Wow! From 27 months of service down to 4! Everyone said that the second year went faster… they were not lying. I think it’s the comfort element. I am comfortable here (barring the occasional tarantula invasion), and the Paraguayans in my community are comfortable with me. The result is a sort of normalcy that makes days pass quickly, and a new appreciation for the oddities that have woven themselves into my life over the past almost-2 years.

I was drinking terere at my neighbors house the other day, and it was business as usual. Then suddenly, the neighbor said, “let’s do it,” and stood up and walked toward the trunk of his truck. Before I knew it all the men were involved in lifting a baby bull from the trunk back and slapping it to see if it would stand. Then of course, since I was the tecnica, I was asked to inspect the bull and tell them if I thought it would live. Since it was only skinny, and seemed to have energy, good skin, and healthy feces, I said that with the right vitamins and plenty to eat it should be fine. Then we watched it take a nap as we finished our terere.

It wasn’t until later that night that I even thought about the ridiculousness of the situation. First off why did nobody mention the calf to me until they were dragging it out of the back of the truck? And second, why was I suddenly the local vet? I have never demonstrated any capacity or knowledge about animal health, yet everyone, myself included, played along with my new role just fine.

Along with comfort has come a new demand of my skills. As I cuddled into my blanket ready for a relaxing afternoon of reading this week, my friend pulled up on her motorcycle and said “come to my house in 15 minutes, I need to learn how to make a cake for this afternoon. Oh, and bring your cake pans, I don’t have any. See you soon!” So I trudged down the street and spent the afternoon making a cake for (by together she meant that she would watch) my friend’s daughter. Suddenly I realized I barely had enough time to make it home before the sun disappeared.

I’ve finally adjusted. I am no longer shocked by Paraguay. Paraguayans are no longer shocked when I don’t want to eat cow stomach. My community and I have found our equilibrium.

And so, I stopped writing my blog. But I have stories I have been collecting, and before I forget I will start posting them again. Because while the shock value has faded, the incredible nature of my life has not, and its all because of this country, Paraguay. The “guay” that nobody really knows anything about. But it’s a country with a traditional culture full of fun quirks, a pretty good soccer team, and almost oddly unwavering pride.

So as my work in site begins to come to a close, I’ll turn to goal 3 of the Peace Corps: Sharing Paraguayan culture with the states. I’ll begin with some photos:

When living in the country-side of Paraguay, my life becomes the countryside of Paraguay.

When I have nothing to do, I can now sit for hours and simply appreciate life. When I look for excitement, I cross the street anxiously to my neighbors house to hold her baby and gossip about how rude the senora down the road acts in committee meetings, and watch the road for new traffic. When I look for natural beauty, I sit on the porch as the sun sets below the palms. When I thought about New Years resolutions for 2011, they all involved my site; from getting to know new family’s, making my garden more environmentally friendly, and finally trying some sort of tongue. For all intents and purposes. My life in this town.

And oftentimes last year this fact began to bother me. I did not want to be that small-minded, that small-town, or that potentially ignorant to the parts of the world that existed far away from our daily happening. Which is why when Christmas vacation time came around, I was anxious to re-discover the world, or at least parts of Argentina.

And discovering I did. First San Carlos de Bariloche, where nature’s wonders continually surpassed my minds predisposed notions of beauty and shocked my system’s ability to handle extreme fluctuations of temperatures. Days were spent frolicking along snow-capped peaks lining a lake whose sheer size and fairly consistent whit-capped waves were reminiscent of the ocean.

After a delightful (and meat filled) parrilla dinner on Christmas eve, it was off to Mendoza, where dirt roads were actually maintained, mountains were even higher, wine flowed freely, sushi actually existed and was delicious, and even rainy days could not keep city life from happening.

It was a good vacation. Full of new experiences and so visually stimulating that I find my photos, although beautiful, disappointing in comparison. When I left for vacation I planned on a re-adjustment period in Asuncion, and worried it would not be enough time to be ready for site. And yet, despite myself, after so much discovery, fun, excitement, newness… etc, upon arrival at the hotel in Asuncion, I was antsy to get home.

Finally, I made it back. And the first thing I did was cross the street to hold my neighbor’s baby, hear about the gossip I missed, and watch the sun cross below the palms with her. Instead of feeling small-minded or trapped this time, I felt happy. This is what we do in the Paraguayan countryside. This is the life I chose, or rather, the life that chose me, and which I accepted.

Vacation was amazing, wonderful, an experience that widened my perspective and inspired my future, but I think so did my hours of starting into the fields, chatting about the weather or neighbor’s bad behaviors, and sitting through black-outs in the countryside of Paraguay for the last year. So for 2011, I am going to embrace the amazing-ness that somehow develops despite a lack of incredible natural beauty, fairly temperate weather, unexciting social lives, and too much free time. Even though full of the traditionally unappreciated, the small-town life of my Paraguayan community provides me a plethora of wonders and surprises. I will be sure to keep you all posted about the un-incredible, yet amazingly intriguing, inspiring, and exciting happenings of life in the campo!

Its good to be home!

