The Newbies Have Landed or A Beautiful Blur

Last Friday morning, 25 brand-spanking-new Community Economic Development Volunteers touched down on the tarmac at Asunción’s Silvio Pettirossi International Airport. The night before, following some minor confusion navigating American Airlines online flight status report, a small group of us resolved to gather just after the crack of dawn to meet their plane.

We're so excited, we're so excited, we're so... exhausted.

Balancing mate and homemade signs, it took everything I had not to hop up and down as our newbies sailed past customs and into the arrivals lobby. For the rest of the day, unable to get that scene from Saved By the Bell where Jesse gets caught taking the caffeine pills out of my head, I repeatedly and compulsively announced my excitement to anyone who would listen. Even a week later, I’M SO EXCITED that G45 has made it to Paraguay.

When preparing for arrival day, most of us in the office joked that trainees forget most of what happens their first day in. Something about leaving all your friends and family to hitch a ride on a red-eye flight headed half-way around the world only to then get dropped off in the middle of nowhere where you may or may not speak one of the languages and probably never even heard of the other doesn’t set someone up for success on the memory retainment front. I, on the other hand, have been reflecting at how the day unfolded all week.

G36 in the first of many group pictures.

After brief introductions in front of the infamous red wall where every new group of Volunteers in recent memory has their picture taken upon arriving in country, we loaded up three trucks and a small bus, and made our way to the training center. 45 minutes later and we hit the ground running. Trainees needed local currency, cell phones, ID photos--the basics to get settled in. This also included a quick informational session called, “10 Things You Don’t Know About Paraguay, but Should.”

Seasoned PCVs always comment on how attractive trainees look. Their shirts and pants are still coordinated and free of holes or stains. Their haircuts are fresh and hand-washing clothing hasn’t chipped all their nails yet. G45 proved no exception: they looked beautiful--and not nearly as terrified as I remember feeling.

Seasoned PCVs also tend to forget how far we’ve come since arriving in country. It’s a cliche we all enter into duty knowing, but never ceases to surprise us when it becomes clear. Many of us join Peace Corps because we want to effect change. In the end, usually we are the ones who leave different.

The training center staff sings their welcome to G45.

Some of these changes impact our core, others resonate in more benign ways. The things we now take for granted, once seemed strange. The situations that currently make us laugh the hardest, once scared us stupid. Most of us don’t even notice this change coming. By way of illustration, on Friday I very casually I told 25 people to relax because getting shocked in the shower is no big deal. Don’t worry about mixing electricity and water, in Paraguay we do it all the time. 

[Let’s be honest, I’ve received a lot of electric shocks in this country. I’ve probably had enough accidental electricity pass through my body that I’ve lost a few IQ points in the process. In fact, this most likely explains how I keep getting shocked and why I’m so tranquillo about it.]

After three years and three days in South America, I don’t know where to begin assessing the changes Kevin and I have grown through, individually and as a couple. With barely three months left, I imagine a little more transformation may still force its way in. Hopefully, though, these last days won’t pass as quickly as that first one.

G45 loading up for the journey to the training center.

After our red-eye flight. It's been a beautiful blur ever since.

Packing for Peace Corps: Making the Cut

I can’t hardly believe it; the earth has made its way around the sun once again and another group of Peace Corps Paraguay Community Economic Development (CED) Volunteers is learning just how little fits in 80lbs worth of luggage.

El Centro Cultural de la República el Cabildo (The Cultural Center of the Republic) welcomes you to Paraguay!

Last year, I put together a more or less exhaustive list of essentials. This year, I’m thinking less literally. Everyone has things they bring with to Peace Corps that never get touched. Things that seemed like a great idea back home and never leave your suitcase in country. Everyone also has things that they wish they brought with. Here’s a simple quiz to help you make the right decision.

Answer yes or no to the following questions:

1. Does the item in question fit into your bags?
2. Does the item bring you joy/comfort on a regular basis?
3. Is the item replaceable?
4. Is it legal to cross state lines with the item/check it on an airplane/bring it into Paraguay?

If you answered yes to ALL four questions, pack it.

I thought FOR SURE that the card game I loved three years before leaving for Paraguay (but sat on the shelf since) would get worn out during my time here. It’s small, cheap, and lots of fun. I’ve broke it out once. So much for sensible. On the other hand, sometimes the seemingly strangest items yield the highest return.

Ahendu's Wall of Brass

Case in Point: Taylor’s slack line

In a million years I would have never considered packing a slack line. Then again, I never used a slack line in the States. However, when my rock-climbing, fitness guru friend broke this item out at gatherings everyone went crazy. One of my only PCPY regrets is that I never got to see a señora try it out.

Case in Point: Accordions, bass guitars, didgeridoos, and trumpets

You can find cheap guitars almost anywhere in the world, but other instruments may prove more elusive. I know PCVs who have taught trumpet lessons and others who plays bass in Paraguayan rock bands. If you love music, how better to share your culture with new friends?

Case in Point: Costco tub of taco seasoning

In our house we love to cook and good food is important. Before my host dad passed away, one of my favorite things was to cook American treats for him. From cookies to ice tea to black bean burgers, he tried (and loved) everything I served him. (Never mind that my host mother still believes that I do not know how to cook.) In the short time we had together, our kitchen provided a comprehensive introduction to the United States.

