Fin de Postre

In the airport in Santiago, Chile, with feelings of both confidence and uncertainty about arriving in the States. When I left I hardly knew that this nation was on the map, and now I know the place—at least the capital city of Asunción—like the back of my hand. Scribbled vocabulary words, some left without a definition, remind me of the passages I have to make to learn completely the language. It seems inevitable, though, that there are some things that remain undefined in the world, and perhaps it is better that way. And while I shall never be a native speaker, I may come pretty close yet. Several people have asked me how long I’ve been studying to gain the proficiency in Spanish that I have, and I tell them that since middle school I have studied the language. I never thought that Spanish and Latin would take me so far and give me the opportunities that they have, but communication after all makes all the difference in the world. What a marvelous trip it has been!

My dad first took me to Guadalajara, Mexico, in the summer of 1998, as something of a graduation present. Both a blessing and a curse for them it must be, to see their son so far away but proceeding with ambitious and unconventional projects. I haven’t been able to stay away since, and returned to Mexico several times since that first summer trip. On this, my first trip to South America, I have learned some of the differences between the northern and southern hemispheres. There is certainly a different vibe, and to come back to see more of the continent I am glad to have a good picture of one its most characteristic—though least well known—nations. And like my first trip to Mexico, this will likely be the first of a series of visits to Paraguay, to say nothing of South America.

Writing in the final pages (literally) of a notebook that I began during the first developments of this trip, and am glad to say that many of the objectives and dreams I had back then came to pass. I wasn’t able to do all of them, of course, but I did some besides. I met some incredible people—I have many to thank and many that I will miss. Those who helped me so much during my trip, both professionally and socially, exhibit a fabulous combination of wisdom and character; the Ruffinelli's are the best family one could hope to inherit as I did. My projects were creative and practical, and I leave with the feeling that I have made enough noise to make a difference in Paraguay. The truth is that you can estimate what you will be able to do in a foriegn country, but you hit the ground and see what the circumstances will permit. I would say, though, that I was able to work pretty well around them.

Talking the other night about how life is commitment—that at some point you have to put down the idealism and commit to either work, children, family, or another facet of human life, I reencountered a struggle that I have long waged. Several people asked me about my commitment to return to Paraguay. While I am always avoiding them, this is one that I can take, for I am sure that I’ll be back and that I will continue to work with the nation in the back of my mind. Speaking of commitments, it’s back to work on the 14th—as long as my desk and position are still there. It would be liberating if somehow it were not, though that is the idealist in me talking. To listen to him I'll have to do it either in my free time or find a creative way of putting money in the bank. I’ve enjoyed his perspective for the last several months, and I'm pretty sure the idealist will continue to show his colors in whatever life awaits me the States. Back to the old, new life.

Relatos Finales

I had my seminar last week and am proud of myself ‘cause I put together enough Spanish to fill up several hours in front of some twenty-five people. Three Paraguayans bailed on me, two of them the morning of, so I had to fill in for all of them. The only trouble was that it’s more enjoyable to watch several people during a seminar than listen to one. The director of the National Library and another guy who knows about digitalization also spoke. It was worth organizing, in any case, and it was nice to do a sort of capstone for the end of my trip. Disaster didn’t break out, so I reckon it was a success.

I have one more presentation this evening at the Universidad Nacional , which is going to be about index languages and thesauri. There is a bit more to it, but basically librarians use them to control what terms can be used to index documents and increase the quality of searches. I am still not too sure what I am going to talk about, but have a bunch of slides and so am going to ask at the beginning what people want to hear about. I created one for Stael’s institute library over a few months—in English, mind ya—and they will be able to use it to describe the collection that they have there. Also, we are trying to move the data from one catalog system to the other and have been cleaning up the records for the last couple of days. Copy and paste and find and replace have never been so useful! I am not really the most expert person on the subject, but as I have said before, American credentials go a long way in Asunción. Perhaps I’ll suffer from a bit of a Napoleon complex once I get back to the States!

There has been some interesting activity on fellow blogs, and I love keeping up with them. I prefer this new way of keeping a social website like Myspace or Facebook, since the owner has to put more intellectual effort into it and actually come up with something interesting to say to the world. I especially admire those who find things in regular life to write about and post, where there aren’t such simply identifiable word-generating events. I experienced some withdrawal without posts on Tour de Homerpearl, which was quite enjoyable reading and substituted for the lack of telephone contact with my parents. I go back once in a while to see if there might be some writing adventure they’ve started and haven’t gotten the change to tell me.

Craaazy that in just over a week from today I depart for the States—all of the preparation, moving, hesitation about whether I wanted to go—and the whole thing is now coming to a close. A great time it has been, and I am glad that I’ve been able to share some of it with the readers out there. One of the best things about it is that I don’t have to start from scratch when telling all about what I did while in Paraguay! Look forward to seeing everyone and glad to hear of so many upcoming changes for several folks and one that I'm thinkin’ of especially—best of luck to everyone and we’ll have to celebrate promptly.