My relationship with chickens in this country would be best defined as Love-Hate. I do love eating the home-grown chicken soup, and the beautiful orange-yolk eggs they sometimes lay in my compost pile. But I also do so hate those chickens that have figured out how to fly, and manage to clear my 3-foot tall garden fence and munch on all my red tomatoes, cabbages, and baby pepper plants before I realize what’s going on, as well as their sticky droppings they love to leave on my front porch.

And then, a few months ago, chickens became much more.

Almost every family in my community already has chickens. They are all over. They eat everything they can find, wander to far-off places, and when they decide to lay eggs, they do so wherever they see fit before climbing high into a mango tree to sleep for the night. But in July the agricultural committee randomly received 10 well-bred chicken babies sponsored by the mayor. I’m still unsure when the inspiration hit. It may have been the moment I saw those boxes of fluffy chicks being passed out to the agriculture committee. Or maybe when people started talking about how the chicks were dying. But I think it finally hit when one lady, chicken-less after only 4 weeks, recognized out-loud that she had no idea how to raise those chickens or why they died.

The committee had been hankering for a project, and after these chicken stories I couldn’t escape the opportunity glaring me in my face. I would teach my women how to care for their chickens. But they needed a reason. Other talks with them had established that beyond the winter-garden season where they could sell vegetables, they often lacked a steady income. Recent trips to the local store demonstrated that the local economy also lacked eggs. And so, it was born: the chicken project.

After watching to many easy projects fail in arriving, in their implementation, or in sustainability, I worked with all my resources to protect my project from a sad and unfortunate fate. Rules were born:

1) To be involved in the project, each woman had to be a long-standing and participatory member of the women’s committee.

2) Each person must attend a series of 4 talks about chickens in order to receive the project.

3) Each woman must contribute an equal percentage of crops from their fields towards the production of home-made chicken feed.

4) Each woman must work equally to raise the money for the community contribution.

5) Each woman must plant at least 5 lines of pigeon peas, a green manure, in their fields to go towards future chicken feed.

6) Each woman must have their chicken house built within a month of the materials arriving.

7) Each woman must keep at all times at least 6 chickens in her chicken coop.

At first things were hard. Despite constant reminders, good friends in the community tested my rules by skipping the first talk. When I had to kick them out of the project committee, I worried that everything would go downhill. I lost faith.

Slowly, faith returned. The 24 women that came to the first talk, came to the last 3 as well. When chicken-feed ingredients were requested, they took their time to make feasible promises that equaled what we needed. Women have already shown up at my house with contributions towards the chicken feed that may be months away in the making. And at every house I visit, something clicks in the minds of the women about mid-way through the visit, and they jump up excitedly to go show me their pigeon pea seedlings and show me where their chicken house will be built.

As of now we are waiting for the money. The application for a SPA grant through Peace Corps is in, thanks to great help from the president of the women’s committee, and hard days of cooking and selling chicken and empanadas has us only a few dollars away from our community contribution goal. And now we wait.

And now, though the chickens that get into my garden still piss me off, I see in them an opportunity. The ‘chicken chatter’ around town is positive, women are even putting some of the practices learned in talks to use with the chickens they have. The room underneath my guest bed is almost full of corn, beans, and coco waiting to be ground for future feed.

They did it. They followed the rules, and have astounded me with their progress. As I work to ensure that my part in the project pulls through as well, I notice that the women walk into meetings a little taller and laugh a little louder. Those garden destroying chickens have already begun to empower a capably group of people looking for a chance to prove themselves. And prove themselves they will continue to do, I tell them. Because though we may have to wait, when those chickens finally get here, are well fed and well kept, and start producing lots of eggs, I will be over at each of their houses to try one.

First came the chickens, then the eye-opening empowerment of the women, and now comes my time to learn patience in the funding process. We finally got confirmation of funding! But red-tape keeps its from materializing too soon. The day will come though, I hope, when its all about the eggs, and six months after, a few plates of home-made chicken soup as we watch baby chicks chirp away the beginning of the cycle.

Sorry for the lack of blog posts recently.. internet in the countryside sometimes fails. Here is a little note I wrote to myself a while ago... I hope you enjoy! I'll do a photo update when I get to better internet!

From the first day I arrived in Paraguay, Peace Corps mentioned the importance of visiting families to get to know them. In training it was simple: I visited the families that the other Peace Corps Trainees lived with, and then we all left together to play Frisbee.

It was not until I got to site that I realized how complex the simple task or visiting families could become. My initial visits were easy, introductory, full of simple questions, temperature commentary, and the periodic meal or gift of fruit to welcome me to the community. It was pleasant.

Once the first visits to all the families were over, disaster struck. Apparently you visit once, and you have to keep going, fairly frequently, meaning about once a week. If you fail, you will know you did, because they will hound you with “Where have you been?” “Why don’t you want to come back to my house?” “When are you going to visit me again?” “Why haven’t I seen you in a while?” To answer: “Because you never come to my house,” is inappropriate, and so an immediate promise of a visit to come and excuses of a heavy workload is the only way to excuse yourself.

Then you realize that with some families you simply have nothing to say. Maybe it’s a personality difference. Maybe it’s a lack of patience allowing for the conversations to go anywhere. And these visits slowly die, because you leave feeling bored, and they stop asking why you never come around.