When it finally comes time to fill up your suitcases keep the two philosophies of Peace Corps packing in the back of your mind: Bring whatever you need to make you happy or take this opportunity to live simply and leave it all behind. (The longer you serve as a Peace Corps Volunteer, the less these will seem like mutually exclusive concepts.) Peace Corps is not an exercise in suffering, but it is an incredible opportunity to live differently. If you’ve never walked more than a block without noise canceling headphones, leave them behind. (Or maybe just save your iPod for long bus rides.) Bring things that help you engage and remind you of home. Don’t bother with those items that give you distance from the people around you. And if you sleep best with soft sheets, pack them. They’ll feel great under your scratchy mosquito net.

This dog would prefer if you left your didgeridoo at home. This cat would prefer if a dog wasn't in her bed. We can't always get what we want.

Paraguay for the Uninitiated

“Not all those who wander are lost.” -J.R.R. Tolkien

Beloved by Peace Corps Volunteers and Lord of the Rings devotees alike, these words serve as a mantra for many of us who have not followed the straight and narrow. Interpreted abstractly (I’m not off course, there never was a course to begin with), they help us justify some of the questionable choices made along the way. Examining the quote more literally gets straight to the heart of why so many of us travel.

Anyone who has spent any amount of time on Pinterest has at least heard the suggestion that the adventure lies in the journey, not necessarily the destination. Although the world is full of incredible, miraculous places, often the road there gives us our favorite moments--the tales that stay with us long after we unpack our bags. The opportunity to disorient ourselves and our senses can change us. It can also scare us half to death. Perhaps the greatest trick to travel is staying on the right side of that fine line where the best stories live.

Certain travel guides contain a small section in the front asserting that true travelers should forget about the book they just dropped $20 on and figure a region out for themselves. While I have always found these blurbs a little pretentious, they hold some truth. I love reading a few bits about a location to develop a framework and then letting the place reveal itself once we arrive.

However, in Paraguay--a land full of secret handshakes where indirect communication rules--the journey can wear us out pretty quickly. Sometimes, while wandering through Paraguay--albeit searching for an actual physical destination or navigating social mores--we just get lost.

In an effort to help keep those of you looking to pass a little time in the heart of South America in the fun “What just happened?” phase of the adventure (and out of the “Oh dear god, am I going to die here?” zone) I have assembled a haphazard collection of hints for your stay. Go forth, enjoy, and live out your Pinterest “inspiration” board like a boss.

This face should do the trick negotiating bus
fare and when store clerks who should be able to make change,
won't break your bill.

1. When you say hello to someone as you pass them on the street, you actually say goodbye. ("Adios!")
2. Unless you are serving the mate/terere, never touch the bombilla.
3. The a-okay sign is vulgar here. So is miming revving up a motorcycle.
4. Mango sap and poison ivy are close cousins. Watch out.
5. If someone offers you something and you don't want it, you say "Gracias." (Thank you) If you do want it, saying "Yes, thank you" will lead to a lot of confusion.
6. Never leave your cell phone unsupervised with people you don’t know/trust. It’s very easy and requires no password to move all your phone credit onto another person’s account.
7. Careful when crossing traffic in the big city. Even if both lanes are stopped, motos will still weave through.
8. Petty crime is on the rise in Paraguay. Money belts and ankle wallets can give you piece of mind when traveling.
9. Ask locals and other PCVs how much the long distance bus fare should cost before you get on. Use exact change if possible. If the driver tells you a higher price, a long hard stare and a suggestion of the correct price should do the trick.
10. Buses are competing for your business. Unless you have experience with the line, when at the terminal wait to buy your ticket until you see the bus arrive. (For example, just because someone tells you their bus is the next bus leaving, that doesn’t make it true.)
11. Always save your receipts until you get off the bus.
12. If a dog (or group of dogs) is hassling you, lean down a pretend to pick up a pretend rock. This will make you king of all the dogs and they will run away.
13. Unplug your computer the second the power goes out. It often surges when it comes back on.
14. Carry toilet paper/wet wipes.
15. No paper of any sort goes in the toilet. (If you forget once or twice it’s not the end of the world.)
16. If you turn on the electricity in your shower before the water, you may get shocked when you turn the water on.
17. Don’t touch the shower head when the electricity is on. Turn the electricity off if you want to change the setting.
18. Always wear flip flops in the shower. Squeegee the floor when you are done.
19. Make friends with your local dispensia. Coke and beer bottles usually require a deposit or a trade. If your dispensia knows you, they may let you take one on credit.
20. If you are drinking beer in group, don’t expect your own glass. Do NOT wipe the lip off when if gets you.
21. Men and women rarely sit together during parties.
22. If you arrive “on-time” for the party, you’ll be early.
23. You may be called fat and then yelled at for not taking seconds within the same conversation. Try not to read too much into this.
24. Paraguay is considered an “indirect” culture. For example, you don’t dislike a food, you don’t know how to eat it. (No se como comer.)
25. Paraguay is home to a handful of food/drink combination myths that many people take very seriously. Beverages are consumed after the meal, snacks before terere, and never concurrently.
26. Red and blue are highly politicized colors. However, unless you wear them to a parade or a government office, most people won’t make the association.
27. Even if you are struggling with Spanish, learn a couple Guarani words/phrases. Nothing will endear you to your neighbors faster.
28. You will stick out. That’s okay. Your language skills might not be great. That’s also okay. Just do your best, expect to get teased, and join in the fun. You’ve got this.

