a tree in the city

A farewell...for now.

2007-12-05T20:11:00.001-08:00

So as most of you already know, I have now landed back in the United States. My homecoming has been bittersweet. So wonderful to be home with old friends and family, but so sad to be away from my new friends and family in Paraguay. Leaving was a mad rush to take care of all of the “business” of going home as well as saying good-bye to all of the important people in my life there. It was a busy time, but it also felt very blessed. I had some wonderful times with friends in the city and at the Hogar. While it was hard to stay in the moment and enjoy those last days without being sad, the Paraguay culture helped me out. It is very much an attitude of “chin up—there is work to be done and fun to be had.” Leaving is also easier when you know that you will be going back. I do not know when or for how long, but it is the desire of my heart to return.

When I look back on the past six months, there are certain themes that stand out as important in my mind. And there are a number of things that I am sure I will continue to process over the upcoming weeks and months. But one of the most important and consistent elements of my time in Paraguay is a strong sense of gratitude—for the hospitality shown to me, for the support of loved ones at home, for the friendships and experiences, for provision, for time spent together, for the love of children, for the conversation of adults, for the innumerable kindnesses shown to me.

While in Paraguay I was reading a work titled “Gracias” by Henri Nouwen, a Dutch priest who traveled and served in South America. Often times his words seemed to perfectly and poignantly echo (albeit more eloquently) my own thoughts and emotions. This is what he has to say about gratitude:
“I am more and more convinced that gratitude is one of the more sublime of human emotions. It is an emotion that reaches out far beyond our own self to God, to all creation, to the people who give us life, love, and care. It is an emotion in which we experience our dependencies as a gift and realize that in the celebration of our dependencies we become most aware of who we truly are: a small but precious part of creation and above all of the human family. Today we can say: It is good to ‘just’ be human, and it is in our common humanity that we can recognize God’s love.”

So thank you, all of you in the U.S. and Paraguay. I look forward to sharing more with you in person...sooner or later.

More Kansans in Paraguay!

2007-11-08T10:08:00.000-08:00

There is now one more Kansan in Paraguay: Ben Alexander. A friend who arrived suddenly two days ago. Very suddenly. Like, called-from-the-bus-station suddenly. He will be staying out at the hogar for a week or so before he moves on to Bolivia, Peru, and back to the U.S. Lots of fun to have another friend here.

Música

2007-11-08T09:17:00.000-08:00

I want to share some things with you. Music that I have grown fond of, sometimes in spite of myself. I still listen to my American music on my ipod a lot, which is still working, against all odds. But I have found myself craving music in Spanish to. Of course there is a lot that I don't like. The music I hate most here is cachaca. We usually call it "cha-caca" (caca means poo) instead because it is so annoying. (Jana started calling it that on accident, but we quickly decided it was the perfect name for it.) My neighbors play it all the time, but I will spare you all the experience of listening to it.

Okay, enjoy.

Bacilos. Legitimately lovely. The first one is kind of sad, but pretty.
Tabaco y Chanel
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OcUdwqmGQ6Q
Caraluna
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aXSP9RAqi5Q
Pasos de Gigantes
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xhyRkdEg8AU

Maná. The U2 of the Spanish-speaking world. Everyone likes them--the young and the old alike.
Labios Compartidos
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=P6wlqqU2_Ms
Mandame una Señal
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XFZxXFAjALI
Bendita la Luz
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=J4bIHyzaves

Juanes. Young and poppy. A little ridiculous, but quite catchy.
La Camisa Negra
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ASXzq1O9rrc
Me Enamora
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KWA59qwfGL0

My life is like a movie sometimes.

2007-11-05T08:11:00.000-08:00

I say this because of my return trip from the Chaco. This is a five hour drive in the country side of Paraguay. The driver was Eliseo-- a loud, warm, somewhat crazy Argentinean ADRA employee. The vehicle was his small, white, manual transmission van filled with bedding, supplies, and... an Indian man who speaks only Guarani. Five hours of looking back every once in a while to offer water and make a hesitant thumbs-up signal. This in and of itself would be a bit odd, perhaps, but add to this the fact that the van was experiencing a somewhat major malfunciton. I'm not so mechanically inclined, so I cannot give it a name. But it appeared that the clutch did not work. Eliseo had to start the car in gear, which meant a lot of lurching. To shift gears he just had to pull it out of one gear and try to mash it into the next gear. It sounded terrible. This difficult process meant that stopping was out of the question. We dodged cows, foxes, dogs, stalled trucks, and various debris at high speeds. We passed slower cars with our fingers crossed. In-town driving meant either very fast or very slow, to try and time things properly with the ligts. In five hours we stopped twice: once to pay a toll and once to drop off the Indian man. Craziness.

“There’s a frog in my shower” and other adventures…

2007-11-05T08:05:00.000-08:00

This morning there was, in fact, a frog in my shower. He hopped up out of the open drain in the floor. Rather startling. I then had to chase it around the tiny bathroom so I could set it free out in the wide open spaces of the Chaco. Right now I am in the visiting some ADRA projects with small communities of indigenous people in the interior of Paraguay. It’s a whole nother world, I tell you what. But the people are warm, the weather is uncharacteristically cool and I have a nice little room all to myself, with a bed and everything. Feels like a hotel to me, since I am used to sleeping on the floor about 3 nights a week at the orphanage. The occasional frog, I can deal with. They just got electricity a month ago, which has opened up a lot of new opportunities—refrigerators, electric fans, lights… Like I said, a whole nother world. There is an American working as a volunteer at a school next to the church where I am staying. He has been here for about two months and he hasn’t been able to speak English to anyone since he arrived. So he was pretty excited to see me, even though I was a total stranger. It is always nice to find someone here who speaks your language (literally), since you can share common impressions and experiences in Paraguay. You learn to appreciate the little things and take great joy in simple conversation.

Being here has given me a strong sense of appreciation for a number of things, actually. Little things and big things. The big things include: a new truck that was donated to the hogar, a large monetary contribution from the Chilean embassy, and a huge outdoor playset donated by some adorable visiting Canadians. Amazing. The little things have been equally as important. As I mentioned, I have a comfortable little bed for my two nights here at the church. Wouldn’t seem like much to me at home, but sleeping on the floor for so long has made it seem like such a luxury. The intense heat has made me consider the significance of the shade, the breeze, and the rain. I would normally just stay inside in the air conditioning. There was an intense rain in Asuncion this week. Sheets of rain like I have not seen here before, and it brought with it a brief and rejuvenating cold snap. I would not have appreciated it so much if it had not been 45 °C earlier in the week. (For those of you who don’t know, in degrees Fahrenheit that is….really freaking hot.) Here in the Chaco they continue to wait for some significant rain—they have been waiting for 7 months now. It makes you wonder how anything could survive here, and also makes the frog in my bathroom a nearly miraculous occurrence. At work on Monday (with the street kids) we had to work outside all day because our landlord had failed to pay the electricity, so power had been cut. This meant no lights and no fans on the hottest day yet. But we got by, and I bet that this week will seem much easier with such simple, normal conveniences as a cool, well-lit place to work and talk.

I haven’t actually told you much about my work and life these days. Things with the street kids are…always challenging. Sometimes frustrating, sometimes lovely, sometimes heart-breaking, sometimes hopeful, sometimes just annoying. I have found the older ones to be the most likable—easiest to talk to and bond with—which is the opposite of what I expected. I think the littlest ones feel the need to act tough all the time, probably because they are littler. So they can be a real pain in the ass when the other kids are watching. If you catch them one-on-one, though, it is a different story. One kid named Luis is nearly always causing trouble and has little to no patience for the fact that I often cannot understand his mumbled speech, which is a disastrous mix of Spanish, Guarani, and street language. We got to walk together for a few blocks, and he asked me all sorts of questions including, “Why don’t you come here more often? You should come here more often…” Baffling, since I was pretty sure he hated my guts. Abel is another one of my favorites. He was stabbed about a month ago, but has been recovering well. He is sixteen but tall for his age, smart, talkative, and charismatic. He is one of the few kids who actually remembers things from our “English class.” It is so easy to imagine him being successful at a number of things, but he is also a force to be reckoned with. The other kids look up to him a lot, so when Abel is focused, the other kids are focused. Conversely, when Abel is goofing off no one is going to pay attention. I have realized that I have to get Abel on board if I want things to go well. So yes, progress…

Things that I have learned in Paraguay

2007-10-16T19:02:00.000-07:00

--Some Spanish. Feeling better about this these days, though fluency still feels far off.

--A little Guarani, the Indigenous language here. I think it is really hard. Not as easy as one, two, three (petei, mokoi, mbohapi...). The word I like best is vacapipo-po, the word for ball. It is a great demonstration of the mix of culture here. Some words in Guarani pre-date the Spanish presence, while others were created after. This one was created after, and has a Spanish root in the “vaca” part, meaning cow. Because balls were originally made of leather. The “po-po” part imitates the sound of bouncing. So the word loosely translated means “made of cow bounce-bounce.” There’s language for you.

--A bit about how to relate to people who seem really different from me. So many of the people that seem dear to me now are not the sort of people I would just have an automatic connection with. This makes me wonder how many great people I miss out on at home just because we don’t click right away. Like Claudia, my intense and extremely optimistic professor who is one of my biggest fans and blessings. Or Keith, a fellow American who is a gregarious, goofy, loud red-head who can talk a mile a minute but is also gracious and loves to help people.