But other families just click. You have fun with them. You can sit and talk about things other than the rain last week. You can make funny noises together. They order you right inside if you arrive past ten am to help them make lunch and expect you to stay for it. They also have a tendency to give you things. None of this is solicited and yet so far I have walked away from various family visits with, but not limited to: a pumpkin, bag of hot peppers, sweet potatoes, a cup of sugar cane juice, a bowl of mandioca, roasted pig skin, a bag of beans, a floor mat, a large hair clip decorated with 2 yellow poinsettias and brown feathers, and several delicious meals (normally already in my stomach).

It’s awfully nice of them. I guess they are just so happy to have a visitor that they want to thank them for coming. I have seen them do the same with Paraguayans. I try to return the kindness when I can, baking and distributing cakes and breads periodically to the heavy gifters, or even the ones with the kindest or strangest offers (I have an outstanding offer to bring my towel and bathe whenever I want at one family’s house. Even when I told them I had a hot shower, they replied that they just wanted to let me know that if I wanted to bathe at their house ten minutes away from my own and then walk home on a dusty or muddy dirt road, I was welcome to).

I have already decided that this is something I am going to miss about Paraguay. It really brightens your day. Not only do I accomplish something each day I go and talk with Paraguayans for 3 hours about their lives, mine, and mention some gardening tips amidst it all, but I also walk home with something like a large pumpkin to eat.

Maybe I will continue this in the US. I think I should. I will have a bowl by the door of long-keeping vegetables and dollar-store treasures, and depending on my mood as I walk my guest to my front door they will get a yam, an onion, or a leopard print snap-bracelet.

I complain a lot on this blog. I acknowledge that. I admit that it is often easier to find the motivation to post when I am stressed, concerned, overwhelmed or upset than when I am content, happy, and even a little giddy with my life here. Today I attempt to change that. I know this story is cheesy, but its true.

I had a trainee come visit this weekend. Last year this time I headed far north to visit a volunteer from the group before mine and see just what volunteer life is like. This weekend, it was my turn.

It was fun waiting for the visitor. Thinking of what she might be like, remembering how little I knew about what my life would become later on in training or even once I swore in. And then she was here. And I told her how it is. There are hard days, and tiring days, and long days, and hot days, and generally good days, and vacation days, and work days... etc. But I forgot to leave out that one kind of day, the one I leave off my blog too. Lucky for her, she was here to witness one.

After a lunch of ample vegetables and a nap, we headed to my neighbors house to plant macuna, a green manure, amidst her two month old corn crop. She planted along with us as I explained the nutritional and mineral benefits to the soil of plants such as macuna. It was a pleasant planting experience, and I was about to leave the experience calling it a good day, when she asked to show me her tomatoes.

It was then, walking around the back of their house that I saw it, a recycled trashcan just like the ones I made at the school back in May. My first, pessimistic one-year volunteer reaction was to think "damn little kid, he stole the school trashcan!" My host saw me looking at it, and said, "My son is so smart, he really loves you, he came home the day you taught the school how to make these and made us save bottles until he could teach me how to make this one. We use it for all the trash in the house, to gather it together, and almost have enough bottles to make another. I love it. Isn't he smart?"

My face lit up. "Now that has to be re-warding," said the trainee. And it was. For a brief moment I felt accomplished. While other kids wacked their friends on the heads with bottles the day I taught about recycled trashcans at the school, at least one took it to heart and even shared the knowledge. I had made an impact, my work meant something.

Without being able to wipe the smile off my face I headed to see the tomato plants and made plans with the lady to help her build a natural shade structure before the upcoming scorching months before heading home.

And that was when I took the time to tell the trainee, as I tell you all know, that every once in a while you get a day that reminds you why you are here. When, although you know you cannot save the world, you realize that you can help some of its peoples through your work. That there is a reason for you me to be here, and that my work, however it may seem at the time I do it, has and will make an impact on people's lives. Days where this realization materializes in front of you, well, although rare, those days are what makes everything else worth while.

Rachel demonstrates how to use one of the recycled trashcans in the school yard.

Paraguayans are all about family. As far as I know, the family I live next to in my town is related to everybody else in town. I happen to know that a lot of the tias and tios are way beyond first generation, but the specifics get confusing. What I do know is that the fact that I live here alone blows the minds of close, distant, and fake Paraguayan relatives alike.

Most assume that I ran away and I have two sad and very disappointed parents in the states. Others try to think better of me; since I have two brothers, they must be staying and taking care of my mother, and I am simply the youngest committing one last sin of absence before buckling into the family agenda. The truth of american culture has been verbally bestowed upon these thinkers of the worst, and yet they sway their hand in the air as if they just heard a fairy tail.

And so, when the day came to announce my mother's soon arrival in my very community... the questions stayed exactly the same. Excitement however, grew, for them, and for me.

Before the members of my community could sweetly embrace, question, and pity my mother for having a daughter who left her, I had some vacation time to attend to. After months of waiting, September arrived, and after a few days of medical testing and a hefty anti-biotic prescription, I left Paraguay for the open, beach-filled lands of Florianopolis, Brazil.

