So on Sunday the gas that makes my stove function ran out while I was heating up water to bathe. It wasn’t a huge deal—the water was warmish and I survived. We got paid on Tuesday and I was too poor to buy more gas Monday so I went without coffee Monday and Tuesday but headed off to Limpio (which is 3km away) with two 13-year-old kids from my neighborhood to get some more gas. We went to four different places but had zero luck and returned to my house empty handed. I talked to my neighbors and apparently there is a huge gas shortage in Paraguay. We import gas from Argentina and (as was explained to me repeatedly by various parties) it is so cold in Argentina right now that everyone is using more gas than usual and they feel no need to export any to little ol’ Paraguay. What does this mean for me? It means cold bucket bathing (during our winter), no coffee in the morning (which is KILLING me—Nescafe courses through my veins), or cooking of any kind. Apparently I can maybe find some in the capital, which is just an hour away, so I’ll need to continue my search ASAP.
As I mentioned in the last post, there has been some major drama with the women’s group. One lady called me this morning to ask me to come to her house as soon as I could. I had the eye doctors visiting again, and then realllly wanted to take a nap afterwards, so I told her I couldn’t be there until this evening. She texted me later asking me to come at 5pm and said it was urgent. I assumed it was a meeting for the women’s group but it was only her, her family, and the super muscular boxer she’s been trying to set me up with. Apparently it was just urgent because she wants to speed things up between him and me. He doesn’t live in my neighborhood, but is taller than me, has no children, and doesn’t have a girlfriend or wife. These were her selling points on this guy a month ago when I had a super awkward interaction with him where she forced the two of us to sit in her yard drinking terere (the cold tea) while the rest of the family left us alone. Some of the kids from the comedor were really curious, especially Diosnel (my favorite) who attempted to spy on the entire conversation (though not very stealthily). So now, thanks to the date disguised as a meeting, I’ve had a second date with this dude. Thanks, Lourdes.
Wednesday, July 28, 2010
Back Home with a Bang
07-22-10
So, I went to the US for about 12 days for a wonderful visit in mostly Chautauqua, NY and briefly in NYC. It was excellent. I was thrilled to see friends and family, eat delicious food, and enjoy the heat—the inescapable cold of Paraguayan winter is miserable. (Last week a fellow PCV who came in a year after me reminded me that a group of PCVs asked me what I disliked most about Paraguay and I said the cold weather. They scoffed since at the time we were sweating it out in 100degree heat and didn’t believe me when I explained that cold weather here is much worse than hot. The PCV now completely agrees with me, obviously.) Anyway, the US was fabulous and it was great seeing everyone—especially my family before my brother Rahde takes off for a year of studying open fire cooking techniques in Jamaica, South Africa, India, Turkey, and Austrailia. Check out his blog. www.rahdefranke.com
I got back to Paraguay last week but had a 4 day conference with other PCVs and some community contacts. (I am very pleased to report that both of mine showed up despite the fact that I wasn’t around to remind them! Lovely surprise!) Anyway, then I was back in site for a night before heading back to the capital to work on the Kuatiane’e (Guarani for “Talking Paper”), which is the PC Paraguay publication we put out 3 times a year. I’m one of the editors. When I got back to site Tuesday night I was thrilled to be back home, though not very excited to see that a deep clean of my little house was definitely in order. Yesterday (Wednesday) I cleaned a bit and then went down to the Comedor. Seeing the kids I work with about 4 days a week after not seeing them for 3 weeks was wonderful. There were a lot of hugs, double kisses (which I think is so funny and cute from an 8-year-old), and questions about the states. My favorite kid, Diosnel, acted like he didn’t see me for a while and instead continuously “accidentally” bumped into me repeatedly. He always reacts to me in the exact opposite was as the other kids. I told him (and the other kids) that I missed him and his face lit up…this kid so desperately needs some positive attention. It was fabulous seeing them all again. But I wish I could report that the whole reunion was a joyous one. I also got back to find that there has been an absurd amount of drama between the women who run the free meal program. They have been bickering and asking one another to step down from their positions. One woman apparently almost hit another in the face. Another claimed that she was the “Queen of the Kitchen” and said another woman couldn’t cook there. Within my youth group it seems as though there has been some drama as well, though not in any way as ridiculous as the drama between the women’s group. They’re switching their focus it seems and may not work with the comedor quite as much—instead focusing on building a business to make baked goods. Last night we had a two hour plus meeting in which we planned activities for Friendship Day (July 31st—big deal here), Kids’ Day (August 16th), and Youth Day (September 21st).
I talked to my landlord just as I was leaving my meeting and he asked if he could come over so I could pay rent. We had a bit of a mix-up in which I thought he was trying to charge me an extra month’s rent, but we figured it out. He is really an ideal landlord. I sometimes ask if I can do something to the house (like maybe paint the last room that hasn’t been painted) and he says, “This is your house—do whatever you want.” That being said, he isn’t super ideal in that I still have a bunch of broken windows that my fellow PCVs continuously ridicule me for. He told me last night that that can be the next step—fixing the windows—but I’m not holding my breath. He also asked me what kind of security I have. I told him I have five locks on the door and that seems to be enough. Then he asked me about guns. He knows a random mix of English words and loves to use them as much as possible, so his comments are more like, “Y que tenes para security?” and, “No hay guns en the house?” Sometimes I think he asks me things just to use his English vocab… Anyway, when he asked me if I had a gun, I said that I have a machete. He laughed and said that he could get me a gun. To which I laughed and said I’ve never shot a gun and I don’t know how. I am not sure where this assumption came (Westerns, NRA ads, Mafia movies, action movies, whatever?) but he absolutely did not believe that I had never shot a gun. He kept claiming that he knew I was an expert at shooting and nothing I could say could convince him otherwise. He even showed me a gun tucked into a holster and said he goes nowhere without it, suggesting I do the same. I said that as a PCV I am not allowed to have a gun (which I think is true but really doesn’t matter since buying a gun is the last thing I’d do) but am still kind of convinced that I’ll come home one day soon to find my very own gun and holster waiting.