--About my own heart. Probably true of any intense experience dealing with people—sometimes I am amazed by how quickly and how deeply I can care for people. At the same time I am ashamed of how just as quickly my heart can shrink harden in judgment, fear, or just exhaustion. I see the best and worst of my personality and my character. Sometimes all of your flaws seem to be laid bare, all of your shortcomings glaringly apparent. But sometimes you catch glimpses in yourself of what you would someday like to be.

--About what we are good at. I think we all have natural, innate talents that are inherent in our character or developed in us our whole lives. There are things that we work hard at mastering in our studies and careers. There are still other abilities that are given to us in times and situations of need. I have seen a lot of the later in myself and others these days—thrown into unusual situations where we have to find ways to adapt and make something work.

--About much and about little. It is easy to see what is lacking in this country. Money, industry, decent public schools, medical care.... The problems are large, complex, and deeply rooted in the history of the country and the continent. But Paraguayans in general have an amazing ability to make things stretch and to carry on, just doing what they have to do. They are also free from many of the burdens that us Americans place on ourselves. Family is more central. It is not uncommon for extended families to live together, and for single children to stay with their parents into their thirties, because it is economically impossible to do anything else. But this is also because they are close and want to remain close. Much of what we would consider to be “poverty” is in reality an adequate life. However, it must also be understood that a great number of evils are born out of the depths of poverty—an unjust poverty that should not exist. I have grown accustomed to seeing a level of poverty here, on a daily basis, that I have rarely encountered in the United States. In the lives of the street kids, in the stories of the residents of the Hogar, on the bus, everywhere I look. It is particularly bad among the Indigenous populations. The pain and the anger created by this situation run deep in the peoples of South America.

--About my own culture. I did not realize how very American I am until I came here. There are things I love about the Paraguayan way of life. People are more tranquilo—relaxed and low-key. I don’t see people getting mad here the way that people do in the United States. And while there is a lot of activity here in the city, resting is also a big priority. There is also a fun-loving or playful quality that is inherent in nearly all interactions—in families, between friends, and in business. Sometimes I think this is great while other times it registers as “unprofessional” or “inefficient.” It turns out the Protestant work ethic has not spread everywhere.

--About corruption. Paraguay is the third most corrupt country in the world. I had an interesting encounter with corruption today at the border between Argentina and Paraguay. Upon our return trip the Paraguayan border guard called us into the office because there was a “problem” with our visas. It became apparent that he just wanted us to give him some money to put the (very necessary) stamp on our passports. My first reaction was to fight him, as it was a ludicrous situation. But through previous experiences, I had seen that this doesn’t really work in Paraguay. So I backed down from this approach and followed Jon’s lead in playing dumb. I made him repeat things I already understood. I used my dictionary to look up words I already knew. We called Claudia and asked him to explain it to her so we could understand better. We basically behaved like idiots who were too daft to understand the subtle intricacies of bribery. So he let us go, rather rudely, but we were happy to get out. This made me realize how easy it would be to just contribute to the corrupt system. How giving him a few dollars would save time and energy, especially if you couldn’t play the “ignorant foreigner” routine. Very frustrating.

Fun Times

2007-10-03T08:38:00.000-07:00

Over the past week I have gotten to spend a lot of time at the Hogar, which has been simultaneously wonderful and exhausting. Here are some of my experiences:
--Worst night of sleep ever. Involving several little boys migrating to my (twin) bed during the night. Turns out that my natural response to waking up with tiny feet kicking my back is to shove the aforementioned feet as far away from me as possible, even if they belong to a two-year-old. Thems the breaks, kid. Also, if I don't have lice now, I will be amazed. Plus, I was sleeping in the room where the newest Hogar addition, a three-week old baby, lives. He naturally woke up several times screaming, which I can't really blame him for. Then at 3am Paty burst into the room and flipped on the lights. It had started to rain so everyone had to go outside and bring in the clothes that were drying on the line. All of these conditions meant that I didn't really sleep at all.
--New fruit. There are some small trees that have just started to produce little orange fruit. They are everywhere, and the fruit is really good. Walking from the Hogar to one of the schools, the kids stopped to climb several trees (after asking the neighbors, on my insistence) and toss down the little fruits. If you are feeling like a prissy American, you rinse them off with water first. If not, you just eat them dust and all, careful to avoid the 1-4 large seeds in the middle. The seeds are excellent for spitting contests. (I, however, am terrible at spitting. Must work on that.)
--Olympics. Went to one of the high schools to watch the school olymics on Saturday. Turns out that, in true South American style, it consisted of soccer, soccer, and more soccer. With one game of handball thrown in for variety. Still great to watch and cheer on our friends.
--Mosquito bites. On my face. Come on... I hate those little bastards.
--Getting really mad at small children. While I generally just play with the kids, I have become more authoritarian lately. Most interactions in Paraguay are really blunt, and discipline is no exception. Just part of the culture--you call it as you see it. It seemed harsh to me at first, but it now seems really normal. Several times in the past few days I used the phrase, "Don’t ask me why. Because I told you to... (whatever)."
--Coconuts. The trees are everywhere here. Most of them bear really small fruits. Some of the littler kids showed me how to gather them from a neighboring pasture and pound them with rocks to get to the fruit. Sometimes you find some that are hollow inside, and these make excellent, loud whistles.
--Yves. A Frenchman who is visiting the Hogar for a couple of months because he is pretty much in love with Paty (the 50-something director of the Hogar). Does she speak French? A little. Does he speak Spanish? Not really. But they are trying really hard and it is adorable.
--Fire ants. I was bitten for the first time. Damn. That smarts. The thing was tiny but somehow drew blood. So I hate them now and squish them on site. While I don't generally agree with preemptive strikes, I feel that they are not to be trusted.
--Kittens. Sasha, the cat who lives at the Hogar, was pregnant (Again. She gets around.) and gave birth about a week ago. The kittens still haven’t opened their eyes and aren't quite strong enough to really walk. Still small enough to fit in the palm of your hand.
--Second worst night of sleep ever. I opted to sleep on the living room floor, thinking I would be safe from screaming babies and small kicking feet. But Sasha´s "bed" is in the living room, and during the night she decided she would rather move herself and all five kittens into my bed. So I kept waking up covered in kittens. That might sound cute to some people, but it is not. Kittens have tiny claws and wet noses. Gross. Plus I was worried about accidentally smothering or mangling one in my sleep. I tried to relocate them several times, but Sasha was persistent.
--Homework. Got to help some of the grade school kids with their math homework. Adorable. I never liked long division and I still don't, so it's a good thing the kids are cute.
--Pooped on. By Santiago, my favorite two-year-old. Yuck.
--A head full of flowers. I was resting on a bench in the front yard. Several of the younger girls (under 5) decided that they would pick a bunch of wild flowers and put them in my hair. Wish I could have taken a picture.
--Secrets. My Spanish is really just getting good enough to have meaningful conversations with the older girls about important things like school, family, boys, and what they really want to do. But they mostly like to talk about boys, and I an honored to know their secrets.
--Caterpillar. I saw the biggest caterpillar ever. I usually think those are cute, but this was so big it was kind of gross.
--Illegal tomatoes and spontaneous swimming. Paty asked Jon and I to come with her to pick up some food donations. So Jon and I went with Paty, Yves, Daniel (Paty's biological, 20-something son), Oscar (Paty's adopted 19 year old son), and Jose (15 year old Hogar resident). After a beautiful hour and a half drive into the less populated areas of Paraguay we arrived at the city of Eusebio Ayala where three trucks full of contraband tomatoes had been confiscated by the police. (I'm still unclear as to how the tomatoes were illegal, but I just went with it.) 50 crates were to be donated to the Hogar. The boys filled the bus with the boxes--a messy operation. On the way back to the Hogar we stopped at Lake San Bernardino, a beautiful place where the wealthy people of Paraguay have their summer homes. Paty lived in a house there for much of her childhood. What started out as a stroll along the beach turned into swimming with our clothes on. The bus was already dripping with tomato juice, so a little lake water wasn't going to hurt anything. Really fun and refreshing. Of course, when I got back to the Hogar we were immediately overwhelmed with children who accused us all of peeing our pants. My response (the only logical response, really) to these accusations was to chase them all threatening to hug them.

Paraguay is burning...

2007-09-16T17:56:00.000-07:00

I wanted to comment briefly on the situation in Paraguay right now. I realize that Paraguay rarely makes the news in the United States, but if a report were to run right now it would include words like "drought","widespread fires", and "national state of emergency." I know that some of you have the tendency to worry, so I want to preemptively put the worries to rest. The weather has been unusually dry for months now, and as a result the plains and forests of Paraguay are catching fire at an alarming rate. (I live in the city, which is not so much in danger of catching fire for this reason. The electrical wiring is a bit sketchy however...) There are images on the news of people in the Chaco beating the fire back with branches, which seems a bit archaic even for South America. What they really need is rain.

Asuncion got a pretty good rain this weekend, so now it is pleasantly cool. Glorious. It makes me miss the cloudy fall days of Kansas. Sigh...

Workin´ It!

2007-09-16T17:53:00.000-07:00

For the last two weeks I have been working part time for ADRA—The Adventist Development and Relief Association. This is an international organization that has various social assistance projects all over the world. My responsibilities with ADRA fall into two categories: office work and street work. The office work is easy—writing and translating proposals in English to (hopefully) get funding for new projects, visiting project sites to do analyses and thorough write-ups (in English!) of existing projects. This is no sweat for me. Old hat.

