Tuesday, March 29, 2011
Giardia and Power Outages
So, I did my Close of Service medical stuff a couple of weeks ago, and got a phone call from the medical office a few days later saying that I have giardia, which is a gross, though very common intestinal problem amongst PC Volunteers. According to one website, “outbreaks can occur in communities…where water supplies become contaminated with raw sewage.” So, ew. Anyway, apparently mine is minor and fairly dormant, so I’ll take the pills on my last day of service to make sure my system is healthy before I travel through Bolivia, Peru, Ecuador, and Colombia…
On a very different note, a few days ago I was visiting Mari, one of my favorite ladies in my site. She asked me if I had heard about the 3 day power outage that was going to happen this week “all over the world” because of “that thing that happened in that other country”. I suggested she was talking about Japan, and she agreed. I laughed at the idea of a 3 day worldwide power outage, assuming she was just messing with me. But, alas, my power went out about ten minutes ago, and now I’m nervous that for some reason we’ll be without power for days. Other PC friends also lost power at the same time, so now I’m getting a bit nervous… We shall see, I guess. It looks like I should prep for a few days of candlelit reading…
On a very different note, a few days ago I was visiting Mari, one of my favorite ladies in my site. She asked me if I had heard about the 3 day power outage that was going to happen this week “all over the world” because of “that thing that happened in that other country”. I suggested she was talking about Japan, and she agreed. I laughed at the idea of a 3 day worldwide power outage, assuming she was just messing with me. But, alas, my power went out about ten minutes ago, and now I’m nervous that for some reason we’ll be without power for days. Other PC friends also lost power at the same time, so now I’m getting a bit nervous… We shall see, I guess. It looks like I should prep for a few days of candlelit reading…
Monday, March 28, 2011
Arch Nemesis or My Replacement
I’m having a standoff. With a cat. It started yesterday. It started raining, so I went around my house partially closing the windows to make sure the rain didn’t come in more than was absolutely necessary. This is a tricky maneuver because if the wind blows the right (or should I say wrong?) way, it gets in regardless of what I do. This is, of course, thanks to the fact that my landlord never got around to putting new glass in the broken, and in some cases nonexistent, panes. I did what anyone would do—used cardboard and duct tape to patch them myself. It’s generally effective, but after living in my house for a year and a half, some water is inevitable. Anyway, so I shut the window in my room last, and made eye contact with this mangy looking white cat sitting outside. I registered the look it gave me immediately. The look was that that a teenager gives his parents when they’re about to leave him/her in charge of the house for the weekend. It says, "Of course I won’t have a party", but you know that is exactly what he/she is planning. The look the cat gave me said, “Of course I wouldn’t dream of going through the window into your house—when you’re home.” I hate this cat. This morning I saw it again sitting on a table that I abandoned on my front porch about a year ago in hopes that someone would steal it. I noticed the cat’s ear, which was completely black and looked nearly rotten. But, rather than feel sorry for said cat, I just saw the look in his eyes and knew that he was just waiting for me to move out in a few weeks so he can claim my house for himself. Adding insult to injury, he is completely white. The only reason I mention this is that last October, shortly after moving into my house, I came home to find 3 totally white baby kittens stashed behind my refrigerator. It was disgusting. But not nearly as disgusting as knowing that the next tenant to my lovely home will be this disgusting creature that has already probably been in my house, wreaking havoc but finally catching the lone mouse that keeps scurrying around my kitchen.
Wednesday, March 9, 2011
Shakira and Wanna-Be Robbers
So I went to see Shakira last night. As I recently mentioned, I’m not a huge Shakira fan. I simply went because I had to do my medical testing and I could get reimbursed while hanging out in Asuncion with a bunch of my PC friends. There are about 200 PCVs in Paraguay and I’d guess at least 50 were there. While we were waiting in line to get into the “campo” section (the cheapest area), a camera guy approached my group. He wanted to interview some of us. I stepped forward (of course), and answered some questions, briefly described Peace Corps, and then was asked what Shakira song I most wanted to hear. I stalled. As mentioned, I’m not some sort of die hard Shakira fan. I’m not even a quasi-Shakira fan. She sings. Her stuff is EVERYWHERE in Paraguay, frequently being bumped from passing cars and neighborhood stereos. I said the only song that I can easily name—Waka Waka. I’m not sure of this song’s popularity in the States, but here is was a constant reminder that the World Cup was happening. Apparently this was an acceptable answer, and he moved on. No other PCV moved to be interviewed, so I was the only one to represent the US’s presence at Shakira.
