Are you two brothers??

My goodbye with Mom and Brian was eased by the fact that my other brother, Will, would be staying with me for 3 more weeks. Unlike the visit with my family which was back to back with plans and schedules, these 3 weeks with Will were much more open and tranquilo, these being euphemisms for slightly slow and boring. Through the span of his 5 weeks here, Will got to experience the full spectrum of my life here, with its highs and lows, sun and rain, social outings and down times, endless chatter and silence.
A majority of our time in Paraguay, we spent in Natalio at my house. We would wake up every morning at 7 to the clanging, hammering, as well as singing of the construction workers next door. (Whyyy does everything have to start at or before 7 AM?!?!?!?!) Our days were usually centered around one specific event, and we spent the rest of the time bumming around. Since I conveniently broke my Internet modem the day my family arrived, we were left with an even more genuine Peace Corps experience seeing as we were cut off from our source of contact, information and entertainment. Will went through quite a few Sudoku books, and I spent lots of time reading and writing. As you can imagine, the best part though were the countless thoughtful, inquisitive conversations that we had. Seeing as we haven't lived together in over 6 years, it was great having the liberty of time to kind of get to know more deeply the people we have each become.
We also watched a lottt of movies! My best bud Erik is constantly switching around movies and TV shows with other Volunteers and has stocked my Mac with a very extensive collection. (It is nothing compared to his external hard drive though!) We made it through all 7 Harry Potters, a majority of Planet Earth, and a couple classics such as Talladega Nights and The Hangover. One of the most interesting movies we watched was Restrepo, a documentary on the war in Afghanistan. It was one of those long conversation starters, and we both found ourselves unsure as to what to feel. Ironically enough this coincided with the killing of Osama Bin Laden, which we discovered in the cyber cafe, giving us yet another topic to discuss. On that same day, I had gone out for a run and ran into the 2 Mormons in my town. When I stopped to say hi to them, I commented to my fellow American the news, seeing as they are limited to even less Internet access than me. The American Mormon made some weird comments in response; then we said bye, and I continued on my run. I was already a couple blocks away when I realized it -- the Mormon had thought I said OBAMA was killed!! In a state of panic, I turned around immediately, running through the streets asking people where the Mormons had gone. When I hadn't found them, I had to finish my run with a guilty conscience. "The poor guy thinks our president has been assassinated, and it's all my fault!" One block from my house in a rush to tell Will about the misunderstanding, and who do I conveniently see but my suit-sporting friends waiting for me on the corner. Apparently they too had realized the mistake and had come to clear up the confusion. We laughed and laughed, and Will was craaacked when I got home and told him.
Luckily we didn't spend everyday holed up in my house. We had lots of invitations for social events, lunches, terere dates, and birthday parties. "Wili" as he soon came to be called in town, was such a charmer with the Paraguayans! Although they couldn't really understand each other, Wili came to make many friends. Despite the language barrier, the kids loved to play with him, and the adults loved to joke with him. On the day of the Paraguayan soccer rivalry game, Will quickly chose Olimpia as his team and cracked everyone up at the lunch table when he refused to drink cerveza from a Cerro glass. One man came to love him, asking him what he thought of the Paraguayan women and then offering to lend him his car to go riding around town if he wanted. It was hilarious watching him play soccer with Pipo and Diego, them constantly yelling instructions to him in Spanish and him just running around.


To split up our time in Paraguay, we had planned a 5-day trip to the southern tip of Argentina, Patagonia. Being lovers of mountains and snow, we were pretty excited for our trip, but once we arrived in El Calafate, our expectations were highly exceeded. Pointy snow-capped mountains, turquoise lakes, vibrant fall leaves sprinkled with snow; we were in heaven. We found a tiny 4-room charming hotel called Hospedaje Lautaro owned by a young Argentine family. When we were checking in the woman, Belen, asked, "Are you 2 brothers?" and we laughed and said yes. They were wonderful hosts, greeting us every morning with a homemade breakfast and giving us honest and helpful tourist information. The base town for our trip was El Calafate, a charming small mountain town that reminded us of Blowing Rock. We walked around the Laguna and got to see a flock of flamingoes! We enjoyed delicious Argentine food; Will was addicted to the cheeseburgers, and I had a weakness for all the coffee and desserts!


We loved El Calafate, but we didn't travel to Patagonia for Argentine cuisine and shopping! The most incredible part of our trip was the 2 days we spent in the Parque Nacional Los Glaciares. Wili being the outdoorsman that he is led us on a 5 hour hike deep into the park. The exercise in the snow was exhilarating, and the natural beauty was breathtaking. I believe the pictures speak for themselves.