The signs in Asuncion advertising Brazil as one big beach with the occasional surfer and palm tree... was the perfect description for this island of sand, surf, fish, and fisherman. Although slightly cold the week was spent in a breezy mind-dance of amazement at how much water access and beans and rice can do for the soul.

Tromping back into Paraguay for a night brought back my reality bluntly. Skirting my last flight due to scheduling errors, I was grabbed and yelled at to get back on my plane. Thankfully my Spanish is swift in times of need, and the women yelling at me likely had no case, so the following day My mother and I crossed the border again, into Argentina for the famous falls.

Days of steaks, wines, and a third trip to the falls ended with the final ride to my site. It was time.

Having my mother in site was, well, eye-opening. Rather than the astonishing disappointment normally portrayed to me at my abandoning my mother, the faces of my community were washed with thanks towards her for letting me come. Rather than the 12 straggling women who eventually make it to my women's committee meetings, all 23 showed up, with snacks, and even some hand-made ao po'i as a gift for a woman they had only heard about. It was beautiful.

And then she left, and the comments returned. "How's your mom?" "She is so brave to let you stay here." "I cannot believe she still came to see you after you abandoned her." "You mean, you STILL live alone?" While their hearts seemed to lighten a bit with her visit, their basic understanding has not changed.

And while my mom got to visit families, see my house, taste a few bites of Paraguayan food, and experience the hot Paraguayan sun, I have to wonder how much that little time could impact her understanding of my time here.

I have been here a year, a little more now. I see things differently. The water going out for a day barely affects me, while a little comments about me or my lifestyle by a Paraguayan that has been said one to many times can turn my week upside down. There are things about this country that make me happy and the other things that drive me CRAZY, but they are the things that make this Paraguay. I don't think meeting my mother excused my lack of Paraguayan tradition in my life choice one bit. I don't think that translating Paraguayan jokes about me sunk in to my mother as it does to many volunteers. But the trip brought unexpected benefits as well. I do think they felt proud and productive giving her their ao po'i, and I do think she liked it. The exchange of s'mores and gifts with my family left everyone smiling through goey mouths. And so, while the deep lessons I wished to involve in my mothers visit seem to have fallen short, perhaps they landed just where they needed to be.

And now, when asked, "You REALLY live alone?" I can reply, "Yes. And remember that time you met my mother? She lets me!"

In second grade show and tell was great. I remember being proud of things as small as a painted rock, and my teacher made sure that everyone else appeared to care as well. Smiling broadly I presented whatever I brought, and then compared the items of others. I was generally jealous of the kids with stay-at home moms and new puppies, and prided myself that I chose to paint a rock, rather than the kid with a green stick…

Growing up I never thought about how it felt to be the object, to be displayed and talked about. Of course there did appear in the classroom the periodic parent with a really cool job, but adult-hood seemed like such a far off dream that I concentrated on little more than how is was too bad we already had a teacher, so my mom wouldn’t be anything unique for show and tell.

Holding Pedro, his mom calls him my child, he does make the visits easier though!

Then I got to Paraguay. At first I thought everyone invited me everywhere with them because they liked me. Then it dawned on me that they were asking me if they could take me to their Associates house. Take me, like I took my rock. Word gets out further, and suddenly I find myself with invitations to be taken to the houses of people’s elderly parents, grandchildren, cousins, and estranged aunts five towns away.

An invitation is an invitation. It means mingling with the people I now work for. Best of all I imagine Peace Corps giving me a high five and whispering “yeah girl” every time I head out on foot or horse cart. After-all, I will be completing the 2nd goal of my work here: teaching Paraguayans about Americans and their culture...because inevitably one of my weird American quirks will make itself evident. Also, I tend to leave with funny gifts, but that’s another story. It’s a win win. So I go.

Upon the arrival at the stranger’s house, their lives are put on hold. They kiss my cheeks, kick someone out of a chair and make me sit in it, offer me juice or tea, admire my hair, ask me to look at their garden (when they hear I have one), ask me how Paraguay compares to Germany (I remind them that not all blond people are Germans who moved to Paraguay after World War II, and that I am actually from the US), talk to whoever brought me to the new place about me for a while (she is pretty, she is big, does she eat well? Does she speak Spanish? (funny considering I have been speaking to them in Spanish before this conversation begins), Guarani? (ditto)), and then the person responds with her precious little known facts, like how white my calves actually are, etc…

Its a big thing that I have a camera. Visiting a family on birthday day leads to epic photos. Children in front of my cake gift, not smiling.

Eventually we return to the interactive time where I answer questions, and periodically am made to do a trick, from making fruit salad to saying an English word. In this time I have to watch what I say. Yesterday I accidentally mentioned I was thinking about trying to make mandarin marmalade and before I knew it they had the ingredients on the table. I was then ordered to supervise a project I had no idea how to complete. Luckily the sun saved me, and I skipped out on a horse cart before the stuff was done cooking. (Which was probably not great…. I am pretty sure I quadrupled one ingredient and halved another accidentally…)

I have no idea what these families say about me when I leave. I would like to think they spend the evening discussing how great and beautiful I am. Most likely they catch up on the time they lost during my visit, and forget about my visit for a little while, until they go to their neighbors house the next day to buy milk and remember to share with her about the quirky Spanish and Guarani speaking German who came to their house yesterday and made some pretty watery marmalade.