So, I went to the US for about 12 days for a wonderful visit in mostly Chautauqua, NY and briefly in NYC. It was excellent. I was thrilled to see friends and family, eat delicious food, and enjoy the heat—the inescapable cold of Paraguayan winter is miserable. (Last week a fellow PCV who came in a year after me reminded me that a group of PCVs asked me what I disliked most about Paraguay and I said the cold weather. They scoffed since at the time we were sweating it out in 100degree heat and didn’t believe me when I explained that cold weather here is much worse than hot. The PCV now completely agrees with me, obviously.) Anyway, the US was fabulous and it was great seeing everyone—especially my family before my brother Rahde takes off for a year of studying open fire cooking techniques in Jamaica, South Africa, India, Turkey, and Austrailia. Check out his blog. www.rahdefranke.com
I got back to Paraguay last week but had a 4 day conference with other PCVs and some community contacts. (I am very pleased to report that both of mine showed up despite the fact that I wasn’t around to remind them! Lovely surprise!) Anyway, then I was back in site for a night before heading back to the capital to work on the Kuatiane’e (Guarani for “Talking Paper”), which is the PC Paraguay publication we put out 3 times a year. I’m one of the editors. When I got back to site Tuesday night I was thrilled to be back home, though not very excited to see that a deep clean of my little house was definitely in order. Yesterday (Wednesday) I cleaned a bit and then went down to the Comedor. Seeing the kids I work with about 4 days a week after not seeing them for 3 weeks was wonderful. There were a lot of hugs, double kisses (which I think is so funny and cute from an 8-year-old), and questions about the states. My favorite kid, Diosnel, acted like he didn’t see me for a while and instead continuously “accidentally” bumped into me repeatedly. He always reacts to me in the exact opposite was as the other kids. I told him (and the other kids) that I missed him and his face lit up…this kid so desperately needs some positive attention. It was fabulous seeing them all again. But I wish I could report that the whole reunion was a joyous one. I also got back to find that there has been an absurd amount of drama between the women who run the free meal program. They have been bickering and asking one another to step down from their positions. One woman apparently almost hit another in the face. Another claimed that she was the “Queen of the Kitchen” and said another woman couldn’t cook there. Within my youth group it seems as though there has been some drama as well, though not in any way as ridiculous as the drama between the women’s group. They’re switching their focus it seems and may not work with the comedor quite as much—instead focusing on building a business to make baked goods. Last night we had a two hour plus meeting in which we planned activities for Friendship Day (July 31st—big deal here), Kids’ Day (August 16th), and Youth Day (September 21st).
I talked to my landlord just as I was leaving my meeting and he asked if he could come over so I could pay rent. We had a bit of a mix-up in which I thought he was trying to charge me an extra month’s rent, but we figured it out. He is really an ideal landlord. I sometimes ask if I can do something to the house (like maybe paint the last room that hasn’t been painted) and he says, “This is your house—do whatever you want.” That being said, he isn’t super ideal in that I still have a bunch of broken windows that my fellow PCVs continuously ridicule me for. He told me last night that that can be the next step—fixing the windows—but I’m not holding my breath. He also asked me what kind of security I have. I told him I have five locks on the door and that seems to be enough. Then he asked me about guns. He knows a random mix of English words and loves to use them as much as possible, so his comments are more like, “Y que tenes para security?” and, “No hay guns en the house?” Sometimes I think he asks me things just to use his English vocab… Anyway, when he asked me if I had a gun, I said that I have a machete. He laughed and said that he could get me a gun. To which I laughed and said I’ve never shot a gun and I don’t know how. I am not sure where this assumption came (Westerns, NRA ads, Mafia movies, action movies, whatever?) but he absolutely did not believe that I had never shot a gun. He kept claiming that he knew I was an expert at shooting and nothing I could say could convince him otherwise. He even showed me a gun tucked into a holster and said he goes nowhere without it, suggesting I do the same. I said that as a PCV I am not allowed to have a gun (which I think is true but really doesn’t matter since buying a gun is the last thing I’d do) but am still kind of convinced that I’ll come home one day soon to find my very own gun and holster waiting.
Wednesday, June 30, 2010
A quick note on Paraguay, the World Cup, and me
6-29-10
OK, so I’ve never been that into soccer. I’ll admit it. I stopped playing soccer sometime in middle school to play field hockey, which is a sport that I’d still much rather play than soccer but is somewhat miserable to watch. I’m not that into watching sports. Sure, I love to go to lacrosse, baseball, soccer, football, hockey, fill-in-the-sport games but watching them on TV is really not my favorite past time. I didn’t watch the Super Bowl this year (I was in Paraguay, the announcing was in Spanish, they weren’t going to show the commercials, and I would have had to go to Hooters or TGIFridays in Asuncion to watch) and last year, though it was one of my last days in the US before Peace Corps, I fell asleep during the first quarter.
All that being said, however, this World Cup has been phenomenal! Like every other Latin American country I’ve been to, Paraguay loves its soccer. Everyone plays. Everyone watches. Everyone asks you what your favorite Paraguayan team is (Olympia should be your answer if we’re friends). Being here and watching with families in my neighborhood has been such a treat! The fact that Paraguay has now made it to the Quarter Finals is truly excellent. Today I watched the win in a restaurant in Limpio. When we all ran onto the street to see the fireworks (or just hear them—it was the middle of the day, after all) a guy who had been sitting at the next table pulled out a gun that apparently was tucked into his waistband and started shooting into the air. (I was especially glad we won at that point.) I hope that soccer gets bigger in the US. I think it will grow steadily over the next four years—I have two different friends who have World Cup related activities/blogs. (One followed US Soccer fans all the way to South Africa, and the other has sworn that he will move to whatever country wins the World Cup.) I hope that the next time the US advances more than it did this year. But really I’m just thrilled that I was able to be here, in Paraguay, at such an exciting time when a country the size of California with the population of Manhattan has gotten this far—top 8!! I know the next match will be a tough one. We’re playing Spain. They’re ranked #2 in the world. I’ll be stateside watching the game with my Paraguay jersey and Neil Armstrong-type Paraguay bracelet. All I have to say is FUERZA PARAGUAY!!
OK, so I’ve never been that into soccer. I’ll admit it. I stopped playing soccer sometime in middle school to play field hockey, which is a sport that I’d still much rather play than soccer but is somewhat miserable to watch. I’m not that into watching sports. Sure, I love to go to lacrosse, baseball, soccer, football, hockey, fill-in-the-sport games but watching them on TV is really not my favorite past time. I didn’t watch the Super Bowl this year (I was in Paraguay, the announcing was in Spanish, they weren’t going to show the commercials, and I would have had to go to Hooters or TGIFridays in Asuncion to watch) and last year, though it was one of my last days in the US before Peace Corps, I fell asleep during the first quarter.
All that being said, however, this World Cup has been phenomenal! Like every other Latin American country I’ve been to, Paraguay loves its soccer. Everyone plays. Everyone watches. Everyone asks you what your favorite Paraguayan team is (Olympia should be your answer if we’re friends). Being here and watching with families in my neighborhood has been such a treat! The fact that Paraguay has now made it to the Quarter Finals is truly excellent. Today I watched the win in a restaurant in Limpio. When we all ran onto the street to see the fireworks (or just hear them—it was the middle of the day, after all) a guy who had been sitting at the next table pulled out a gun that apparently was tucked into his waistband and started shooting into the air. (I was especially glad we won at that point.) I hope that soccer gets bigger in the US. I think it will grow steadily over the next four years—I have two different friends who have World Cup related activities/blogs. (One followed US Soccer fans all the way to South Africa, and the other has sworn that he will move to whatever country wins the World Cup.) I hope that the next time the US advances more than it did this year. But really I’m just thrilled that I was able to be here, in Paraguay, at such an exciting time when a country the size of California with the population of Manhattan has gotten this far—top 8!! I know the next match will be a tough one. We’re playing Spain. They’re ranked #2 in the world. I’ll be stateside watching the game with my Paraguay jersey and Neil Armstrong-type Paraguay bracelet. All I have to say is FUERZA PARAGUAY!!
Tuesday, June 15, 2010
Hi-Yah Cock Block!!
OK, so just a quick comment about gutsy drunk Paraguayan men and the middle-aged ladies that are some of my closest friends...