After winding and climbing through the rivers, inclines, and lookouts, we made it to our campsite at the base of Mount Fitz Roy right before sunset. We were the only ones choosing to camp in the snow, and we quickly tucked ourselves into our sleeping bags before we got too cold. We shared a pleasant dinner of peanut butter tortillas and then enjoyed a 2 hour pillow talk before dozing into the night. We woke up the next morning, packed up and made our way back into town. After lunch with a tall waterfall in the background, we enjoyed the warmth of a coffee shop and boarded the bus back to El Calafate right as the rain arrived. Perfect timing.


Our last day, we ventured out to see the Glaciar Perito Moreno, the tourist attraction of El Calafate. The closer we got, the more we realized why it was so popular. The immensity of the glacier was so humbling! Its surface area is bigger than Buenos Aires, and it's about 250 feet tall. As you stand gazing at it, you then hear and see pieces breaking off and remember that it is a river of ice that is constantly moving and changing. Set against a backdrop of purple mountains and clear water, we were blown away by the beauty even when we took our eyes off of the glacier. Nature is so powerful!

The next day we reluctantly returned to Paraguay, sad to leave the comfort of the mountains. But we arrived back in Natalio just in time for some festivities! For Will's birthday (May 15th), we were supposed to celebrate Paraguay's Bicentennial, but unfortunately it rained so everything was canceled. Instead we celebrated it the following day at my friend Felicia's house. It also was her niece and nephew's birthday so we had a big asado lunch, complete with chipa guasu and cake. We stuck around for a while after lunch, and later made chipa with all the women. They pretty much laughed the entire time at Will's and my inability to knead the chipa dough; we were happy to give them such entertainment. We came home with a bag full of chipa, and I think Will was happy to have an overload of his favorite Paraguayan food in his last days in Paraguay.


Seeing as Will's flight out was on the 20th of May, we decided to celebrate my birthday (the 19th) in Asuncion. We did a birthday dinner at TGIFriday's and enjoyed 2-for-1 burgers and brownies (241BBB). Friday morning we made it to the airport and waited in a pleasant 2 hour check-in line. Our goodbye was rushed so that Wili wouldn't miss his flight, and as I walked away, I felt a big sadness rush over me. It felt weird not having my buddy by my side; I was solita otra vez. But after learning many coping strategies in my time here, my tristeza had waned by the time I made it home, and I was ready to get back to work, back into a routine.
Having Willy here with me was wonderful, and I love dwelling on all the great memories of our time together! Te quiero mucho Wili!!!

Mi mamá y mis 2 hermanos

Sunday April 17th, I laid down to sleep in my hotel in Asuncion around 10. Four short hours later, my alarm went off, and I eagerly jumped out of bed. I headed to the airport and began to wait. The Asuncion airport is fairly small, and as we all crowded around the Arrivals gate, I couldn't believe the moment I had been waiting for for over a year was "arriving." In typical fashion, all other passengers exited, and in the very last group of people to trickle out, I saw the familiar faces of my mom, Will, and Brian. We rushed towards each other, and Mom and I locked into a hug sobbing into each others' shoulders, unable to pull away for a minute. Finally we did, and I hugged Will and Brian, both who seemed a lot taller than before. After our blissful moment, we remembered that it was 3 AM and that we were tired and made our way through an strangely peaceful Asuncion night back to the hotel. We drove past the cathedral and the government buildings, all beautifully lit up at night. Finally we arrived back at the hotel, and after we laid down to sleep, I had a feeling that we were all still awake. After 15 months, there's so much to say, to share, to feel, but 3 AM after a 15 hour journey is not the time.
We spent Monday exploring Asuncion, walking through the plazas, enjoying the rico restaurants, and me running my typical errands - business at the Peace Corps office and buying American food at the supermarkets. To me, Asuncion is a ragged yet charming enough city with its old architecture and location along the bright blue Rio Paraguay. From above, it appears to be covered in trees, yet in the midst of the city, you feel yourself surrounded by bus exhaust and no-name buildings. The people of Asuncion are from all walks of life, in a crowd you find skinny girls in business skirts, older business men, barefoot children in their barefoot mother's arms, fat fast-talking men selling fruit and sodas and socks and flashlights, you name it. My favorite place in Asuncion is the Plaza de los Heroes, where there are tents selling artisan goods and women renting out terere equipment. With my mom and the boys, we browsed the blankets, jewelry, and keychains, and Mom walked away with some beautiful ñanduti table runners. As we ran around Asuncion, it was hard to explain how different the capital is than the rest of the country. While I enjoy the coffee shops and movie theaters, the city rush and professionalism, I also love the open air and tranquilo life outside of the city, and I was excited to show my family the other face of Paraguay.