The other part of my job is the most stretching experience I have had in a while. Two days a week I go to one of ADRA’s projects in Asuncion, where I work with street children. For two hours I (attempt to) teach them English because Paraguayans, like much of the rest of the world, are fascinated with American popular culture. The English is not so much the end goal, but a way to connect with the kids, get them in of the streets and sober for a couple of hours, help them learn how to learn, work on developing some discipline, etc. This is a rough crowd much of the time, but t here are also times when they just act like kids who want to be loved and taken care of. The kids have serious behavioral, emotional, and drug problems. The first day I visited I was offered cocaine by an 8-year-old. Very shocking and very sad, but not beyond the hope. I often have to remind myself that some of the kids at the Hogar lived on the streets and had many of the same problems before ending up in that home.

Dinner reservation for 75, please…

2007-09-16T17:48:00.000-07:00

Last weekend Jon and I had the unique experience of cooking dinner at the Hogar for everyone over 13 years of age. A missionary named Claudio was coming from Chile to visit, and they wanted to have a special dinner for him. When a special guest is coming, the most logical thing to do is to put two foreigners in charge of a sizable operation with which they have no experience. Well, the actual logic used by the leaders of the Hogar was this: Claudio is a fan of spicy foods. Americans like spicy foods too. We should ask Jon to cook a lot of spicy food.

Jon is not one to say no to a challenge, but he also knows when he needs help. To procure this assistance he did two very important things. First, he wrote to his mother for a recipe. As expected, the lovely Mrs. Birney delivered detailed instructions for red beans and rice. But he knew that the recipe alone would not be enough. He needed help in the trenches too--someone with experience, someone who would be calm under pressure, someone who could turn a gigantic pile of ingredients into a delicious meal for 75 people. Why he instead called me, I will never understand.

What followed was a busy, hot, joyful 7-hour process of chopping, “measuring,” boiling, stirring, dancing, singing, chatting (in English and Spanish), baby-bouncing, joking, and general mayhem. We had more help than we could handle. And shockingly enough, it actually tasted really good when it was all done. Along with our entrée we made the biggest pan of brownies I have ever seen in my life. (Really, the brownies turned out more like cake because there is no way to accurately measure ingredients here. Also, the ovens do not have temperature gauges—there is only “hot” and “really hot.”)

During a good dinner at the Hogar it is not uncommon for someone to shout “Thanks to the cooks!” This is followed by some amount of clapping and cheering. On this particular night there was resounding applause the likes of which I had not heard before. This has more to do, I think, with their appreciation than the food itself, but I still loved to hear it.

How did you come up with that name for your blog?

2007-09-01T14:48:00.000-07:00

Because someone asked (and because I am terribly obliging…) below is the poem from which my blog takes its name. It was written by Caryll Houselander, a modern-day mystic of sorts, and published in 1945. While it was written about war-torn London, I feel the ideas contained in the poem are in no way limited to that time and place. I hope you enjoy it.

A TREE IN THE CITY

At last on the little black tree
In the city square,
There is a green leaf.

Hesitating,
A ray of the sun, comes down.
It is a white finger of light,
Pointing to life.

In the offices,
The row of pales faces are lifted,
They are turned to the green spark,
Unlit candles, wistful for flame.

They are not dreaming,
Merely of the distant countryside,
Of passing loveliness.
They know, that loveliness
Runs out, even through privileged hearts,
Like sand through an hour glass.
They want to begin to live,
And to live for ever.

The spark of life
In each of their souls
Is a gem in a locked casket.
It suddenly burns more brightly.
Waxes and wanes,
Like a breathing ember.
Now it could be fanned to a great flame,
by a mere breath.
Will no one come,
Into the city of London,
With the gift of his breath,
To answer,
The people’s wordless supplication
For Life?

(PS--the picture is of a funny type of tree that grows in the chaco. It stores water in the trunk and has spikes all around the bark, so one must hug with caution!)

San Miguel

2007-09-01T14:42:00.000-07:00

On Wednesday this week my friend Sofi invited me to come with her to the nearby town of Capiata. Sofi’s friend Anna, a volunteer from Germany, has been working in a school there for the past three months. In this town there is a neighborhood called San Miguel, which looks very different today than it did five years ago. Situated in a rural area outside of the city proper, San Miguel used to suffer from all of the typical problem associated with rural poverty in South America—poor housing, bad water supply, a terrible school, lack of transportation, and little (or no) access to health care.

Even in the midst of all of the poverty in Paraguay, San Miguel had a reputation—sort of a rural version of the Chacarita. For this reason, Sofi’s church began to invest in this community in a thorough and dedicated manner. As a result, the neighborhood has changed dramatically. There is a health and dental clinic where doctors come to volunteer every week, and people come from miles around to receive care. There is a small, symbolic fee (less than $1) attached to services, but the bulk of the cost is covered by donations. Probably because of these health clinics, several buses now run within walking distance of the barrio. Simple, tidy houses have been built along the narrow red-earth roads. A large water tower provides a clean water supply to the surrounding homes. There is a modest but useful library that everyone in town can use. There is a sizable bakery where some individuals from the town work and make food for the school and homes. Best of all, there is a charming, colorful little school with five classrooms (including a Special Ed. Class), where the teachers use rather progressive methods of teaching that encourage freedom and exploration. All of the kids have a padrino, a sponsor from the church who pays for their tuition, uniform, etc. These padrinos come from the same church movement, but live in different countries around the world. Nancy, the director of the school took us around to all the classes to introduce us. The kids sang songs to us in Spanish and Guarani, although they seemed a bit baffled as to why the German girl had brought an American and a Paraguayan with her that day. It is unfortunate that the school is too small to accommodate all of the kids in San Miguel. But in the afternoon the school provides merienda (snack) for all of the kids in the neighborhood, and all kids have access to the building and the library. The three of us (Sofi, Anna, and I) ate lunch with a couple of the teachers who live in that community. While I generally find foreigners easier to understand than Paraguayans, the German accent in Spanish is especially difficult. Even so, we did all right.

After all of our introductions in the school, Javier, the grounds keeper, took us on a tour of the town. He showed us the homes and the water tower. He showed us the river where people used to drink and bathe that the town cleans up every spring. He showed us a small, organic farm that a number of the men of the community work on. (Sofi and I both bought a kilo of strawberries for less than $1. Yum!) He showed us the avocado trees and told me that in a month of so giant fruit would be falling on their heads. They use the avocados not only for food but also as a treatment for various skin ailments. Incidentally, both Sofi and Javier were disgusted to learn that Americans generally eat avocado as a salty food and not mixed with milk and sugar. Anna, however, seemed to agree that avocado was not meant to be eaten as dessert. They pointed out small yellow wild flowers that they add to their terere and matte herbs. Javier showed us the guava trees and explained the medicinal uses of the leaves and buds. I was sent home with some branches because I had a sore throat. I was told to boil a number of broken leaves and buds in water for about 10 minutes and then gargle the water when it cooled a bit. Gargle, not drink—they made this distinction several times with lively pantomime despite the fact that I understood them perfectly the first time. I did, in fact, try this when I got home. It did not taste very good, but it made my mouth tingly and numbed by throat. At the end of the afternoon Javier and Anna walked us to the bus stop about a half a kilometer down the road. Javier asked me if we had coconut trees in Kansas and told me about his seven kids. I described the Kansas landscape and weather as best I could, and told him about my brother who lives in California.

It was an encouraging day for several reasons. For me, it was one of my better days in Spanish—I was able to understand nearly everything (as long as I was paying attention) and communicate my questions as well. It was also wonderful to see a place that has been transformed so completely. What was once a burden is now a resource and a hope for surrounding communities. And the work that has been done was not simply an intervention performed by outsiders, but a partnership. The people of San Miguel are proud of where they live and continue working to make it better.

Another month goes by...

2007-08-28T08:16:00.000-07:00

Here are some more portraits of life and friends here in Paraguay. Enjoy!

--Ramon: One of the older guys who lives at the Hogar. I think he is about 18 or 19 and still in high school. He is loud, athletic, and a total ham. He loves to invite all the little girls to come and punch him in the stomach as hard as they can. Before coming to the Hogar he lived in the Chacarita, a favela in downtown Asuncion. He has a number of tattoos and will speak openly about the sort of life he had before—the things a person does to survive while living in a place like that, the “friends” that he did those things with and how it makes him sad to know that they are all still in there, how he knows how to fight because he had to. He actually left the Hogar for a period of time and returned to his old neighborhood. After being arrested again, he (like several other boys there) was given a choice by the judge: go to jail or go back to the Hogar. After knowing him it is hard to imagine how he was before--proof that people can and do change.

--Majo: Short for Maria Jose, a common name here. She is 13, cheerful, sweet, and sensitive. Majo is uncommonly fair-skinned for a Paraguayan, has freckles, and has lightish brown hair as well. One of the older boys, Fernando, referred to her as my sister because we look a bit similar—that is, we both look white. Majo now refers to me as “mi hermana”. Her birthday was a week ago, and I was able to be there for the little celebration in the evening. As such, she had “Happy Birthday” sung in three languages: Spanish, Guarani, and English.

