Great Friends Come to Paraguay

"Yeah I saw Lizzie walking around with her friends - one fat girl and one skinny boy."

When Ceferina repeated to us this man's comment, we died laughing to the point of tears. The hilariousness of this quote sums up my friends' Anna and Ingram's trip to Paraguay. Between hysterical comments, general confusion, and ridiculous outings, we had a ball. So what might 3 Carolina girls in Paraguay do, you might ask??

We talk on the radio.

Three norteamericanas are treated as celebrities in my town, and we were invited to speak on an afternoon radio show. With Ing and Ann speaking little to no Spanish, this was not the most ideal setup for a radio interview, but I played translator. Jorge grilled Ing and Ann with so many questions, and I was back and forth between the languages. At one point, he asked Ingram what was her first impression of Natalio, and I was saying her answer when she caught my eye and said "You are still speaking in English!!" I'm sure we either highly entertained or bored the listening audience with our giggle fits and language barriers, but it was definitely a memorable experience for us.

We go to a birthday party.

My friend Felicia's birthday party was supposed to be a Sunday lunch, but when she found out that I would be picking up my friends on that day, she decided to change it to Monday night and invited the 3 of us. It was ghastly freezing on this particular night, and no amount of bundling up could prepare us for the long night ahead of us. Paraguayan birthday asados are never in any rush, despite the frigid 30s temperature. We arrived around 6:00; the meat was still cooking, and everyone was seated around a charcoal fire, drinking mate. We joined in and rather quickly lost the feeling in our toes and fingers. An hour or two later, it was finally time to eat, and we along with about 20 other people gathered around the tables to enjoy delicious asado, sopa paraguaya, and mandioca. As we leaned back in our chairs, bellies full, the wine started flowing, and someone whipped out a guitar. Pitcher after pitcher, guarani song after after guarani, photo after photo, the party carried on. As Virgilio, the life of the party, was revving up, his son Benito (13) was keeping us entertained with his endless, broken English chatter. Virgilio was intent on dragging each and every female out onto the dance floor, and at one point, Benito said to Ingram, "There are 2 things I hate: drunks and crazies. But I love my dad." Finally somewhere between 10:30 and I'm-an-ice-cube, they brought out the cake. Relieved at the site of something signaling the end, we wolfed the cake and prepared for goodbyes. Then to our surprise... Virgilio showed up with a full pitcher of wine and coke. We made a plan to fill up our cups and drink it fast so that the concoction would run out quicker meaning we could go sooner, but as the pitcher was emptied and refilled, we realized that Virgilio was not at all concerned with the time or the numbness in our toes and was more convinced that we were still enjoying ourselves. Finally we begged Benito enough to whine to his mom enough to cut VIrgilio off and end the party just shy after 1 AM. We couldn't appreciate the experience until a few days later when we had finally warmed up a bit, but it was an outrageous Paraguayan affair that was hard to top.



We go to a waterfall with a pregnant woman who is on bedrest.
(And talk on the radio again.)

While talking on the radio, many people were texting in, inviting us to come visit their school or their house. One mother from my school named Ña Teresa texted in asking if we wanted to go with her to Salto Tembey, a waterfall in Yatytay. We said yes, and she came to pick us up the next afternoon. We rode in her truck and drank mate on our drive down the dirt road. Once we got to the waterfall, we walked around, hopped on rocks, and took pictures. At one point, 40-some year old, 7-month pregnant Ña Teresa in her pink leopard velour suit was crawling out over the rocks and yelled back that she was on bedrest, which made me appreciate even more her kindness and hospitality.

On the way back home, Ña Teresa decided to call back into the radio to give a report of our trip to the waterfall, then having to pass the phone around and translate yet again. Jorge was so excited that we went and was very proud to now call Salto Tembey "an international tourist attraction."

We peel an orange.

"Lizzie's been here a year and doesn't even know how to peel an orange." These were some of Ceferina's first words to my friends as she sat outside her house sucking on sugar cane. She then makes me pluck some oranges off the tree. First she demonstrates how to peel an orange. She then makes Ing and Ann prove their abilities. Then I take the orange and peel it, and she exclaims, "Oh you do know how to peel an orange after all."

We go for a ride in the police truck.