Tuesday they got to see it during the 9 hour bus that we took during the day to my site. Brian didn't want to sleep; he stared out the window the entire time. I removed myself from the familiarity of the trip to see Paraguay with fresh eyes for the first time again with them. Along the ruta, you see people sitting out in front of their houses, drinking terere and chatting, a snapshot of Paraguayan family life. The estancias in Misiones are magical, the open pastures with cows and horses roaming, the gate and driveway appearing endless. At one point when Will woke up from a snooze, Mom exclaimed: "Wait til you see the graveyards!!" and then spent the rest of the trip waiting with her camera, ready to capture blurry pictures of the cemeteries as we passed. It is a fascinating ride, and it was even more enjoyable in the company of my visitors.



We arrived in Natalio a little bit after the sun had set. As we were walking 2 blocks with our luggage to my house, the motos flying by, when we heard "OH MY GOD!!" This being one of the famous English phrases that many Paraguayans have learned, I was not surprised at all to see an ostentatious, gregarious teacher from my school roll up to greet my family, and after sharing some words of welcome, he and his moto rolled off. I think my family came to understand how hospitable my community is, since in the short 2 blocks to my house, 2 more people rolled up just as the Profe had to saludar us. Of course, I'm sure my family also realized that what I like to deem hospitality also is a reflection of how much we stick out like a sore thumb in a rural Paraguayan pueblo :)
After a good night of sleep (EVERYBODY IN ONE BEDroom), we awoke ready for Chipa Wednesday! It is tradition that each Semana Santa (Holy Week, the week before Easter) on Wednesday, everyone prepares a traditional Paraguayan food called chipa. A mixture of corn flour, mandioca flour, cheese, eggs, and pig fat, chipa is a delicious snack, breakfast, supper, somewhat similar to...?? A breadstick? A pretzel? Cornbread? It's hard to describe its taste and its function, but it is nonetheless a Paraguayan favorite. Every Holy Wednesday, the Paraguayan women prepare an overwhelmingly large quantity of chipa in their tatakuaa (brick oven) to be consumed while fasting on Holy Friday. We went to Ceferina's house where she and my 1st host mom, Celmira, were making 500 chipas to give out to the "poor kids." Since we slept in (until 8:00), we got there late and didn't get to actually make the chipa, but we arrived in time to taste it. (Very rico by the way!)


It was pretty hilarious watching the Paraguayans see my family for the first time. They inspected them, looking at their clothes, their hair, their bodies. They asked all the same stupid questions ("Do they like Paraguay? Have they ever tried terere? Have they ever tried mandioca?" etc etc), and I had the pleasure of translating everything anyone from either party said. We had a yummy lunch of avilla hu - black beans, which we strangely ate at the table by ourselves. We spent the afternoon in typical Paraguayan fashion, sitting in the shade in a circle talking and drinking terere. As I looked at my brothers and my mom, I realized how much I had adjusted to such a slower pace of life and time. I didn't even really feel the afternoon pass, but when we made it back to my house, I realized how boring the day probably was for them. I have gotten so used to visiting people as being the highlight of my activities and entertainment for the day; for us down here, sitting and talking is as good as it gets!


Luckily the next day was more exciting when we went back to Ceferina's house for the Last Supper (which we ate for lunch). We spent the day drinking terere, cooking, eating, chatting, and best of all, playing with the neighborhood kids. As they always say, children see no boundaries when it comes to a friend, and it was completely obvious as Will and Brian instantly connected with them and spent the afternoon playing game after game of soccer. Late in the afternoon, the boys finally escaped, sweaty, dirty, and exhausted, and we headed home after what was truly a really special day.


Friday was chipa day, and we spent the day going from house to house trying different chipas. Sprawling out of my town of Natalio are multiple dirt roads that I go running on, and they carry you to the most beautiful views of green crop fields and rolling blue hills. Each day we explored a different road, and on chipa Friday, we went down the road that let us to the cemetery. I think Mom enjoyed that one!!


