I know what you’re thinking and you’re right, I’m long overdue for an update. I’ve been living on my own, or che año, as they say in Guarani, for a little over two months now, since about the end of July. For the most part it’s been a really good change for me to have my own space to work, cook, and just overall express myself. Nothing against the families I stayed with, just that a girl’s got to be able to sing in the shower once in a while. After six months of taharine, a pasta dish with gristly meat, and what we volunteers have come to refer to as “grease broth,” it’s been really nice to be able to prepare some of my favorite and much missed dishes from home: pizza, curry, soy sloppy joe, pancakes, and my favorite snack, cinnamon applesauce. With some of my move in allowance I bought a small electric oven with a single burner on top, and all my dishes get washed outside by hand at my spigot, as I have no sink or indoor access to water.
My house is simple: All in one room I have my kitchen, bedroom and work space. My walls are all wood planks of varying colors, (I started to paint the inside portion all yellow, with inspirational quotes,) and my roof is corrugated metal. The other night I learned just how not waterproof my house is. I had buckets, pots, and tin cans all over the floor where the roof leaked and at one point water was running down my wall closest to my bed, and bubbling up and through the gaps where the mortar had crumbled away where the boards and bricks meet toward the floor. Luckily my floor is basic concrete, and I stowed all my electronics in my wardrobe, so nothing was harmed. There is also a gap between the roof and walls, so I recently hung my mosquito net over my bed in anticipation of summer around the corner. I have one window, over which I installed bars, so I can safely sleep with it open during the summer, as well as two doors, a front and side door. The side door leads through the other building, an abandoned general store, through which I pass to go to my bathroom, which has a toilet, sink, and shower. This other building is technically mine as well, but is in such shambles, that I don’t keep anything inside of it, though I would like to utilize the space in the future as my own personal classroom, if I can find some extra chairs and a table. With the house I was left a bed frame and two tables, and from the other volunteer, I inherited yet another table and chair, wardrobe, fridge, and fan. Even still just from buying my oven, mattress, kitchen wares, and other basic odds and ends for setting up the house, I had to take out some of my US money to have food through the end of that first month. In this regard, I am very fortunate to have been a follow up volunteer and can say that I honestly don’t understand how first time volunteers are expected to get by on the same move in allowance.
I’ve also been trying my hand at gardening a bit. With the help of my neighbor, Kyle, who is in the agriculture sector, we planted a few rows in the shared plot next to my house (an older couple from the religious community have a few carrots, green onion and tomatoes in there,) of lettuce, spinach, peas, cucumbers, beets and eggplants. I also planted a few tomatoes and peppers to transplant, though the majority of them died in last month’s drought. One thing I really like about my house is my patio. To the right side I have a flower bed, where I transplanted some “yuyos,” or different herbs to mix in my terere. Under the covered area, I have my Gator’s checkered orange and blue hammock, with a grapefruit tree overhead, and my clothes line running diagonally from end to end.
In preparing to live on my own, one thing I had to complete was digging a trash pit, as obviously we have no WMS in the campo. The majority of people in my community burn their trash, and I can only tell you how many times I have been woken up to the smell of burning plastic wafting through my house. Trash management and recycling is one area in which we as RHS volunteers as supposed to focus and to set a good example we are asked to dig our own mini landfills, instead of perpetuating the cycle of respiratory infections from breathing in these toxic fumes. In about my second week of living here, I dug a hole up to about my waist to put my trash in (as I told a friend yesterday, you know you’re in PC when you save and classify your garbage based on its usefulness. I have a “possible arts and crafts/working in the schools,” section “possible gardening,” section, “possible Tupperware/dishes/kitchen use” section, not to mention I put all my organic materials in my compost pile for my garden. I’ve gone so far now as to choose some products based on its packaging when I’m in the grocery store.) About half way through digging, these two women came up to the other side of the fence and proceeded to watch me and giggle a lit bit. I greeted them and they asked what I was doing. Finally, the older one said “Why don’t you just pay a man to do this?” to which I replied that it was important to me to show that I was capable of doing this kind of work also, even if it took me longer (not to mention that I don’t have the money, haha.) Though, I have to admit I might have dug that hole for nothing, as I got to thinking that while I would only be living here for two years, my impact on the land would well last 50-75+ years down in that hole, so now I’m considering toting my trash into my pueblo to be disposed of, though I’m not sure if their method of disposal is more environmentally sound or not. If anything it would prevent my neighbors from rooting through my trash, as one fellow volunteer told me her neighbors had done out of curiosity to see what an American bought and if she’d thrown away anything useful.
About a month ago I started working in the school closest to me. I visit twice weekly and give presentations to students K-9. With K-3, I started with parasites, and with 4-9 with nutrition. At first I was nervous, almost phobic, of going and trying to teach in another language. The first week, I wrote out a script, as I was worried about thinking on my feet in Spanish, but now it’s been coming to me much easier. I’ve been about 4 or 5 times and I love it. I’ve fallen into a groove and am now able to just write out an outline and adapt it as needed with the kids. I’ve recognized how very important it is to stimulate these kids to think creatively, as for every subject, in every grade, they just copy paragraphs off the blackboard. I can see how my activities sometimes throw them for a loop and take them out of their comfort zone, which is exactly what they need. My friend Nicole and I are constantly discussing plans for a youth group over the summer with activities to really show these kids how to problem solve, plan for the future, leadership activities, etc, to introduce these kids to different ways of thinking than just rote memorization. Anyways, I recently finished with the first two topics and yesterday, moved on to dental hygiene. My big goal for today is to model a 3D mouth out of card board and Styrofoam to use next week in my brushing demonstrations with the younger children. These kinds of visual aids and fun activities are really exciting to them (with parasites, I made to scale models of how big the females can get in one’s body out of homemade play dough, and a kool-aide visual for how much blood 500 can deplete from one’s body every day and they thought it was wild. Moreover, being a third time volunteer, they already know a lot of the tricks I get to sent to site with, so it encourages me to look for new ways to convey the information.)
Another huge project that took off last week was the formation of my modern bathroom project. After church (I listened to an entire sermon in Guarani) close to 50 people stayed and listened to the meeting. It was nerve wracking. It felt like my Peace Corps moment of reckoning or something. I had prepared this speech and it was pretty much lost on them as it was in Spanish, which afterward my contact jumped in and took over. I realized that I’d kind of underestimated her dedication to helping me. Anyways, we decided the different roles of the commission, the name, and how often to meet. Later today I’m going to my contact’s to prepare different documents that we need to turn into the local government to be officially recognized. The amount of money we need to raise is daunting, and the process will most likely take my entire two years. The way I see it is, if we already have running water in the community, I would be cheating them if I didn’t at least try to get them the most I could and what would last the longest, as if we went to the trouble of starting a latrine project, this would only last another 15 years before they would need to start the process all over again. I’m only just beginning to understand the poverty of my assigned community, as the community I lived in with the families and the other one in which I live in now are a bit more well off. Most of the latrines in the other communities are just planks of wood leaned together with a ragged sheet for a door. They lack every aspect that would qualify them to be sanitary and with 90% of Paraguayan campo children suffering from parasites, I really want to do everything that I can to see this project through. If anyone is interested in donating to this project, please feel free to email me at gatorsns@gmail.com and I can give you more details. I hope to have a link up a bit before Christmas through the Peace Corps Partners by which people can donate and am brainstorming a benefit I could do back home, an exhibition of sorts, with photos, possibly a video and a question and answer section about my community, work and Paraguay in general that I could tie back into fundraising for this commission, as well as do some awesome work on the third goal, teaching Americans about our host countries. As I studied journalism at UF, this idea is one of my ideas I’ve become really excited about when I envision the possibilities, but I don’t want to rush into anything. I want to do it thoroughly and like my community deserves.
