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.