The heat and humidity was very strong, and I wasn't surprised at all to amanecer to an intense storm Saturday morning. With the rain pelleting down, lightning and thunder every 5 seconds, and unbelievable winds breaking tree branches, we remained captive in my casita all day. Needless to say, I was once again reminded of how boring my life is... That night we prepared homemade pizza (which Will later told me was the worst meal he had eaten here... thanks haha) and enjoyed the visit of another important Paraguayan in my life, Benito. For some reason, I have not yet written about Benito. To be honest, he deserves about 10 posts of his own (which I will make a note to add at some point). To sum it up, he is a character. A 13 year old giant who speaks English. Any experience with him is funny. I know he was excited about meeting my family so I'm glad we got to enjoy the evening altogether.
The next day was a beautiful warm Easter Sunday. We went to church and after a minor breakdown on my part of Paraguayans' canceling plans, we ended up cooking Easter lunch at my house and sharing a nice family meal. Later in the afternoon, we went back to Ceferina's and put on an Easter party for all the kiddos. The kids loved everything: making Easter bunnies, having an egg hunt, playing numerous relay games and eating a yummy carrot cake. As silly as these things seem sometimes, I like to think that it stays as a really special memory for them. A magical moment that had we not created they would not have experienced. Even for me, it remains a warm memory. I love the bright colors in the pictures!


Monday and Tuesday we roamed around Natalio, stopping by the school and visiting different students in their homes. The Easter bunnies Mom brought were a big hit, and it was fun doing a little craft with the kids. On Tuesday night, we went back to Ceferina's house for a little despedida. Hot dogs, empanadas, quiche and no-bake oaties (can you guess which foods the Americana made??), we shared a nice little going away dinner. Delay it as we could, the goodbye moment finally arrived. Ceferina surprised my mom with a gift, a matera and yerba to always remember Paraguay. We started down the line of hugs and kisses, and when Ceferina locked my mom in, tears starting pouring down her cheeks. Soon enough she was sobbing, and I could not hold back the tears either. (Nor when I write this.) When we finally pulled away, we left Ceferina to be comforted by Fredy and Marcos, and we started our walk back to my house. Slightly stunned by the experience, we talked about it the entire way home. Yet easy to forget, it really is incredible the impact the smallest visit could have. My mom and Ceferina will probably never see each other again, but I think the memory of their visit together and the daughter they share will always preserve the cariño they have for each other.


Wednesday morning, we were up early packing bags, calling the taxista to take us to the Argentine border. Unfortunately I was also up early with food poisoning; thank you hot dogs and empanadas. The first time I have vomited in Paraguay, and it just so happened to be when my mom was here to hold my hair. Que coincidencia! We had a delightful travel day with a broken down bus and 2 more pukes, but finally we arrived in Puerto Iguazu, Argentina. First thing Thursday morning, we went to Iguazu Falls National Park, where we spent the morning literally in awe. Visiting Iguazu Falls was an unbelievable experience. It is so enormous and beautiful; you find yourself stopping in your tracks every few steps. You take a picture every 5 minutes because the falls look different from each angle, but the truth is you will never capture the wonder of something so awesome on your Kodak. The park is very clean, organized, and well-maintained, which added to the pleasant experience. It was truly humbling witnessing the power of Mother Nature!


We returned to Asuncion that afternoon and spent one last night in our hotel. The 2 weeks had passed so quickly, and grudgingly around 5 am, we headed to the airport to send off Mom and Brian. As I gave them one last hug and they moved through the gates, I burst into tears for literally about 5 seconds. Then Will wrapped me in a hug and carried me off, my sadness passing as quick as it came.
I absolutely loved having my family visit. It was wonderful showing them my house, my town, my people, and most of all, me. The person I have become here. And as much as I miss my family on a daily basis, there is something beautiful about the fact that they can walk away and I can stay. It says more about our trust and support for each other than always staying together, none of us ever taking risks or pursuing different dreams. I am and will always be thankful for the love that my family has always shown me, in choosing, in surviving, and I'm sure later on, in recovering from this experience. I wouldn't be able to do it without them. I love you guys!!! Thank you for visiting; it meant so much to me!

what doesn't kill us only makes us... less human??