The Body Electric

It’s official: I passed another stage in Peace Corps Paraguay blogging. I passed the “Sorry I haven’t written in a while, but my computer died” milestone.

Paraguay is murder on electronics. In the not quite two years since we arrived in the heart of South America, we have managed to destroy more gadgets than either of us had previously in our combined half century of living in America.

In Memoriam:

• 1 MacBook Pro internal hard drive
• 1 MacBook Pro internal DVD drive
• 1 MacBook Pro touchpad
• 2 external hard drives (including one specially deigned for “tough” living)
• 2 usb hub extenders
• 1 usb modem
• Countless thumb drives
• 1 iPod nano
• 1 Sandisk mp3 player
• 1 food processor
• 1 electric water kettle
• 1 double hot plate
• 3 fans

We’ve also rewired every outlet in the house, replaced the resistance coil in our shower head four times, the blender is on the fritz, the oven shocks me if I use it after a rain storm, the computer battery holds a quarter of its original charge, and my cell phone only has a few calls left until it dies completely.

Perhaps I ran through that list a little briskly. Yes, I included our shower head in an inventory of troubled household appliances with an electrical component. No foolin’, sometimes my shower electrocutes me.

Many advertising campaigns suggest that a certain product or event will wipe out any previously held ideas pertaining to said product or event--generally in a positive way. This mini-SUV will reinvent your definition of a family car. This spa package will reinvent your definition of Wisconsin Dells. These soapy gloves will reinvent your definition of giving the dog a bath. Peace Corps pushes you to reinvent your definition of a hot shower.

In those precarious months before we left for Peace Corps, I savored every drop of hot water I came across. Knowing I might spend the next two years bathing in a bucket, I lingered a little longer in the shower and read books in the tub. Imagine my wide eyed surprise when Kevin and I arrived at our training host family’s home to find our very own shower complete with a fancy tank water heater. Granted some days I could see my breath as I washed my hair, but glorious running water could do no wrong!

Most of our fellow trainees used--in however a bewildered state--an electric shower head similar to the one we have in our current house.

In the United States, we spend a lot of time teaching our children that water and electricity do not mix. Between junior high science classes and chain emails perpetuated by our mothers, most Americans don’t feel great about introducing an electrical current into our showers. Many a Peace Corps Paraguay blog post/Facebook status update/twitter feed include profanity laced tirades questioning the safety/sanity of this bathing system.

Wikipedia claims that, until the Three Gorges Dam showed up, Paraguay’s Itaipu produced more hydroelectric energy than anyone else, worldwide. Perhaps this power over power gave Paraguay a certain boldness when it comes to mixing water and electrical current. Or maybe Paraguay’s relaxed attitude extends to an irreverence toward laws of thermodynamics. Either way, if you are a Peace Corps Volunteer in Paraguay and you have a shower and that shower occasionally gets marginally warm chances are you also have uninsulated wires running through your shower head.

And after nearly two years of working with this arrangement I can confidently say, it’s sort of genius.

Home, sweet shower head

Packing for Peace Corps Service in Paraguay in 80lbs or Less

(Don’t tell, but technically you have 100lbs to work with.)

In less than 30 days, Peace Corps Paraguay will welcome in its newest crop of Community Economic Development trainees. In honor of the arrival our new baby G, here’s a list of what I would include in my precious 100 pounds if I had to do it all over again. 

A few considerations before we dive in: 

*Paraguay has a funny little insect called the bot fly. Some Volunteers blow this little bugger off, however I am paranoid and insist on ironing all my clothing. You may want to consider this as certain quick-dry fabrics melt when pressed.

*You can buy near about anything in the Capital, including clothing and shoes. Problem is, in order to get something comparable with US quality, you pay through the nose. Paraguay can be really hard on fabric, so I wouldn’t bring anything you would be upset if you couldn’t wear again in the States.

*Paraguay is covered in red dirt that with get on and into every thing you own. 

*Red and blue are highly politicized colors. However, unless you wear them to a parade or a government office, most people won’t make the association. 

*In the winter, Paraguay average low temperatures measure in the mid-50s. As a mid-westerner, I scoffed at this “cold”. Trust me when I say, without insulation or heaters this can feel down right frigid. Layering is key. Also, it’s perfectly socially acceptable to wear the same outfit four days in a row--especially in winter. 

*As someone who didn’t wear makeup in the States, it didn’t occur to me to bring at least one cute going out outfit (or anything, really that made me feel beautiful). You’ll have the opportunity every month or two when you’re in the capital. Personally, I was surprised how good it felt to get dolled up after too long in-site. 

*Peace Corps will provide you with a Spanish/English dictionary. 

*Try not to stress about your bags too much. At the end of the day, you can buy most things here and have anything else shipped. 