--Marco: Just turned eight years old. He is terribly precocious and inquisitive—he always has a million questions. He loves to learn English (He can already count to 15!) and could spend hours asking me how to say different words. Marco is having some trouble with his vision. He has been going blind for a few months now, but a surgery is in the works to correct this (hopefully). The surgery has been scheduled and delayed at least once, and the procedure will take nearly an entire day when it finally does take place. When I asked him if he was scared, Marco insisted that he is not but sighed deeply immediately after answering that question. I will keep you all posted on that one.

--Paolita: Paola is one of the girls who consistently hangs out with me and even gets a little jealous when I show attention to the other kids. She clings to my side almost as soon as I arrive. She is 13, and everything that goes along with that--a bit dramatic and even a bit snotty at times. (So glad I was never like that…right, Mom and Dad?) But she can also be very kind—she likes to steal my journal and write me little letters in it. One of the first interactions I had with her was making bread one night. By the end of it we were both covered in flour, and I had learned that her father’s name was Ricardo and that he “had gone to be with Jesus” several years ago. About a week later she informed me that she was going to the city the next day for a medical procedure. From what I could understand of her explanation, it seems that she goes to the hospital twice a month for dialysis, which she naturally hates. I am unsure exactly what her condition is, and was rather surprised since she seemed to be in perfect health. Since then, though, I have noticed that she gets very tired at times, as if her body just shuts down on her.

--The Chickens: As soon as you are outside of the city, even just a little, you start to see chickens everywhere. The Hogar is pretty far outside of the city, which means there are a lot of chickens wandering in and out of yards and along the dirt roads. Don’t ask me how anyone knows which chickens are theirs and which ones belong to the neighbor. And these aren’t clean white chickens either, but colorful, speckled, dusty chickens. The other day I watched the chickens for 45 minutes—something this city girl has never done before. I was waiting for the bus (and there was really nothing better to do), so I sat down on the ground and just watched. Have you ever noticed how small a chicken’s head is compared to its body? Once you take away the fanfare of the crests and waddles surrounding the head, the brain in there can’t be any larger than a single peanut. Which I suppose explains the urgent, single-mindedness in their scratching and pecking, running along with their tiny heads bobbing in the air.

--Jorge: The man who owns the eyeglass shop I visited today. I had the unfortunate luck of having a broken nose pad in need of repair. Jorge helped me out, while talking my ear off in the process. He is 48; originally from Argentina; loves rock and roll, especially “Gun and Rose”; has lived in Paraguay for nearly 20 years; is Catholic in a ‘born again’ kind of way; has four nieces and nephews in the United States who work a dishwasher, a bank teller, a bar tender, and a nanny; and has a 15-year-old daughter named Florencia. As every proud father would, he showed me Florencia’s picture. I must admit that from her photo, a small mug-shot style image, she seemed like a very disagreeable sort of person. But I said, “Que linda!” as one is obligated to say when shown such a photo. Much to my chagrin there was also a large poster-sized image of Florencia modeling glasses when she was 13. Can’t do much for business. She looks like the exact opposite of her smiling, talkative father. Anyway, my glasses are fixed now, and I got a good deal too.

15 de agosto

2007-08-20T12:15:00.000-07:00

Right now there are large quantities of fireworks going off downtown. I’ve said it before, but I’ll say it again: Paraguayans love fire. Tomorrow is a National Holiday here, because Asunción was founded on the 15th of August. Incidentally, the name of my street is 15 de agosto. So happy 15 de agosto to all! Some items of note…

--My new location: My roommate Marlene is great. Always looking out for me. I love being able to buy my own groceries and cook my own food. My diet has improved significantly since I am now consuming what I consider to be a healthy amount of vegetables. (I will also admit that I have embraced hard-boiled eggs and the widespread use of mayonnaise as an all-purpose condiment.) I am still exploring my neighborhood but feeling more comfortable here all the time.

--Hobbits: I have decided recently that Paraguayans are kind of like hobbits. Tranquil, easy-going, friendly, talkative, family-oriented, short, and they love a good story. I am serious about the short thing. While I am generally considered short in the United States, I am above average here. A nice change of pace to be the taller one for once.

--Los Monitos: At the Hogar there is one room downstairs where about twenty of the littler boys sleep. They are all between the ages of 4 and 11. I have taken to calling them “los monitos” (little monkeys) because one day last week I witnessed a remarkable demonstration. Two of the little boys were teasing each other by imitating monkeys with hilarious accuracy, complete with eating lice and throwing poo. Some things just transcend the language barrier…. Later that same night, after they had stopped throwing imaginary monkey poo, I got to sing them bedtime songs. If you have never had 20 adorable little boys staring at you, grinning and fascinated, I highly recommend the experience. Pretty special. They remind me a bit of the Lost Boys from Peter Pan.

--Learning Spanish: More necessary than ever now that I am without my American friends. I have started borrowing novels from the Hogar. Right now I am reading a Roald Dahl book in Spanish (El Superzorro), writing down all of the words I don’t know. So far I am on page 21 and I have a list of words that is three pages long. Slightly depressing, I suppose, but I am learning. Sometimes the process is hard and no fun. Being in a group of Spanish speakers requires all of my attention if I am going to understand and follow anything. So much so that I sometimes forget to speak at all because I am so intent on listening. I think this will get better with time. Let’s hope.

--Mosquitoes: For real, yo. It is just barely warm enough for them to be out and about, and they are already a force to be reckoned with. I keep bug spray by my bed and apply it regularly. I have never gotten so many bug bites in all my life. Perhaps I taste exotic to them.

--The Internet: Is slow. I think I have mentioned this before. It tries my patience on a regular basis since the internet is the primary way that I am able to communicate with all of y’all. I am so spoiled in the United States, and I miss it.

--The Heat: It is only just beginning, and it is not looking good. It is still technically winter, but you wouldn’t know it by the weather. There isn’t really air conditioning here either, so that should be interesting. Now I am starting to understand why Latin American women wear such scanty clothing—it is effing hot. Keep in mind, too, that three nights ago I went to bed wearing tights, two pairs of pants, two shirts, a hoodie, and the thickest socks I have here. I come from Germanic stock, and my people survived long cold winters. Put simply, I am not built for this sort of heat.

--Lice: So far I am clean, but it seems inevitable that I will get them at some point. For example, today I was cuddling with 5 year-old Luicito for a good 30 minutes practicing writing his name and learning numbers in English. Afterwards he shot upright, and exclaimed that his head itched. Oh boy. The Hogar wages a constant and vigilant battle against the pests, but new children arrive all the time, often with such unwelcome guests. So now Jon and I do regular lice checks when we meet. It is sort of a bonding experience I suppose.

--Laundry: I had my first experience this week of doing my laundry by hand. Thus far I had been taking it to the lavanderia, where they wash, dry, iron, and fold it for me. Love it. But it is an expensive thing to keep doing, so I decided to do what most Paraguayans do: hand wash and line dry. Turns out this takes a long time. Good thing I don’t have a job yet.

--Speaking of Jobs…I have had several interview experiences without finding a situation that really seems like a great fit. I have another one on Friday, a second interview actually, and I am hopeful about this one. It is with ADRO, the Adventist Development and Relief Organization. As you may be able to tell from the English name, it is an International organization—really well coordinated, organized, and dedicated. We’ll see how it goes, but they seemed excited about my English.

English Sightings!

2007-08-07T17:06:00.000-07:00

So the great (and also terrible) thing about being an American in a foreign country is that you are never really far from our popular culture. I can easily hear American music on the radio. American TV shows are shown (sometimes in Spanish, othertimes with subtitles). And there is English everywhere, or at least attempts at English. I especially love seeing people wearing clothing with English on it that they obviously do not understand.

Here are my favorites:
1. Recently I was in a dance club in Rosario with Katie, Jana, Jon, and our friend Federico. It was crazy-crowded and I was dancing next to a guy that had "We are breaking up" written on the back of his shirt. I got a great picture posing behind him looking sad. Check out facebook b/c it is now my profile pic. The best part--he had no idea.
2. On a crowded bus I saw a woman wearing a tee shirt that said in pink, sparkly lettering "Just Another Hot Pregnant Woman!" She was definitely not pregnant.
3. I was walking down the street with all my laundry and I passed a guy wearing a shirt with a picture of an angry man pointing and the words "Cut Your Mullet!". Naturally this guy had a fantastic mullet himself. It took all of my self restraint not to laugh at him until after I had passed him.

Downtown!

2007-08-07T16:49:00.000-07:00

So I have now officially moved into my new abode with the lovely Marlene, President of the Official Ricky Martin Fan Club of Paraguay. It is great to be in a my own space, but sad to leave the family that has taken care of me for the past two months. The generosity of people here amazes me. My family refused to take any money from me for rent, despite repeated attempts on my part. They just let me stay there and eat their food for free...incredible. And Marlene has graciously opened her home to me as well, so I am now in Katie's old room. On top of that our friend Leti helped me move all of my stuff in her car and moved a bed from Marlene's parent's house to my room. (Sorry Katie....) I am well taken care of. What would I do without my friends?

So far I really like being downtown. A lot of activity and noise almost all the time. I am still trying to figure out all the buses and such, but I have already located the laundry mat, a cyber cafe, and a grocery store. Yesterday I got my very own cell phone and found a radio station that plays music like Arcade Fire, Metric, and the Pixies. Small victories and huge blessings. Now I just need to find a job... I actually have a couple of interview this week, and probably more next week. I'll keep you all posted.