Cataracts and Christians

Though I haven’t yet made it into one of the major cities in another South American country, I did make it to some of the best travel destinations here in Paraguay. I left town originally to see the falls of Iguazu. Across the border in Brazil, the name means “big water” in Guaraní, which is an understatement. I was imagining coming across it after wandering the rainforests for years and seeing such a marvel. A couple of Canadian professors here to sign an agreement with Stael were going and so I tagged along. It turned out to be good company. Americans are supposed to have visas to cross, but they don’t stop cars or really care, so we cruised across the bridge without any trouble. The falls
were truly incredible, an attraction that actually merited all of the “you have to see it,” exhortations which are often for me insincere. Photos do some justice, but it is quite exhilarating to on the bridge that extends over the top of one set of falls...seriously something you must see if traveling near the triple border of Argentina, Brazil, and Paraguay.

After a couple of beers Francisco (Stael's brother) dropped Stael and the Canadians off at the bus station. I went to Itaipu dam, also, which is the largest in the world at this point. They are building a bigger one in China somewhere—I am unsure whether it is Three Gorges or whether that is constructed. There are some pretty staggering facts about the production, and you almost feel bad to see it happen, since the environmental impact was quite disastrous. Of course, now they promote their wildlife preserves and all that they did to save the hundreds of species which used to live in the area of the embalse. I did see a zoo there and a museum, but the fact that they increasingly talk about the environmental impact—rather than had it mind at the very start—indicates that most of the damage is done. Now one of the biggest (black) markets in the world, Ciudad del Este boasts very cheap electronics and supports much of the Brazilian market: there are stands that sell packing tape and boxes alone. I found a couple of CD's with some 100 tracks per disc, and ran to catch the bus out of town, stopping first to be somewhat responsible and check out the municipal library.

I stayed the night and continued alone to the southern part of the country and arrived at a city called Encarnación. The drive reminded me of traveling on the highway through Nebraska. Silos and combines are parked all along the road, and the soybean is by and large the greatest export from the country. The obnoxious cachaca on my bus, though, was unlike anything I’ve heard near the state of Nebraska (and the anti-representative of my music diva from that state). The quality was not as frustrating as the repetition—the driver had 128 songs on one CD and to me each sounded the same. I was pretty happy to debark, and happy to be in Encarnación, a relatively sleepy town where you stay to visit the Jesuit ruins.

The reducciones were built in the 17th century as part of a mission to convert the Guaraní people to Christianity. They were certainly worth a look, and compared fairly with other ruins I’ve seen in Latin America. One set, called Jésus, is further from the main road and therefore visited much less than the other. I thought that it was better than the other, and was glad that I went there first so that I didn’t lose the notion with the arrival of the midday heat. On the way back, in keeping with the Nebraska metaphor, I got a ride from the ruins with some semi driver who apparently saw me waiting and waved to have me climb up. Guess what? He was carrying soybean seeds from the north of the country. I’m really not even sure why he picked me up, but I’m sure it was clear that I was a tourist, and after driving for over 10 hours, perhaps he just wanted the company. It probably saved me about an hour, though, and it just rules to ride in an 18 wheeler.

Bounds

At the bus station the other evening buying a ticket for Ciudad del Este, I realized how much I miss the place. Buying a ticket for a city across the country when accommodated by a return trip is not enough—a part of me wants a one way ticket to somewhere that I am unsure of what will happen once I get there. The inevitable question is how I can possibly travel from place to place for the rest of my youth, spending it in random
locations and with recently unknown people. "Because it is there," as George Mallory said of his desire to climb Everest; it is hard to believe that I didn’t get to more places while here, but by staying mostly in one place I have perhaps seen and learned more. This trip was not the one for passages through random bus terminals and dirty hostel bunks with worn sheets and the detritus of other travelers. On this trip I have stayed in one place for a while, done good work, and met some fabulous people. I am so happy with the six months I have spent here in Asunción—too short to complete grand projects but long enough to make good friends that I will miss.

If I weren’t nomadic before coming here, I feel that I am now. Although, once I am here and set I am more than anyone a homebody. Like within the States, it takes great effort to travel and I enjoy home more than anyplace else. I have been reminded how lucky I am to have the opportunity to live abroad for six months of my life, lucky to realize that I am widdling it away and creating a form. Evolving from the word by dropping the “h,” the word “form” evolved from the word horma—a shoemakers last. A traveler’s indispensable ally (especially one that walks as much as I do!) the shape of his shoes comes to form his character in the end. I still am lucky enough to be viewing my country from the outside in—as I remember I did on this day seven years ago—vagabonding from place to place, my worldly possessions furrowed away in a large box in some warehouse. My possessions will be unearthed soon, and I will return to the rat race that we are required to live. But because of the rat race—the fact that people do stay in the same place and establish businesses, monuments, and cities—the modern nomad discovers the culture that he craves.