*** = Available in Paraguay for a reasonable price

Clothing (Joanna): 

• 5 t-shirts 
• 4 tank tops 
• 2 pairs of work pants 
• 2 pairs of jeans 
• 2 pairs of capris or shorts or skirts
• 2 work shirts (light weight and wrinkle-free) 
• 1 long sleeve shirt 
• 1 pair long underwear bottoms or leggings 
• 2 cardigans for layering 
• 1 sweater 
• 1 nightshirt 
• 2 pajama bottoms 
• A lot of underwear 
• Whatever you like to workout in 

For the Lady’s Foot: 

• 3 pairs super fuzzy fleece socks*** 
• 1 pair of leg warmers (seriously) 
• 3 pairs of regular socks 
• 1 pair of shoes for work (comfortable flats with durable soles) 
• 1 pair of shoes for working out 
• 1 pair Chacos
• 1 pair of Crocs*** (Horrible I know, but the roads in my town turn to soup when it rains) 
• 1 pair of flip flops for the shower***

Clothing (Kevin) 

• 2 lightweight short-sleeved dress shirts*** 
• (Ao Po’i, the traditional shirt, is very popular amongst Volunteers) 
• 4 polo shirts 
• 4 t-shirts 
• 2 long sleeved cotton shirts 
• 1 sweater 
• 2 pairs of work pants
• 2 pairs jeans 
• 2 pairs of shorts 
• 2 pairs of pajama bottoms 
• 2 pairs of long underwear bottoms 
• Many pairs of boxers 
• Whatever you like to workout in 

 For the Manly Foot: 

• 3 pairs of dress socks 
• 4 pairs of cotton/workout socks
• 1 pair of cross-trainers 
• 1 pair of shoes for working out
• 1 pair of Chacos 
• 1 pair of work shoes (comfortable with durable soles)
• 1 pair of flipflops for the shower*** 

   _______

-----------
Gender-free Accessories and Other Stuff:

• 2 pairs of sunglasses (We have crazy sun in Paraguay. We also have crazy dust that tends to scratch up glasses. You may want to keep this in mind when choosing your pair.)
• 1 belt (I like the kind with the secret money compartment.)
• 1 hooded raincoat
• 1 medium weight or fleece jacket
• 1 pair fleece gloves that turn into mittens (My host family got a huge kick out of these.)
• 1 sun hat or 1 baseball cap***
• 1 winter knit hat
• 1 swimsuit
• 1 backpack (daypack)
• 1 tote bag***
• A pile of handkerchiefs (or more accurately sweat rags)

Electronics and Gadgets:

• Computer
• Registration codes and startup software for essential programs (learn from my mistakes)
• External hard drive
• Plug adapter and surge protector
• Pen drive
• Usb extender (One of the major internet companies now uses these wifi thingies. However, if your town is not in their network, you’ll probably use a usb internet stick. Unless you have ports on both sides of your computer, a hub will make life easier.)
• Mac port converter for projectors
• Canned Air (so much dust)
• Camera
• iHome Speakers
• Cord to connect iHome speakers to computer
• Kindle
• MP3 Player and earphones
• Headlamp

Office Supplies:

• Favorite pens
• Sharpies
• Stationary with envelopes (if you plan to write any letters)
• Construction paper and crayons (especially if you enjoy spending time with kids)

Housewares:

• Sleeping bag
• Your favorite brand of water bottle
• Self stick hooks
• Nails for plaster walls (keeps my backpack off the floor)
• Multi-tool (Leatherman)
• Measuring Cups
• 1 small, quality pillow (What's more comforting than a good pillow?)
• Full sized sheets (I love cozy bedding and you can buy something cheaper and better quality at Target than you’ll find here.)
• 1 quick-dry towel
• Photos of friends, family, and America
• Except on rare occasion, I’ve only seen instant coffee outside of the capital. However, if you plan to bring a favorite blend or receive some in a care package you may want a French press. (There are ways to rig up a system, too. You can buy filters in the capital.)

Personal Items:

*We packed way too many toiletries. A week or so worth of supplies should do the trick. (There is a store right next door to the training center where you can buy soap, shampoo, etc.)

*About a week into training you will receive a med kit with everything from bug spray and sunblock to aspirin and allergy pills to antacid and diarrhea medicine.

• 3 Months worth of prescriptions that you absolutely need to live
• Speciality hair care products
• Gold Bond powder
• Razors (Anything better than a throw away bic is very expensive.)
• Face moisturizer with sunblock
• Anything that makes you feel great

Entertainment:

• One book for the plane (PC has a great Volunteer library.)
• Card games
• Supplies for your favorite hobby (Guitars and yarn are available here.)

Random and Optional:

• TSA locks for your luggage (Although these do not have the best reviews, they have suited our needs just fine. It’s been my experience that these type of locks help deter opportunistic theft.)
• Travel duffel bag for your hiking backpack
• Gifts for your host family (We brought a small book of photos taken around Chicago, a tiny Chicago skyline snow globe, and a box of Lemonheads.)
• Workout bands
• Climbing gear (There are opportunities to go climbing here, if that’s your cup of tea.)
• Hiking boots and clothing (Optional, but you'll probably never live this close to Patagonia again.)
• Tent (Optional)
• Sleeping Pad (Optional, but you might end up sleeping on other Volunteers’ floors more than you planned.)
• Spices (See below)
• Pet toys (My cat is really attached to her American mousie.)

A note about spices: All my favorite care packages have included spices. By reputation, Paraguayan food tends not to pack a ton of flavor. Most Paraguayans consider a little black pepper super spicy. Here are some of the seasonings I miss the most: 

• Cinnamon (available here but very weak)
• Anything to make Thai or Indian food (we do have curry)
• Ginger powder
• Creole spices
• Maple extract (can be used to make syrup)
• Anything to make things spicy.
• Also, decent cheese is a rare commodity here. If you like mac and cheese, bring a handful of the flavor packets. (We already have plenty of pasta.)