We roamed around the “campo” area, or the field, where there was no seating. We danced and hung out all over. My best PCV friend, Barbara, and I wandered amongst PCVs asking if they were hungry…for a sandwich. This is a silly idea, of course. It is a ridiculous move that my sister and I used to employ in high school. You approach a guy and ask if he’s hungry, possibly suggesting that he looks famished. He is usually quite confused, until the person behind him and in front of him begin dancing and you ask if he wants a sandwich. At this point he usually realizes that you’re not trying to give him a BLT or something of the like. It amuses me. Yes, I’m 26. It’s the little things that mean so little.
Just after we satisfied the hunger of a PC friend of ours and took a picture of the three of us, I realized my bag had been unzipped. I saw that a guy and girl were standing right next to us and had been there for a bit. Though there was quite a crowd, it was easy to walk through so anyone passing through had no reason to find a road block. I grabbed the guy’s wrist with my left hand while my right hand fished around in my purse to see if anything was missing. My wallet was still there, but my phone had mysteriously disappeared. I asked the guy, in not the most delicate language, where in the world my phone was. My grip on his wrist was tight. He told me that a girl had stolen my phone and run through the crowd. Still holding tight, I told him to find her, and we rushed through the crowd. His female friend had disappeared at this point. He led me through the crowd quickly, but then led me back out into another group of PCVs. He told me he had lost the girl who had supposedly stolen my phone. I saw my friend Andy aka Sparkles and told him this *#*#(!!! guy had stolen my phone and to hold him. Miraculously, at that very moment the guy told me my phone had been handed to him. I took it in one hand while still holding hard on his wrist. I turned it on to be sure it was actually mine while giving him a lecture about how I only earn as much as Paraguayans and work to improve my community and how he should be ashamed of himself. (Yes, I was on a bit of a pedestal.) It was obvious that it was my phone once it turned on, and I told him to “leave us in peace” (which is much much stronger in Paraguayan Spanish), and then slapped him across the face. I’m sad to say that it was done with my left hand, and therefore possibly not as hard as I’d like. Maybe the slap wasn’t the most peaceful option, but getting my cell back was certainly the highlight of my night—even after hearing Waka Waka.
We roamed around the “campo” area, or the field, where there was no seating. We danced and hung out all over. My best PCV friend, Barbara, and I wandered amongst PCVs asking if they were hungry…for a sandwich. This is a silly idea, of course. It is a ridiculous move that my sister and I used to employ in high school. You approach a guy and ask if he’s hungry, possibly suggesting that he looks famished. He is usually quite confused, until the person behind him and in front of him begin dancing and you ask if he wants a sandwich. At this point he usually realizes that you’re not trying to give him a BLT or something of the like. It amuses me. Yes, I’m 26. It’s the little things that mean so little.
Just after we satisfied the hunger of a PC friend of ours and took a picture of the three of us, I realized my bag had been unzipped. I saw that a guy and girl were standing right next to us and had been there for a bit. Though there was quite a crowd, it was easy to walk through so anyone passing through had no reason to find a road block. I grabbed the guy’s wrist with my left hand while my right hand fished around in my purse to see if anything was missing. My wallet was still there, but my phone had mysteriously disappeared. I asked the guy, in not the most delicate language, where in the world my phone was. My grip on his wrist was tight. He told me that a girl had stolen my phone and run through the crowd. Still holding tight, I told him to find her, and we rushed through the crowd. His female friend had disappeared at this point. He led me through the crowd quickly, but then led me back out into another group of PCVs. He told me he had lost the girl who had supposedly stolen my phone. I saw my friend Andy aka Sparkles and told him this *#*#(!!! guy had stolen my phone and to hold him. Miraculously, at that very moment the guy told me my phone had been handed to him. I took it in one hand while still holding hard on his wrist. I turned it on to be sure it was actually mine while giving him a lecture about how I only earn as much as Paraguayans and work to improve my community and how he should be ashamed of himself. (Yes, I was on a bit of a pedestal.) It was obvious that it was my phone once it turned on, and I told him to “leave us in peace” (which is much much stronger in Paraguayan Spanish), and then slapped him across the face. I’m sad to say that it was done with my left hand, and therefore possibly not as hard as I’d like. Maybe the slap wasn’t the most peaceful option, but getting my cell back was certainly the highlight of my night—even after hearing Waka Waka.