Soon my adventure will end, though I know there are terminals that I will visit for the first time. It is difficult to describe the way that I see the people in the bus terminal, as they look at me often
with misgiving and sometimes with endearment. Always they look at me as if I am a traveler that has come from a faraway place, that I am looking in on their sedentary, normal lives. A foreigner from abroad—from a place they have never seen and will never see, I wander through their lives and disregarding the wares that fill their shops. Speaking their language well is an immeasurable advantage, and often even a smugness mild enough not too offend.

Recently, though, I walked into the shop of a signmaker and too promptly asked to take his photo, whereafter he told me to continue my viaje, and I remarked that I was only enthused by the art that he seemed to be producing. Unlike this chipa seller, he was quite testy that I had hoped to take his photo, and had undoubtedly seen the same request before. While I certainly didn’t mean to trivialize his livelihood, I realize after the fact that I may have unintentionally. All of the people I see—especially in a foreign country—I regard with buena onda the people that I see, with a look that I hope engenders a feeling of humanity. After all, they are hosting you in their country, you are a visitor among them and their families, their governments, their educational systems, their poverty, the social realities that are far more permanent than your passage.

El asombro no suspende

Enough about South American politics, right? There is talk now of a golpe de estado by the previous President, Nicanor Duarte Frutos, and his co-conspiritor Lino Oviedo. Oviedo was arrested in 1996 for the same thing, but is still active in politics here. After five months I have yet to understand the political section of the newspaper here. In the Congress they fight amongst themselves for the entire session and really do little for the people; it will be long overdue when they actually get some Congressmen who work for the people.

Politics in the States are no less crazy, I suppose. I was traveling when McCain nominated Sarah Palin so missed most of the media frenzy. I was kind of interested at first, I must admit, and wanted to give both her and McCain the benefit of the doubt, but was quickly dispelled by her overt Republican character. I am a sucker for Maureen Dowd columns, and believe she has it right in saying that it's an insult to women that he picked Palin at they picked a woman only when the Republicans needed a "hail mary pass." I give them credit for stirring up a bit of a debate, but come on. Downs syndrome baby to term, son in Iraq, threatening to fire a librarian for unwillingness to censor book titles, and a husband (our twentieth anniversary!) who works on in the North Slope oil fields. Oh yeah, abstinence-only education won't work for the rest of the nation either. From perhaps underinformed point of view, McCain would have a tough time finding a more detestable, Republican, or unqualified running mate.

Anyway, a great thing about volunteer work is that you can oversleep and not worry about rushing off to work, as long as you've not anything planned. Normally I come home pretty early for lunch, so it's not worth it to head after about 9 am. The other day I ended up heading to the Botanic Gardens here in Asunción, stopping first to enjoy some tereré with my friend the revistero (magazine seller), Arturo. I can't believe how short my hair is in the photo, which gives away the fact that its a few months old! They had quite a few animals, but certainly it was no San Francisco zoo.

I was excited to find that the Natural Museum is also there, and should never be surprised by the strange things that they have in Latin American museums. The four of us that saw the endless display of partially clothed, mummified bodies of the eerie El Museo de la Momias en central México shall forever remember it! They had a similar piece at this Natural Museum, though quite a bit older (some 600 years) and so perhaps more relevant as a "museum" piece. Snakes, monkey and whale feti, as well as human organs, are all to be found preserved for the zoogoers to come and gaze at.

El izquierdismo III

Fernando Lugo, 57, was accepted into the priesthood in 1994 and worked most of his life in a small Department of Paraguay called San Pedro, one of the most underdeveloped regions in the country. Recently, the Vatican accepted with reluctance and without precedent a denunciation of his office as priest, and he hopes to return to that profession after his five years as president. Like Morales in Bolivia and Correa in Ecuador, his clothing is of indigenous style, and Lugo wears sandals nearly everywhere. Despite jokes that he has needs a visit the podiatrist for ongos, the sandals are a symbol of his continuing faith. A famous carpenter, one popular with the people, also wore sandals.

Liberation theology has been suggested as the defining philosophy for his presidency, a philosophy that argues that as part of the religious life one should target poverty because the founders of the philosophy believed it was the source of sin. Hence, eradicating sin means eradicating poverty, and vice versa. In liberation theology, the mission of religious life is to redeem the poorest of the earth, particularly through political activism. Because political and economic institutions subject certain groups of humans in poverty, liberation theologists focus on changing them in their pursuit of both equality and a world without sin. Perhaps Lugo didn’t renounce completely his office in the church, but has taken up one where he can be more effective.