Tanto Tiempo

Deep down, I knew I would not avoid this moment. I hemmed and hawed and even put in precautionary measures, yet in the face of a litany of promises made to myself, I have arrived at the inevitable. Despite my best efforts towards the contrary, I have little alternative but to lead off this installment of “Rate of Exchange” with one hateful phrase: tanto tiempo, aka long time no talk.

There comes a time when nearly every Peace Corps Volunteer with a blog starts to neglect posting--and often at about the same point in our service. In fact, in our Welcome Book, Peace Corps advises us to warn our friends and families that a normal lapse in communication often comes around the nine-month-in-site mark. Our projects pick up, we get busy, and we settle in. Somehow things start to seem normal.

With the ability to adapt written into our DNA, humans can eventually acclimate to most any situation. Last October’s hassles now register as standard operating procedure and once odd sites seen enough times stop making an impression. No longer fazed by things that felt so strange a matter of months ago, these days I don’t really have anything to write home about. Nothing has changed, except me.

The Peace Corps’ adeptness in predicting these personal changes continues to surprise me throughout our service. During our first few months in country, our trainers spent a lot of time talking about the “Emotional Roller Coaster” that follows every volunteer. This timeline maps out two years worth of high and low points, often to the month.  Like many of my new colleagues, I found the idea ludicrous that a prophetic piece of charla paper knew my reaction to situations so far in advance. How could a stranger predict that in mid-January of 2012 I’d probably feel a little frustrated or that September of 2011 my life would fill with wonder and excitement?

Startlingly, their formula preaches the truth--and evidently applies to Peace Corps volunteers worldwide, regardless of assignment. Just within Paraguay, our sites, jobs, backgrounds, beliefs, and ages vary greatly. And yet this crystal ball works in each region where volunteers serve. How?

As a devoted reader of worldwide Peace Corps blogs, I’ve come upon countless entries starting off, “You know you’re in...” or “Only in...”  Funny thing, though, I can relate to most of the incidents on these top ten lists. Very rarely do any of the things/moments/attitudes listed occur exclusively within the Peace Corps post in question. Down here, in the heart of South America, I regularly find myself annoyed/tickled/flabbergasted by incidents supposedly unique to the Peace Corps South Pacific experience.

So, then, where lies the commonality? Do the countries where Peace Corps serves bear such a striking resemblance that their corresponding volunteers parallel each others' experience? Does development work look the same no matter where it happens?

Yet these countries do not look the same nor do their citizens act the same. More likely, it’s us. Our humanity unites every person on the planet, but could our American lens impact the way we react to life? As much as the United States stresses the contribution of the individual--encouraging the unique and rewarding those who have made themselves distinct from their peers--our American-ness links us. Regardless if we’ve spent our lives embracing or rejecting these values, they make up the core of our personalities. This shared upbringing resonates as we develop impressions of new cultures.

Travel and spending time with people from different places often teaches us that we have more in common than not. I’ve never felt more “American” than I do now, living in Paraguay. After years of training pushing me to set myself apart, perhaps this time away will show me that I have a lot more in common with my neighbors back home too.

In spite of the universality of the Peace Corps experience, we still have rare moments. For example, I don’t know another volunteer whose neighbor’s pet carpincho wears a child’s tank top on cold days and is best friends with a giant (and over-protective) dog.

Thank you for supporting the blog!

This week, not only do we have a new post below, but the lovely and talented (and with a travel CV to make Anthony Bourdain to a double take) Brittany Boroian invited me to write a guest post in her neck of the woods. To read all about our trip to drink magic water click here or visit BrittanyGoesGlobal.com. Cheers!

The Square G

With Mama Tuti at Swear-In

Along the banks of the Rio Parana

Settling in at our new site

G: Refers to training class.  Training groups are identified by the first letter in the name of the training facility followed by their successive number.  (Training facilities move every handful of years.)  Kevin and I belong to G-36.

Moving-in Allowance: New volunteers receive a small stipend to assist with the associated costs of moving to site and settling in.  Although some move into furnished houses, more often volunteers need to purchase basic home necessities, e.g. mattress, refrigerator. 

Swear-In: During PC service, one does not become an official volunteer until completing three months of training and taking an oath.  The formal ceremony includes PC staff, local government officials, and wonderful cake. 

Swear-In Weekend: Post swear-in, volunteers have a few free days before they move to their new sites.  Most volunteers use this time to relax, spend time with G-mates, and purchase last minute basics while in the capital.

Well, at this point we can not deny it any longer.  Really, though, we never stood a chance.  If swear-in weekend defines us, we truly are the square G.  Some Gs drink away their entire moving-in allowances during swear-in weekend.  Other Gs get banned from certain hotels.  Some even spend the weekend fighting.  We, on the other hand, spent the weekend in bed.  And no, not in any infamous sort of way.  Our entire G has picked up a nasty cold.

Not that any of us expected the type of antics that turn into legend.  Generally, we keep things pretty tranquilo.  No one drinks too much (PVCs are at extremely high risk for alcohol abuse during service) and somehow everyone gets along.  Still, though, I doubt anyone expected an incident free weekend.  At least we have the next two years to gather stories of mythic stock. 