Hurray! The electricity just came back on after two days. In the past two weeks of rainy weather, I’ve come to learn, at least on this side of town as I never experienced power outages with the host families, that sometimes after serious rain storms the power and water can go out, usually for no more than the day. Other times we have this weird phenomenon of “medium power,” where I can run some appliances, but our lights can’t get enough power to operate. Last night we were in the dark. Still no water, but hopefully that will return by the end of the day, as it’d be really nice to flush my toilet…. I learned after the last rain storm to run outside and put out a basin to collect rain water to at least have enough water to wash my dishes the following day, and I always have a few reserve bottles in my fridge. My fridge was what really worried me, as with medium power, I heard it continually clicking on and off and my neighbor told me it was better to unplug it all together so I didn’t chance burning out the motor. Of course it defrosted all over my floor, and I’ve been worrying about whether I would lose my food/postponed a shopping trip today as I had no cold fridge to bring my food home to.
Well I suppose that about wraps it up for now. Right now it’s time to go fix some grub, work on some teaching materials, write up some documents for the commission, and drink some terere in my hammock. As always, feel free to drop me a line or give me a call via Skype. I always enjoy hearing from people, though I must admit sometimes I enjoy being disconnected in my tranquilo life. Now that my house is falling into place and I’m developing a bit of a routine, I’ll do better at keeping in touch, les prometo.
Adio.
Wednesday, September 29, 2010
Friday, August 6, 2010
Favs of The End and The Beginning
Here's some pics from Swear In weekend, 4th of July/ Copa Mundial, Caaguazu's Founder's Parade, and from my new community, Cantera Boca in Caaguazu. Take a look!
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| Favs of The End and The Beginning |
Avy'a Paraguaype
I've recently started using picassa as it easily works with blogger to share some photos with those of you who don't use facebook. Here's a link to some of my favorite pictures from training. Take a look!
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| Avy'a Paraguaype |
Sunday, June 27, 2010
Written: 20/6/10
Let’s see. What have I actually been doing? Not a whole lot by American work standards. I go visit my neighbors and people in my community to encourage interest in the projects I want to start with them and to initiate trust so that they feel comfortable working with me. This is generally founded in sitting around for hours on end eating tangerines, as they’re the fruit in season, drinking terere, answering questions about the states, geography, Peace Corps, my family and what kind of things I know how to say in Guarani. That may not sound like a lot, but when you’re doing this all in other languages, the mental strain alone is draining. Then the cultural differences come into play that try your patience and you have to keep your cool and rise above them. Yes, you’re right, I am pretty fat. Yup, those sure are pimples forming on my face. No, still haven’t found a boyfriend yet. Yes, I am 24 and single, without kids. Thanks, I find my green eyes and blonde hair pretty charming myself. No, not everyone in America is blonde. Contrary to American standards of politeness, conversations on looks and body type are daily occurrences in Paraguay, so if you allow yourself to remain sensitive or become offended by them, you’re going to be miserable. I heard somewhere in training that being “fat” is considered that you are happy. Whether this is true or they just know it can push buttons of American women, I don’t know, but I just roll with it. Senoras will meet me and say to their daughters, “Ohh, she’s soo fat!” Interest in relationship status is another daily question. Sure, I could lie and make it easy on myself, ending the 20 questions right there and tell them that I left a boyfriend back in the States, but I feel like if I do that, along with a lot of the other annoying, unintentionally rude, etc, questions that I get, that my being here isn’t completing what I set out to do: teach them that there are ways of living and answering these questions outside of what they grew up believing. Furthermore, the fact that I am a single 24-year-old female without kids really does spark their curiosity. I don’t know much on the statistics of single, career-oriented women in the cities here in Paraguay, but in the campo, I’m still pretty much an anomaly.
What I’ve been really fighting a lot lately is “pesado” men, no surprise I’m sure to any females who have ever lived in a machisto society, whether it be Spanish-speaking or otherwise (even if the word itself isn’t applicable, I’m sure the actions are.) I’ll show up at a party and I might as well have arrived in a rocket ship, because everyone is staring. Again sometimes I think about just dyeing my hair brown. Every move I make is scrutinized by the seeing eyes of the community. If I dance with one boy for a few songs, “Oh you were dancing a lot last night with so and so, are you dating yet?” In training we were warned against “dancing many dances” with the same partner, as here that’s supposedly perceived as acceptance to be a couple. I’ve never really been sure what’ many dances’ constitutes, so after about 3-4 songs, I make excuses to go find a friend, use the bathroom, buy something at the cantina to avoid gossip. Being a female in the campo can really be stifling sometimes. If anything I’ve learned to be more assertive than I ever was in the States. “I came to work, not to find a boyfriend, thank you.” “No my interests don’t revolve around finding a husband.” “You should know that such flattery is unattractive to American women and that I don’t want to be anything more than friends.” It sounds like such a stupid thing to complain about, I’m sure. An entire town wants to dance with you, well that sounds just awful. Well, it is awful when you have to reiterate this with almost everyone you chat with. It’s also an empty feeling to know that nobody is interested in you for what you have to offer, just your hair color. I’m already a single female, who speaks their language a bit awkwardly, and is trying to bring new ways of doing things into the community’s collective knowledge, that alone is a lot to overcome to earn respect. Moreover, I want to represent something to the young women youth I will work with. I don’t need gossip that the American is easy and has lots of boyfriends because I happened to dance 5 dances with some guy.
Other points of interest. Our community is going on day 4 of the running water not functioning. After lots of confusing explanations, Senora Matilde, finally explained it to me in a way I could understand. One comes to find that Paraguayans aren’t one for providing background information. You have to ask the exact question that you want to get your answer. I think it’s because rarely anybody new ever moves to a community, therefore everyone already knows everything from generations back, so it never occurs to them, for example, that I wouldn’t know about cleaning the water tank (or that the two buildings on the same property were actually two separate schools with two different directors.) Anyways, the motor is supposed to be removed every two years to clean out to the tank and nobody had done this in 9 years, gross. I guess therefore it’s taking longer than normal. No one ever thinks to give advance warning to me about things either. If they knew this was about to take place nobody told me, but again that happens a lot that I’ll learn about events a few hours before, or in this case, after. Again I think it’s because nobody’s schedule ever changes, hardly anybody ever leaves the community, let alone their house, so why would anyone need to know something ahead of time? The crappy thing for me is that since everyone has become accustomed to having running water, their backup wells and streams, have all gone to crap. While everyone else in town is just drinking from the stream, I brought back a 2 liter and my nalgene filled from the city after staying last night in Caaguazu with another volunteer. As I just had food poisoning again about two weeks ago, I’m in no hurry to drink from the stream and puke my guts out, so keep your fingers crossed the water gets turned back on before I need to figure out a more permanent solution. (*Since writing this the water has come back on, after 6 days.)
Written: 21/6/10
I startled myself awake today at 8:30, feeling embarrassment immediately wash over me that they knew that I slept so late. The lazy norte slept three hours past when the rest of the community woke up! I’d set my phone alarm for 7 am, but I’d heard the wind and rain pattering on the corrugated metal roof throughout the night, so I knew it’d be a rain day when I woke up, hence there really was no hurry to leave my sleeping bag cocoon because nobody does anything when it rains. People don’t work, buses don’t run, children don’t go to school, so therefore why is the Peace Corps volunteer going to bike house to house to conduct censuses? It’s all about integration, so if they don’t work, then I’m just going to stay in bed and read.
Rain days, especially when they turn into rain weeks, are the ones that really test your breaking point, well among other things. I like to believe I have a particularly high breaking point, obviously or I wouldn’t have started down this road. Just make it one more week with host families, one more day without bathing, one more meal of tasteless gristle meat in greasy rice broth.
Rain days bring the cold and confinement, so you really don’t leave your bed. It’s kind of like having a sick day back home, just attempting to entertain yourself. Now that I have a computer, I don’t have to rely completely on books and can still get a bit of work done, so that’s nice. I’ve thrown myself into Ahecha, the youth photography project. I helped select photos for the national exhibit in July and am currently working on designing the flyer. It’s kind of amusing to think that at nights I’m secretly teaching myself graphic design in a wooden barn in the middle of nowhere and we currently don’t even have running water.