Saturday night was the weird (and wonderful) San Juan Festival here in my neighborhood. There were definitely a bunch of drunk dudes there who were enthusiastically hitting on me. At one point a guy said "Sos de djaklfjda?" ("You're from da;lkfdjal?"--I didn't hear the last word). I asked, "From where?" He said "..de verdad?" or, in English: "for real?" In other words, "Are you real?" Then his buddy said my eyes were the color of the sea. Thanks, drunkies.
Anyway, I thought that was the hit-on highlight of the night, especially since one of my señora friends and her kids were with me...I'll never hear the end of it. BUT then I talked to another señora friend of mine yesterday and she asked if i had seen an especially drunk guy sitting in a chair near her husband all night. I said I had seen him, and that I had been avoiding him since he was looking at me so creepily. Apparently my intuition is right--he said to Mari (my friend), "What do you think I'd have to say to talk that girl into sleeping with me?" (Except "coger" was used which is realllly strong for Paraguay.) Mari, being the lovely lady she is, said, "I don't think you could say anything to do that...plus she knows karate, so you should watch out." Ha! Oh how I love my 40-something amigas! Fin.
Saturday night was the weird (and wonderful) San Juan Festival here in my neighborhood. There were definitely a bunch of drunk dudes there who were enthusiastically hitting on me. At one point a guy said "Sos de djaklfjda?" ("You're from da;lkfdjal?"--I didn't hear the last word). I asked, "From where?" He said "..de verdad?" or, in English: "for real?" In other words, "Are you real?" Then his buddy said my eyes were the color of the sea. Thanks, drunkies.
Anyway, I thought that was the hit-on highlight of the night, especially since one of my señora friends and her kids were with me...I'll never hear the end of it. BUT then I talked to another señora friend of mine yesterday and she asked if i had seen an especially drunk guy sitting in a chair near her husband all night. I said I had seen him, and that I had been avoiding him since he was looking at me so creepily. Apparently my intuition is right--he said to Mari (my friend), "What do you think I'd have to say to talk that girl into sleeping with me?" (Except "coger" was used which is realllly strong for Paraguay.) Mari, being the lovely lady she is, said, "I don't think you could say anything to do that...plus she knows karate, so you should watch out." Ha! Oh how I love my 40-something amigas! Fin.
Sunday, June 13, 2010
Mis pantalones estan en fuego!
06-12-10 When I think of a bunch of young men scrambling up a greased-up pole, I generally think of the Naval Academy. (Hey, I’m from the Annapolis area.) And I usually don’t imagine those young men being in drag. Or wearing wigs. Or masks from the Scream movies. That all changed tonight. The Festival of San Juan is a weird, weird event. Yes, I said it. Yes, that might make me culturally insensitive. But I’ll stand by this statement. It doesn’t help that no one I asked could explain why they do any of the things they did. They only knew the names of various activities that are traditionally done for San Juan in Guarani. It should be mentioned that although San Juan generally consists of activities that include fire and others that do not, here in wonderful Villa Madrid those non-fire related activities were largely ignored. Oh how I love my neighborhood!
So, to be honest, I didn’t especially want to go to San Juan today. I’ve been kind of sick the past few days and really didn’t feel like being at a party where I was going to be standing around awkwardly with a bunch of people who watched a handful of teenagers dance. That is what many parties here look like. What do I usually do? Play with children. Anyway, my assumptions about what I was in for were totally off, thank God. I got there and went over to where some of my youth group was sitting behind a bare tree (actually branch) in a planter that was covered with little balloons. Children would come and pay 1,000Guaranis (20 cents) to pick a balloon. They pop said balloon and a piece of paper either says “San Juan tells you YES” or (you guessed it!) “San Juan tells you NO”. Yes means prize, No means you get nothing. Since it was the only activity for kids at the beginning, it was quite a hit. I was surprised because, to be honest, the prizes sucked. Who wants to win an eraser?? (Later another booth opened up for kids—you got a prize if you shot a can off of a windowsill. If I was ten and had to choose between popping a balloon and shooting a gun I’d probably chose the gun. Note: Not much has changed in the past 15 years, though I’ve never shot a gun…)
Some key male members of the youth group were missing though. Where were they? Prepping to be Cambã—I have no clue what that means, but it looked a lot like this. Have you ever drunkenly put together a Halloween costume? Well, you may well have fit right in at San Juan. When I asked about the theme of the costume, I was told they were all supposed to be ugly and (some thought) feminine, and disguised. The costumes ranged greatly, but each of our Cambã teens definitely had a stick. That threw me at first until I saw them running around dancing and having things thrown at them by children. The Cambã then ran after said children swinging that stick while a band of wind instruments played. It was weird. Luckily these boys are my amigos and gave the ever-valuable backstage pass where we had a little photo shoot.
Then I actually slipped out for a little while to eat fish (fish for the first time EVER in my neighborhood!) at a house nearby with one of my closest 40-something comedor lady friends at a party she invited me to. When we got back to the fiesta, the yvyra suĩ or greased-up pole was in full force. People were stacked on top of one another. Below? Cement, obviously. At the top of the pole were several prizes. There was a rumor that there was 100,000Gs (US$20) up there but it turned out just to be 2,000Gs (US40cents). Oops. What else? Some crackers, a soda, a bottle of caña (the super strong Paraguayan sugar cane booze), some cookies.
Next comes torro candi (or burning bull). In this a guy puts on a costume that you might otherwise see in a Chinese parade (I’m somehow blanking on the words right now), but it is of a bull. His front horns are lit on fire. He runs after people—mostly children—for a while. I don’t have anything really to say about this part except that when that dude did finally take off his costume he seemed quite drunk. It made me curious if there was anyone in particular in charge of these fire activities…
So at this point I’m feeling good—full of fish, sopa Paraguaya, and water (I don’t drink at all in my neighborhood because of a very strong divide between those who drink and those who work)—and so is everyone else. People are drunk. Very drunk. It’s still early enough in the month that people aren’t totally broke yet. The kids are running around, covered in grease from the pole, throwing cans at each other. As I’m talking to this nice couple I look over to see a handful of people crowding around a ball. Only it isn’t just a ball. It is a fireball. A ball of fire. In Guaraní: vacapipopo tatã. Anddddd it starts to get kicked around aimlessly. I’m sorry if I misled you before with the comment about me maybe being interested in shooting a gun but I’m actually a huge wuss. And a ball of fire was coming at me! What the F*%$? Somehow I’m one of the few people who seem at all concerned about the fireball. A kid falls down in a swing-and-a-miss kick. There is just laughter. An especially drunk guy picks it up and throws it—into a crowd! We’re talking about a ball of cloth with some sort of flammable spray helping the flames. I don’t know what else to say about this. It was insane. Check out the video at the bottom of this blog for a quick glimpse...