Lugo has said that one of his role models is Salvador Allende, the president of Chile from 1970-1973. Overthrown in a coup led by various factions in the government and succeeded by Augusto Pinochet, Allende was the first Marxist leader to gain power through a democratic election. A candidate who appealed to the workers of Chile, he took land from those who owned it, nationalized many primary industries in the country, and created social programs aimed to eradicate poverty. Much like Roosevelt in the Great Depression, who has also been mentioned with reference to Lugo’s task, Allende created employment through public works programs and nationalization. But, facing arguably more obstacles than faced by the Roosevelt, Allende’s reforms were not effective and in a short time the country was ravaged by inflation and the appearance of black markets for basic commodities. Allende’s friendship with Fidel Castro amplified American worries of communism taking root in Chile. In the end Allende’s socialist state did not survive. Allende, at the height of a coup d’état, made his final radio speech to the people and allegedly killed himself with a rifle given to him by Fidel. On the rifle was the inscription: “To my good friend Salvador from Fidel, who by different means tries to achieve the same goals.” With any luck Lugo will have more success than Allende did with his reforms, and will avoid being overshadowed or coerced by his friend from Venezuela.

What is sure, though, is that this weekend Lugo assumed a role in the socialist tradition of Latin America. He began his speech in Guaraní, but after a few minutes asked permission to switch from Guaraní to Spanish so that the visitors might understand too. Guaraní speakers took special note of the respectful, though political, gesture. He didn’t mention el dios in his speech, and there does seem to be at this point a good separation of church and state in Paraguay, but he did talk about the people. And while Lugo is now President, it is his promise to stay with them. Other leaders in Latin America are leading with the same cause, and trying to work through the government to bring power to the people. In a very special was he hopes to use the office: Lugo realizes that revolution in Paraguay will not come from elections alone, but must be with the culture of the people. As Lugo remarked of the challenge to the people, “it could be the most important wager in Paraguay’s history.”

El izquierdismo II

A student uprising took place recently to oppose the appointment of Moreno Ruffinelli as Rector of the Universidad Católica because of his politics during the Stroessner era (1954-1989). Some 30 students and others from the philosophy department blocked the main entrance to the university for several weeks, waiting to hear either a renunciation or to hear that someone had been injured in an effort to remove the demonstration. Moreno was as a fantastic candidate, and the Church will be hard pressed to
find one as dedicated or prepared to be university dean. The students emphasized in their protest law 209 of 1970, which Moreno had a role in drawing up when Minister of Foreign Affairs. The law allegedly permitted the persecution and torture of Paraguayans by the Stroessner dictatorship. Certainly, if Moreno’s pen was responsible for human rights violations, the recent protest is more readily justified. Most Paraguayans—including the student government of the Universidad and the Catholic Church—supported his appointment and believed that history was history. In the end, though, the students carried the day.

The significance of a student protest in Paraguay seems greater than a protest in a developed nation. Student demonstration has not been allowed historically, and students are for the first time using a voice that has been silenced for many generations. In practical terms, they probably made things worse for themselves, but that is often the case with protests—the endgame is to hold things up rather than move them along. Despite all the injustice heaped upon him during the whole process, the protest was part of an evolutionary process here in Paraguay. The students learned that they can speak up and be heard—that Paraguayans finally live in a society with freedom of expression.

Throughout Latin America people are gaining this same voice, as they learn that indeed their governments are democratic and are willing to hear dissenting opinions. Recently in Bolivia the people were presented with a referendum that approved the Presidency of Evo Morales, despite much dissent from more affluent groups about his governance. During his visit Chávez was accused of advising Lugo to restrict the freedom of the press, but later denied that he had suggested curtailing the right to criticize and discuss the government. While there is certainly existing suppression of the press and bias among owners here in Paraguay, greater freedom of expression exists. The protest was an indication of a growing consciousness about the democratic system Paraguayans are a part of, and a shout that has no substantial precedent.

It remains to be seen how forceful the voice of the people will be, and whether Latin American governments will yield to it in the way that Moreno Ruffinelli did. Perhaps the protest was a manifestation of the desire to expel the old guard—past politicians and administrators ruled without regard for the people’s best interest. More discussion, criticism, and activity, in any case, demonstrate movement and consciousness among the people; there are many signs that they are ready to assert their role in a participative government. Instead of using a bad word to describe the politicians that will lead them, remember that these leaders grew up with the people and show a genuine desire to help them. Instead of socialists, call them populists. A good time to see an uprising and a good time to be a Paraguayan: Fernando Lugo last weekend took the reigns of a government that promises to endow the people with greater rights, and hopefully riches.