As Peace Corps Volunteers, we are forced to adapt to many things that are very different from our former reality. The weather, the food, the language, the culture, the bugs, the beds, the "social life". Physically, mentally, emotionally, our bodies are challenged to react and survive in circumstances that are very new to us, some being extremely difficult. But in an effort to fully integrate and not offend, we are encouraged to take whatever comes at us with grace, acceptance, and... silence. What doesn't kill us only makes us stronger right?
Actually I'd like to say wrong to that. After being in Paraguay for over a year, enduring many hardships and overcoming many challenges, I'm starting to notice that there is a line between conditions that we should accept and those that we should not. And I am not talking as a Peace Corps "we", but as a collective whole, Paraguayans included. Too many times I hear people justifying things as "just part of the culture" or "that's just the way it is."
Yes, some of the things that have been difficult for me are just the Paraguayan way. For example, the unbearably loud music or the roosters' crows sometimes are bothersome for my ears. And I don't particularly enjoy waking up at 4:30 am to drink mate for 2 hours before starting my day, but if you do, that's fine with me. And the fashion magazines I read don't necessarily condone wet hair, sequins, glittery flower hair clips, or unbelievably tight clothes, but it all looks great on you. And you know what, since I'm the one visiting your country, I'll even wear it too! All of these are examples of what I call adapting to a culture without question.
But there are lots of things that should not be written off as cultural differences because they are just as difficult or unenjoyable for Paraguayans as they are for us as Americans.
For example: buses. The bus companies, particularly the one that goes to my site, are on my list right now. I have been traveling a lot recently to and from Asuncion (shall I remind you, a 9 hour ride) and have been completely disgusted by the quality of service. (To the point that last week I had the ultimate breakdown, crying and hyperventilating in the bathroom of a bus station at 4 am.) A majority of the buses in Paraguay are recycled from Brazil and Argentina's trash meaning dirty, gross, and uncomfortable. No air/heat, broken seats that don't recline, break down regularly. As if the bus experience wasn't pleasant enough, there also is no such thing as a full bus, seeing as companies sell tickets and drivers pick up people over the capacity leaving them to stand scrunched together in the aisle, leaning on the seats. As my friend Miguel said after taking a midnight bus to his site and standing the entire 6 hours, it's like transporting cattle!! It's dehumanizing! As much as I try to protest and avoid supporting the terrible bus company that goes to my site, the unfortunate thing is that there is no other option and for that reason, they don't care. They don't have to.
As hard as it is to fight against institutions such as bus companies, luckily Paraguay is up and coming, and at some point, they will have to update their standards. Hopefully the same can be said for certain aspects of their culture that are subtly dehumanizing as well. As a country very young in democracy, there is a terrible lack of self-esteem and individualism in this country, and this problem is only further promoted by the ways in which people talk and treat each other. It is very common for someone to pick apart another person's appearance, from clothes to hair to skin to body. Unfortunately PCVs are not exempt from this. Actually we might even be more of a target! Comments I have received: "your clothes look like a grandmother's", "your hands are too small", "your hair looks like a broom that was used to clean a dirty corner", and countless other comments on my clothes, my dirty feet/shoes, and my weight. That's the favorite: people looove to comment on others' weight saying to their faces "estas muy gorda ahora" "you're really fat now". I used to get so confused because one day they'd tell me I'm chubby, the next I'm skinny, the next I'm too skinny and so on and so on. But regardless of what it is that they're saying to me, it always hurts. It does not feel good. And I'm a comfortable, confident, even hermosa woman! Lots of other Volunteers have tried to say "it's just their culture" but after talking with my Paraguayan friends, the truth is it hurts them too. So why should we continue allowing this vicious cycle to perpetuate, destroying even more people's self-image and life possibilities?
Even sadder is the explicit physical and emotional abuse that people endure, justifying it as part of the culture. Men beating their wives, the commonness of infidelity in marriages, children having to walk around selling oranges to buy their dad his daily pint of caña. These things should not be accepted in any culture, and every time that they are swept under the mat as "the way it is", it gives them power and allows them to continue.
As Peace Corps Volunteers, we are charged with the job of empowering people to take control of their suffering and make changes in their lives for the better. But if we shrug things off and continue to allow subpar conditions to be recognized as cultural and therefore acceptable, we are failing to do our job. We can't turn the entire country around in 2 years, but I personally am going to make it known to whoever I can find the things that I refuse to adapt to. And hopefully, in my broken Spanish, I will be giving a voice to the same shared feelings of the Paraguayans.