The cake another neighbor hired me to make. That was a fun party. Everyone was so happy that the german girl knew how to make cakes like the Germans in town, but for cheaper!

Baby chickensssss. Some wealthy politician gave the committee money to buy everyone ten chickens. They were cute.

Baking my own Rosemary bread. Delish! (and gives people something to brag about with!)

One of the most ironic things about Paraguay is its iconic, the infamous, red dirt. It is red. And it is everywhere. Its sandy, it does not stay put, it dries quickly, and its hue is well, beautifully red.

Amidst this dirt lives a people who are probably the tidiest people I know when it comes to negating this dirt from their lives. They embrace the dirt as their own, and then work hard, and yet seamlessly, to make its presence only known in their minds. As Peace Corps volunteers we were advised not to bring white shirts because of this dirt, yet Paraguayans living in the same town as I flaunt a white that almost glows.

I will never understand this. My shirts all have a little pink tint now. Short up straight-up bleaching them every wash, I accustom it to the power of the dirt. If its been a dry week, and a truck drives by me walking down the ruta, or main road, I arrive to my destination coated in a pinky-dust. Every week I brush off an every-returning pink hue from the side of my fridge and top of my stove. Even with doors and windows closed, it seeps in.

I had come to embrace the dirt. What else could I do? Recently a mis-understanding regarding a safety policy and my host family’s pride has caused a falling out. As we work our way back towards normalcy I immediately decided that it was probably good I never took to the fight against the dirt as they did. Sure, my white t-shirts (which they used to insist they wash) might be a little pink, along with the soles of my feet, but it does not bother me.

One morning about a month ago, I received the funniest ultimatum ever: My family decided to make me fight the dirt. You see, every morning they sweep the area surrounding their house to remove the ‘dirt’. Ironic because it’s dirt, it’s a dirt yard. I recognize that it does look beautiful and organized when they are done, and perhaps they have successfully maintained the ground from becoming a sandy mess. But looking at the tree roots laying out and vulnerable looking atop the glowing orange ground, I also wonder what they are doing for the erosion process…

Sweeping out my house, and my brick porch, my aunt said hello, followed by, “what you really need to sweep is your dirt lawn, it’s dirty.” Without complaint, to avoid confrontation, and giggling inside at the absurdity of it all, I stepped out in my boots and pajamas, grabbed the home-made broom resembling a witch’s favorite ride, and swept my little dirt area as best I could. We worked together to put the swept dirt in a bag to carry away.

My lawn does look pretty. But I have to wonder if sweeping away a centimeter of dirt every day is any better than paving a road through an ecosystem. Which is more civilized? Which is right? And how many more mornings will I now feel guilted into participating in what is surely man-made erosion.

And below:

Tony learned to shake! a blurry photo of my english class at graduation, and my garden in full bloom! Delicious!

The days leading up to my first visitor from home were easily some of my most exciting and yet some of my most nerve-wracking: It would be a clash of two worlds…someone from school, life in Vermont, my existence in the US, would arrive in Paraguay, my reality within the mysterious identity of the Peace Corps. At 6:15am on June 19th, my adventure began.

Within 3 hours it was as if Sarah had been here forever. The sun shone bright despite previous months of rain. In her first hours I noticed that the things that were new and surprising to her were generally what makes me laugh about Paraguay anyways. She loved the powerful feeling of a wad of 100 mils worth only about one hundred dollars. She became a Paraguayan soccer fan, watching her first game in the hotel lobby with the receptionist and maid. She savored the creamy-corny deliciousness of chipa guazu and the Lido bar’s infamous Fish soup. Then she froze with me on the overly climate controlled bus back to Villarica, newly addicted to Chipa (just like me).

At site, she took on the life of a volunteer. She slept plenty, read plenty, and my community adored the girl who could only say “hello”, “a little bit”, and “no”, and yet spent afternoons at their houses eating their sopa, empanadas, and mandioca smiling and laughing with her. We came home at night and Sarah talked about the pleasantries of “camping” in my “village.” (Apparently the mystery would not wear-off, I figured, after-all, I consider my life pretty fancy, and I definitely live in a pretty suburban community…).

Time passed quickly, and traveling began. After being told that Itaipu (large damn) was closed due to a Brazilian soccer game, we hitch-hiked to a Paraguayan-German hotel to watch Paraguay play its best game in the cup with a group of Guarani-swearing, terere-drinking men. The same afternoon we arrived in Argentina, where Spanish ruled, the steak and wine delicious, the roads paved, the waterfalls a visual, almost spiritual experience, and time passed too quickly.

Asuncion greeted us for the fourth of July with banners of red, white and blue covering the city… in celebration of Paraguay’s entrance into the final 8 of the world cup. To Sarah, the city also began to mean a break from the oil of traditional Paraguayan meals, where salads were available and not dangerous to eat, and where there were people who understood English. Surrounded by tvs and jersey’s we watched Paraguay fall from the world cup, saw the city’s heart deflating to disappear to houses terere in the plaza, and walked home as it began to rise again with honking, flag waving, and street fireworks in celebration of the success of the team of a small, fairly unknown country, and the message that gave to people around the world. Without planning, Sarah lucked out to be in Paraguay for the World Cup, an experience in itself.