The Hogar

2007-08-02T18:00:00.000-07:00

I really need to tell you all more about the Hogar. I have fallen in love....about 200 times. I have fallen in love with the Hogar Unidos en Cristo. This is the orphanage that we have been visiting regularly just outside of the city. There are nearly 200 kids staying there, ranging in age from 1 year to mid-twenties. Some of them are there because they do not have families to stay with. Others are there because their families could not take care of them properly. Still others are there with their mothers after falling into a difficult time. Whatever the situation, the Hogar has become a giant family for the people who live there. It is difficult to communicate how inspiring and refreshing this place has been to me. None of them really speak English, but this doesn’t seem to matter too much. We have been welcomed in just like members of this family. We invite everyone we meet in the city to come and experience this with us, and a lot of them have taken us up on this offer. I am continually impressed with what the Hogar is able to accomplish while having what would be considered so little by American standards. While we always go wanting to help out and love the kids, they insist on serving us. The last night all four of us went there (before leaving for Argentina) they sang to us and prayed for us and gave us an incredible send off. Amazing. We have told them that they are bound to be the future leaders of Paraguay. In a fatalistic and apathetic country, there is this group of kids that have learned to hope and dream despite difficult circumstances. I want to tell you about just a few of the kids that I have gotten to connect with over the past weeks.

Deysi--Deysi (Daisy) is tall and skinny for her age of ten years. She is spunky, athletic, competitive, bright, and very loving. She is mute, so she can lip-read Spanish and communicates through sign language. A number of the other kids have learned sign language to communicate with her, and they make a great effort to always include her. This is strikingly different from the rest of Paraguay, where individuals with disabilities do not seem to be taken into account at all. I am somehow able to communicate with her in pantomime and broken Spanish. I had Katie convinced that I knew sign language because we were having a conversation.

Priscila and Adrian--Priscila is two years old and an absolute fireball. All of the kids at the Hogar are shockingly well behaved, so this little terror really stands out. She can also being amazingly sweet. I have a wonderful picture of her combing my hair. Of course, she had just stolen the comb from her brother Adrian. He is slightly older, quiet and gentle. They are quite a pair.

Pigpen--I need to learn his real name, but he is less than two years old so he can’t tell me himself. I have taken to calling him Pigpen for the most obvious reason--he is always filthy. The kids at the Hogar are generally cleaner than we are when we go there. A precise showering schedule is maintained so that somehow, everyone gets to clean up. More than once I have heard older kids wonder out loud how pigpen had managed to get so dirty already. It appears to be a constant battle with him. He always seems desperate to express himself and frustrated that he can’t tell you all about it. The last time we visited there was a large cluster of small kids playing in the living room. Pigpen obviously had a lot of energy and ran and rolled and shouted with enthusiasm. He became a bit overly enthused and proceeded to grab my shin with both hands, grin at me, and bite me on the leg. He left teeth marks through my jeans. It was hilarious, but I hope it won’t become a habit.

Gisele--She is about 12 I think. She is demanding, frank, and affectionate. She has told me repeatedly that she thinks my nose ring is ugly. She has told our friend Vicente that she does not approve of his facial hair. The last time I was there she clung to my side for the better part of my stay. She argued with me for 10 minutes when it was time for me to leave, claiming that I didn’t need to go to Argentina--what could possibly be there anyway? It was simultaneously frustrating and charming, a typical expression of her personality.

Nancy--Nancy is one of the older girls that I am excited to talk with more as I learn Spanish better. She is 15 years old and befriended me right away. A few weeks ago we visited their school for the San Juan festival. She acted as my guide for the night, taking my arm and leading me around the fair to show me the dancing, the games, the food. She is also one of the girls who daily sneaks food from the kitchen to bring to their neighbors, “because our neighbors are very poor.” This devious kindness blows me away, since she herself would be considered “very poor” by Western standards.

Okay, that is all for now. I will probably end up writing a profile of each kid before my time is done--they all deserve it. The Hogar has a number of new projects coming up, including expanding to accommodate more kids and starting a school. I hope to use my skills to help them by writing funding proposals in English and helping them organize their efforts.

the transition

2007-08-02T17:58:00.000-07:00

The last couple of days in Argentina were bittersweet, to be sure. It was wonderful to travel with my friends, meet new friends, and experience another country. But yesterday we had to say good-bye to half of our group, since Katie and Jana returned to the U.S. They were both wonderful friends, supporters, and co-conspirators, so it was a sad bus ride back to Asuncion. Jon and I are both staying in Paraguay for a while, so I do have some American company (for which I am very grateful...) as well as my Paraguayan friends.

Of course, it is a bit scary to be in this place, and I am starting to really miss Kansas City and all of you. But I am also excited to see what develops with this time. I am excited to move in with my friend Marlene downtown. I am excited to return to the Hogar and the 200 kids I have fallen in love with. I am excited to reconnect with all the people I have met in Paraguay. I am excited to work and volunteer and study and read and learn (much!) more Spanish. I am excited to enter a new phase of my experience here. I hope you are excited for me. I will do my best to keep this blog updated regularly and get pictures online soon so you can see where I have been these two months!

Buenos Aires

2007-08-02T17:55:00.000-07:00

Buenos Aires is huge. Really huge. Like New York huge. It was an overwhelming place to be--a city with 7 million people. That’s more that the entire nation of Paraguay. We were only there for a day and half, but the city certainly made an impression. It felt more dangerous than any other place I had visited. This fear was later confirmed when our friends Ben and Sophie told us about their experience of being robbed at gunpoint while walking to La Boca--a famous section of the city where the Tango was created. I am glad to say that I had no such experience in Buenos Aires, but their story did make me think twice. I didn’t take many pictures because I sometimes carried nothing but a little cash and a water bottle.

We stayed in this great little neighborhood with cute shops and an artisan market a couple blocks away. I loved it. The first day we were having lunch at an outdoor cafe near our hostel when I spotted two familiar faces. It was Jason, one of our Kansan friends that we had met in Asuncion. I could not believe that in such a giant city we randomly bumped into our American friends. We spend the rest of the afternoon together visiting an artisan market and an area called El Caminito. It is this beautiful historic area near the port. The buildings are painted in sections of different bright colors. When they were originally built the residents were only able to get paint by boat, and they just painted until that color ran out. It is distinctive and beautiful. Another fun thing about Buenos Aires is the strong Italian influence in the city. In the early 1900s there was a huge wave of Italian immigrants which impacted the arts, the cuisine, and the language. The residents speak Spanish with the inflection and intonation of Italian, which was perfect for me since I studied Italian. I think I accidentally picked some of it up, so I will probably get made fun of now in Asuncion. Oh well.

Argentina, Abuelas, and American Authors

2007-07-30T18:08:00.000-07:00

Right now we are in Aregentina, doing a whirlwind trip to three cities: Cordoba, Rosario, and Buenos Aires. In general Argentina is much more developed than Paraguay, and feels more like Europe than South America. It is a fun break, although the accent is really different. All the Y sounds are SH sounds in Argentina, and the intonation is more sing-songy like Italian. In Cordoba we did some shopping and visited a town in the mountains. It was beautiful. So great to get out of the city. Although the town was a bit odd--very German inspired and touristy. As if the whole town had decided to pretend to be in Germany instead of Argentina. There was polka music playing from loudspeakers around town, and all the signs were made of carved wood. Strange and hilarious.

At the moment we are in Rosario, staying with Jon´s friend Federico. He is lovely, as is his grandmother Che-Che. (No one knows why they call her that, but everyone does.) We are all staying in her house near downtown, where Fede and his brother live as well. The location is great, but their hospitality is even better. The day we arrived in Rosario Che-Che had gone to her sister´s funeral. But we wouldn´t have know it based on her kindness and attention to us. It has been great to get to know his family and this city. I could definitely live here for a while. It is smaller than Cordoba, but with a lot of culture and great trees. Seriously. And lots of parks and cool public spaces, which Paraguay is lacking. Other highlights include finding two J.D. Salinger books, which will be really refreshing to read in Paraguay. I was so excited. We also visited Fede´s favorite dance club. It was huge. No one goes out until about 1 or 2 in the morning, and there were thousands of people. Literally packed. Hardly room enough to move in some places. A bit scary and definitely outside of my comfort zone, but also a lot of fun. We felt like we were in some sort of 80s music video.

It is great to be here. Refreshing to be around culture--music, art, books. And I blend right in because there are a lot more fair-skinned people. It is nice to be ignored in public--I have missed it. Katie says everyone here kind of dresses like me too, which I take as a compliment. The clothes are definitely better here. I have bought two pairs of shoes already. While I love it here, I think it will be hard to go back to Paraguay. It is a more difficult sort of life there, but I know it is good for me. Plus I miss all my Paraguayan amigos.

Okay, I have to go eat hamburguesas now with Che-Che and Feders and the gang. Hasta Luego.

A Brief Announcement...

2007-07-29T19:13:00.000-07:00

Hello All!

Some of you already know, but I thought I should post it here to. The word needs to get out, and I unfortunately cannot make hundreds of long distance phone calls to tell everyone I would like to tell. So anyways...I have decided to stay in South America for a while longer. I'm not sure how long yet--I will keep you posted on that little detail. I'm thinking until december-ish, but we'll see. I have a lot of details to work out still, but I know that I will be living with my friend Marlene downtown. There are a lot of social work opportunities here too, so I can either work or volunteer a lot. I am excited, but also a little terrified to be without all of my American friends here. :*(

Okay, back to regular blogging now!