A Veteran Volunteer

Peace Corps Paraguay has a rotating schedule of Volunteer groups. When a group arrives from one sector, they have a sister group at their 1 year mark, and another sister group that is finishing their service and returning to the United States. The new Education group arrived at the beginning of February, marking my 1 year anniversary in Paraguay. In honor of my "cumple-año", I baked a chocolate cake and took it around to the families I lived with and the people I worked with in my first year. I gave each person a piece of cake, a kiss, and a gracias for being a special part of my first year. As expected, I found myself reflecting on the past year, painfully remembering the hard parts such as breaking my arm and cheers-ing the successes such as my Swearing-In Ceremony at the Embassy. Of course there have been hilarious experiences, for example, when I unknowingly agreed in Guarani to marry this ancient as time, toothless security guard at the Municipalidad. The most frustrating times always involved work or the teachers like the 3 month teacher strike that took place right after arriving in site or the daily disappointment I feel when I enter in a classroom and see that the teacher still is not using the technique I taught. When I think of happiness, I see myself in different settings - drinking terere with Paraguayans, laughing uncontrollably with Erik, having 40 sets of eyes on me in a literacy workshop, or laying down comfortably in my bed each night. As always, when recalling the best moments, I cannot remember the day or the time, not one detail. Only a feeling. The feeling of overflowing energy, a bubbling contentness and a stark appreciation for la vida.
That being said, I have become very aware of why Peace Corps is a 2 year commitment. When I look back on my first year, it seemed to be all about adapting. First the basics of immersing in the culture, meeting people, exploring my community. Later on it became deciphering: how institutions function, which teachers are willing to work with me, who is actually my friend and someone I can trust. Now as I come around the bend of my second year, I feel a settling peace, a different angle with which I'm approaching everything. In general, I feel more comfortable and more in control of my daily life, allowing me to be free of distractions and more focused. Professionally I have a clearer, more realistic directive and have laid the groundwork for lots of hopeful projects. Now it's just time to get to work! As one of my fellow Volunteers said, if I went home now, I don't feel I would be able to say that I accomplished anything. In this next year, I hope to work efficiently and effectively and achieve some kind of development for my community.
At the end of February, I hosted a visit from one of the new Trainees. Coincidently, Johanna, the Trainee, is a good friend of my sister's from Study Abroad in Argentina 4 years ago! (It is a verrrry small world.) I had a great few days with Johanna, getting to know her and now having another good friend here within Paraguay. It also was a prideful experience, being able to show off my community, my friends, my house, my work. It made me aware of how far I have come, how normal some things have become to me and how I have molded myself and everything around me to mesh. I remember during training, 27 months seemed so big, so long and I just wanted to make a dent in it. Now here I am at my halfway point, and I feel like time is escaping from underneath me. I only have another year to finish my projects and actually achieve my goal of improving the health, education, and knowledge of my community.
I also realize, aside from work, I only have another year to enjoy this experience, marvel at beautiful Paraguay, and the most heartbreaking - spend time with the people whom I care about. Towards the end of March, I received another visit from a fellow Volunteer. Amanda is also a Education volunteer and is in the sister group that is on their way out. She was a Volunteer in my site for her first year and then moved to a different site for her 2nd year so I was chosen to replace her. She is on the brink of finishing her service and is returning to the States on the 20th of April so she came down before she went to say goodbye to our community. We spent the entire weekend visiting different families, taking long walks around town, and taking pictures. There was an air of sadness and nostalgia as we toured around, and it made me imagine the day when we do leave and the mix of emotions that will overwhelm us. To spend 2 years day in and out tucked into the pocket of South America, in polarizing Paraguay, a place with which you either fall in love or get fed up, to be a professional and an individual, mixed up in the turmoil of thoughts, emotions, responsibilities, challenges yet all the while learning and changing and growing... And for there to finally come the day when it all ends? What will that be like? What will going back be like?
Regardless of whether or not you could sum up your experience as a positive or negative one or your work as a success or a failure, I think one thing is always guaranteed for us as Volunteers. There will always be people, a family, a child, a sweet old lady, who will steal your heart, and that will always be painful to leave behind. We spent Amanda's last night sitting in front of the Ortega-Torres home, a family that is very dear to both of us. There were laughs. There were beers. There was even a soccer jersey ceremony, where Amanda was presented with the gift of a sacred Olimpia jersey signed by all members of the family. And in the end, there were tears.
Goodbyes are always hard, but these goodbyes are different. They're harder. Of course, for one, you're going to miss them. And sometimes you don't know if you'll ever see them again. But a lot of the times, it's because there are not enough words to express how much they mean to you. To express your gratitude for their food, for their advice, for being able to trust them. For taking you in as if you were one of their own. There are never enough words to tell them how much you love them and how you will always carry them with you for the rest of your life. And these goodbyes are harder too because you also know they don't have the words either to say the same thing.

so long sweet summer.