Last week I moved in with a new family. Aside from the one night I stayed with an old couple during tech excursion, they are the first family that I’ve stayed with who really only communicates in Guarani. It’s been good because it’s pushed me to study because I want to communicate with them, or for more selfish reasons, I get more alone time than the other families since eventually they don’t know what to do with me anymore and suggest that I take a nap or go to bed. Senora Leonarda obviously is a very good woman. She has her work cut out for her more so than other Senoras. On top of caring for the animals, starting the fire and cooking most of the day, she also cares for her developmentally disabled son as well as brother who also lives with them, while she herself has a physical disability affecting her mobility. The brother is timid and can’t really communicate at all, but I’ll catch him peeking at me from doorways. He spends most of the day in his room listening to music, therefore he kind of reminds me of the movie Radio. He seems generally harmless, while the little boy is a bit more rambunctious, ie the other day he threw a cat at me. He can talk, but he doesn’t get the fact that I’m foreign and don’t speak Guarani. Anyways, she has to be lonely a good part of the day with no one to really talk to and her husband at the Cantera all day (a stone face where they remove rocks to make paved roads. The novelty of my site is you can hear them constantly chipping away in the distance and about 5 times a day there is an explosion to remove larger pieces, while dump trucks are always making runs in and out of my site with these giant slabs.)
I arrived assuring myself that everything would work itself out about my permanent housing situation, but each day I’m becoming less certain. Moreover, I need to decide something soon so that any repairs and additions that need to be done will be completed by the time that I can move in. A single female living on her own is unheard of, so combine that with being foreign and people assure me that there must be options, but that they just don’t want to share them with me. Lately, I’m starting to second guess that. I’ve been shown two options. One is in the community that I’m supposed to work in, but right now is just a wooden shed where they’ve been storing cotton crops. I’d have to patch the holes in the walls where the slats don’t meet, put in concrete floors over the dirt, examine the mismatched roof, and put in electricity. They’d want me to use the bathroom next door at the church, which would mean I couldn’t do so after dark, and I’d still have to put in a sink or a shower. Also, I wouldn’t really have neighbors as nearby as I’d like. Finally there are no trees outside to provide shade in the sweltering Paraguayan summers. The only selling points are that’s it’s already in the community and the owner said after I fixed it up to my liking I could stay there for free for the two years. There are two other options in a neighboring community, so I’d have to ride my bike 30 minutes every day, uphill on sand, but to be comfortable in my living situation, it’s definitely worth it in my opinion (I’m sure I’ll change my tune when it’s hot again.) With one I’m having trouble even communicating with the owner because he speaks only Guarani, but I took a friend over there and he said he was waiting to see if he could sell it first and would get back to me in a week. I haven’t even seen the inside of it yet, but I’m sure it’s the closest thing to a legitimate house that I’m going to find, so I really want to hold out for it. Anyways, the other option that I’ve seen is also a wooden slat house, but it already has electricity and a bathroom with shower, so that’s pretty tempting. I’m looking at more patching up the walls and putting in concrete floors over the dirt, but having to fix something up is pretty common for volunteers. The layout is a bit odd with separate locking doors to the bedroom and other part which used to be an almacen, or a general store, which would be my kitchen/workspace/bathroom area. There’s a gap wide enough between the two buildings that someone could slide sideways in between, which makes me kind of uneasy, but the biggest selling point in this situation are the next door neighbors, Julian, Marga and their son Jorge are already becoming close friends and would be able to get to me in seconds if I needed them. Julian assured me that while he can’t vouch for the other communities, in that area I would be very secure and that the people would take me in as their own as they had with the last female volunteer. Another reason people keep assuring my safety there is that the house is in front of a collective 30 or so houses that call themselves “Pueblo de Dios” or City of God. I’m not really sure what their story is. I think they are somewhat of Paraguayan Mennonites from what I’ve seen of some women who live there. Anyways, I’ve talked to the man who looks after the place, as the owner moved to Asuncion, and he told me I could move in whenever I wanted and use what furniture was left. The whole issue of renting was very awkward as frankly there are no real precedents to follow; these houses have been in these families for generations, so there’s no price range to really compare to, all I know is that the last volunteer paid 100 mil a month, so I offered that and he accepted. In this area I wish Peace Corps would help us out more as I don’t know how to negotiate prices, repairs, contracts (if such a thing really exists,) and being foreign I want to obviously decide something that’s fair for both parties. Moreover, I want to settle all this soon so I can move in ASAP, not staying a day longer with host families than I need to and with this being the last family who has offered to take me in, I’m getting kind of anxious. Also, I feel inhibited to really start planning and preparing work until I have my own space and I’m not some sort of pet/burden/novelty who needs to humor and entertain the people that I’m staying with. (*Obviously this was written before the last entry about the theft, thus making my own housing an even bigger priority.)
On Saturday, I went into my closest city, Caaguazu, to stay with Natalie, the UYD or Urban Youth Development volunteer, who lives there. It’s crazy how much difference 15 kilometers can make. Her housing is cozy, even by American standards, with all the amenities we’re used to. She can find pretty much anything she needs to buy. People stay up past 7 pm, heck we didn’t even leave her house to go out until 11 pm. Most people have cars, and the majority of their teeth for that matter (dental hygiene being something we are big proponents of in rural health.) What really boggles my mind is that among each other they speak Spanish as commonly as Guarani, where in my community if they’re not addressing me, it’s always Guarani. I find the whole thing fascinating. When I’m in Caaguazu, I must admit I’m jealous of all her comforts and her ability the live more freely as a single woman. Then I remind myself that if I didn’t want to experience something drastically new and just keep living by my American lifestyle, I might have well have stayed in America and been at the beach with my nephews today. Not that I’m trying to dish on the PC people who live in cities as honestly I think my background was better suited for their type of work with youth than what I’m attempting to do in health, but I’m simultaneously happy that I’m learning new skills and information while having to push myself. She’s told me from time to time that she sometimes wishes she could have a campo experience, through which I feel like I’m seeing more of the real Paraguayan culture, as to me all cities are inherently the same. Undoubtedly both settings have their benefits and with us being so close we can work and stay with each other and experience a little bit of both.
Let’s see. What have I actually been doing? Not a whole lot by American work standards. I go visit my neighbors and people in my community to encourage interest in the projects I want to start with them and to initiate trust so that they feel comfortable working with me. This is generally founded in sitting around for hours on end eating tangerines, as they’re the fruit in season, drinking terere, answering questions about the states, geography, Peace Corps, my family and what kind of things I know how to say in Guarani. That may not sound like a lot, but when you’re doing this all in other languages, the mental strain alone is draining. Then the cultural differences come into play that try your patience and you have to keep your cool and rise above them. Yes, you’re right, I am pretty fat. Yup, those sure are pimples forming on my face. No, still haven’t found a boyfriend yet. Yes, I am 24 and single, without kids. Thanks, I find my green eyes and blonde hair pretty charming myself. No, not everyone in America is blonde. Contrary to American standards of politeness, conversations on looks and body type are daily occurrences in Paraguay, so if you allow yourself to remain sensitive or become offended by them, you’re going to be miserable. I heard somewhere in training that being “fat” is considered that you are happy. Whether this is true or they just know it can push buttons of American women, I don’t know, but I just roll with it. Senoras will meet me and say to their daughters, “Ohh, she’s soo fat!” Interest in relationship status is another daily question. Sure, I could lie and make it easy on myself, ending the 20 questions right there and tell them that I left a boyfriend back in the States, but I feel like if I do that, along with a lot of the other annoying, unintentionally rude, etc, questions that I get, that my being here isn’t completing what I set out to do: teach them that there are ways of living and answering these questions outside of what they grew up believing. Furthermore, the fact that I am a single 24-year-old female without kids really does spark their curiosity. I don’t know much on the statistics of single, career-oriented women in the cities here in Paraguay, but in the campo, I’m still pretty much an anomaly.