Back to site we tacked on a few more Paraguay-only experiences. At 4 am on a Tuesday, Sarah milked her first cow with my host mom, then dined at 5 on fresh Cocido and bread chunks. My women’s committee cried when I told them she was leaving. The last night we carried home, roasted and ate the freshly slaughtered and cleaned 3 month old pig Sarah bought for her despedida “goodbye.”

On our last day in Asuncion, she followed me around as I did errands. We laughed at the over-all wearing hippie who came on the bus to play bamboo flute to a tune on his wooden boom-box, we officially befriended the craft-vender who had now sold us 2 cow-foot mugs, we lunched on the stairs of a closed night-club, had our last fancy dinner, and at midnight she headed towards the airport in taxi after our groggy goodbye.

It was the next morning that it sunk in how much I would miss her. All my fears of worlds combining melted within 10 minutes of seeing her, and bringing a taste of home to my experience here was exactly what I needed. Having lived (“camped”) in my community (“village”), didn’t drastically change her perspective on my life here, and it somehow made my experience, my time here, and my reason for being here more real.

Maybe Paraguay is morning her departure as well, since she has left its rained heavily for three days, and since beginning this post my electricity has gone in and out 3 times in an electrical storm…

If there is anything I have learned over the last few weeks, its that Soccer is not soccer, its Futbol. Its that one team of about 15 people can truly inspire and connect a country with a giant economic and currently political divide, its that in my mind, futbol belongs to Latin America.

I know Paraguay just lost their game. I know a lot of people from home like Spain better because they studied there, because they think the players are cuter, or maybe because they just simply know the place. I have already gotten some messages saying to move on because Paraguay lost.

But they don't understand. I wanted Paraguay to win not because of the game. I wanted Paraguay to win, because when their star player was shot in the head in a blatant attack in Mexico last November the world didnt care, but Paraguayans held prayer circles. I wanted Paraguay to win because when they tied Italy in their first game, even without their lead striker, the country earned more google searches than ever before: people were noticing. I wanted Paraguay to win because when I wear my Paraguayan jersey around, every person I pass skips the normal catcall, questioning of my nationality, and skeezy whistles, and instead claps and thanks me for my support. I wanted Parguay to win because the players come from small rural towns, they trained in the red dirt shooting between pine-apply bushes and finally made it big time (many of the communities giving rise to the stars are still poor enough to have a Peace Corps volunteer.) I wanted Paraguay to win because after we lost today it felt like someone had died, the world went quiet, the streets in downtown Asuncion emptied... and then 30 minutes later, when the tears dried, and the death of a chance sufficiently mourned, the songs for the team and slow clapping for the team began to spread from alley to alley.

Unfortunately it looks like the World Cup finals are going to be two European countries. Not to discount their emotion, likely they have several important fans, but a win to them doesn't mean that the world will google them, that businesses will look into their economy, that they will receive any sort of economic or social benefit other than the prize money. And my guess is that Spain, however much they wanted to win that game, would not have followed the loss drying their wet eyes with claps of appreciation, respect and a goal for 2014 despite the recent deflation of a small country's whole-hearted dream. I guess in that sense, Paraguay won. And however cheesy this realization, I was dang proud to be wearing the red and white striped jersey and shouting at the Spaniards in Guarani.

Europe may keep taking the World Cup, but Futbol belongs to the spirit and heart of Latin America.

6 months of service (9 including training)… Done. A landmark. A success in time. A reminder that I have 18 months left. Time here plays with your mind. Days pass slowly, weeks fly by, months do both, and you wonder simultaneously if you can make it so long and if you have enough to make your service a complete success.

Who knows really. They say that the first 6 months here are the hardest. Come tomorrow, I will pass that landmark. I will also be climbing out of my biggest slump thus far. I hit a wall last week: my projects were being rejected, my community seemed hard if not impossible to motivate, a misunderstanding made a newly comfortable friendship regressed to the beginning. I felt like I was back at school with way too much work to even think about, except this time there was not a paper to write to solve my problems.

Nobody ever said Peace Corps was easy. In fact, when I asked most returned volunteers the response was generally a broad “It is an incredible, life-changing experience.” I am pretty sure people said that about seeing Avatar for the first time, so you can imagine my expectations: aside from likely lower living standards, not understanding the people I was supposed to work with very well, and new foods... I really didn’t have any.

When I got here I was astonished at my luck. Paraguay is after-all a beautiful country, with friendly people, pretty good food (obsessed with all forms of chipa, still), and dspite a minor set-back early on I was placed in a great little town ready to work. It wasn’t until Tuesday or so when the harder points of my new reality hit.