El izquierdismo I

A lot can happen in 100 days. In as many, Fernando Lugo hopes to show the people of the Republic of Paraguay that he can lead them out of a 60 year slump. They have seen improvements in the last few years, and it seems that the people are more conscious of their own role in enriching the country. And while there is some talk of individual work ethic, there is more talk throughout Latin American of socialism, liberals, and democracy, though it’s yet unclear what exactly those terms mean. Most Paraguayan industries have been nationalized for years, so Lugo’s job will be to make them more transparent. He has appointed ministers from all political parties and renounced the presidential salary. On his first day, he arrived at the office by 6 am and later had a simple lunch of beans, rice, and mandioca with his guards. Readily visible over the weekend was his friendship with Hugo Chávez, with some apprehensive of more collaboration between the two. It seems that Lugo has enough intelligence to avoid being coerced by Chávez, and hopefully will be able to focus on what got him elected: the people. He threw a party for them over the weekend and even hosted it at the Palacio de López, a palace that has long been the seat of a less sympathetic commander in chief. In a recent speech commending Lugo’s role in what he calls a “social revolution in Latin America,” Chávez remarked that anyone who couldn’t see that revolution—which may just now be reaching its quite long-winded crescendo—must be blind.

The prevalence of the word che in paraguayan Spanish a well as in other South American countries to me suggests somewhat a communion between the people. You’re liable to hear it in about 50% of the orations that take place in social situations. Over beers or tereré with friends, at a football game, or in the office, che or chera both starts and is appended to sentences. In strict terms it is an interjection given to an animal or person meaning stop or halt, but colloquially it is used more endearingly. It has been around for a long time and has disputed origins; the most convincing is that it derives from the general reference to “man,” “people,” or “friend” in American Indian language. On his motorcycle trip through South America, Ernesto Guevara was nicknamed Che because of his frequent use of the term, and is still idolized as the de facto social revolutionary.

In Guaraní, also an official language of Paraguay, che primarily means “I,” which gives the word its connotation of individuality. In his well-received speech this weekend, Lugo emphasized the role of individuals in making the government more efficient, economy stronger, and increase the quality of life. One of his ministers joked that she was rethinking her appointment after Lugo’s speech: he expects the ministers to work effectively and transparently. Not quite in the job description for public functionary here in Paraguay: the term funcionario has become slang for one of the 250,000 government workers who just don’t do much at all during their workday. This is changing, though, and the new generation doesn’t believe in receiving posts for party affiliation, and are starting to see that their work is the only thing that can prop up the people. Passed through the Spanish and Guaraní languages, che seems to be an expression of unity, with its connotations of revolution, the people, and individuality. It is even suggested that the term may be an abbreviation of the word escuche: listen.

Rutina desviada

Lest everyone freak out and think that I've ground to a halt here in Paraguay since finding more of a routine, I wanted to post and say that such is not the case. Achieving "normal" is at last reassuring and indeed what we strive for to make our lives comfortable. All of us should be lucky enough to establish routines--to find surroundings and people that are routine and for that reason make us happy. I'm sure that I'll be able to live with a routine, and was almost setting one up just before I left DC, but for now I find it quite difficult to have too much of a routine. I usually run for cover when commitments to regularity come along.

In any case, the post riled up some of my readers, despite the fact that I can count them all one hand. There were no photos on the last post because I was at home and the Internet connection is rather poor, but better than nothing. We were at the Expoferia a past weekend and had a good time there. It's like a state fair for the state of Paraguay, and everyone sets up their stand to show off what they have been doing for the year. One of the main attractions are the women in tight bodysuits, like what those new suits that swimmers use. Paraguayan men love to head out there and get their picture taken as they pose with some divina. I have always wondered, though, what does it really do for them to have a photo just like all the other men have, with a woman who is being paid to stand and take photos with random men? I don't really understand that part, but my friend Arturo and I did get a photo.

The size of some of some of the houses in Asunción, mostly near my house in the ritzier part of the city, is just staggering. I had seen this one several times and caught them this time without the guard out front, which is
pretty rare. A good part of the Paraguayan workforce is employed in the industry, and altogether with the time that they spend pacing and sitting they could read Moby Dick five times in a month. Unfortunately there is seldom printed matter, let alone literature, in their hands. Something does happen every once in a while, I am told, and I guess that is what they wait for, an event that they can write about it their own book. With the guardia in mind, a shout out to Yessica and our guardiahere at the firm, who is named Blas. One of you will recognize him, and you'll know that he still asks about that photo you've been meaning to send.

Normalizationizing

People do all sorts of things to mix up their routine. At the top of the list are vacations or weekend trips out of town, joining a book or a recreational club, or buying a extravagant automobile. Somewhere on the list—for those of us who have the liberty—are extended trips abroad. Writing to someone last week, I realized how while we can take trips to learn and work for the people of another nation, things tend to become routine pretty quickly. I’m sure I’ll find more out about the stages of my trip once I am back on home soil, but here’s a start.