The finale was the burning of Judas. This was basically a scarecrow tied to another pole. I thought it’d just be burned but apparently it had “fireworks in his belly”, which of course became fireworks that shot sometimes into the air, but more often out into the crowd at random, causing screams of both joy and fear. It was quite an interesting night. Last year I actually went to the same party but went too early and stayed too short a time to see anything interesting. (I remember eating some food and then leaving because it was freezing and I had a ride home.) So I only have myself to blame for not seeing all this ridiculousness last year. The really good thing though? The actual San Juan Festival isn’t until the end of the month and I’m planning on going elsewhere to experience it again. There should be people walking on hot coals at the next festival as well…who knows? Maybe I’ll join them for a quick stroll…
So, to be honest, I didn’t especially want to go to San Juan today. I’ve been kind of sick the past few days and really didn’t feel like being at a party where I was going to be standing around awkwardly with a bunch of people who watched a handful of teenagers dance. That is what many parties here look like. What do I usually do? Play with children. Anyway, my assumptions about what I was in for were totally off, thank God. I got there and went over to where some of my youth group was sitting behind a bare tree (actually branch) in a planter that was covered with little balloons. Children would come and pay 1,000Guaranis (20 cents) to pick a balloon. They pop said balloon and a piece of paper either says “San Juan tells you YES” or (you guessed it!) “San Juan tells you NO”. Yes means prize, No means you get nothing. Since it was the only activity for kids at the beginning, it was quite a hit. I was surprised because, to be honest, the prizes sucked. Who wants to win an eraser?? (Later another booth opened up for kids—you got a prize if you shot a can off of a windowsill. If I was ten and had to choose between popping a balloon and shooting a gun I’d probably chose the gun. Note: Not much has changed in the past 15 years, though I’ve never shot a gun…)
Some key male members of the youth group were missing though. Where were they? Prepping to be Cambã—I have no clue what that means, but it looked a lot like this. Have you ever drunkenly put together a Halloween costume? Well, you may well have fit right in at San Juan. When I asked about the theme of the costume, I was told they were all supposed to be ugly and (some thought) feminine, and disguised. The costumes ranged greatly, but each of our Cambã teens definitely had a stick. That threw me at first until I saw them running around dancing and having things thrown at them by children. The Cambã then ran after said children swinging that stick while a band of wind instruments played. It was weird. Luckily these boys are my amigos and gave the ever-valuable backstage pass where we had a little photo shoot.
Then I actually slipped out for a little while to eat fish (fish for the first time EVER in my neighborhood!) at a house nearby with one of my closest 40-something comedor lady friends at a party she invited me to. When we got back to the fiesta, the yvyra suĩ or greased-up pole was in full force. People were stacked on top of one another. Below? Cement, obviously. At the top of the pole were several prizes. There was a rumor that there was 100,000Gs (US$20) up there but it turned out just to be 2,000Gs (US40cents). Oops. What else? Some crackers, a soda, a bottle of caña (the super strong Paraguayan sugar cane booze), some cookies.
Next comes torro candi (or burning bull). In this a guy puts on a costume that you might otherwise see in a Chinese parade (I’m somehow blanking on the words right now), but it is of a bull. His front horns are lit on fire. He runs after people—mostly children—for a while. I don’t have anything really to say about this part except that when that dude did finally take off his costume he seemed quite drunk. It made me curious if there was anyone in particular in charge of these fire activities…
So at this point I’m feeling good—full of fish, sopa Paraguaya, and water (I don’t drink at all in my neighborhood because of a very strong divide between those who drink and those who work)—and so is everyone else. People are drunk. Very drunk. It’s still early enough in the month that people aren’t totally broke yet. The kids are running around, covered in grease from the pole, throwing cans at each other. As I’m talking to this nice couple I look over to see a handful of people crowding around a ball. Only it isn’t just a ball. It is a fireball. A ball of fire. In Guaraní: vacapipopo tatã. Anddddd it starts to get kicked around aimlessly. I’m sorry if I misled you before with the comment about me maybe being interested in shooting a gun but I’m actually a huge wuss. And a ball of fire was coming at me! What the F*%$? Somehow I’m one of the few people who seem at all concerned about the fireball. A kid falls down in a swing-and-a-miss kick. There is just laughter. An especially drunk guy picks it up and throws it—into a crowd! We’re talking about a ball of cloth with some sort of flammable spray helping the flames. I don’t know what else to say about this. It was insane. Check out the video at the bottom of this blog for a quick glimpse...
The finale was the burning of Judas. This was basically a scarecrow tied to another pole. I thought it’d just be burned but apparently it had “fireworks in his belly”, which of course became fireworks that shot sometimes into the air, but more often out into the crowd at random, causing screams of both joy and fear. It was quite an interesting night. Last year I actually went to the same party but went too early and stayed too short a time to see anything interesting. (I remember eating some food and then leaving because it was freezing and I had a ride home.) So I only have myself to blame for not seeing all this ridiculousness last year. The really good thing though? The actual San Juan Festival isn’t until the end of the month and I’m planning on going elsewhere to experience it again. There should be people walking on hot coals at the next festival as well…who knows? Maybe I’ll join them for a quick stroll…
Friday, June 4, 2010
A Quick Note on Cat Proofing my Casa
I spent a while last night cat-proofing my house. No, this doesn't mean that I suddenly like cats and have decided to get a nasty little creature of my own. It means that ONCE AGAIN I have had a cat break into my house. Several months ago the cat marked its territory by leaving three kittens behind my fridge. This time it (actually probably a different cat) marked its territory in a more traditional sense. It urinated on a jacket of mine that I left on the big table in my main room. I went to put the jacket on last night to go to English class and smelled something foul. After some investigating, I found a small puddle next to where the jacket was sitting. Why do these cats consider my house to be a barn?? Ugh. I happen to love my casa.
So I spent some time with cardboard, the last of my duct-tape (gasp!), and some packaging tape patching up the front window--one of many my landlord had promised to fix months ago until he decided that they tried to charge us too much once they came to the house to measure and saw that I, a tall Norte, was living here. Since then I've just been waiting. And waiting knowing that nothing will be done about this situation. It doesn't actually really bother me to have some glass missing from the windows other than when rain and the now horribly frigidly cold weather and wind blows through the house, leaving me cold at night even when I wear spandex, sweats, a bathrobe and a winter hat to sleep.
Not all of the windows are blocked now. Unfortunately I've run out of cardboard just when I would be blocking my bedroom window. A few months ago a cat actually leapt through the window and then bolted through the house as I was watching a movie. Mokoi Nambi (the dog Two Ears who lived with me for a few months) didn't even react. I'm just hoping that I don't wake up one day with the cat cuddling up next to me as I sleep...
Wednesday, May 26, 2010
Big Fish
05-24-2010
Well, it’s raining. Again. And it’s driving me insane. When it rains here, as I’ve written before, things stop. School is cancelled, meetings out the window. Last winter there was a drought so although the weather was cold, the days were pleasant out in the sun. The past week has been wet and dreary. Ugh.
Though the talk here in Paraguay very frequently revolves around the weather, I’m not sure I want my blog to follow suit, so we’ll move on. The past week has been a bit quiet thanks to the rain, but I’ve had two surprising conversations with Paraguayans. Well, OK, I lied. The first was actually with a drunken Argentinean who asked if I was thirty-six! Thirty-effing-six!! I’m twenty-five, jerk. The kicker? He claimed to be thirty when was definitely at least forty. Jerk.