For now, we have all scattered throughout Paraguay to carve out homes and adopted families in new locales.  I will miss you, G-36.  You are all in my heart as we start this new adventure together.  And if we need to get any closer, we’re just a text away.  I’ll see you in three months.

A nation watches with baited breath...

This week, a wave of sadness washed over Ita.  Hometown hero and all around super nice chick, Claudia, lost in the final round.  Although she rocked the obstacles and ate raw cow liver while 20 or so mice crawled over her head like a pro, nasty Fabisol cleaned the floor with her during the talent round.  In the end, it did not matter that Fabisol had so many penalties during the physical contest that she disqualified before completing the course.  She just sings better than Claudia dances.

Confused?  Welcome to Yingo- Paraguay’s favorite prime time reality game show.

This show somehow combines American Gladiator, Fear Factor, American Idol, So You Think You Can Dance, Jersey Shore, and then adds in the interpersonal drama between contestants that comes from extended elimination shows.  The difference?  No one here can really sing or dance and levels of physical fitness vary greatly.  Oh, and because this hit show aires in Paraguay, all the obstacle courses involve fire.  To make things even weirder, between actual commercial breaks, contestants awkwardly dance while holding candy, cellphones, or maxi pads.

In the episode leading up to the finale, the women (men and women compete separately) started with a fairly long obstacle course (the top finisher clocked in at around five minutes, last place quit before completing between nine and ten minutes).  Yingo broadcasts the entire, painful challenge, plus banter.  Next, came the talent portion (also sometimes painful), followed by the psyche out.  Each contestant had her head locked in a clear box filled with mice.  In order to break out, she had to test keys laid out to her left.  Each time she chose an incorrect key, the host fed her a large spoonful of raw cow liver.  Previous episodes involved women shaving their heads and someone having to tell their parents about a secret marriage and subsequent divorce.  (Full disclosure, I did not see this episode and found the retelling especially confusing.  I do not know whether to attribute this to my language skills or the strangeness of this show.)

The Jersey Shore comes into play when considering the fashion choices made for contestants.  Picture the douchiest possible dude you can imagine.  Next, make all his dance moves thrusts.  Women do not fare much better.  For example, for the obstacle course, the ladies donned long sleeve turtle necks and thongs.  Some of the thongs started as shorts, only to become thongs upon leaping through the rings of fire.  Totally practical.

Now, Yingo’s incredible popularity in this town probably has something to do with raising one of the final contestants.  Still, as far as ratings go, Yingo tops the charts.  Contestants do crazy stunts and air all their personal business.  My host sister tells me that I shouldn’t feel too bad for Claudia (did I mention she supports her four younger siblings because her mother neither hears nor speaks and her father disappeared years ago?) because more likely than not she’ll get lots of money making opportunities, even as the runner up.  What these opportunities include, however, I didn’t dare ask.

Either way, when this show starts again next season, surely the writers will find even more bizarre challenges to keep the nation on the edge of its seat.  Cheers.

San Juan dice que sí...

As soon as I saw the canisters of gasoline, I knew a great night lie before us.

Last Saturday night, Kevin and I headed out to what I guess counts as a suburb, for a San Juan party.  Already twice delayed, we had high expectations for this event.  Around 5:30 (super early for parties in these parts) our middle sister drove Kevin, our mom, and me over to a large piece of fenced-in land owned by a friend of the family.  Since our mom owns a dispensia (a small convenience store run out of the house, sort of like having a 7 Eleven in your garage) she managed beverages (coke, beer, wine).  We came early to set up, along with other members of the family who presided over food, music, and games.

Someone prepared and labeled the games and traditional activities before we arrived.  A small cast iron skillet, labeled “mBeju”, hung from a tree branch.  (MBeju, my current favorite Paraguayan dish and San Juan stronghold, resembles a meaty, crumbly, cheesy tortilla.)  From the opposite branch hung two ceramic pots titled “kambuchí jejoká” and waiting for blindfolded children to smash open, releasing candy.  A bag of sacks, labeled “carrera vosá” and our favorite pin/tail/pig game (kure ñembohu guái) could have fit in at any BBQ across the US of A.  And then my eyes fell on a sign hidden by shadows, “pelotas tatá.”  Aka balls of fire.  And what about this sign lifted my spirits to a dizzying effect?  It hung from two plastic jugs of gasoline and nothing else.

With the next few hours, about fifty friends and family trickled in.  Food started almost immediately and games shortly thereafter.  Our family pushed us out onto a field with about fifteen kids as someone lit a rag, soaked in gasoline and tied into a ball, with a match.  Our first pelota tatá soared across the property as kids ran to the fire, fighting over who got the next turn.  Fire left streaks in its wake as it danced across the yard.  I couldn’t say how long it lasted, time disappeared as Kevin and I both managed to get in a few good kicks.  After a while, the “ball” started to die and splinter into several smaller fire bursts.  Eventually, an adult came and tossed the carnage over the fence.  (I’d add something sarcastic here about responsible choices, but this story already focuses on children and fire.)  Then, the whole thing started again.  Just like heaven.