Más!

2007-07-21T09:54:00.000-07:00

So much to say and so little time on the intenet....Where to start....?

The Chaco: Plains to the North of Asuncion. Thousands of miles of dry, flat landscape, and it totally made me homesick. The terrain is completely different and so are the people. We visited Filadelfia, a small town where three distinct culture coexist: the Latinos, the Indians, and the Mennonites. The Mennonites in Paraguay are very insular. They have their own churches, schools, and businesses, and sometimes speak only German. Because we are white, everyone tried to speak to us in German. So strange to suddenly hear German in South America. A bit surreal and disorienting, actually. The Chaco is also full of weird-o animals, the likes of which I have never seen before in person or otherwise. Also very surreal. I need to find out what they are called so I can find some pictures for you... Another fun fact for you, our hotel had an amazing motto: "Hotel Florida, where the suffocating heat of the Chaco is converted into pleasure." I'm not sure what the conversion rate is on that, but I would like to know.

Claudia: She is the director of the Spanish program that Jon and I are doing. I don´t think I have mentioned her in depth before. She is great. Very enthusiastic, a bit overwhelming sometimes, but a great cheerleader. Just what I need in South America. She has done so much for me here, in terms of making arrangements for me and trying to find things that I might be interested in. She studied in the U.S. and speaks English very well. She also adopted certain American traits, like being crazy busy all the time. Which is probably why I have also been crazy busy for my time in Paraguay. Her husband is a doctor who spends much of his time working at emergency clinics. They have four small kids, two of which are adopted twins. Claudia also has four sisters that live in Asuncion. Her sister Raquel is my age and a lot of fun. They are an amazing family.

The weather: The weather here is a bit crazy. Most of the year in Paraguay it is really hot. Really, really hot. But right now it is the winter. Sometimes it is cool and lovely. Other times it seems like summer to me. Other times it is freaking cold. Not as cold as in Kansas, but still cold. It seems worse I think because no one has heat here, and the houses are built to let air ciculate during the hot months. So the houses are as cold as it is outside. And the weather changes really quickly. Kansas can be bi-polar at times, but winters in Paraguay are worse I think. And when it gets cold everyone gets sick. It's a good thing that they give out antibiotics like candy here. (Take a deep breath, Jessica...) There are zero drug regulations and everything is really cheap. I should stock up while I can.

Solamente en Paraguay...

2007-07-11T06:54:00.000-07:00

Only in Paraguay...is an expression I hear a lot around here. Usually when something weird happens. So the following are some random thoughts and experiences about my life here. Only in Paraguay.

--The greeting… in Paraguay it is customary to kiss on both cheeks when you greet someone. (Except men just shake each others’ hands.) Well, you don’t actually kiss, you just touch cheeks and make kissy sounds in the air. Sometimes I think this is a nice custom. Other times I think I would rather not have everyone’s face touch my face. Kind of gross, especially when it is hot. I also think it is prone to awkward slip-ups like accidental nose bumps and misplace kissy sounds. But when in Rome…

--The dancing… Latin folks are know for their love of the dance, and their ability to move in ways that (most) Americans just cannot manage. But we try and we have fun, even if we do look very white in the process.

--My ipod… makes my life better. Everyday. Like when the bus I need to catch passes me by because it is so full of people that no one else will fit. Like when I am so tired of listening to Spanish all the time that I need to hear something familiar. Like when there is a soccer match going on so the whole city is noisy and I want to study. All the time. (The ipod charger was an excellent gift—thanks Lisa and Jessica!) Here I crave music like food or water. I am listening to my ipod… right. Now.

--Text messages… in the United States I am vehemently opposed to text messaging in nearly all situations. I feel it is communication for the faint-hearted. But here in Paraguay the cell phones work differently. You pay as you go, and text messages are much cheaper than calling. So I send text messages all the time now. Usually in Spanish.

--The mullets… are very popular here. Sometimes subtle. Sometimes carefully mussed like the trendy versions in the U.S. Sometimes long and proud like a member of the NHL (quick shout-out to Nikki!). It is hilarious. Even more hilarious: Jon got a hair cut here and now he has a glorious mini-mullet of his very own. I told him to keep it because it makes him look more Paraguayan. Also, because I think it is hilarious. When he is giving me a hard time, all I have to do is mention his “waterfall” and he shuts right up. Fantastic.

--The Spanglish…it just happens. Either because we don’t know words, or the words don’t exist in the other language, or it is just easier. Especially when it is just the Americans hanging out, we slip into Spanglish very naturally. Spanish is also messing with my English a bit. We have caught ourselves saying English sentences with Spanish construction. Things like: “How many are we?”, “His friends I like.”, “Do you know Buenos Aires?” (meaning have you been there), “He didn’t present me!” (meaning he didn’t introduce me). Hilarious. But my favorite example of Spanglish, by far, came in the form of a text message. I was at Jana’s house, but she didn’t come to the door when I rang the bell. I sent here a text message to let her know that I was there. The message I received in reply was: “Un momento. Estoy naked.”

--The staring… I am (almost) used to being stared at all the time when I am in public. It turns out that I am rather white looking. Plus, I have short hair, which is unusual for Paraguayan women. Plus, my hair is a bit reddish. Plus, I am cute…just kidding. Katie and Jon can almost pass for Paraguayans because of their dark hair, but Jana and I are not so lucky. I don’t even care much about the staring, as long as it is silent. But there is a certain segment of the male population (called maleducados) that insist on honking, whistling, hollering, cat-calling, and just generally bothering women, especially foreigners. Everyday. So annoying. Fabri (my Paraguayan brother) tried to teach me how to say “What the eff are you staring at?” in Spanish. It is probably for the best that I can not seem to remember it.

--The food… in Paraguay is not so good. I have had a lot of questions about the food, so here it goes!

Baked empanadas are the “traditional” food I like the most. They eat a lot of meat and starch from what I can tell. I miss my veggies… Mandioca (yucca root) is a staple here that I have grown fond of. It’s kind of like potato, but drier and more fiberous. Not bad. I tend to eat about one square meal a day, at lunch time. In the morning and evening I have coffee and a little something, like bread with dulce de leche. They love dulce de leche. It is like caramel but better. I like it. They eat dinner much later here, around 9 or 10pm. I have not adapted to the late dinner very well—I just don’t feel like eating that late.

Other traditional foods include:
Sopa paraguaya. The solid soup which dates back to the time of Don Fernando Lopez, a famous ruler (from…I don’t remember when). Anyways, the story goes that the Don wanted a new soup to serve a special guest from another country (I don’t remember which country either….no importa). The chef attempted to make a soup with corn meal, cheese, onion, chicken broth, and other stuff, but let it cook too long, until the corn meal soaked up all the liquid and it was like a bread. Fortunately, the king and his guest liked the unusual soup, and this bread is served in every house. I can’t say I like it, but I am forced to eat it regularly by well-meaning hosts.

Matte/Tedere/Cocido. Herbal drinks that are very popular here. Matte and tedere use the same herbs, but tedere is served cold. Paraguayans have special thermos and mug combos that they carry around, which include a straw with a little filter on the end so you can drink straight from the mix. They are kind of cool looking. Matte is okay, but cocido is gross. I’m glad they have coffee too, although I usually have to drink instant. (Shena and Nadine, shed a little tear for me now, please.)

life in the third world

2007-07-04T05:23:00.000-07:00

I realize that up until now I have been writing primarily about the fun, exciting, or ridiculous aspects of life in Paraguay. But I am a social worker afterall, so now it´s Debbie Downer time. It´s necessary for me to write about these difficult things if you--my loved ones--are going to really understand life in a third world country. Even in these difficulties, though, I hope you will see that there is much joy and hope.

Here in Asuncion, all of the major intersections have street vendors of various kinds--food, candy, newspapers, window washers--who sell to the cars and buses that pass by. A large number of these street vendors are children. It was very shocking to me the first time I saw a little boy selling papers at 10am on a weekday. There are public schools in Paraguay, but they are dangerous, poor, and badly run. While children are technically required to go to school, no one enforces this law. Instead, they work from a very young age to support their families. Of course, the US was the same way for many years, and not so long ago. While flawed and imperfect, we have made strides in the protection of children, and this gives me hope for Paraguay.

Uneducated, working kids are especially prevalent among the Guarani population. As I may have explained earlier, the Guarani are the largest native population remaining in Paraguay. While their language is prominent in Paraguay, the people remain segregated from the dominant population. A large number of Guarani live in a township of sorts called the Chacorita. In reality, this is a dangerous shanty town that reminds me of the favelas of Brazil. Crime, drugs, and alcoholism are widespread. Kids have to go out and sell each day or receive punishment from alcoholic parents. The police do not go into the Chacorita because it is too dangerous. Outsiders in general do not go in the Chacorita. Part of what makes the Chacorita so shocking upon first glance is that it is located about 300 meters from the president´s house. You can walk past the brand new congressional building, between the ornate cathedral and the history museum and look down into this city next to the river. It is a completely different world.

Asuncion is full of these sorts of juxtapositions. Extreme wealth and extreme poverty. I have never seen more Mercedes in my entire life than on the streets of Asuncion. At the same time, horsedrawn buggies ride up and down the cobble stone avenues selling fruits and vegetables. The school where I take Spanish classes is a very good school, for the uppercrust of Asuncion. I hang out with the kids of senators and wealthy business owners. They are wonderful children, to be sure. So are the orphans that we visit regualrly.