The other surprising interaction happened this past week in my neighborhood. Tomorrow an organization called Fundación Visión is coming. They came last month as well to do cheap/free eye exams and sell cheap eye glasses. Both times I’ve been responsible for putting up fliers to let people know about the visit. So I was putting up propaganda (the word for advertisements in Spanish) in front of local stores. I went into a used clothing store I’d never been in before and asked to put up a flier, explaining who I am and the project. The woman asked me about English classes for her teenage kids and I explained that I do have an English class but it is now too late for new students so I’ll let her know when I start another. She was absolutely thrilled by this and the idea of any and all of the projects I’m doing. We said goodbye and I walked outside to tape a flier outside her store. She followed and stopped me just as I was about to leave, saying I should come over for lunch one day and then spend a whole day together. And then a huge smile spread across her face. You know, she said, last night I had a dream that I was a fisherman…and I caught a huge fish…and I think the dream I had was actually about meeting you—YOU were the big FISH!! I really didn’t know how to respond to that. So I laughed and smiled and promised to come back for lunch some time—what else could I do?
So aside from being asked if I was 36 and being told I appeared in a stranger’s dream as a fish, what’s new in my life? Well, as I mentioned, the eye doctors are coming back again this week and to two other parts of my neighborhood next month. We did the second day of the community census this past Saturday and now have a bit more than 150 of 600 done. The project is going painfully slowly, to be honest, and the teens who were originally enthusiastic about the project have become much less so. Only five of them showed up to help this Saturday and two of those five are actually part of my other youth group and just came to be nice. Three PCVs came to help as well, which was really sweet of them. With the younger youth group we have continued doing activities on Saturday mornings with the kids from the free meal program. This past week I checked out a Mobile Library from the PC library which consists of a bag of 15 kids’ books that I’ll have for the next month. I read aloud to the kids in small groups Saturday and plan on bringing the bag of books around at various times so they can read to themselves or with me. It is absolutely amazing how attentive even the most hyperactive children are when a book comes out. There are almost never opportunities for them to read books at their leisure—the books they see are always textbooks. English class is going well but nothing really new to report there. The sex ed/HIV/AIDS/relationships class is also going well, though it got cancelled a few weeks in a row thanks to soccer tournaments. This past week at the end of class I had the students write down things that they want to talk about/learn about. A few kids wrote that they want to talk about pornography…I don’t really know what that class could possibly look like to be honest. Weird. This week the topic is decision making and we’re doing an activity in which they talk about reasons to have sex now and reasons to wait to have sex. It usually makes for an interesting discussion. I’d better run but will try to get better about blogging. Chaucito.
Well, it’s raining. Again. And it’s driving me insane. When it rains here, as I’ve written before, things stop. School is cancelled, meetings out the window. Last winter there was a drought so although the weather was cold, the days were pleasant out in the sun. The past week has been wet and dreary. Ugh.
Though the talk here in Paraguay very frequently revolves around the weather, I’m not sure I want my blog to follow suit, so we’ll move on. The past week has been a bit quiet thanks to the rain, but I’ve had two surprising conversations with Paraguayans. Well, OK, I lied. The first was actually with a drunken Argentinean who asked if I was thirty-six! Thirty-effing-six!! I’m twenty-five, jerk. The kicker? He claimed to be thirty when was definitely at least forty. Jerk.
The other surprising interaction happened this past week in my neighborhood. Tomorrow an organization called Fundación Visión is coming. They came last month as well to do cheap/free eye exams and sell cheap eye glasses. Both times I’ve been responsible for putting up fliers to let people know about the visit. So I was putting up propaganda (the word for advertisements in Spanish) in front of local stores. I went into a used clothing store I’d never been in before and asked to put up a flier, explaining who I am and the project. The woman asked me about English classes for her teenage kids and I explained that I do have an English class but it is now too late for new students so I’ll let her know when I start another. She was absolutely thrilled by this and the idea of any and all of the projects I’m doing. We said goodbye and I walked outside to tape a flier outside her store. She followed and stopped me just as I was about to leave, saying I should come over for lunch one day and then spend a whole day together. And then a huge smile spread across her face. You know, she said, last night I had a dream that I was a fisherman…and I caught a huge fish…and I think the dream I had was actually about meeting you—YOU were the big FISH!! I really didn’t know how to respond to that. So I laughed and smiled and promised to come back for lunch some time—what else could I do?
So aside from being asked if I was 36 and being told I appeared in a stranger’s dream as a fish, what’s new in my life? Well, as I mentioned, the eye doctors are coming back again this week and to two other parts of my neighborhood next month. We did the second day of the community census this past Saturday and now have a bit more than 150 of 600 done. The project is going painfully slowly, to be honest, and the teens who were originally enthusiastic about the project have become much less so. Only five of them showed up to help this Saturday and two of those five are actually part of my other youth group and just came to be nice. Three PCVs came to help as well, which was really sweet of them. With the younger youth group we have continued doing activities on Saturday mornings with the kids from the free meal program. This past week I checked out a Mobile Library from the PC library which consists of a bag of 15 kids’ books that I’ll have for the next month. I read aloud to the kids in small groups Saturday and plan on bringing the bag of books around at various times so they can read to themselves or with me. It is absolutely amazing how attentive even the most hyperactive children are when a book comes out. There are almost never opportunities for them to read books at their leisure—the books they see are always textbooks. English class is going well but nothing really new to report there. The sex ed/HIV/AIDS/relationships class is also going well, though it got cancelled a few weeks in a row thanks to soccer tournaments. This past week at the end of class I had the students write down things that they want to talk about/learn about. A few kids wrote that they want to talk about pornography…I don’t really know what that class could possibly look like to be honest. Weird. This week the topic is decision making and we’re doing an activity in which they talk about reasons to have sex now and reasons to wait to have sex. It usually makes for an interesting discussion. I’d better run but will try to get better about blogging. Chaucito.
Wednesday, April 14, 2010
The Letter E: Easter, English, Early, Eyes
So my brother’s visit has come and gone. We had a great time running around Paraguay, visiting friends of mine, and reminiscing about the days when I could beat him up. Highlights were definitely the waterfall Salto Cristal, which we went to with a PC friend of mine and some Paraguayan neighbors of his, seeing the capybaras (obviously), and having Rahde convinced that he can market the terrible Paraguayan sugar cane booze in the States. Check out the photos if you’d like. Somehow we didn’t figure out until our farewell at the airport that we won’t see each other until August 2011. (He got a Watson Fellowship and will be traveling to New Zealand, South Africa, India, Turkey, and Jamaica studying open fire cooking techniques. Jealous? Yeah, me too.)
I was ready to get back to work after he left and I got back to site after helping with the PC Paraguay publication but I got back just in time for Holy Week. Holy week in the US (at least for me) just consists of possibly dying Easter eggs and enjoying an early Cadbury Egg or two. Here it consists of eating a ridiculous amount of chipa hard corn-based bread) and doing very little. Oh, wait. That is everywhere else in Paraguay. Here in Villa Madrid there is no shortage of chipa but we also enjoy Pascua mita’i and Pascua Joven (translation: Children’s Easter and Teenager’s Easter). Obviously. The youth at my local church put together three days full of activities. Since I was out of site beforehand I didn’t help plan and was not really involved, but I did attend to play with kids, dance for God, and take pictures of the event. Dance for God? Right, you should question that. There was a great deal of calling out different groups to have them dance for a while in the middle of a circle of 80 kids and a bunch of teenagers. They were all called in groups but me. This is the joy of being the weird Norte here. Anyway, the teenagers did a good job and the kids all had a blast.