Sunday, March 6, 2011
Shards of Glass and Shakira
OK, just to clarify, I do not have dengue. I had some sort of terrible sickness that resembled dengue, but it passed and I survived (clearly). A ton of people have had the same symptoms in my neighborhood the past few weeks, though for some it has turned out to be dengue. I’m hoping that all of these cases of actual dengue (not its terribly uncomfortable and painful doppelganger) will make the municipality of Limpio come out to Villa Madrid to fumigate. Fumigation would help, but actually getting rid of dengue would involve people cleaning up their yards, keeping their homes immaculate, and maybe taking down those oh-so-lovely shards of glass that often line stone walls to keep people from climbing them. I’m not going to hold my breath.
Today I held a meeting to talk about the library and community problems. The head of the bus line 48, which goes in and out of my neighborhood about every 10 minutes, was there too. We had asked Linea 48 to donate some money for our library project, and in return he asked us to hold a community meeting to talk about various assaults that have happened on their buses within my neighborhood. The meeting went well, though started 45 minutes late, as per usual. I’m hoping that a kind of neighborhood watch group will be formed as a result, but I’m leaving in just 6 weeks (!) so I will not take on this project. We shall see. There is always a lot of crime in my neighborhood. As the PCV who lived here before me said, “Villa Madrid is a relatively safe place with some petty theft and the occasional homicide.” I’ve not heard of any homicides since I’ve been here, but I’ve always loved the optimism of that phrase.
Anyway, things are winding down, though I have maybe about 4 free days until the end of March. That being said, this week I will spend 3 days in Asuncion to have my Close of Service medical and dental exams and to go see Shakira. No, I’m not that big of a Shakira fan, but how can you say no to seeing her in concert while in Latin America?? Answer: You cannot. (Or at least I cannot.)
Today I held a meeting to talk about the library and community problems. The head of the bus line 48, which goes in and out of my neighborhood about every 10 minutes, was there too. We had asked Linea 48 to donate some money for our library project, and in return he asked us to hold a community meeting to talk about various assaults that have happened on their buses within my neighborhood. The meeting went well, though started 45 minutes late, as per usual. I’m hoping that a kind of neighborhood watch group will be formed as a result, but I’m leaving in just 6 weeks (!) so I will not take on this project. We shall see. There is always a lot of crime in my neighborhood. As the PCV who lived here before me said, “Villa Madrid is a relatively safe place with some petty theft and the occasional homicide.” I’ve not heard of any homicides since I’ve been here, but I’ve always loved the optimism of that phrase.
Anyway, things are winding down, though I have maybe about 4 free days until the end of March. That being said, this week I will spend 3 days in Asuncion to have my Close of Service medical and dental exams and to go see Shakira. No, I’m not that big of a Shakira fan, but how can you say no to seeing her in concert while in Latin America?? Answer: You cannot. (Or at least I cannot.)
Shopping and Champagne
I’m not sure if I’m alone in this or not, nor do I really know where this urge has come from. Maybe it’s from watching Pretty Woman many years ago? I’ve always wanted to sit and drink champagne (and maybe smoke a cigar, though I dislike cigars) as people my same size parade around in various outfits at a store as I decide what I like and dislike. It simply sounds like the best way to shop. Though that did not happen (sigh), on Thursday I may have come as close to that as I’ll ever get. Except it was in a book store. And there was no champagne. As I’ve mentioned, my library committee received the grant from the US that we’ve been waiting for. On Thursday I went with a youth from my neighborhood to pick out books. He had to leave early, so I was sola for quite some time picking out books and shelves for our brand new community library. The book store employees realized just how much I was there to spend (about $2,000) and honestly treated me like royalty. They gave us a HUGE discount and then took our new purchases and me back to my neighborhood. This week we’re going to spend the rest of the money…maybe I’ll just go ahead and buy myself some champagne.
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