We have been to two orphanages so far. One is very close to my school, located next to the women´s prison. A lot of the children are there because their mothers are being held nextdoor. Most of the women there are in prison for one of three reasons: killing their (probably abusive) husbands, having an abortion, or performing abortions. From the courtyard of the orphanage I can see the lookout tower of the prison, where an armed guard keeps watch. The turnover rate at this orphanage is high, and the average stay is about 6 months. Some kids, however, are obviously going to be there for a long time. Adoption is an expensive legal process, so it is hard for orphans to get new homes. Life there is simple, and the staff is very small--certainly not enough people to properly care for all the children who live there. The orphanage receives government funding, but the amount is very small. The kids are great. There are a lot of tough cases to be sure--behavior problems as well as physical, psychological, and emotional impairments as a result of their hard lives. But they are fun-loving and crave affection from adults. They want to be held and hugged all of the time. I have fallen in love with a boy named Roberto. My guess is that he is about four. He has some developmental delays and couldn´t walk at all when he arrived at the orphanage. Since then, though, he has had leg braces and can run around. He has the sweetest disposition. I´m pretty sure I would take him home with me if I was married.

The other orphanage we visit is about an hour outside of the city. 200 kids in one big house and a second building for the boys to live in. It is run by an amazing woman named Pati. She has five kids of her own, most of them grown. When I was there last weekend one of her sons was visiting from the city. He explained that they used to have a "normal" family, but that over the past 10 years they kept taking in more and more kids in need of a home. They had to move and completely change their lives to accomodate this large, unusual, fantastic family. It is run by a Christian family, and this home is a permanent situation for the kids living there. They can stay as long as they want, they just have to keep helping out and contributing to running the home. The kids are great, of course. They have benefited from a lot of structure and care in their daily lives, and they are invested there. They all take care of each other, and I am amazed by the warmth of their spirits. This orphanage also recieves some amount of government funding, but runs primarily on private donations. So if you are looking for a good investment, I can give you their address...

The night is in diapers! Let´s play fireball!

2007-06-26T14:19:00.000-07:00

The nightlife in Kansas pales in comparison to that of Asuncion. They are serious about the fun, and they never seem to need sleep. People generally stay out until 5am and then eat breakfast. There is a common expression for their late night tendancies, which translates to, "The night is in diapers." I am totally going to start saying that when I come home. At the first week or so I was tired from my trip and adjusting to the schedule here, so I didn´t really feel like ebracing the youthful incontinence of the night. But now it´s a different story...Here are some of my recent adventures:

Last night I went to a club called Cafe Bohemia to hear live jazz music and meet with some new friends. Last week we met two American musicians traveling through Paraguay. I know, I know... it seems strange that my activities in South America involve jazz and other Americans. It is shockingly easy to meet other Americans. So far I have randomly met three guys from Kansas, a guy from Boston, and a girl from Jersey. When people find out that you are an American they say, "I know an American! You should meet him!" Or "I met an American on the bus. Here´s his number. You should call him." That was one of my professors, and it turns out the American is actually from Pittsburgh, Kansas. It is nice to find familiar-ish people in this place, even if they are strangers at first. Anyways, the music was wonderful, and I got to meet some of Sofi´s friends. Sofi is my 23-year-old sister, and she is wonderful. She hangs out with me all the time and constantly makes an effort to talk to me. She naturally uses a lot of gestures and expressions, so she is easier for me to understand. She is considering coming to Kansas to study English, so you may even get to meet her.

On Sunday night I went to karaoke. That´s right. Karaoke. It´s really popular here, as are all forms of dancing. (I haven´t gone dancing yet, but I think we are going salsa dancing on Thursday.) Anyways, karaoke. We sang "Can you feel the love tonight" and the Spice Girl´s "Wanna be." Again, not what I expected in South America, but it is what they do. It was actually really fun, so I´ll be taking all of you to karaoke when I come back.

On Saturday night I went to a San Juan Festival at the church of Marlene´s family. I had read a bit about it, but it was still a very surreal experience. It started out just as I had expected it: traditional food, traditional dancing, a piñata, carnival style games for the kids...typical church function activities in the gymnasium area of the Catholic church. Marle´s family had graciously bought food for us to try, and we were all sitting eating when suddenly people began to shout and scatter. I turned around to see "El Toro en Fuego" heading right for us. This is pretty much exactly what it sounds like. A giant bull´s skull with balls of fire on both horns. Two men stand underneath it and run through the crowd, while the crowd runs away and stomps out the dozens of small fires left in its wake. It was honestly terrifying, especially since a couple of guys next to us kept pointing at us and shouting, "Gringas! Gringas!"

After the bull had left the building, things calmed down quickly. I happened to notice a small clump of young men with what looked like a giant ball of cotton socks. They put the ball on the ground and started to pour liquid on it. I pointed this out to Fran (Marlene´s brother), and he nonchalantly noted, "Oh, it must be time for fireball." Again, this is exactly what it sounds like: a ball of fire being kicked through a crowded auditorium. It was awesome, and something I can safely say would never happen at a church function in the states.

When the fireball fun came to an end, it was time for a giant dance party for all the young folks. Loud rap, latin, regatone, and dance music to rival any club in town. The night came to an end with the traditional burning of the effigy of Judas Iscariot. This is a scarecrow, filled with straw and fireworks, that they light up at the end of the evening. It is truly a vision to behold, although it kind of made me have an asthma attack. Even so, overall the evening was a biarre and wonderful cultural experience that I will attempt to replicate for you all when I return.

The Maka

2007-06-19T14:44:00.000-07:00

Over the weekend I visited a Maka village with Jana and Katie. Jana had made contact with a missionary couple living near the village before our trip, so we were able to hear about their work and have a guided tour. Rosemary and Matthew are linguists, originally from Washington, but they have spent most of their lives living in Central and South America. They have already translated the entire Bible into two other indigenous languages. As you can imagine, they are quite old and quite lovely. We heard all sorts of inspiring stories about their unique life and work. My favorite moment was with Rosemary. She noticed that I had a nose ring and asked if we had any tattoos. We said no, but that we were interested in getting them if she had any good ideas. She considered it for a moment and proceeded to retrieve a recent copy of the paper. She tore out an article about tattooing for me and explained, "It says that tattoos are a form of self expression." It also recommends tattoo parlors, so it could be a pretty handy resource from the sweet old missionary lady.

After we were done eating lunch and discussing permanent forms of self-expression, we went to the village. The Maka are a small indigenous group in Paraguay, distinct from the Guarani in language and culture. We tried to learn a few words in their language, but it contains dozens of sounds that don´t exist in English or Spanish. The village was actually in the middle of an ordinary town outside of the city. Well, ordinary for Paraguay. We turned a corner and were suddenly in another world. Simple, windowless houses smaller than my bedroom. Narrow dirt paths leading from house to house. No bathrooms or kitchens. Lots of kids. Women in sarong-style dress. Men with long hair and gauged ears. Red skin and stout faces. The primary source of income for the Maka is selling crafts to tourists, so we were immediately shown necklaces, figurines, flutes, purses, and other wares. The Maka make a harsh "Shush!" sound when they want you to come over, and it was a strange feeling to have this sound coming from about a dozen people at once. A completely unique people and experience. So naturally the majority of the Maka are Southern Baptists. Seriously.

my fan club

2007-06-18T16:13:00.000-07:00

As I have mentioned before, my Spanish classes are held in a private, bi-lingual K-12 school in Asuncion. Jon and I are the biggest of the big kids, and we are also Americans. This means that we are pretty much celebrities. The kids are awesome--they all know our names and always want to talk to us. This does great things for a person´s self esteem, but it can also be overwhelming at times.

Last week Jon and I noticed the first graders signing a song after lunch. Head, shoulders, knees, and toes in Spanish. The teacher then started a game with the kids with instructions like "finger to nose, hand to hip". Jon and I had just been learning parts of the body in Spanish, so we decided to join in. We played along quietly in the back for about a minute while the kids giggled and smiled. In this class there is a boy named Evan. He is an adorable, grinning, gangly little thing, and he is missing both of his front teeth. He would be the president of my fan club if such a thing existed--I need to make sure this kid does not meet Marle. So anyways, Evan was standing in the very front of the crowd and didn´t notice us at first. When he did turn around and see us, he slowly began to chant my name. His peers joined in quickly until the whole cafeteria was reverberating with "Co-ri! Co-ri!" I was simultaneously shocked, touched, amused, and mortified. I didn´t know what to do--being able to touch my own nose hardly warrants that sort of enthusiasm. So I hid behind Jon and could not stop laughing. I think I should record the chanting to take home with me, for those especially trying days when I could use some reassurance.

the infamous daughter of little red riding hood and the big bad wolf

2007-06-18T15:49:00.000-07:00

At this point in my adventure I would be remiss if I did not tell you about Marlene. Katie lives with Marle in a flat in the city center, and Marle works at the language institute where Katie and Jana are volunteering. She has welcomed us all like family and includes us in all of her social activities. After two weeks we all want to bring her back to the states with us. She has an acute sense of the ridiculous and has the tendency to make hilarously inappropriate comments in awkward situations; naturally we felt an immediate kinship with her. She took us all to an asado with her family--the Paraguayan version of a cook-out. Her family is gracious and just as colorful as Marlene. Her brother is studying to be a lawyer and loves to read classic literature. Her father is a lawyer with a mischevious smily and terrible jokes. Her mother is an adorable four-and-a-half foot tall dance instructor. At the barbeque we learned that her parents first met during a childhood production of various fairy tales. So Marlene is quite literally the daughter of little red riding hood and the big bad wolf. I cannot say that I am surprised. With such a beginning there can be no doubt that she was destined for greatness.