Later in the night, after a short theatrical performance (this country loves skits) came time for a moment of pure horror: the toro kandil.  Two grown men manned the body of this thing whose head was a real bull skull lit on fire.  I have no clear pictures of the toro kandil, because evidently San Juan does not care about the documentary spirit.  The toro kandil chases down everyone in sight.  As if this wasn’t enough, as we sprinted breathless from this creature that rivals the terror of any slasher film, someone started launching more pelotas tatá (no longer one at a time) into the crowd.  This time the object changed from friendly pass back and forth to see who you can nail in the face with the ball of fire.  As the head of the bull started to die out, someone placed it under the Judas kái (that night an effigy of a Brazilian fútbol player stuffed with fireworks and doused in gasoline) to introduce more fire and noise into an already totally surreal situation.

Paraguay,... I think I love you.

***For those who may have noticed the lack of hot coals....  Although folks celebrate San Juan for weeks, the man of the hour only protects your feet from burning on the actual feast day.  Therefore, people only walk across hot coals on June 24th.

Week Six: To sleep, perchance to dream...

This past week I reached an important milestone in immersion language learning- I dreamt in Spanish.  Oddly enough, this dream (of which I remember no content) occurred during a period where my attitude received no points for positivity.  Exhausted and praying for one conversation that didn’t require my full attention just to get the gist of, I had to remind myself my options did not include spending the day hiding in bed.

Allow me to set the scene...  This past week trainees left for “Long Field Practice.”  Essentially, under the guidance of a current volunteer and a language professor and in the comfort of a small group, we pretended to live the volunteer life.  We led three classes at the local junior high, one talk (aka charla) at an adult learning center (no one showed up so we practiced with the other teachers), visited a cooperative (for a tour and meeting) and a small time sweets producer, and had daily language classes.  In other words, we booked every second of those four days.

During this time, each aspirante ate meals and stayed the night with different families in town.  An experience in itself, home stay makes an already long day even longer.  Now before I sound like too much of an ungrateful monster, the generosity of these folks who have opened up their homes and hearts to us wide-eyed Nortes’ overwhelms me.  Our host mother treats Kevin and me as her own children and I would be lost without her guidance.  However, living with someone always requires adjustment and these particular adjustments tend to require more energy than I have in the reserves these days.

The night in question, my temporary house mother gave me a long-winded speech about how if I expect to support a pregnancy, I need to eat more.  So far, the most common topics of conversation I have encountered since entering the country involve a) my reproductive future (and why it’s not my reproductive present) and b) eating.  Often Paraguay is referred to as a poor country where no one starves.  Although troubles here are many, food production does not make the list.  This country love to make big meals and force feed newcomers.  We’ve all met- I don’t need much encouragement in this department.  However, in Paraguay, evidently only polishing off two grilled cheese sandwiches and a piece of cake calls for an anorexia alert.

Once my temporary mother determined she had sufficiently scolded me about diet and babies, we moved on to my language skills.  She pointed out that I really need to speak more if I expect to learn the language.  Never mind that she had spoken so much and so quickly during the past twenty minutes that I don’t recall noticing her breathe.  Shortly thereafter, she sent me to bed with a wink (remember topic number one) and I feel asleep very quickly.  Around 2am I shot up out of my sleep with the confidence I needed to turn the week around- a dream entirely in Spanish.  Although I remembered and understood it fully at the time, it’s gone now.  The effect, though, lingers.

We had an exhausting, awesome long field.  As it often happens in intense experiences, in the matter of just a few days, we came to adore our temporary host family and can’t wait to visit them again.  Before, as we planned our week, I couldn’t help but feel dread about our upcoming experience.  I was sick of speaking Castellano, sick of talking to strangers, and sick of waking up every morning at 3:30am to the sound of the dog arguing futbol with a gang of roosters.  (Seriously, what other topic could get so loud?)  Now, though, so much has come into focus.  My vision for our future life as volunteers has gone from an abstract possibility to something real, tangible.  Also, I not only scored peanut butter, but won a bet with my host mom.  Chocolate and peanut butter do belong together.  What a relief!

Independence Day Mini-break

Fourth of July weekend fell right smack in the middle of training and we found ourselves with a three day weekend.  On Saturday, also our 5th wedding anniversary, we headed into the capital with the rest of the aspirantes for an old fashioned Independence Day BBQ at the US embassy.  The party had typical American summer food (no watermelon, but Kraft-style American cheese singles), games (tug-o-war, three-legged races, etc), and beer served by Marines. 

In total, this was a super weird party.  The American stuff was way over the top, but most of us were in the mood for some hokey sweet land of liberty action.  Please don’t judge- we’ve eaten a lot of mandioca and most of us would probably agree to awful things for a Jimmy John’s BLT or a soft chocolate chip cookie.  (What?  Never heard of mandioca?  Don’t feel bad, none of us did either.  It reminds me of a uber-fibrous potato and Paraguayans serve it with every meal.  Seriously, every meal.)

The soundtrack for the day consisted exclusively of songs containing the words “America” or “USA”.  I sighed relief when someone had the sense to keep the day from getting too ironic and turn off “Born in the USA” during the introduction, but I heard Miley Cyrus “Party in the USA” probably 7 times.  Not many songs included the required vocabulary so the playlist was short.  Props for including Jimi Hendrix’s “Star Spangled Banner, ” though poor form for five times.