Natalio recently got a new police chief. He is a young excited man from Asuncion, and I have met him several times. When he heard my friends were in town, he tracked me down in the street to invite us to go for a ride in the new police truck. Of course, we said yes. Luckily it was a gorgeous sunny day, and Ing and Ann were able to see the beautiful landscapes of the district of Natalio. We went all over the county and out to Triunfo, the town on the Rio Parana, dividing us from Argentina. We took pictures and of course had to share a Kodak moment with Mr. Aviators himself. After we'd already been riding for more than an hour, he started getting a little carried away and was talking about us all going to eat lunch in San Rafael, about an hour away. I had to cut him off and make up some excuse for why we needed to go home. He of course responded with Ok, tomorrow then, and I had to avoid his phone calls for the next 4 days. But a little awkwardness was worth it for a ride in the police truck.

We have an American party.

Ing and Ann were in town during what was for us Winter Break so looking for some vacation and American-ness, my 2 friends Miguel and Andy also came down to see Erik and I. Saturday night we had a big American party at Erik's house. There was a bonfire, pizza, beer pong; you would have thought we were in Chapel Hill on a Friday night. (Or make that any night of the week.) Our night became perfection when we learned that there was a Paraguayan party in my town so we came back on the bus and went over to the big gym where they have the parties. Unfortunately Paraguayan numbers were low so we didn't party crash; we WERE the party. Dancing, playing soccer, Ingram falling, Andy sitting in the bleachers... It was an eventful time later continued at my house with Harry Potter, hammock chats, and pancakes at 2 am. I guess we showed the Paraguayans how it's done, it's just too bad there were only 10 of them at the party to witness it.

We drink wine & eat fruit & watch the sun set.

There is a big meadow at the edge of my town where people go to walk and play soccer called the Aviacion. It is the cusp of where the town ends and the rolling hills full of cropfields begin, and I just think it's such a pretty, relaxing place. So one evening, ing, Ann, and I went out with a bottle of wine and a bowl of fruit to sit and talk and watch the sun set.
Ignoring the obvious corniness, for me it was really a special time and exemplifies what a wonderful visit we had. Just to be able to be myself, have some girl time with my friends, have two weeks of doing only enjoyable things, let go of all of my worries, and when I couldn't push them out, having people who know and understand me to confide in... It was incredibly refreshing. Having visitors makes me remember who I was and all of the things I did before this, and it helps me bring back those parts of me. I have been undoubtedly blessed with such amazing friends and family who have supported me during this, and some have even taken the time, money, and sacrifice to come know my reality which is such a kind gift. But the most precious gift is knowing that when I come home and am once again uprooted and lost and merging my two worlds, these same people will still be there helping me get through.
I love you Ing and Ann!!
(And all of my other wonderful friends too!!)

bitter.cold.

I have always loved cold weather.
Fall is my favorite season. I love the month of October, the bright changing of the leaves, the crisp, cool breeze on an early autumn night. I love football and pumpkin spice lattes, boots, sweaters and scarves, Halloween and Thanksgiving, and the excitement of winter and Christmas right around the corner. I love snow and ice, hot chocolate and cozy couches, and the nip on your nose as you step out into a winter wonderland.
That being said...
I HATE winter in Paraguay!!!
June and July have turned into dreaded months for me, and I despise cold weather here. The Paraguayans say - How are you so cold if you live where it snows? People in the United States imagine - It can't be that bad. Let me paint you a picture...
During the day temperatures linger between 40-60 degrees. When the sun goes down, temperatures dip into the 40s and 30s, occasionally frosting overnight. Add the humidity, making the cold even heavier.
The weather in itself though is not what makes the winter so miserable. It's the fact that you cannot escape it. Houses and buildings are made of brick or wood with no insulation. Oftentimes, there are holes and broken windows where the wind can enter. There is no heat or fireplace. People sometimes light charcoal or have a small electric heater, but there really is no way to heat up a room. The most common and enjoyable ways to stay warm are drinking mate, sitting in the sun, or laying bundled up in your bed.
The cold is so terrible; it's impossible to fully describe. You can't feel your toes, you have a chill that continuously runs up and down your spine. And, I guess as it has to, life continues just as normal. People still work, there is still school, people still have birthday parties and meetings, despite how hard it is to get up in the morning or how many layers they have to don.


Despite the cold and the numbness, the bitterness that I feel inside and out is what does me in during the Paraguayan winter. And the hardest thing is deciphering whether it comes from the shame of the luxuries of central heating, warm clothes, and cars that spoiled me in the States or the resentment for the way people just indifferently adapt to less-than-pleasant circumstances rather than changing them.
Or maybe it's just from the cold itself.