What I’ve been really fighting a lot lately is “pesado” men, no surprise I’m sure to any females who have ever lived in a machisto society, whether it be Spanish-speaking or otherwise (even if the word itself isn’t applicable, I’m sure the actions are.) I’ll show up at a party and I might as well have arrived in a rocket ship, because everyone is staring. Again sometimes I think about just dyeing my hair brown. Every move I make is scrutinized by the seeing eyes of the community. If I dance with one boy for a few songs, “Oh you were dancing a lot last night with so and so, are you dating yet?” In training we were warned against “dancing many dances” with the same partner, as here that’s supposedly perceived as acceptance to be a couple. I’ve never really been sure what’ many dances’ constitutes, so after about 3-4 songs, I make excuses to go find a friend, use the bathroom, buy something at the cantina to avoid gossip. Being a female in the campo can really be stifling sometimes. If anything I’ve learned to be more assertive than I ever was in the States. “I came to work, not to find a boyfriend, thank you.” “No my interests don’t revolve around finding a husband.” “You should know that such flattery is unattractive to American women and that I don’t want to be anything more than friends.” It sounds like such a stupid thing to complain about, I’m sure. An entire town wants to dance with you, well that sounds just awful. Well, it is awful when you have to reiterate this with almost everyone you chat with. It’s also an empty feeling to know that nobody is interested in you for what you have to offer, just your hair color. I’m already a single female, who speaks their language a bit awkwardly, and is trying to bring new ways of doing things into the community’s collective knowledge, that alone is a lot to overcome to earn respect. Moreover, I want to represent something to the young women youth I will work with. I don’t need gossip that the American is easy and has lots of boyfriends because I happened to dance 5 dances with some guy.
Other points of interest. Our community is going on day 4 of the running water not functioning. After lots of confusing explanations, Senora Matilde, finally explained it to me in a way I could understand. One comes to find that Paraguayans aren’t one for providing background information. You have to ask the exact question that you want to get your answer. I think it’s because rarely anybody new ever moves to a community, therefore everyone already knows everything from generations back, so it never occurs to them, for example, that I wouldn’t know about cleaning the water tank (or that the two buildings on the same property were actually two separate schools with two different directors.) Anyways, the motor is supposed to be removed every two years to clean out to the tank and nobody had done this in 9 years, gross. I guess therefore it’s taking longer than normal. No one ever thinks to give advance warning to me about things either. If they knew this was about to take place nobody told me, but again that happens a lot that I’ll learn about events a few hours before, or in this case, after. Again I think it’s because nobody’s schedule ever changes, hardly anybody ever leaves the community, let alone their house, so why would anyone need to know something ahead of time? The crappy thing for me is that since everyone has become accustomed to having running water, their backup wells and streams, have all gone to crap. While everyone else in town is just drinking from the stream, I brought back a 2 liter and my nalgene filled from the city after staying last night in Caaguazu with another volunteer. As I just had food poisoning again about two weeks ago, I’m in no hurry to drink from the stream and puke my guts out, so keep your fingers crossed the water gets turned back on before I need to figure out a more permanent solution. (*Since writing this the water has come back on, after 6 days.)
Written: 21/6/10
I startled myself awake today at 8:30, feeling embarrassment immediately wash over me that they knew that I slept so late. The lazy norte slept three hours past when the rest of the community woke up! I’d set my phone alarm for 7 am, but I’d heard the wind and rain pattering on the corrugated metal roof throughout the night, so I knew it’d be a rain day when I woke up, hence there really was no hurry to leave my sleeping bag cocoon because nobody does anything when it rains. People don’t work, buses don’t run, children don’t go to school, so therefore why is the Peace Corps volunteer going to bike house to house to conduct censuses? It’s all about integration, so if they don’t work, then I’m just going to stay in bed and read.
Rain days, especially when they turn into rain weeks, are the ones that really test your breaking point, well among other things. I like to believe I have a particularly high breaking point, obviously or I wouldn’t have started down this road. Just make it one more week with host families, one more day without bathing, one more meal of tasteless gristle meat in greasy rice broth.
Rain days bring the cold and confinement, so you really don’t leave your bed. It’s kind of like having a sick day back home, just attempting to entertain yourself. Now that I have a computer, I don’t have to rely completely on books and can still get a bit of work done, so that’s nice. I’ve thrown myself into Ahecha, the youth photography project. I helped select photos for the national exhibit in July and am currently working on designing the flyer. It’s kind of amusing to think that at nights I’m secretly teaching myself graphic design in a wooden barn in the middle of nowhere and we currently don’t even have running water.
Last week I moved in with a new family. Aside from the one night I stayed with an old couple during tech excursion, they are the first family that I’ve stayed with who really only communicates in Guarani. It’s been good because it’s pushed me to study because I want to communicate with them, or for more selfish reasons, I get more alone time than the other families since eventually they don’t know what to do with me anymore and suggest that I take a nap or go to bed. Senora Leonarda obviously is a very good woman. She has her work cut out for her more so than other Senoras. On top of caring for the animals, starting the fire and cooking most of the day, she also cares for her developmentally disabled son as well as brother who also lives with them, while she herself has a physical disability affecting her mobility. The brother is timid and can’t really communicate at all, but I’ll catch him peeking at me from doorways. He spends most of the day in his room listening to music, therefore he kind of reminds me of the movie Radio. He seems generally harmless, while the little boy is a bit more rambunctious, ie the other day he threw a cat at me. He can talk, but he doesn’t get the fact that I’m foreign and don’t speak Guarani. Anyways, she has to be lonely a good part of the day with no one to really talk to and her husband at the Cantera all day (a stone face where they remove rocks to make paved roads. The novelty of my site is you can hear them constantly chipping away in the distance and about 5 times a day there is an explosion to remove larger pieces, while dump trucks are always making runs in and out of my site with these giant slabs.)
I arrived assuring myself that everything would work itself out about my permanent housing situation, but each day I’m becoming less certain. Moreover, I need to decide something soon so that any repairs and additions that need to be done will be completed by the time that I can move in. A single female living on her own is unheard of, so combine that with being foreign and people assure me that there must be options, but that they just don’t want to share them with me. Lately, I’m starting to second guess that. I’ve been shown two options. One is in the community that I’m supposed to work in, but right now is just a wooden shed where they’ve been storing cotton crops. I’d have to patch the holes in the walls where the slats don’t meet, put in concrete floors over the dirt, examine the mismatched roof, and put in electricity. They’d want me to use the bathroom next door at the church, which would mean I couldn’t do so after dark, and I’d still have to put in a sink or a shower. Also, I wouldn’t really have neighbors as nearby as I’d like. Finally there are no trees outside to provide shade in the sweltering Paraguayan summers. The only selling points are that’s it’s already in the community and the owner said after I fixed it up to my liking I could stay there for free for the two years. There are two other options in a neighboring community, so I’d have to ride my bike 30 minutes every day, uphill on sand, but to be comfortable in my living situation, it’s definitely worth it in my opinion (I’m sure I’ll change my tune when it’s hot again.) With one I’m having trouble even communicating with the owner because he speaks only Guarani, but I took a friend over there and he said he was waiting to see if he could sell it first and would get back to me in a week. I haven’t even seen the inside of it yet, but I’m sure it’s the closest thing to a legitimate house that I’m going to find, so I really want to hold out for it. Anyways, the other option that I’ve seen is also a wooden slat house, but it already has electricity and a bathroom with shower, so that’s pretty tempting. I’m looking at more patching up the walls and putting in concrete floors over the dirt, but having to fix something up is pretty common for volunteers. The layout is a bit odd with separate locking doors to the bedroom and other part which used to be an almacen, or a general store, which would be my kitchen/workspace/bathroom area. There’s a gap wide enough between the two buildings that someone could slide sideways in between, which makes me kind of uneasy, but the biggest selling point in this situation are the next door neighbors, Julian, Marga and their son Jorge are already becoming close friends and would be able to get to me in seconds if I needed them. Julian assured me that while he can’t vouch for the other communities, in that area I would be very secure and that the people would take me in as their own as they had with the last female volunteer. Another reason people keep assuring my safety there is that the house is in front of a collective 30 or so houses that call themselves “Pueblo de Dios” or City of God. I’m not really sure what their story is. I think they are somewhat of Paraguayan Mennonites from what I’ve seen of some women who live there. Anyways, I’ve talked to the man who looks after the place, as the owner moved to Asuncion, and he told me I could move in whenever I wanted and use what furniture was left. The whole issue of renting was very awkward as frankly there are no real precedents to follow; these houses have been in these families for generations, so there’s no price range to really compare to, all I know is that the last volunteer paid 100 mil a month, so I offered that and he accepted. In this area I wish Peace Corps would help us out more as I don’t know how to negotiate prices, repairs, contracts (if such a thing really exists,) and being foreign I want to obviously decide something that’s fair for both parties. Moreover, I want to settle all this soon so I can move in ASAP, not staying a day longer with host families than I need to and with this being the last family who has offered to take me in, I’m getting kind of anxious. Also, I feel inhibited to really start planning and preparing work until I have my own space and I’m not some sort of pet/burden/novelty who needs to humor and entertain the people that I’m staying with. (*Obviously this was written before the last entry about the theft, thus making my own housing an even bigger priority.)