You prepare to leave for your trip, which for me involved everything from submitting a leave of absence form, saving a bunch of money, and packing up my doormat. Then there are the goodbyes, and the feeling that you will be gone for an eternity and everyone will have moved when you get back, which of course is not the case and all that you have missed out on is another humid summer in DC. Rushing off to the airport, you spend two days in anticipation and wonder what the other people in the world are doing with their Monday, you may even chat someone up on the plane and tell them all about what you hope to do in the next upcoming six months. Nevertheless, you are helpless to tell them accurately.

Upon arrival, there’s great excitement and the novelty of somewhere new in the world. I was shocked by the luxury and hospitality of my temporary home, and even in the car from the airport Stael and Carlos told me tell you that instead of tú they are accustomed to use vos here in Paraguay (which, interestingly, used to mean king and with the deposition of the regal system became the way to address your common man). Acclimatization to the language had begun.

The first couple of weeks are really exciting, and there are many new people to meet, hang out with, and work with. I was introduced to several people and who I never saw again, either because their work wasn’t relevant to mine or they just couldn’t be bothered beyond introduction. You adjust to a new schedule, new transportation, the food, and the novelty of wearing a tie to work each day. It turns out that I was also swept up into the social scene by a lovely Paraguaya on about my second day, so much so that I have a pretty good idea of what the nightlife is like in Asunción. My caddiness got the best of me, though, I must report. I wouldn’t know the place like I do if it weren’t for her, and she deserves a shout-out for that and for the good times.

About three months in, and with completion of a major project, things started to become routine. At work it was like reporting for another day’s duties, at home it was food that I had already tasted and people to whom I had recounted my provenance. There was still much room for novelty at that point, however. I began teaching a class and was challenged by the lesson plans and the fact that I knew how to write English but not necessarily how to teach it; I went several museums and learned about Paraguayan culture. I even traveled once, and it felt like I was away from my home town of Asunción.

I prepared for my journey to a country that I had scarcely heard of nor seen on the map (we Americans are rather ignorant of world geography, are we not?) just to see it all become the same. I sit here and type this behind my desk as I would in the States, and I will wake up and go to work in the morning. I will get to the office after my normal breakfast of toast and make a Nescafé to sip while I browse the news and blogs, perhaps chat with my brother about what is going in DC. Work is work, my preferred beer is what I drink, and I get drinks or a snack at my metaphorical corner bar. I have even taken to jogging again and picking and choosing what food I eat and when. This country and the contacts that I have here are now what I deal with each day, and they seem increasingly normal—I will of course see new things, but day to day things are more or less standard.

It’s amazing how quickly things normalize in our lives. Despite all the experiences and learning I've had and will continue to have during my time in Paraguay, day to day all things at last become routine. In both out lives and in our relationships we have to change often so that they don’t get become so normal as to take our spirit or stifle our creative energy. The excitement and adjustment is the same when we move, find new love, or secure a new job. There will be another crescendo as I prepare to leave Paraguay but were I not leaving the normalization would persist. From this uncharacteristically long and philosophical post, perhaps the conclusion is that life is generally just normal—the best that we can do is invite challenges and change, and enjoy the people and good times which surround us. Through change and enjoying the people closest to us, our routine becomes reassuring rather than discouraging, and our normal lives become rich.

Un artista

Victoria, the divorceé of an artist – at least a floundering one – understood that her husband had a great love for his painting. It conflicted at times with the love that he was able to show Victoria, since Louis’ need to paint was often much greater than his desire to participate in other activities. Going out to dinner, falling asleep together, watching movies, and entertaining friends late into the night fell into this category. Enjoyable to Victoria for good reason, these activities often coincided with Louis’ spells of inspiration. The only conclusion that Victoria could make was that his art was more important than she. As he passed so much time blending his colored paints and composing, Victoria began to feel herself a victim of adultery, as if Louis were enjoying another woman in his studio. He knew that her feelings were both legitimate and coming to a head, he failed to address them. In the end he loved only his art.

Springtime

With all the herbs they have here in Paraguay, here is one that corresponds with their strong sense of superstition. My colleague Carol brought some of the “potion” to work, so I had to try it out. It tasted fairly bad, but I'm certain I tasted worse cocktails in my teenage years. For a stab at good luck and health for a year I’ll readily put up with it. We all must brace ourselves for changes since we will inevitably meet them--things fortunately never stay the same. New challenges and circumstances are what keep the world looking new! Although I am always quite resistant and am always as shocked as anyone, stumbling across change always presents opportunities to learn about ourselves, see a perspective that we may have been missing, and force us to keep questioning what's next. Drink up!