I talked to my mother yesterday and she asked me what I did for Easter. I had kind of forgotten it was Easter, since it was also a PC friend’s birthday. Three of us had planned to sit in the food court of a mall in Asuncion playing Banana Grams (obviously) and having some beer until a movie started. The online movie schedule was wrong so the movie wasn’t until 6 hours later. We nixed that idea but figured we’d spend the day Banana Gramming and playing chess anyway. A mall employee interrupted a Banana Gram hand to tell us that the mall food court had a no gaming rule. I still really don’t understand/believe this. He went on to tell us that the food court was for consuming food and drink only, even though we were doing so. Unfortunately we had to move on to actually talking to each other. We were all thoroughly disappointed and decided to move our gaming next door to the grocery store food court. They welcomed us with open arms. So although my Easter did not involve bunnies, eggs, or pastels of any sort, it did involve Brahma beer, Banana Grams, and a grocery store food court. This may be my new tradition.
Since then life has been super busy in site. Last week I started English class. I have been avoiding this for the past year but finally broke down and began it. The class is to run for ten weeks, twice a week for two hours a class. The first day was horribly painful (6 people showed and one girl was mean and snobby which I thought was weird since this is obviously a completely optional course); the second was much better (12 showed up and seemed invested and interested); and the third (last night’s) was even better. 23 people are now in the class, even though I had closed the class to just 20 people. I really have no idea how this happened. Anyway, I have an attendance policy and strict rules as far as what it takes to receive a certificate but the class is pretty relaxed. I’m actually enjoying it much more than I thought I would, which is to say that I am actually enjoying it while I thought I was going to hate it.
Yesterday Fundacion Vision came to my site to do free eye exams for people over the age of 60 and for 10,000Guaranis ($2US) for everyone else. It went much better than I expected as well. I had somehow misunderstood a month or so ago when I invited the group and made 30 fliers for my neighborhood that said it was free for people over 60 and kids under 10. Guess what. Not true at all for kids. I ran around like a crazy person Saturday afternoon changing all my fliers and explaining my incompetence to all the families I had invited. The foundation also sells cheap glasses and offers follow-up surgeries at low prices at a later date. They’re coming back at the end of May and again in June in two locations—the first phase and the fourth phase (which sounds like it should be part of my neighborhood but is actually the same size as my neighborhood and about 2 miles away). Anyway, I’m psyched to be working with them, though I did have to be at the comedor at 6am yesterday to welcome them and then they were obviously an hour late…Oh how I love Hora Paraguaya!
This past weekend at the comedor (free meals program for kids) we began activities and educational chats with the kids. I did a bunch of stuff that focused on dental health, which is really lacking here. There are a lot of kids who have cavities that are actually visible in their front teeth. It is very common for adults to be missing teeth in Paraguay, especially since dentists frequently find it best/easiest/who knows? to just pull teeth to deal with whatever problem. Anyway, we read a story, sang some songs, and practiced tooth brushing on a big set of teeth I got from the Peace Corps office. The kids then had a competition of plays, music, and games for which I was a judge. They tied, thanks for asking. Jovenes Unidos (my youth groups who works with these kids) then did a little chat about the environment and we had a trash pickup competition. Again, it was great, though for whatever reason I had to be there as well at 6:30am. I really hate how early things start in this country. A lot. I can’t stress this enough.
Anyway, that’s what my life has been looking like lately. Work is good and steady. Today I’m going to a high school to talk to the principal about a series of activities/presentations that two students and I want to do there about sex-ed, healthy relationships, and HIV/AIDS. If all goes as planned we’ll be doing this at three different high schools in the area and then have a day of basically the same presentations but also invite a non-profit from Asuncion to come give out free condoms and information. I’m psyched.
Monday, March 15, 2010
An Underwater Adventure...Indoors
03-15-2010
The weirdest thing that has happened to me here in Paraguay to date happened today. That feels like a big claim to make—things get weird here—but its true. This teenage boy, Ricardo, was at my house for one of our informal English chats that we do a couple of times a week. We were chatting in English and Spanish when I saw that there was a puddle forming in my “guest room”. This is much more like storage space than anything else but was definitely originally constructed as another bedroom. Because of the crumbling walls I didn’t paint it and can’t put anything important there because of some leaks in the roof that have supposedly been fixed several times. It is not a very nice room. But I was still surprised to see the puddle. Did I leave the refrigerator door open and did my ice melt? No, I used the fridge a half hour before and it isn’t that hot today… But what is this? And why does it seem to be growing so quickly? And then I found it—the gushing water pouring out of my wall. There was a pipe that is partially exposed about five inches from the ground. It runs along the wall. I’ve never noticed it before, but it was definitely the culprit, and I realize a bunch of stuff is getting soaked. So Ricardo and I start moving some things out of the room—boxes filled with crafts supplies, a radio that has never worked, my friend’s suitcase that she left with me. I guess its worth noting that I’m swearing a lot. Not that I was stressed or worried, but mostly because I know nothing about plumbing, lots of cardboard I was saving to do charlas was getting drenched, and the water was coming steadily. Ricardo was very pleased to hear the words coming out of my mouth—words that before today he had only heard in movies.
I tell Ricardo we should turn off the water but that I have no idea where to turn it off. He glances into the front yard and tells me I don’t have a water shut off valve. (Note: My plumbing lingo/vocab is not impressive in English, Spanish, or Guarani. I may make up words in English, as I did in Spanish when explaining this issue.) Ricardo wants to know if he can borrow a book. I look through my bookshelf and hand him one of short stories to occupy him for the next 10 days while I can’t meet. This is how totally unconcerned he was. He leaves. I call my landlord, trying to explain just how quickly the water is coming into the house. Maybe my powers of persuasion are a little rusty, or maybe it’s the tranquilo lifestyle, but his response was that he would come by sometime tomorrow to take a look at it. Not useful. I literally at this point have what I described as a lake forming in my room. I go next door to talk to Marisa, who is the very same lady who helped me with the cats behind the fridge issue. She comes in, seems appropriately concerned about the water level, and though she finds the water shut off valve, cannot turn it off. She and I rack our brains for plumbers in the neighborhood. She looks for a number unsuccessfully, and then we go a few doors down for more neighborly help. I don’t know this neighbor’s name. This isn’t uncommon—there are simply too many names to remember and no one uses names when they talk to or about people here. We’ll just refer to him as Don Hero for the rest of the story.