On Saturday, I went into my closest city, Caaguazu, to stay with Natalie, the UYD or Urban Youth Development volunteer, who lives there. It’s crazy how much difference 15 kilometers can make. Her housing is cozy, even by American standards, with all the amenities we’re used to. She can find pretty much anything she needs to buy. People stay up past 7 pm, heck we didn’t even leave her house to go out until 11 pm. Most people have cars, and the majority of their teeth for that matter (dental hygiene being something we are big proponents of in rural health.) What really boggles my mind is that among each other they speak Spanish as commonly as Guarani, where in my community if they’re not addressing me, it’s always Guarani. I find the whole thing fascinating. When I’m in Caaguazu, I must admit I’m jealous of all her comforts and her ability the live more freely as a single woman. Then I remind myself that if I didn’t want to experience something drastically new and just keep living by my American lifestyle, I might have well have stayed in America and been at the beach with my nephews today. Not that I’m trying to dish on the PC people who live in cities as honestly I think my background was better suited for their type of work with youth than what I’m attempting to do in health, but I’m simultaneously happy that I’m learning new skills and information while having to push myself. She’s told me from time to time that she sometimes wishes she could have a campo experience, through which I feel like I’m seeing more of the real Paraguayan culture, as to me all cities are inherently the same. Undoubtedly both settings have their benefits and with us being so close we can work and stay with each other and experience a little bit of both.
Thursday, June 24, 2010
I finally learn to be assertive, in the Paraguayan Campo of all places.
So one aspect with Peace Corps that I’ve found to be a bit contradictory is how they handle our living arrangements. We arrive and from the start they handle us with kid gloves, which I found comforting. We’ve just arrived from halfway around the world, knowing no one, functioning in new languages, so obviously we want to be comfortable in our home environments and they do an excellent job finding great families and matching us up with who we’d be well suited with within our training communities, along with taking security aspects into consideration. With that first half, no complaints. Just the stark difference between how it’s handled from training to after swear-in, leaves me kind of clueless. And I get it, Peace Corps is a design your own adventure, trail by fire kind of experience. Sometimes I’m left floundering. You see, a rule is that we live with host families the first three months in our new communities so that we integrate better, the community takes us in as their own, and moreover it’s suggested that within those three months that we move around every few weeks so as not to be a burden on families, not to cause jealous between us families, so any particular family doesn’t become dependent on the money we offer to ease the burden, etc. In theory, I completely understand this rule and see its value. The execution is where I’m faltering. I arrived and stayed with my contact’s family for two weeks and then pretty much every terere conversation that I had I had to slyly slide in “well it’s a rule…” in hopes that they’d counter that with a “oh sure, you can come stay with us any time,” which two senoras did (consequently they also housed PCT’s during a visit here to see the last volunteer, so they kind of understood more.) Now I’m with my last senora who has offered and I have a month to go. I’m not sure this lady signed on thinking I’d be with them for 5 weeks and I still don’t really have any definite house prospects for when August rolls around. Moreover, in training we get bombarded with all sorts of safety briefings like, “make sure to lock your door to keep out curious children,” “people are going to think Americans have lots of money and be interested in what foreign items you brought with you, so keep your items out of view,” but when we get to our communities we have no locks, as has been the case with me, you’re lucky if they can even spare a whole room for you. The first family I shared and now these last two have had provided me my own room, though the second family constantly needed in that room as the light switch for the kitchen/living room was in there. This says so much about the way PY houses are laid out, but I’ll save that for another day. Consequently, I’ve felt like I need to be a mother hen and sit on my suitcases to protect them. The first house the “curious” baby messed with my crap and I had some money go missing, but I was torn because I know these are the people in the campo are those who need it most, that it wasn’t really anything traceable, that it wasn’t something replaceable from the States, and it would make my hopeful 2-year working relationship with my contact awkward. Second house, more money, possible phone credit, but to be fair I don’t really grasp this ‘saldo’ concept completely, let it go. About 6 weeks in, PC came and visited and did a site presentation to formally introduce me to the community (to which after making invitations at both schools and having the radio station announce it, seven new faces came, none of which I’ve seen again. So it goes.) They also brought me things I stored at the office after leaving training that where hard to move on coach bus. Shortly after they came, I needed to move as I’d stayed with the second family a month and it was starting to cause a bit of “chisme”, or gossip, in the community that I favored the family and I didn’t want this to inhibit people from wanting to work with me in the future. I ended up leaving what wasn’t essential with them until I procured my own living arrangements. Enter stage left, “the nosey niece.” I was always a bit suspicious of her as I watched her riffle through the wardrobe of the grandson in whose room I was sleeping, would not ask before looking in shopping bags, cards of mine in my presence, constantly asking for money, saldo, but I never had proof, until last night. She showed up to walk with me to a party wearing very obviously the sparkly makeup I thought I’d lost in moving. I decided I need to say something to my last Senora. She searches her wardrobe and finds more inconsequential things of mine, ridiculous things to steal, that I’d gladly let her use or given her: nail polishes, medicine from our med kit (I later realized upon arriving home that she’d also taken all the candy A. Glenn sent me, which made me the saddest.) Things so silly that I felt awkward even complaining about, but knew I needed to demonstrate that I wouldn’t tolerate that kind of breach of trust, lack of respect. The following all went down in Spanish:
Me: “You know, it’s not like I enjoy this. It was actually very difficult for me to do this. If these things are more important than my trust, our friendship, if you need them that much to disrespect me, then take them.”
Nosey niece: “Blah, blah blah, I found that lipgloss and was going to give it to you and the other things I bought at the corner store.”
Me: “Whatever you say.”
I exit to take what I can carry home. If she steals books in English, I’d be flabberghasted. If she steals my Orange and Blue Gators hammock, she’s dead. I go home and realize more ridiculous things she’s taken, go on an awesome Rage Against the Machine bike ride to blow off some steam and stop back by to talk to my Senora’s daughter who lives next door to where I’d stayed. Eventually Nosey Niece comes outside acting like we’re amigas.
Me: “So, did you enjoy my candy?”
NN: ….”I didn’t take that.” Proceeds to go mute and stare at lap.