During the month of November, many days my only comfort was thinking, "just make it to December." Between workshops, meetings, certificates, graduations, end of the year activities, I found myself working from 7 in the morning to 10 at night. I had overbooked my schedule in a country where efficiency is not a priority and walking distances are never short. Che kane'oiterei... I was tiiired. All I wanted was to rest.
And then finally, December came. Beautiful, tranquilo, HOT. Aside from Art Camp 2K10 which I put on for a week with Erik for his students in Yatytay, my only goals for the month of December were to relax, read, and spend time with people. In November, as I ran from place to place, I hardly had time to talk to my neighbors, play with the kids, or even drink terere! Now that, in Paraguay, is inexcusable. So in December, my days were left open. I could sleep as late as I wanted and wake up with my only plans being to wander and be free. Life was good.


December flew and soon arrived Christmas and New Year's. Lots of houses put up Christmas lights and artificial trees. Everywhere you looked, there was red and green, but unlike in the US, the Christmas colors here came from sandia, watermelon. December and January is watermelon season, and in every household, it is common to see people sitting outside with a half of a watermelon in their laps, eating it with a spoon. I quickly adapted to this custom and spent many days after lunch scooping out juicy sandia as my dessert. Paraguayans celebrate Christmas and New Year's at midnight and both in the same manner. Starting on Christmas and New Year's Eve, everyone cooks a huge asado feast and around 9 or 10, the family eats dinner altogether. Then cold Brahma beers are passed around until the clock strikes 12 when everybody shoots off fireworks, cheers to a sweet champagne, and gives hugs and kisses all around. I spent both holidays with my host family, and both nights, we headed over to Ceferina's sister's house where the whole family came together to hug, kiss, cry, dance, and drink more beer. Both holidays were very calm (and slightly boring) as compared to the big to-dos that we have in the States, but surprisingly enough, I never had an emotional breakdown, an overwhelming homesickness, as I had expected. Christmas morning I handed out the presents I had bought to my host family, their 1st ever Christmas presents, and they loved them. Ceferina even cried. I video Skyped with my family, and as they went around opening their presents, I also opened my presents from the Christmas package that my mom had sent me. I was thrilled to unwrap Ziploc bags and Clorox wipes, Sharpies and a French press. I honestly had a great Christmas, and I felt very blessed for all of the wonderful people and places in my life.




In January, opa la vacacion; my vacation was over. I went back to work, giving a summer school course with the principal of my school for children who didn't pass the grade. Out of 380 students, 76 didn't pass, 47 of the 76 being in 1st, 2nd, and 3rd grade. I taught literacy, 3 courses a day, and the principal taught math. I thought this would be an easy and effective way for me to help the students and at the same time, validate to the teachers that my ideas and strategies work. In reality, it was quite the opposite. Instead of feeling like I had success with the students, I really ended up feeling very frustrated and hopeless. Instead of producing students who could miraculously read and write, I diagnosed the students as having very low basic skills, a lack of imagination, and inability to work independently and think for themselves. It was very depressing and still, until now, leaves me questioning my ability to have an impact, to make a real difference here.
But, if I wasn't a dreamer, I would have never signed up for the Peace Corps. The other day, I came across this quote. "You have the right to work, but for the work's sake only. You have no rights to the fruits of work. Desire for the fruits of work must never be your motive in working. Never give way to laziness, either... Work done with anxiety about results is far inferior to work done without such anxiety, in the calm of self-surrender... They who work selfishly for results are miserable."
I see it as, I can't only work or try things with the end product in mind because I might always end up disappointed. I have to approach this situation from all different angles, keep trying different ideas and strategies hoping that maybe one of them will pull through. School has now started, and I have become very aware that I only have one more year here. Instead of letting myself get down, I am committed to making the most of it, for myself and my Paraguay.

Comments on Christmas in Paraguay

An excerpt from my journal this morning:
12/23/10
Wow I'm blown away when I write that date. I can't believe it's almost Christmas and I'm ... here. This is just such a weird decision I made to stay here. It's so unlike me. I love holidays; I love Christmas, buying presents, being with my family and friends. And it's not like I couldn't have gone home. It would have made perfect sense to go. Good timing, an opportunity to see everyone, a special time of the year. 2 weeks ago I woke up looking at plane tickets, my heart set on a last-minute trip.
But I just... didn't. For the past year, I was debating whether or not I would go for Christmas, and I think part of me wanted to just put it off to the point where I end up not making a decision and am forced to break the mold, forced to take a risk and make a decision I probably would never actively make. To stay. Here.
But now I am going to get to experience Christmas in a different culture with different people. I'll get to share my traditions. I already bought presents for my family and friends here and I wasn't even stingy because I wanted to share with them to the extent that I would share with my people at home. Now I'm reading this thinking - so what you get to spend Christmas in another culture. You already know what they do, how they celebrate it because everyone has already told you. (It sounds like it's not thaaat different from any other day. To be honest, it sounds like it sucks.) Plus you already spend everyday in another culture so can the cultural hoop-la.
So what is it really? And now I just realized... I want to share Christmas in this country with these people to prove to them and to myself that I love them just as much as my own people. To show that this love affair I have with Paraguay is real. To show that they ARE members of my ring of family and friends. I already know I'm going to be sad the next couple of days. I'm going to cry and miss my family and feel homesick. But those feelings of sadness don't replace the joy I feel for being here; they just live beside it. They reside together as I celebrate my beautiful, tragic, bittersweet, memorable Paraguayan Christmas. Feliz Navidad.