Don Hero comes to my house and shuts off the water. End of story. No, just kidding. It doesn’t do anything. He shut off my water but it is still coming—and getting stronger still. (Well, maybe not stronger, but definitely not slowing.) He gets down on his hands and knees in the inch and a half of water that has gathered, cups his hands together, takes up some water, and brings it to his face. For a moment I think he is washing his face with it. Then I think maybe he is drinking it. Apparently he is smelling it. Very luckily for both of us, it apparently isn’t sewage. He asks me for a tool to break the wall open. I don’t actually question this request. He has always been very friendly, and though his children are slightly devilish, he doesn’t strike me as a destructive person. I hand him my machete, which was a gift from our trainer (on which my trainer wrote “Gender” on one side and “Environment” on the other in Spanish in an exercise in which we went around in a circle talking about various PC themes at the close of training). Don Hero seemed surprised by the writing on the machete, but started whacking away at the wall anyway, sending plaster flying in every which way and showing that the gushing water was actually coming from under the wall much further to the right. The water obviously continues gushing out. Marisa comes back to check on us. They speak in Guarani. I have no idea what they’re talking about. I fight back the urge to giggle at the ridiculousness of the situation. Apparently he wants to know if this leak is in the same place where their (Marisa’s) bathroom is, since our houses are side-by-side and share a wall. Don Hero continues hacking away, trying to find the water source while Marisa stands by then goes to get her husband. I make jokes about becoming more popular being the only person in our neighborhood with an indoor pool. There is nothing else I can do but laugh. I have changed into my Crocs (note: this may actually be what Crocs were made for) and the water has gotten so deep that it literally covers them. I chuckle again. The neighbors turn their water off. (Though I only have water 3 times a day, they have another system that makes it so they always have water.) The water coming out of my wall slows to a trickle. I make another joke—I should have known this wasn’t coming from my pipe; I never get that kind of pressure! No wonder they think I’m weird.
So as we survey the damages and move some stuff in my main room to make space for the water that has spilled out into the house, my landlord gets there. (I called him a second time at some point during this and did a better job at stressing the urgency of the situation.) The landlord chats with the men in Guarani. I know what’s going on. It is decided that the neighbors will pay for someone to come over and fix my wall tomorrow morning. We exchange smiles, the landlord asks me random things in broken English as he always seems to do at the weirdest times. My water is turned back on (but has been turned off at the main water tank by this point) and I say goodbye to my landlord and his wife and teenage son. My landlord asks me if my neighbors are treating me ok, which I find almost offensive considering how wonderfully useful they had been for the past hour. We chat, I mention off-hand that I don’t especially want to push all this water out of my house with a squeegee. He tells me that I should just leave it, and that it will soak into the brick floor. Obviously.
Just as I’m about to start cleaning up, the neighbor father and daughter show up with a bucket and several brooms. Cleaning it up with them was so much faster than it would have been by myself. We finished getting the water up and the father obviously wanted to look around, since he had never been in the house while I lived there, and quite possibly had never been inside, though they had lived next to it for 16 years. (In Paraguay if you go to someone’s house, you very frequently just stay on the porch or patio—the house can be considered very private space.) I welcomed him to look around and chatted with his daughter, laughing about how my landlord thought I should just leave the water to dry itself. I keep my shower supplies up high on a board that I can barely reach. He came out of the bathroom grinning, apparently very amused at the arrangement.
I spoke to a friend just after they left, telling him the story, and several things occurred to me. I realize that my reaction to laugh at such a ridiculous situation is maybe a good one and that on a different day I could have reacted quite differently. I have found that having a sense of humor about these sorts of things helps me maintain my sanity, but that also it is impossible to do so. A couple of months ago I had one of those weeks that everything had gone wrong. Some projects weren’t going over well, things just didn’t seem to be going my way, I kept being sick… and then I found out I had head lice. And it was just the absolute last straw. But then today literally half of my house was completely flooded and it is one of the more amusing things I’ve ever seen. And I’m lucky…I’m lucky that I was here in the house when it happened. I cannot imagine getting home at the end of the day or after a few days out of site to a completely water logged house! And I’m lucky that my neighbors are wonderfully curious, open, helpful, and just plain neighborly! What kind of baked good best says “Thanks for busting my wall apart with a machete, finding the huge water leak, and then helping me bail out my living room”?
Wednesday, March 3, 2010
Photos & Olympia is Better Than Cerro for about a Billion Reasons
3-3-2010
Here is a link to see a bunch of photos of a field trip to a park/zoo I took with the comedor kids, and the two camps that I mentioned in the last blog. Take a look if you want. I’ve added some labels to help explain what’s going on and who is in the pictures. Also, there is a single photo of the disgusting kittens I found behind my refrigerator a few months ago so you can see just how hideous they are. (Note: other people claim these wretched animals are cute. I no longer speak to said people who clearly have absolutely no taste, morals, or decency.)
Moving right along, the past few days I had a trainee visiting. I had expected four days filled with awkward silences and mutual dislike but instead found it to be a rather pleasant few days. Perhaps due to the fact that he had never had to bucket bathe before, he seemed not to especially enjoy that part of his visit… We spent a bunch of time with my younger youth group—having lunch, practicing dirty Guarani phrases, doing and participating in some charlas—and playing with kids. And on Sunday we met up with another Volunteer who was hosting a Trainee to go to a Cerro-Olympia game in the capital. These two teams are a favorite conversation piece in Paraguay, second only to the always interesting topic of the weather (aka “Wow, it is hot today.” “Yes, it is.”). Kids here ask which club you’re for, assuming that in the US we too are divided between Cerro and Olympia fans. I’m for Olympia, and if you’re reading this blog, you should be too. Cerro fans are malicious, violent, ugly and stupid. That may sound a bit uncalled for, but studies have shown this to be true time and time again. Why am I an Olympia fan? Oh, let me count the ways! I like black and white better than blue and red. Olympia is a bit of an underdog. Cerro fans are like Yankees fans. (I’m not talking Yankees fans that grew up in New York, blah blah blah. I’m talking the fans who just like the Yankees because they’re a huge institution with a bunch of money and a lot of gear for sale everywhere you go.) But mostly, I lived with a bunch of Olympia fans and one of my favorite language professors during training was an Olympia fan. No, I can’t name a single player on the team. No, I have no clue of their record this year or any other. And no, I really no nothing else about them other than what their uniform looks like, but damnit—I’m a fan. (Also, according to Wikipedia, Olympia is the oldest soccer club in Paraguay.)
What I also know is that they won this past Sunday. I was there, sitting in the hot sun, on the bleacher seats that have those little seats that could double as a kayak seat, with just a line of riot police dressed in what honestly looked like Gladiator uniforms separating us from the Cerro fans. I had never been to an Olympia-Cerro game before but had been to the stadium in October for a Paraguay-Colombia game. The crowd was much more rowdy this time, and I heard more expletives that day than probably in the entire last year of my life. I was later told that a Cerro fan threw a switchblade onto the field during the game. At the end of the game, Cerro fans sulked out of the stadium to the roar of our wonderful (and always tactful) Olympia cheers. We walked down to the street, had a beer, parted ways with the other PCV and trainee, and jumped on a bus to Limpio. At the rather quiet corner where we boarded the bus were two lines of riot police, seemingly randomly placed watching the buses pass. There were no seats left on our bus, but we were some of the only people standing, until about 3 blocks after we got on when about 20 teenagers took over. They piled on through both doors, yelling and hitting each other. Shortly thereafter they were singing Olympia cheers and songs, flipping off anyone outside the bus with Cerro jerseys or colors, while some drank beers and smoked cigarettes in the back. Then, suddenly there was a loud CRACK above the rest of the noise and everyone threw themselves to the floor of the bus. Apparently those dirty, no-good Cerro fans had started throwing rocks, breaking one of the bus windows. The driver sped on, knowing that stopping to investigate would just invite more rocks and the possibility of more injuries. Everyone seemed fine, with the exception of a layer of shattered glass covering the seats, floors, and people. I told the trainee that I had heard of people throwing rocks at buses for no reason (and more frequently after games) but thought it was fairly uncommon. The throng of teenage boys got off shortly thereafter. The bus was much quieter, and we were back to just a few people standing in the aisle. One of these people, however, was donning an Olympia jersey. The rocks started flying again—this time several made contact with the windows, causing a rain of shattered glass to come down on us and the other passengers. I honestly had no idea this was so common! Some teenage girls in the back of the bus pleaded for the middle-aged man with the Olympia jersey to take it off, but he refused. We spent a great bit of time ducked down near the floor, chatting about the usual things—Paraguayan customs, news I’ve missed in the US the past year, the annoyances of training. All told, we got out unscathed—the trainee got hit by one of the rocks on the shin, but luckily the window slowed it down before it hit just hard enough to require a Band-Aid.
