting, just like graduation.

Most of us spent four nights in the city blowing off whatever money saved during training, and for some, a sizable chunk of our move-in allowance on booze, hotel stay, and GREAT food (relative to the same 12 items used in the PYan cuisine), and partying until some clothes were maybe missing on the dance floor (for most due to great amounts of sweat that shirts were just excessive maybe there were more reasons for other people’s lack of clothes). So bliss of a few nights, and back to reality and beginning two years of our live in service for cultural exchange, and helping meet the needs and demand for professionals in PYan communities.

So I moved in December 14 on a pretty balmy afternoon, to the house of Don Simon Moriningo, an 83 year old, who now lives with two of his daughters, one in her early 40s, Quintina and the other in her early 30s, Luisa. Now this family is NOT AT ALL like most families in this country. Quintina stays at home to tend to the big house, and Luisa usually goes off in the mornings on her horse, leading her 9-head cattle to the other side of this SUPER rural town, and work in the field, hang out in her little ranchito, or do whatever until around 7pm when she trots back to the casa grande, mostly because dad doesn’t like her living out.

Ok so to profile how awesomely bizarre this family is, Luisa is a very independent woman, highly respected by the community who works her own field, is a soccer arbitral, first aid certified for the town (pretty uncommon), and has taken random courses of several things, and best of all is pretty open to change and ideas. I suppose it’s not so surprising, given her unusual leadership as a woman in an extremely rural and pretty poor community. Luisa doesn’t shave at all, and is very open to talk about it, asking me several times already why I think people shave, and why I would…though I haven’t at all since coming to site, but mostly because I left my razor in the long term storage of the office (which I just got a couple days ago!!). The second day in site, Luisa interrogated me about leaving the door closed and closing the door of my room at night. I found out that it’s odd for anyone to close or even lock the doors at night, especially in the summer, when everyone sleeps outdoors. Luisa sleeps outdoors, and to take care of her cattle for those infamous stories that spread around about once a year of someone steeling a cow, sleeps with a loaded gun under her pillow. Just in case anyone has the balls to cross the corral where the cows sleep, guarded by her five dogs.

Quintina is the single mother of a 9-year-old boy who lives with her sister near the capital. I guess this isn’t unusual…I’ve unfortunately observed that many kids for one reason or another are raised in the city, or in the campo opposite to where their parents are, with a grandmother, aunt, cousin, etc. She has a ‘boy friend’ of a long time, who she won’t ever marry because he is letrado in the sense that he has several women, but she accepts it, and seems faithful to him nonetheless, even when he’s gone about half the year in Buenos Aires, doing some kind of work.

Don Simon is kind of hard to understand due to his age, and that he only speaks Guarani. He is simpatico, always cracking some pesado jokes that I never understand, but he is really patient with my lack of Guarani comprehension and has given me more confidence in at least speaking broken Guarani. He once put up the hammock for me and told me to go eñemuatumoi and I thought he said lets go get matrimonio (a marriage). So I asked back, marriage??? He said yes, and I was like NO WAY, etc etc. So in the confusion now the joke is that whenever the hammock taken outside, it’s for me to go get a marriage.

So this is my host family. I’m already finishing up moving out, because I just function better on my own schedule, and am eager to work on a garden even in high summer, which is most feasible just at sunrise and dusk. With this family, waking up past 6:30 is pretty late, but at least usually on time to help milk the cows, and am always questioned about my coming and going. I too often feel like I’m treated like a kid because they assume I don’t know anything or am ordered around to do this and that and blah, I like it, but not for long periods of time. Nonetheless , this family rocks, so the plan is I live alone, sleep until whenever I want, work in the garden and activities, do laundry whenever, come and go and visit families that are on the other end of the town since my little house seems to be pretty central (It’s seems to be about 45 to one end of town, and 30 minutes to the other walking kind of slowly in the heat of 100+ degrees). However, I do need a little bit of waking up to have hot maté with Luisa and Simon so I’ll likely be there a couple nights a week when taking Guarani classes with the neighbor.