Translated from ABC Digital on the first: "Today is the day to drink a few swigs of the famous “Carrulim,” whose name derives from the three components of the drink: caña (an alcohol of fermented sugar), ruda (a leaf), and limón . A toast to your health, the ingredients frighten away evils and protect the health, according to Guaraní belief.

Since ancient times Paraguay has believed that the month of August brings with it misfortune and bad luck, or the famous “yeta.” To avoid these malas ondas, Paraguayans recommend that a shot of carrulim be drank on the first day of the month.

According to Guaraní witch doctors and grandparents, the first of August of every year is the ideal time to drink the potion, because this is the day that the second half of the year begins. Popular belief also says also that carrulim as a drink brings good luck to those who drink it, regardless of the fact that it’s only a spoonful.

According to the tradition the potion purifies and renovates the blood, to make the person healthy throughout the rest of the year. Faithful to this custom, vendors of herbs and remedies which have street kiosks across the country have offered since Wednesday the famous potion in bottles or small jugs."

In the previous post I wrote that an Argentinian originally proposed Dia Del Amigo, but I learned that it was indeed a Paraguayan named Enrique Bracho who proposed the Day ten years earlier. Proud to say that they are humble, though, no Paraguayan makes a fuss about it and lets the Argentinians enjoy the credit.

Dia del Amigo

All are crazy about the Friendship Day here in Paraguay. I haven’t heard of it being an American, though it is supposedly the International Day of Friendship. Some colleagues were telling me that it was like Valentine’s Day, although for everyone in your social circle—not just your enamorado. I am not sure what I’m up to, but I have a few friends here so am going to arrange something certainly. I think that its a great holiday and a time to celebrate the fact our friends, no matter how far away the best ones may be. Entonces, salud a los amigos!

There are several different days that people celebrate the holiday (I think that it’s August 5th in the States), as well as several different stories about how it came about. The most common origin that I can find and applies directly to South America is that a doctor named Enrique Febbraro was impressed by the combined effort that lead to a successful lunar landing 1968 and proposed a law to the Argentinean Congress to establish Día del Amigo. Our effort to reach the moon, he believed, was symobolic of the struggle for equality between men and races throughout the world. A few suggestions for the modern amigo: Lose the earbuds for a day, stop by and chat instead of email, get coffee with a friend, say hi to people on the street (Adios works best here in Paraguay), and try to make a new friend during one of your activities during the day (something boring is preferable, since it will make it more exciting and memorable if you talk to someone new).

And so, without realizing that I was acting with these exhortations, I tried to talk to someone on the bus this morning. I had missed the ride which most often takes me to the office in the morning since I have been irregular lately, and so had to wait in the rain for the bus to pass by. This can take quite a while, but it came pretty quickly and I had an umbrella that I borrowed from Stael. Yes, the person was female. My Spanish came out badly and I said “put” instead of “able” although the message went across. I was happy to at least have said something.

It seems to double the apprehension everyone has in approaching the opposite sex—you have to say something appealing as well as express yourself in the foreign language. Or you can just screw it up and hope that they are forgiving and appreciative that you said anything at all. In the States there are of course more iPods, which people use to elude the advances of random people who have solely public transportation in common. It can be a pretty good place to start! Anyway, it was not much of a success—I didn’t expect to have any in the first place—but I am glad that I said something to at least bait the line.

Which is what we all have to in life—keep baiting the line and making people come around for more. I'm lucky to have so many good opportunities and am happy to say that they keep coming along. I have always been a bit unnerved that I leave my closest
friends to live in strange places like Mexico, Washington, and Paraguay, but I do always find hospitable parties. My brother asked me once while I was down here whether I was getting homesick about the States—for material things like peanut butter and baseball games or for the people. Today it is for the people. But, while the nomad must desist from certain pastures for a time, he most often finds ample fields after migrating. Most, likely including myself, will return to the old pasture eventually, but in the meantime can send only good vibes across the ocean.

Candlelight

A fabulous thunderstorm, or tormenta, passed over Asunción last night, one reminiscent of the one that welcomed me in April. The instant it approached the lights went out; the winds seemed to threaten the very structure in which I sat. The thunder in the April storm was unlike anything I had ever heard, resembling an earthquake in the way it shook my body while I was lying in bed. The lightning strikes must have been less than one mile away to carry powerful thunder. At least since México I’ve enjoyed thunder and rainstorms; I remember how the rain would flood the planta baja, covering the tile floors without causing alarm.

Writing by candlelight invoked a feeling of communion with those who had no option for so many decades. It made me realize how we can be so abusive of proper sleep habits in the modern age, and stay awake working or watching television with appliances that run on fossil fuels. There was not much to do without electricity, and I had even booted up the computer just as the lights went out. Apparently someone had other plans for my late evening, and certainly I am fine with a bit of writing and an hour of yoga listening to the sounds of nature blasting the windows and roof of the casita.