Tomorrow marks 6 months. Indeed, the newness of my situation is gone. It was a startling discovery, but it’s a new perspective, and a new opportunity. The things that didn’t work out so far, I wont continue. The things that did, I will. And all the extra time other volunteers DID warn me about but I did not understand until now, well I will utilize that for me instead of letting it make me feel like I don’t do enough. It may have taken me 6 months, but now I see that maybe I am the only one who always wants to start a worm compost or plant trees because I have no cows to milk, no chickens to feed, no children to care for, and no large fields to hoe and plant. Maybe I will change some of that (namely, a small demo-plot or field… no worries, no young children to take care of, and my neighbors politely destroyed my dream of owning a duck by reminding me that they had a pond and it would likely run towards their water… and away from me…)

The glitter may be gone, but I have 18 months left to try to make the most of my service. I will probably hit a few more walls, but the mean time I plan to continue to work for and with the town when they have time, and when they don’t, to add a little work for myself (home-made soap making? Crocheting? Painting? I have the time most people don’t have until retirement). I have no specific project or activity in mind, just a plan to utilize my opportunity to the best of my ability, because even in my low points, I recognize that it has been, and it will continue to be incredible to make my job, my home, and my life for the next 18 months in rural Paraguay.

And something is working for me, because my lack of a green thumb in the states has somehow made everything in my garden here in Paraguay start to grow! Maybe at the 9-month mark, I will at least have some amazing veggies to eat.

Tony is the most faithful and loyal dog ever. Follows me around everywhere.

Its sugarcane season, the farmers bring it to my house to load it up in a truck.

The one thing I am really pumped about is teaching the women's committee every 15 days. Here they are making dish soap from a kit. Its a lot cheaper to make your own than to buy it in the store.

When they made jokes about volunteers beginning to shine any wood furniture in their house with their chap-stick due to weeks of rain in training, I didn’t believe it. The rains, when they came, were indeed ample at that time, but they went as fast as they came, and we were back to the heat.

They didn’t lie. I am now on my second day of rain, after a short 3 day break from 4 straight days of rain. And when I say a day of rain, I mean it has been raining all day, pouring at times, misting at others, with plenty of lightening and thunder interspersed. Since I am in Paraguay, this also means that life as I know it shuts down. The road becomes a mud-slide slalom for only the bravest or foolish moto-driver, school closes, meetings are canceled, and the world around me becomes muddy, wet, and freezing cold. (or around 45 degrees, which, without heat, feels close to freezing.)

In a way, it’s nice. On rainy days, nothing is expected of me. If I am not careful, I expect little of myself (the clouds, the mud, the families not leaving their own homes makes it uninspiring for me to do the same). You get into a rainy day zone, although it sometimes takes me a moment to remember were the rain leaks into my house and move my chair in time to not get wet. I do crafts, I plan charlas, I now surf the internet (something I only do on rainy days since it takes so long for random pages to load when I have things to do), I bake, I talk on my cell phone an obscene amount, and I head over in my mud boots to sit around the fogon with my host mom, drink mate, and talk about the latest family gossip (today’s conversation included my host sister’s new love interest, a local 19 year old police officer from the town over). And then, I go to bed ridiculously early, after tucking Tony into his bed (he gets cold too!) only to somehow wake up late the next day.

Short times seem long. And then you realize it is. Who knows if this is a standard Paraguayan winter, they cannot even remember what it was like last year (I think its an effect of the extreme heat during the summer. And after days of thinking “well, at least the garden is happy” I just went outside to see that many of my little plants succumbed to mud flows and drowned leaves.

Luckily there’s mate, fireside chats, and many warm blankets to bide the time until the sun returns, my world dries again, and I am far too busy to remember the down, although moist, times.

One day, between the rain, we got a little work done. Here are some kids at the school building a compost pile in front of the school garden we made!

In the countryside of Paraguay, where land is fairly abundant and self-production of crops is common, it makes no sense NOT to have a garden. Paraguay is pushing for family gardens: they provide cheap and abundant food, and encourage families to include more vegetables in a country where meat and corn is generally preferred. Peace Corps encourages volunteers to join in on this process, so much so that we receive two days of garden training before headed out to site. We had practice each splitting one piece of bamboo (previously cut from the stock and into smaller pieces), and attaching them together with wire. We also collectively made three tablons (or above-ground seed-beds), and planted. The simplicity of each activity meant that three months later, in site and with a piece of land for my huerta-ra (future garden), I gave myself two days to get it all ready.

The real deal was nothing like training, or it was, but about ten times more difficult. My piece of land was 3 times the size of our training garden, and it came unclean. I spent the first day chopping and removing all thick vines and root-filled plants from the land with my machete, host mom leading the way. Soon after I was hoeing away at the remaining grasses, a process that took me two days, a weeklong hiatus to wait for rain and a softer ground to continue the process, and then another afternoon. Once clean, we had to fence it off. I was fortunate enough to have chain-link fence donated to me. So it only took one full day to dig deep holes, seek out wood to serve as posts, and nail the chain-link fence to it all. Unfortunately, it didn’t fit.

Then came bamboo. I searched around my garden for the small, pre-sawed pieces provided to me in training… I found none. Off to the bamboo fields in a horse cart, where for an entire morning my sister and I searched the bamboo for mature stalks, chopped them down by machete, and then pulled and dragged them into a pile before sawing them into semi-smaller pieces and piling them back in the cart to take home.