Here is where I wish I’d been brave enough to make some crack like, oh you just happened to buy that as well at the magical corner store down the street that happens to sell medicine in English packaging and exact duplicates of things missing from my bag, but I reckon I’m supposed to be an adult and professional and take the high road with wayward Paraguayan teenagers, so I just kind of laughed. And I’m a wussy, though I did get in this, which if you know anything about me, you know this was a big win in itself for me learning to be confrontational:
Me: “I’m not as big of an idiot as you think and I deserve respect like everyone else.” (though in my clumsy Spanish I think I actually said, “from everyone else,” but whatever, I was flustered in another language and I happen to think I do deserve everyone’s respect, not in like a pompous American sort of way, but… she got the gist of it. With that, I ride off on my Caloi bike feeling pretty impressed with myself, as I later tell Andy on the phone, “I’m just a chill chick, man,” summing up my day.
Anyways, that’s it. A heads up, I have been writing a lot this week, but the journalist in me won’t let me publish them until I have time for a final edit. I figured there might be interest in what went down today, so I thought I’d appease my hand full of loyal, and most likely dwindling, fans from my lack of posts. I’m making a comeback with the computer, you all just wait and see. Ok, “Che ropehyi” or I’m sleepy, as it’s way past my campo bed time.
Me: “You know, it’s not like I enjoy this. It was actually very difficult for me to do this. If these things are more important than my trust, our friendship, if you need them that much to disrespect me, then take them.”
Nosey niece: “Blah, blah blah, I found that lipgloss and was going to give it to you and the other things I bought at the corner store.”
Me: “Whatever you say.”
I exit to take what I can carry home. If she steals books in English, I’d be flabberghasted. If she steals my Orange and Blue Gators hammock, she’s dead. I go home and realize more ridiculous things she’s taken, go on an awesome Rage Against the Machine bike ride to blow off some steam and stop back by to talk to my Senora’s daughter who lives next door to where I’d stayed. Eventually Nosey Niece comes outside acting like we’re amigas.
Me: “So, did you enjoy my candy?”
NN: ….”I didn’t take that.” Proceeds to go mute and stare at lap.
Here is where I wish I’d been brave enough to make some crack like, oh you just happened to buy that as well at the magical corner store down the street that happens to sell medicine in English packaging and exact duplicates of things missing from my bag, but I reckon I’m supposed to be an adult and professional and take the high road with wayward Paraguayan teenagers, so I just kind of laughed. And I’m a wussy, though I did get in this, which if you know anything about me, you know this was a big win in itself for me learning to be confrontational:
Me: “I’m not as big of an idiot as you think and I deserve respect like everyone else.” (though in my clumsy Spanish I think I actually said, “from everyone else,” but whatever, I was flustered in another language and I happen to think I do deserve everyone’s respect, not in like a pompous American sort of way, but… she got the gist of it. With that, I ride off on my Caloi bike feeling pretty impressed with myself, as I later tell Andy on the phone, “I’m just a chill chick, man,” summing up my day.
Anyways, that’s it. A heads up, I have been writing a lot this week, but the journalist in me won’t let me publish them until I have time for a final edit. I figured there might be interest in what went down today, so I thought I’d appease my hand full of loyal, and most likely dwindling, fans from my lack of posts. I’m making a comeback with the computer, you all just wait and see. Ok, “Che ropehyi” or I’m sleepy, as it’s way past my campo bed time.
Thursday, May 20, 2010
Che Ro'y! I'm Cold!
I't is wicked cold in Paraguay. By wicked cold I mean in the mid 40s and 50s, but when you have no refuge from the cold, that's cold. Sure I was experiencing colder temperatures in Tennessee before departing, but that was when I had central heating, insulated houses, let alone houses that were closed to the elements. And appropriate attire. I'm a Floridian who came to South America for crying outloud. I was not expecting this. I've been wearing my lucky Gator hoodie every day now for almost 2 weeks, as when I had to send things to long term storage for Don Pedro to bring me in June, I sent my coat and sweater, as it was still warm. Now, I lay in bed in the morning in my Kelty mummy sleepìng bag, looking at my breath, and contemplate cutting holes in the bottom to put on my shoes and just hobble around the community like a walking bean pod. Showering has become a twice weekly, painfully freezing process.
I stagger out of bed, at 730, a minor miracle for myself, but looking like a lazy bum to the last family I was staying with, as they all got up with the roosters at 5, starting the fire for the fogon, milking the cows, scattering grain for the chickens. Anyways, I make my way to the kitchen, to prop my feet up in front of the fogon, or to warm my hands over the charcoal burning brasero and sometimes feel like I'm living in one of those Historic Colonial Tourist towns, like Williamsburg.
It doesn`t help that it has rained the past four days, and when it rains in Paraguay, especially cold rain, the world just stops. No one works. The kids didn't go to school as the roads became impassable muck and the whole campo operates by motorcycle. So I stayed inside for 4 days, with 4 stir crazy kids, their older sister and mom. I finally had time to go back and finish Shadow Divers, after having to put it aside in the chaos of swearing in, finished that by flashlight, as if you get up at 5, then you go to bed around 8, after finising Victorino, the first of I'm sure many telenovelas, or soap operas that I'll be sucked into with my senora neighbors. PS This keyboard is all whacked out and none of the buttons I'm pressing correspond to the punctuation I want, like parehtheses. Only a journalism major would feel the need to disclaimer a blog... Anyways, now I'm 350 pages into the Time Traveler's Wife, something light after diving U869 off the coast of New Jersey for a month.
They say that the first three months in site are the hardest three months of ''the toughest job that you'll ever love,'' so in theory I very well could be in the midst of the hardest three months of my life. Thank God for the Peace Corps library. Seriously though, it's really hard to find one's role in all this. They provide goals for health workers and guidelines within which months we should strive to accomplish these goals, but the how and the when really are left to us, with the first three months really focusing on nothing more than getting the community to warm up to you, learning the language, defining projects to focus on and community resources and by three month follow up we turn in a census and community study that includes at least 50 houses. That translates to me finding myself in a lot of awkward terere, or in the case of winter, mate, sessions where I make small talk in my second language and say cutesy baby phrases in my third. I have done some more formal things like attended the two schools to meet the teachers and talk about what they hope I can accomplish. One particularly guapa teacher is really motivated about trying to fundraise to bring computers and international sports equipment, particularly basketball, to the school, both of which I'm eager to pursue. When the half Hoosier in me sees a means for basketball, I follow it, haha. I also attended their school garden and recognized a need to start a girls' youth group, after watching a few of them approach a male teacher for chores to help prepare the soil and he sent them to go sweep the classrooms and rake the yard. Obviously, being my first day I couldn't be the Norte demanding gender equality on the spot, but I did stand my ground as the only female doing any work in the whole garden, to show the female students that we as a group were capable of this type of work and to make a point to the males that I wasn't going to be scared off so easily. That's why I'm here 2 years. To silently observe and approach what I've noted after they feel at ease with me. Soon I will have my girls' club to discuss self esteem, gender equality, goal planning, options for university. I met one girl who told me she wants to study medicine but her family wants her to live with her sister in the capital and study hair dressing. Not that I'm dishing on hair dressing, but I really want to support her in finding means to see her goals through, as with all the youth in my site.
Besides that little endeavor, two other activities included attending a PTA meeting where they proceeded to fight over me, in that they were copcerned which of the two communities would take responsibility for me in the eyes of Peace Corps, worried that while working in another community if something happened to me they'd be responsible. Have you ever been in a room where 12 people are arguing, which escalates to shouting in an indigenous language about you while you're in the room, but no one directly addresses you with the questions because you don't speak their language so you might as well be a blonde, glasses wearing lamp? I have. I tried to appease them that when Don Pedro comes in June to formally present me he could address all these issues, but they still kind of disbanded unsettled. Aside from that I made soy milk and meat with the woman whose house I moved to yesterday as the health sector is a big proponent of teaching the health benefits and cost effectiveness of cooking with soy. We do eat an absurd amount of meat down here, so it's not surprising one of the health issues I work with a lot is hyper tension.