Just when you would start to forget what continent hosted the party, a peacock would walk by and someone would start a story about how their dog responds to mba’éichapa.  (Guarani for “how are you?”)  Oh, and did I mention a handful of deer walk around the embassy grounds?  As wacky as culture shock gets, this party may have made certain differences even more pronounced.  Good times, friend, good times.

Week Five: Back to Basics

Laundry day...

After months of trying to play it cool but secretly biting our fingernails to the quick, Kevin and I are happy to report that we have been living together all throughout training.  Although Peace Corps guarantees that married couples will live together during service, our recruiters were crystal clear from the get-go we may have trained in separate locations.  Luckily, this is not the case.

PC Py maintains a training facility about an hour outside the capital city.  Trainees (aka aspirantes) live with host families nearby.  In the interest of full disclosure, this is kind of weird- especially as a married woman in my 30s.  Machismo comes in many forms, and certainly shows up in the expectations for married women.  Without getting to far off track on a tangent that will most definitely make a series of appearances on this blog, in this case these “expectations” are more a matter of pride than oppression.  Either way, my home stay experience has differed greatly from than that of some other aspirantes- not in any sort of positive or negative way.  Just different.

In spite of whatever dread I may have felt about living in a stranger’s house before we moved in, Kevin and I have both grown to feel real love for our host family.  We live with a middle aged divorced woman and her 19 year old daughter, who commutes daily to Asunción to attend university classes.  Two older, married daughters round out our little Paraguayan family with three grandchildren and another on the way.  As our language skills grow we chat more and more.  We’ve laughed from day one.  A wicked sense of humor courses through this country.

Our town- formally founded over 500 years back by Franciscans (and probably inhabited far earlier than that)- is not quite a suburb of the capital in the same way that Elgin is not quite a suburb of Chicago.  It is small, but considered “modern” because of the traffic light.  The community is set up on a grid so it’s very easy to navigate.  There is a large catholic church, a labyrinth type market, and a quaint pond complete with crocodillos, or jakare to use their more common name in Guanani.  (The members of our group from Florida are not nearly as impressed by these creatures as we are.  They are about the size of medium dogs and technically part of the alligator family.  I think the english word is caiman.)

Since we arrived, Kevin and I have both redefined our concept of hot- at least concerning showers.  Mostly we are just grateful for running water.  We do our laundry by hand- a process that surely Cold Water Creek did not have in mind when they specified Hand Wash Only.  Without making too big a deal of it, this chore sucks.  (More on this later.)

Training itself is difficult, but satisfying.  We have language training five or six mornings a week and technical training the following afternoons.  Technical training addresses everything from PC development practices to medical seminars.  (Do you know how to say “I have diarrhea” in Guarani?  I do!)  We are exhausted all the time.  The progress we’ve made in language, though, makes up for this.

Tomorrow our training group will head into the capital for an actual free day.  My personal goals for a day off in the big city?  Find peanut butter and one more long sleeved shirt.  Peanut butter is super difficult to come by in Py and when I tried to explain to my house mother the magical moment that is peanut and chocolate, she wouldn’t hear it.  Now, these days I may be wrong a lot- especially in the lost in translation department- but as god is my witness, I will win this argument.  This time I will be right.

Week Four: Kure ñembohu guái

What has got these Peace Corps trainees so worked up?  

If you guessed poner la cola al chancho, or as it’s know in english, pin the tail on the pig, go get yourself a cookie.  It’s San Juan, we’ve been without American television for an entire month, and evidently we’ve all lost our minds.  If we’re having this much fun trying to tape a paper tail to a cartoon pig while blindfolded, what will happen when the fire games start?

This year, San Juan has had kind of a slow start.  Originally, all the aspirantes were planning on heading into Asunción for the bicentennial San Juan festival.  Then, the forecast called for rain so the festivities were suspended.  That’s right- I now live in a country where, under the mere threat of rain, the federal government shuts down one of the capital city’s highlight events during the bicentennial year.  In case you were wondering, the weather was perfect.

Generally speaking, Paraguayans take real issue with the rain.  I’m fairly confident that L. Frank Baum got the idea that a character could truly despise precipitation from a Paraguayan national.  When the clouds gather and dark skies move in, folks lose access to larger cities and most activity outside of them ceases.  To be fair, in most parts of Paraguay, this is a solid logistical solution.  Very few roads are paved and when the sky opens up, most streets flood.  Sidewalks are not exactly uniform either, so there is real potential to end up stranded.  Plus, lightning is a major problem here as well.  In the countryside (or campo as it will henceforth be known) people die from lightning strikes on a monthly basis.  In other words, rainy days are bad news.

Back to our story, the rain came the following day and our host mother told us that the local festival wouldn’t have any of the cool fire games because of the nasty weather.  When we suggested checking it out anyway, she in no uncertain terms told us we were crazy people.  Well surprise, surprise- the festival (sans us) was awesome.  One of the other trainees actually got to BE the bull.  (You know the one, the toro candil?  That’s the person wearing a real bull skull with the horns set on fire chasing all the kids.)  My heart audibly broke during the retelling.

Luckily, this weekend we have plans to attend a San Juan festival in a nearby town.  Our older host sister is responsible for creating the Judas effigy, so I’m keeping my fingers crossed for a fabulous evening.  And yes, Judas will be stuffed with fireworks and soaked in kerosene before he is set on fire.  Cheers.