The next few weeks should be good, but busy. This weekend we may be doing a sex-ed/HIV/AIDS half day of charlas. I’m bringing some teenagers to a HIV/AIDS conference at the end of next week, then have 7 of the trainees coming to visit for a night of activities in site. And the following week my brother, Rahde, comes to visit for 10 days! I’m not sure exactly what the plan is as of yet, but we should be travelling around Paraguay, visiting other PC amigos’ sites and eating/killing various things. I’m hoping we can both kill chickens while he is here, and perhaps participate in a pig roast. Although I oh-so-dearly-love carpinchos, I’m hoping to eat some of one and perhaps an alligator. On another note, my landlord said he is willing to split the cost of replacing the 20 broken windows in my house and that we can have them fixed at the end of next week! And, to top it all off, he said he’d even take care of the hornets that have invaded my front patio area! I’ll be living like a queen in no time!!
Here is a link to see a bunch of photos of a field trip to a park/zoo I took with the comedor kids, and the two camps that I mentioned in the last blog. Take a look if you want. I’ve added some labels to help explain what’s going on and who is in the pictures. Also, there is a single photo of the disgusting kittens I found behind my refrigerator a few months ago so you can see just how hideous they are. (Note: other people claim these wretched animals are cute. I no longer speak to said people who clearly have absolutely no taste, morals, or decency.)
Moving right along, the past few days I had a trainee visiting. I had expected four days filled with awkward silences and mutual dislike but instead found it to be a rather pleasant few days. Perhaps due to the fact that he had never had to bucket bathe before, he seemed not to especially enjoy that part of his visit… We spent a bunch of time with my younger youth group—having lunch, practicing dirty Guarani phrases, doing and participating in some charlas—and playing with kids. And on Sunday we met up with another Volunteer who was hosting a Trainee to go to a Cerro-Olympia game in the capital. These two teams are a favorite conversation piece in Paraguay, second only to the always interesting topic of the weather (aka “Wow, it is hot today.” “Yes, it is.”). Kids here ask which club you’re for, assuming that in the US we too are divided between Cerro and Olympia fans. I’m for Olympia, and if you’re reading this blog, you should be too. Cerro fans are malicious, violent, ugly and stupid. That may sound a bit uncalled for, but studies have shown this to be true time and time again. Why am I an Olympia fan? Oh, let me count the ways! I like black and white better than blue and red. Olympia is a bit of an underdog. Cerro fans are like Yankees fans. (I’m not talking Yankees fans that grew up in New York, blah blah blah. I’m talking the fans who just like the Yankees because they’re a huge institution with a bunch of money and a lot of gear for sale everywhere you go.) But mostly, I lived with a bunch of Olympia fans and one of my favorite language professors during training was an Olympia fan. No, I can’t name a single player on the team. No, I have no clue of their record this year or any other. And no, I really no nothing else about them other than what their uniform looks like, but damnit—I’m a fan. (Also, according to Wikipedia, Olympia is the oldest soccer club in Paraguay.)
What I also know is that they won this past Sunday. I was there, sitting in the hot sun, on the bleacher seats that have those little seats that could double as a kayak seat, with just a line of riot police dressed in what honestly looked like Gladiator uniforms separating us from the Cerro fans. I had never been to an Olympia-Cerro game before but had been to the stadium in October for a Paraguay-Colombia game. The crowd was much more rowdy this time, and I heard more expletives that day than probably in the entire last year of my life. I was later told that a Cerro fan threw a switchblade onto the field during the game. At the end of the game, Cerro fans sulked out of the stadium to the roar of our wonderful (and always tactful) Olympia cheers. We walked down to the street, had a beer, parted ways with the other PCV and trainee, and jumped on a bus to Limpio. At the rather quiet corner where we boarded the bus were two lines of riot police, seemingly randomly placed watching the buses pass. There were no seats left on our bus, but we were some of the only people standing, until about 3 blocks after we got on when about 20 teenagers took over. They piled on through both doors, yelling and hitting each other. Shortly thereafter they were singing Olympia cheers and songs, flipping off anyone outside the bus with Cerro jerseys or colors, while some drank beers and smoked cigarettes in the back. Then, suddenly there was a loud CRACK above the rest of the noise and everyone threw themselves to the floor of the bus. Apparently those dirty, no-good Cerro fans had started throwing rocks, breaking one of the bus windows. The driver sped on, knowing that stopping to investigate would just invite more rocks and the possibility of more injuries. Everyone seemed fine, with the exception of a layer of shattered glass covering the seats, floors, and people. I told the trainee that I had heard of people throwing rocks at buses for no reason (and more frequently after games) but thought it was fairly uncommon. The throng of teenage boys got off shortly thereafter. The bus was much quieter, and we were back to just a few people standing in the aisle. One of these people, however, was donning an Olympia jersey. The rocks started flying again—this time several made contact with the windows, causing a rain of shattered glass to come down on us and the other passengers. I honestly had no idea this was so common! Some teenage girls in the back of the bus pleaded for the middle-aged man with the Olympia jersey to take it off, but he refused. We spent a great bit of time ducked down near the floor, chatting about the usual things—Paraguayan customs, news I’ve missed in the US the past year, the annoyances of training. All told, we got out unscathed—the trainee got hit by one of the rocks on the shin, but luckily the window slowed it down before it hit just hard enough to require a Band-Aid.
The next few weeks should be good, but busy. This weekend we may be doing a sex-ed/HIV/AIDS half day of charlas. I’m bringing some teenagers to a HIV/AIDS conference at the end of next week, then have 7 of the trainees coming to visit for a night of activities in site. And the following week my brother, Rahde, comes to visit for 10 days! I’m not sure exactly what the plan is as of yet, but we should be travelling around Paraguay, visiting other PC amigos’ sites and eating/killing various things. I’m hoping we can both kill chickens while he is here, and perhaps participate in a pig roast. Although I oh-so-dearly-love carpinchos, I’m hoping to eat some of one and perhaps an alligator. On another note, my landlord said he is willing to split the cost of replacing the 20 broken windows in my house and that we can have them fixed at the end of next week! And, to top it all off, he said he’d even take care of the hornets that have invaded my front patio area! I’ll be living like a queen in no time!!
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