Anyways, it's about time to head back to Tercera Linea, as the bus from Caaguazu to there leaves a 330 and I'm in town learning the ropes from my closest PCV neighbor Kyle.
My number is posted and I'm in the hardest three months, so give me a call!
Ciacito.
I stagger out of bed, at 730, a minor miracle for myself, but looking like a lazy bum to the last family I was staying with, as they all got up with the roosters at 5, starting the fire for the fogon, milking the cows, scattering grain for the chickens. Anyways, I make my way to the kitchen, to prop my feet up in front of the fogon, or to warm my hands over the charcoal burning brasero and sometimes feel like I'm living in one of those Historic Colonial Tourist towns, like Williamsburg.
It doesn`t help that it has rained the past four days, and when it rains in Paraguay, especially cold rain, the world just stops. No one works. The kids didn't go to school as the roads became impassable muck and the whole campo operates by motorcycle. So I stayed inside for 4 days, with 4 stir crazy kids, their older sister and mom. I finally had time to go back and finish Shadow Divers, after having to put it aside in the chaos of swearing in, finished that by flashlight, as if you get up at 5, then you go to bed around 8, after finising Victorino, the first of I'm sure many telenovelas, or soap operas that I'll be sucked into with my senora neighbors. PS This keyboard is all whacked out and none of the buttons I'm pressing correspond to the punctuation I want, like parehtheses. Only a journalism major would feel the need to disclaimer a blog... Anyways, now I'm 350 pages into the Time Traveler's Wife, something light after diving U869 off the coast of New Jersey for a month.
They say that the first three months in site are the hardest three months of ''the toughest job that you'll ever love,'' so in theory I very well could be in the midst of the hardest three months of my life. Thank God for the Peace Corps library. Seriously though, it's really hard to find one's role in all this. They provide goals for health workers and guidelines within which months we should strive to accomplish these goals, but the how and the when really are left to us, with the first three months really focusing on nothing more than getting the community to warm up to you, learning the language, defining projects to focus on and community resources and by three month follow up we turn in a census and community study that includes at least 50 houses. That translates to me finding myself in a lot of awkward terere, or in the case of winter, mate, sessions where I make small talk in my second language and say cutesy baby phrases in my third. I have done some more formal things like attended the two schools to meet the teachers and talk about what they hope I can accomplish. One particularly guapa teacher is really motivated about trying to fundraise to bring computers and international sports equipment, particularly basketball, to the school, both of which I'm eager to pursue. When the half Hoosier in me sees a means for basketball, I follow it, haha. I also attended their school garden and recognized a need to start a girls' youth group, after watching a few of them approach a male teacher for chores to help prepare the soil and he sent them to go sweep the classrooms and rake the yard. Obviously, being my first day I couldn't be the Norte demanding gender equality on the spot, but I did stand my ground as the only female doing any work in the whole garden, to show the female students that we as a group were capable of this type of work and to make a point to the males that I wasn't going to be scared off so easily. That's why I'm here 2 years. To silently observe and approach what I've noted after they feel at ease with me. Soon I will have my girls' club to discuss self esteem, gender equality, goal planning, options for university. I met one girl who told me she wants to study medicine but her family wants her to live with her sister in the capital and study hair dressing. Not that I'm dishing on hair dressing, but I really want to support her in finding means to see her goals through, as with all the youth in my site.
Besides that little endeavor, two other activities included attending a PTA meeting where they proceeded to fight over me, in that they were copcerned which of the two communities would take responsibility for me in the eyes of Peace Corps, worried that while working in another community if something happened to me they'd be responsible. Have you ever been in a room where 12 people are arguing, which escalates to shouting in an indigenous language about you while you're in the room, but no one directly addresses you with the questions because you don't speak their language so you might as well be a blonde, glasses wearing lamp? I have. I tried to appease them that when Don Pedro comes in June to formally present me he could address all these issues, but they still kind of disbanded unsettled. Aside from that I made soy milk and meat with the woman whose house I moved to yesterday as the health sector is a big proponent of teaching the health benefits and cost effectiveness of cooking with soy. We do eat an absurd amount of meat down here, so it's not surprising one of the health issues I work with a lot is hyper tension.
Anyways, it's about time to head back to Tercera Linea, as the bus from Caaguazu to there leaves a 330 and I'm in town learning the ropes from my closest PCV neighbor Kyle.
My number is posted and I'm in the hardest three months, so give me a call!
Ciacito.
Tuesday, May 4, 2010
Let the Caaguazu Games Begin.
Well boys and girls, today I'm moving to site. Such a surreal, stark change from everything I've become accoustomed to thus far that it's almost too overwhelming to comprehend. Today is one of those times where I just have to move from step to step (pack bags, check, leave hotel, check, visit PC office, check, make way to terminal...) because if I look at the overall picture, I think I'll have a PY panic attack.
Last Friday, I stood up in front of the American Ambassador, took an oath to make America proud, and agreed to two years of service in my new home in Caaguazu. Then we ate the best chocolate cake ever; all the buildup we got from staff and current volunteers and it didn't disappoint (in my opinion, PY's really don't grasp how baked goods should be. Betty Crocker could find her niche down here.) After three months of classes, supportive host communities, and my closeknit group of former aspirantes (now Volunteers!!)I'm suddenly floundering through Paraguay completely on my own. It was a nice feeling the past couple of days, getting to make my own decisions about the days' activities and navigating the city like a champ after being out in the campo since February, but today hugging people one by one as we all loaded our bags into the taxis and dispersed throughout the country, the reality of being "THE American" in my community could no longer be ignored. At least we received cell phones when we swore in, so we can call each other to complain about getting Mondongo (some unidentified cow intestines, possibly stomach, no one could really define it for me, that I got served my prior visit to Caaguazu)or when I'm lonely and have spent too much time inside my own head after entire days of conversing like a 4-year-old in Guarani. (some commonly used phrases in my word bank: I want sleep. Delicious Food. I speak little Guarani. My head hurts. Leave me alone, goat. (it started chewing on my clothes while drinking terere with the family.))
Recent points of interest: I made an investment for my sanity in solitude by purchasing a guitar in Luque, a city famous for manufacturing instruments, about two weeks prior. Another PCV taught me Steve Miller Band's, The Joker, and the closest volunteer to me plays guitar, so he's going to teach me (he doesn't know that yet.) That being said, an awesome suggestion to include in a care package would be some books on teaching yourself to play. Another end of training trip we took was to Caarpegua, a city famous for making hammocks. You better believe that I bought the only orange and blue checkered hammock that I could find. Every since I knew I was coming down here and found that video, "the sites and sounds of Paraguay," on YouTube, I knew the two splurges I had to make toward my tranquilo lifestyle would be these items. I can't wait until I finally move into my own house in August and can start living this dream.
Another interesting note was that I represented the Americans at Guasu Cora's cultural festival a couple evenings ago by belting our National Anthem per request of my friends. Don't worry there is video to come. Halfway through the evening it started to rain, so they had to relocate the performance to the school's hallway, so there I was singing to about 125 people, 11 or so who had a clue what I was actually saying.
Leaving GC was hard, both physically and emotionally. Physically because my stuff somehow seemed to procreate on its own and for winning "the girl who traveled here with the lightest/ least amount of bags" award (we watched the scales at the airport. I learned my lesson dragging an absurd amount of rollerbags across Europe.) I sure had to leave a lot of things in PC's long term storage for Don Pedro, the director of the health sector, to bring out to me when he comes to do my site presentation on June 10 (the official announcement to the community of who I am and what I came to do.) Emotionally as well, because at our farewell party a lot of the moms sang to us "amigos para siempre" (friends forever) little siblings were crying at the loss of their host brothers or sisters, and lots of grandmas were sobbing and giving us the benediction. It's unbelievable how close we all came to our host families. I'm going back in June for a combined birthday visit with some other PCV's to see my family and great aunt next door.