When Marle was thirteen years old, she was quite the little Ricky Martin fan. (She still is, in fact, and we have watched him on DVD to get some dance moves). When Marlene found out that Ricky was coming to Asuncion to perform, she became obsessed with one overarching goal: to meet Ricky Martin in person. She figured the best way to to this was to start a Ricky Martin fan club, just a few days before the show. Her mom was the secretary and the only other member. But this fact did not stop Marle from going to the news station and introducing herself as the presidend of the Ricky Martin Fan Club of Paraguay. The station immediatly put her on live national television, and she was interviewed on the Paraguayan equivalent of Good Morning America. While on the air Marle gave out her home phone number for the Fan Club headquarters, and her house had received more the 700 calls by the time she got home. The secretary was very busy taking messages. A few days later the same news station chartered a bus for the fan club, decorated especially for the event. Marle got to greet Ricky as he got off the plane and introduce herself as the president of his fan club, the first official fan club ever in Paraguay.

my pet jayhawk

2007-06-13T20:52:00.000-07:00

On our second day of Spanish classes, Jon and I had our first session with Ruth. Ruth is young and spunky--one of my favorites. The sort of person I would like to hang out with, maybe have a cerveza or two. But the thing is she speaks no English at all, which means we are forced to rely on our feeble Spanish skills. We were doing a get-to-know-you session of sorts, with basic questions. After all the basic information was outof the way, she asked us, "¿Tienen mascotas?" Jon and I responded in excited (and very broken...) Spanish that KU has a mascot that is an imaginary bird that is red and blue, and the name is derived from the Civil War era term for a free-stater. Also, that there is a Big Jay and a Baby Jay. She seemed confused, but we figured out that it was just our poor Spanish and the fact that we were attempting to communicate abstract concepts.

The next day Ruth informed us that she was no longer going to be our teacher. She felt that she was not capable of communicating with us and instructing us properly. Jon and I tried to talk her down, but she was pretty adamant. A few days later, I was riding the bus to school when I noticed a sign with the word "mascota". The sign was above a veterinarian office. The term has two meanings in Spanish, and in Paraguay it is used to refer to pets. So Jon and I had descibed our pet imaginary bird. Two birds actually, a big one and a baby. Red and blue. From the Civil War. No wonder she didn´t want to be our teacher.

Our error pales in comparison, however, to a slip up made by one of my fellow travelers (who shall remain unnamed...). A group of youngish guys from our church here plays soccer every week. (S)he was trying to ask some of them where the field is. Turns out that the word for field in Spanish is only one letter away from and ugly word for female anatomy. Not the sort of thing a person usualy asks about in church.

Quinto Sueño

2007-06-10T12:36:00.000-07:00

The fifth dream. This is a phrase in Paraguay (and perhaps in other South American countries too...) that refers to the deep sleep that results from being completely exhausted. It is basically how I feel every night. On Thursday I went to a bar/venue called la viola to hear some music. The band was supposed to start at 10pm, so of course the opening band played around 12:30. By that time I was so tired that I fell asleep sitting in my chair, in the middle of a crowded smokey club with loud music the whole time (basically an angsty Paraguayan man screaming into a microphone). I think I need to get into this whole siesta thing as soon as possible.

In other news, I did have my first offical kidnapping attempt. Sort of.... A man tried to get me into his car while I was walking from my school to the bus stop. At three in the afternoon. I think I was most surprised by the fact that he was driving a Mercedes. Anywho, it was a bit frightening, but everything is fine. I talked to my friend Marlene about it, and she said that just happens sometimes when women are walking alone, probably a little more often if you are white. (Also, if you happen to talk to my parents, your parents, or anyone else who tends to worry a lot, please don´t tell them this story.)

The kiddos

2007-06-09T09:00:00.000-07:00

Jon and I attend classes at the Grace Educational Center, a Christian k-12 bilingual school that emphasizes English. The intensive Spanish program is new, and Jon and I are the only students. So it´s like 7 hours of private tutoring 4 days a week. The staff has welcomed us like family and the kids treat us like celebrities. The first day most of them were scared to talk to us. It was kind of shocking the first time I heard 30 2nd graders yell "Hola Cori!" Now they want to talk to us all the time, usually in Spanish because their teachers tell them that we are here to learn. Most of them speak English incredibly well, though, and want to practice with us. On Thursday Jon and I got pulled into the 2nd grade English class. They asked us questions in English for about twenty minutes, and I was very impressed. My favorite question came from a noisy fellow in the front row. He prefaced his question with "I don´t know if it is okay to ask...but..." That´s when the teacher started to look worried. "Well, are you two....you know....just friends...or...more?" I laughed so hard I was crying in front of all the 7 year olds.

Asuncion

2007-06-09T06:49:00.000-07:00

Asuncion is the largest city in the country of Paraguay, home to about a third of the nation´s residents. The best words to describe life in the city are fast and lean. At first, the activities of the city, everything from driving to commerce to socializing, seemed sporadic, confusing, haphazard. Many intersections have no street signs because people "just know." A concert at 10pm doesn´t really start until 1am. Buses barrel down crowded streets, so close to one another that you expect to see sparks at any moment. A world of near-misses and chaos. But now that I have grown more accustomed to this place, I can detect a syncopation of sorts. A bizarre, rapid, ridiculous choreography, and Paraguayans seem to keep in step without any effort at all. For me, however, the dance that is Asuncion requires all of my attention. Watch my step because the sidewalks are uneven and full of gaping holes. Check for cars because they drive fast and never stop for pedestrians. Keep my bag clutched close to my side at all times. Maintain a "hard" demeanor and appear confident even when lost or confused. Watch for an open seat on the bus because the ride is jarring and long.

But I do enjoy all of the activity, and there is a sense of accomplishment in each day. The places and people that I know are spread out over the entire city, and I am gradually learning how to make my way to all of them. The colectivo is the bus system here, but there are no signs for bus stops. You just find a group of people standing around waiting for their ride. When you see your number approaching, raise your arm out and point to the street in front of you. While entering the bus, have your money ready and be sure to grab the railing since the bus will likely start moving again as soon as your foot leaves the curb. When you are getting close to your stop, make your way towards the back door and pull the cord to ring the bell. I always seem to almost miss my stop, and I´m still getting used to it. One thing I haven´t gotten used to is the staring. I don´t think I look all that different, but I know I must. People comment regularly on how white I am, or on my reddish hair. The population is fairly homogenous with some Eurpoean and Asian populations. I haven´t seen a single black person yet in the city.

My family lives just outside of the city proper, in a municipality called Lambare. It is tranquil and green with cobblestone streets and dusty sidewalks. Katie lives in the city center with Marlene, a hilarious Paraguayan girl who works at the English school where Katie and Jana are working. Jana lives in the city about two miles from my house with Jorge and Marta, a sweet Argentinian couple that works at a 7th Day Adventist health center. Jon lives in a posh neighborhood with Santiago´s family. Each of us seems to have landed in the best place possible circumstances for our personality and knowledge of the Spanish language. I am glad to be where I am. My house is a welcome respite from the noise and motion of the city.

No hablo español...

2007-06-08T19:27:00.000-07:00

...is a very important sentence, and also my reality at the present time. Certainly, the inability to communicate it is beyond frustrating. The simplest things are so difficult. I think I am even starting to speak English a bit strangely because my brain is used to putting all of my thoughts through a different language filter. One good thing about my limited Spanish ability is that I have started to understand personality and hospitality differently. Since I couldn´t understand what my familia was saying, I paid more attention to their actions, their demeanor, the tone of their voices.

Here is what I have learned about them in the first few days. Estefi (19) is my sister, and she speaks English very well since she spent a year of high school as an exchange student in the US. She is very warm and understands what it is like to be in a different country. She loves American music like Keane (okay, that one is British actually, but anyway...) and read "Blue like Jazz" recently. Small world, eh? Ana is the 13 year old sister, the youngest in the family. Enthusiastic and full of energy. She speaks some English and has been my guide to the neighborhood. I can already tell that I will miss her a lot when I leave. Enri is the youngest son. He drove me here from the airport, and I was pretty sure that I was going to die. I think he is 18-ish...not sure. Sarcastic and hilarious. I can´t wait until I can understand him better. Fabri is the oldest son, maybe 23. He is a bit more sensible than Enri, and extremely helpful. He likes heavy metal music and is studying computer engineering. Sofi is the oldest sister. She is spunky and has a great laugh. David (19) is a cousin that lives here as well. He is shy, sweet, and hard-working. Bettina and Enrique are the parents, and they are extremely caring.

So I live with a big family, which means constant activity and noise. It´s actually comforting and makes me feel less conspicusous. Of course that also means seven or eight people speaking Spanish to me all at once, and consequently me looking profoundly confused most of the time. I am continually impressed with the kindness and hospitality of this family--it is such a blessing here. They tell me that I am learning Spanish so quickly, although it doesn´t feel that way to me. I am able to understand their Spanish more and more each day, which is also encouraging. I will feel very accomplished if by the end of my stay I am able to understand all of the conversations that happen at the dinner table.