the many faces of time.

10 months have passed since I arrived in Paraguay. A lot can be done in 10 months. You can have a baby, finish a school year, some people sign a 10-month lease. 10 months is a sufficient amount of time to spend in something, somewhere, with someone, enough to be able to say one is accomplishing a lot with that something, familiar with that somewhere, involved with that someone.
When you're counting 27 on your fingers and toes and limbs and teeth, each month is a milestone and inevitably brings about a bit of reflection. Am I accomplishing anything? Do I feel like I know my community? Can I name people with whom I can say I have true, genuine relationships? Here at my 10 month checkpoint, I feel I am swinging on a pendulum between the extremes. One day, everything is a hopeless disaster; the next, I couldn't feel more happy and fulfilled in my life. There is never one factor that consistently makes or breaks my day; it is usually just a big dust cloud of ins and outs and ups and downs, eventually ending in a steady tone for everything I do in that day. I lay down at night feeling exhausted either because I poured my entire self into Paraguay or because Paraguay sucked me dry that day. Just as temperamental as my attitude is, so is my relationship with time. Some days feel like an eternity, and my thoughts flutter between memories from the past, comforts from home, and daydreams of the "picture-perfect, care-free" life that awaits me in the United States once my time here is finished. As always, we never remember pain; everything I remember and everything I imagine at home is clear, clean, easy.
Then there are days where I wake up and feel like time is flying by me, like the train is running and I'm trying to jump on. I realize how quickly my 2 years here is passing, and I feel short of breath thinking that I won't have enough time to complete my work or share my ideas or appreciate everything about this experience. That there's not enough time to show my profound love for this country, this culture, these people. I find myself in a twilight zone; I see myself in the future missing this time in my life, and I feel a nostalgia for the present moment. The phases of time are intertwined.

Which is funny considering that I'm living in a culture that overwhelmingly lives in the present. Can you tell who's the American here? Paraguayans function on a timeline of a few days no mas. For my presentation ceremony at the school, we planned everything and invited people only two days before. I cross paths with someone I haven't seen for a couple days, and they emotionally hug my neck, calling out, "Tanto tiempo! Long time, no see!" I run into a woman from my exercise group on Thursday who hasn't come since Monday, and she says to me, "No me voy mas... I don't go anymore." In Guarani, they hardly use anything but the present tense. Rarely do conversations turn to analysis of the past or worry of the future but consist in the small cycle of Now. Ahora. Koaga. Everything is reduced to short, simple.
As a development worker, I sometimes hate this concept. It's not conducive to improvement or sustainability. There is no looking back to recognize factors and cause and effect; no analysis, discussion, change. There is no preparation for the future, sometimes not even a regard, a concern for it. When the whole country is sitting in the shade with a cool breeze, drinking terere, chatting with friends, I can look through my Westerner's lens and pinpoint why this country is stricken with sickness and poverty, living left behind.
But at the same time, as a person, I appreciate, I envy, the ability to enjoy with every ounce of themselves that terere, that while they spent under a tree in their backyard. We talk about the blur of the moment, but for them the past and the future is a blur. This moment is clear and is the only thing they have, the only thing they are guaranteed in this unjust, complicated, difficult world. So why not make the most of it?

My 10 months here have been a mixture of contradicting time, emotions, and thoughts. I doubt I will ever come to a point where I see or feel just one thing, but I think that's what happens when we truly begin to live. Begin to explore. We open ourselves and fill up with a hundred different ideas from a million different angles leaving us confused and tired. But in these weak and hard times, we grow and change. I know I am a different person now than I was 10 months ago and than I will be 17 months from now. The only thing I can hope for in all of this, is that when I do leave in that distant/near date, that I take a bit of Paraguay with me and leave a bit of myself behind.
Whatever that means...