Asuncion was fun. I discovered Bolsi, where I had my first burger in months. BBQ sauce, carmelized onion, and blue cheese. I might be the slowest I've ever eaten as I didn't want it to end. There's only so many combinations of food made out of corn meal and pig fat that you can take before you start to lose interest in eating altogether. Sometimes I wonder if a PY ever visited the States if they'd just have a flavor overload. On the plus side, I've been fighting the PC stereotype that only the guys lose weight, while the girls gain it. Since arriving in February, I lost 11 lbs without much effort really, and judging from what I ate in Caaguazu on my visit, with three more months of floating between families, I can only see this trend continuing. On a side note, Ashley Glenn, when I saw those sour gummy worms in my care package last night, my soul did cartwheels.
Other fun activites included my first movie, which was surprisingly in English with subtitles (apparently most movies are this way) though the choice wasn't the best. All the girls wanted to see It's Complicated, which was so cheesily bad that being the only people in the theatre, we just sat there and made fun of the ridiculous background music and unrealistic, overly sappy, Abercrombie and Fitch model children of Meryl Streep. Very entertaining. We also went out dancing and to "Ahendu" an open mike night fundraiser for the music project with PY children, in which other volunteers performed, so that gave us a good chance to meet fellow PCV's in other sectors. The number of malls in this town was startling and I have a harder time with culture shock in Asuncion then with my rooster-alarmclock, wave to the man on the ox cart on my way to school, no shoes wearing children, etc. campo lifestyle since that's what I arrived expecting and am now accustomed to. Though, I can not tell a lie, I ate Burger King two days in a row (though Saturday was Dia de los Trabajadores, or Labor Day, so in my defense near everything was closed, limiting our options.)
Anyways, I'm starting to wander into the rambling portion of the entry as I'm putting off making the trek to Caaguazu, but I guess it's time to suck it up and see what this PCV is made of. I hope I don't have to sit close to any smelly Mennonites this bus ride.
Like I said above, I have a cell now. The number is listed on my facebook. If you don't have an account, email me and I'll forward it to you. It's free for me to receive calls from the states and if you buy skype credit, it should be about 2 cents/minute for you to call me. Also I hopefully have a computer coming from the states in June, and most importantly I am now in command of my own schedule as a PCV (self motivation is key) so we should all be in touch with higher frequency.
Talk to you soon, amigos.
Steph
Last Friday, I stood up in front of the American Ambassador, took an oath to make America proud, and agreed to two years of service in my new home in Caaguazu. Then we ate the best chocolate cake ever; all the buildup we got from staff and current volunteers and it didn't disappoint (in my opinion, PY's really don't grasp how baked goods should be. Betty Crocker could find her niche down here.) After three months of classes, supportive host communities, and my closeknit group of former aspirantes (now Volunteers!!)I'm suddenly floundering through Paraguay completely on my own. It was a nice feeling the past couple of days, getting to make my own decisions about the days' activities and navigating the city like a champ after being out in the campo since February, but today hugging people one by one as we all loaded our bags into the taxis and dispersed throughout the country, the reality of being "THE American" in my community could no longer be ignored. At least we received cell phones when we swore in, so we can call each other to complain about getting Mondongo (some unidentified cow intestines, possibly stomach, no one could really define it for me, that I got served my prior visit to Caaguazu)or when I'm lonely and have spent too much time inside my own head after entire days of conversing like a 4-year-old in Guarani. (some commonly used phrases in my word bank: I want sleep. Delicious Food. I speak little Guarani. My head hurts. Leave me alone, goat. (it started chewing on my clothes while drinking terere with the family.))
Recent points of interest: I made an investment for my sanity in solitude by purchasing a guitar in Luque, a city famous for manufacturing instruments, about two weeks prior. Another PCV taught me Steve Miller Band's, The Joker, and the closest volunteer to me plays guitar, so he's going to teach me (he doesn't know that yet.) That being said, an awesome suggestion to include in a care package would be some books on teaching yourself to play. Another end of training trip we took was to Caarpegua, a city famous for making hammocks. You better believe that I bought the only orange and blue checkered hammock that I could find. Every since I knew I was coming down here and found that video, "the sites and sounds of Paraguay," on YouTube, I knew the two splurges I had to make toward my tranquilo lifestyle would be these items. I can't wait until I finally move into my own house in August and can start living this dream.
Another interesting note was that I represented the Americans at Guasu Cora's cultural festival a couple evenings ago by belting our National Anthem per request of my friends. Don't worry there is video to come. Halfway through the evening it started to rain, so they had to relocate the performance to the school's hallway, so there I was singing to about 125 people, 11 or so who had a clue what I was actually saying.
Leaving GC was hard, both physically and emotionally. Physically because my stuff somehow seemed to procreate on its own and for winning "the girl who traveled here with the lightest/ least amount of bags" award (we watched the scales at the airport. I learned my lesson dragging an absurd amount of rollerbags across Europe.) I sure had to leave a lot of things in PC's long term storage for Don Pedro, the director of the health sector, to bring out to me when he comes to do my site presentation on June 10 (the official announcement to the community of who I am and what I came to do.) Emotionally as well, because at our farewell party a lot of the moms sang to us "amigos para siempre" (friends forever) little siblings were crying at the loss of their host brothers or sisters, and lots of grandmas were sobbing and giving us the benediction. It's unbelievable how close we all came to our host families. I'm going back in June for a combined birthday visit with some other PCV's to see my family and great aunt next door.
Asuncion was fun. I discovered Bolsi, where I had my first burger in months. BBQ sauce, carmelized onion, and blue cheese. I might be the slowest I've ever eaten as I didn't want it to end. There's only so many combinations of food made out of corn meal and pig fat that you can take before you start to lose interest in eating altogether. Sometimes I wonder if a PY ever visited the States if they'd just have a flavor overload. On the plus side, I've been fighting the PC stereotype that only the guys lose weight, while the girls gain it. Since arriving in February, I lost 11 lbs without much effort really, and judging from what I ate in Caaguazu on my visit, with three more months of floating between families, I can only see this trend continuing. On a side note, Ashley Glenn, when I saw those sour gummy worms in my care package last night, my soul did cartwheels.
Other fun activites included my first movie, which was surprisingly in English with subtitles (apparently most movies are this way) though the choice wasn't the best. All the girls wanted to see It's Complicated, which was so cheesily bad that being the only people in the theatre, we just sat there and made fun of the ridiculous background music and unrealistic, overly sappy, Abercrombie and Fitch model children of Meryl Streep. Very entertaining. We also went out dancing and to "Ahendu" an open mike night fundraiser for the music project with PY children, in which other volunteers performed, so that gave us a good chance to meet fellow PCV's in other sectors. The number of malls in this town was startling and I have a harder time with culture shock in Asuncion then with my rooster-alarmclock, wave to the man on the ox cart on my way to school, no shoes wearing children, etc. campo lifestyle since that's what I arrived expecting and am now accustomed to. Though, I can not tell a lie, I ate Burger King two days in a row (though Saturday was Dia de los Trabajadores, or Labor Day, so in my defense near everything was closed, limiting our options.)
Anyways, I'm starting to wander into the rambling portion of the entry as I'm putting off making the trek to Caaguazu, but I guess it's time to suck it up and see what this PCV is made of. I hope I don't have to sit close to any smelly Mennonites this bus ride.
Like I said above, I have a cell now. The number is listed on my facebook. If you don't have an account, email me and I'll forward it to you. It's free for me to receive calls from the states and if you buy skype credit, it should be about 2 cents/minute for you to call me. Also I hopefully have a computer coming from the states in June, and most importantly I am now in command of my own schedule as a PCV (self motivation is key) so we should all be in touch with higher frequency.
Talk to you soon, amigos.
Steph
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