I have an espresso cup that I drink wine from in my room; it makes the bottle last longer and the sips more sincere. After the storm passes all is much calmer. Sounds begin outside—people are talking about downed branches in the courtyard next door, cars are passing in the street and the motos have restarted their unmufflered migrations. The thunder is now heard far off, and rain drips outside the windows; candlelight continues to flicker throughout my comfortable space.

Biblioteca Nacional

The Institution that I am most interested in here in Paraguay is the Biblioteca Nacional, since they should in theory be the strongest library in the country. Unfortunately, they have been terrifically neglected over the years and have no real budget in the Ministry of Culture. We are hoping that this changes with the appointment of a new Minister on the 15th of August.

American funds did recently support a project to microfilm some 90,000 pages of daily newspapers, and there are some signs that they will get some help from the "Binational," the organization which administers Itaupu Dam. This organization was providing the Internet, but now the bill is unpaid. So the library doesn't have Internet, which doesn't make sense to most people but is not all that crazy. I have heard several times that less than 5% of Paraguayans have reliable access to the Internet (and so I consider myself very lucky to have it, and for that matter keep a blog!)

There are actually readers at the Biblioteca Nacional, and when I went last week there were a greater number because the chicos were on winter break and getting caught up on research. Some 1000 books--reference, books on Paraguay, and many newspapers--are available to them. A large portion of the books that they own, though, are not cataloged and have been both collecting dust and sunlight for years.

Sunlight is one of the most damaging things to paper, not to mention humidity and dust, so most of these books (called the United Nations collection since they were donated by the organization over the years) have sustained irreparable damage. This photo is classic--one that a professor could show to his Library Preservation course to show the bleaching effect of sunlight. More important than bleaching, though, light causes a chemical reaction in the paper that makes it more attractive to acidic elements in the air, leading to more rapid deterioration.

There are a few sources of support for the library, and I am still asking around. They do have many employees who are willing and able to do good work with the place, and the Director is doing and has done good work with other institutions. A man named Martin Romano who owns an computer company is going ahead with the creation of a webpage for free. Also, the United Nations Information Center here is planning to donate new bookshelves and pay for cleaning the dust from the inaccessible collections, but that is still in the works. I was thinking this morning as a waited for a coffee: if such a simple undertaking can take some 20 minutes (I'm serious -- I don't know how it physically took so long), getting support for a huge project like the Biblioteca Nacional will of course take years. With the support of many, though, and in small steps, the place may be proceeding toward order en seguida.

Tilting at windmills

Since it is still the month Independence, so I'll post some photos from the flag raising at the Embassy, which I patriotically attended. I was unsurprised to hear a prayer near the beginning, and took it is a sign that indeed religion is becoming more powerful in the world. It was quite cliché to see a man there with his cowboy hat and Wranglers--he looked more American than I could believe. And what do you know, all I could think of, with a touch of nostalgia, was Nebraska...

This is my lunch afterward, which I enjoyed with a beer and coffee for the grand sum of $4-5.
After all that talk of corn in my dad's post, I must mention that here in Paraguay they also eat loads of corn flour, though I am not too sure where they grow it. The most traditional Paraguayan food--chipa--is made from it, as are many other traditional foods. The yellowish stuff on the further plate in the image is mandioca, which a root that more or less resembles a potato but more fibrous. Although very bland, I eat it when I can get it, since for the most part the food is carbs, carbs, carbs. And from the other night, I post an image of a small meal that is also fairly typically Paraguayan--a burger and a Brahma.

Still looking into the Fulbright grant, which has a deadline of August 1st. Although of course it never hurts to apply, there are some things that make me think that I wouldn't be able to go through with it. I have said for long enough that I would have to think about professional prospects in the second half of my trip, and here we are. I would rather have a job, though, for a government organization that does work in developing countries, and in that way benefit from the funding and infrastructure that they would be able to provide. In any case, I've got to get some sort of applications out there, and start looking around for what I'd like to do next. Any ideas from the reading crowd? Certainly, though, I will be back in DC, bound by what they call the "golden handcuffs" of the Library of Congress. There is plenty of time to see what options end up on the table.

I still have this crazy idea about raising some money down here. The horrendous distribution of wealth means that there is a community of Asuncenos who have money to support public project such as libraries, but they have not yet been provoked. Several
worthwhile projects need attention, and I think that people somehow intuitively realize that libraries are good for cultural and social health. If we can show that donations and investments complete projects--since in a thoroughly corrupt country the people have seen so much money wasted--we may find success. I say we, of course more in a poetic sense, but there are several allies I hope to enlist. Well, I did run into Cervantes down here, so in the quixotic spirit of his valiant Don...