The next 5 days were non-stop work. First I cut the bamboo into usable sizes and then split it. Then I dug and installed a place for my compost pile, abonera in Spanish. Next I installed the bamboo in the places the fence would not reach (no chickens!). Finally my brother helped me nail together a gate. I then began digging. Double digging a seed-bed is a tiring activity, one that took me two days to complete six. By that time, my hands were bruised from slamming the shovel in the ground, and I swear my forearm had new muscles. I finally spent a day hoeing and raking down the seed-beds into nice little rectangles. That night I slept for over twelve hours, recuperating the energy my work had drained from me. The next morning I planted, including putting out semi-cheesy and yet needed marking signs for where I planted what. Then I went to a training activity./s320/Garden1.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5468596689729804018" />

The garden, right after planting and the first water! May never look this good again.

I returned frightful, a heavy rain had come during my absence, and though I new I did my best, I doubted my ability to keep seeds from washing away in the tides from the sky. They didn’t. I have radishes already an inch tall, and the arugula is coming in thick, crowding rows with a thick green. My small planters are full of broccoli, coliflower, eggplant, pepper, and tomato seedlings. Looking at my garden I have never been so proud and intimidated simultaneously. It was the hardest physical work I have done yet here, and though it took some time, I did it. Paraguayans are impressed, and I am amazed. I realize that the battle will continue. Soon will come droughts, bugs, and unwanted weeds. But its there, its complete, and as of right now, it looks pretty dang good.

PS. The list of things planted includes: beets, thyme, lettuce (3 types), arugula, broccoli, small pumpkins, butternut squash, cucumber, onion, cabbage, eggplant, cowpeas, basil, spinach, banana peppers, garden beans, zucchini, summer squash, cilantro, parsley, carrots (2 types), radishes, jalapenos, tomatoes, peppers, and coliflower. Lets hope it all sprouts!

P.S.S. As always, any additional seeds are welcome! The seed availability in Paraguay is limited, and several of the ones already planted and doing the best came in a package from my mom (thanks!). I am especially interested in tomatillo and other hot weather seeds…

View from a bit closer.

Now More random photos!

He is getting bigger! Now double the length of my shoe.

Still a smiley puppy.

My family killed their year old huge pig one morning. It took the entire family to raise it up to be skinned. They sold only the meat, which added up to 93 Kilos (about 180 pounds) and then ate all of the bacon, skin, fat, and the head. I politely declined most of it. Just couldn't do it.

The agriculture committee I work with is the bane, and the basis of my existence in this community. We come together every Monday afternoon to talk about agriculture, get excited about the possibility the government might give us goats, and then, well, they proceed to argue with each other until the sun goes down. I wander home in the dark with a headache.

My friends here know how much I dread these meetings, and overall it comes off as me hating the committee. But I realized something this week; it’s not the people (well, most of them) I dislike, but them TOGETHER. In small groups, they are actually quite enjoyable. Case in point: Tuesday’s field-trip.

My committee often works closely with an agent of the Paraguayan governments department of agricultural development. On Monday at the meeting, we were all invited to attend a “dia del campo” or day of talks about sugar cane in a town about an hour away. Despite the fact that the ministry was providing buses, I really did not want to go. They made me.

A 6 am start meant nothing for Paraguayan time, and our bus rolled in around 9:30 am where we shuffled towards the room where the talks were taking place. It was full… more so, PACKED. So we left. At his point the 7 people from my committee that I was with decided that they really didn’t care about sugar cane. Soooo, we went and found tractors to play on (see photo) and then ate a ton of mandarins from the fields of trees. Then we sat and Terere-d in the shade, waiting for the promised lunch.

We talked we laughed. At one point one of them opened their thermos and showed me they had replaced water with seeds for green manures they wanted for their fields. I was so proud. I showed them my bag, in which I had gathered more mandarins than I thought to share with my family back home. They laughed and another opened her purse… igual, full of mandarins. (I am eating one right now; by the way, they are delicious, sweet, and juicy).

We laughed more. We bonded. I realized that they are great…IN SMALL GROUPS. Wednesday there was another “emergency” meeting to decide what to do with the corn seeds. I strolled in and noticed that the whole group that had attended the “dia del campo” greeted me smiling more than usual, and we all chuckled a little as we reunited. It had been a good day. Totally useless in terms of technical information, but useful for me to put a perspective on what my committee really is: a group of people, working, sometimes together and more than often simply TRYING to work together, to bring change to their lives.

Wednesday’s meeting still gave me a headache, but I left giggling. If they are at a farm and snatching seeds of green manures to rejuvenate their soils rather than attending a talk on soil-destroying sugar cane, maybe they, and I, are headed somewhere positive.

P.S. In other news...

Tony disappeared from his blanket on the floor one night while I was reading... I eventually followed him in the kitchen for fear he was eating trash and found that he had somehow realized that beds were comfortable, jumped onto the guest bed, and curled up. No idea how he got this idea, he had never even been on a bed before!

This toad has been living between the guest bed and the wall for a week. I try to sweep it out but the spot is too small and this particular toad is too dang fast. Normally they puff up and stay still at the sound of the broom. Not this one, he jumps all over the place. At first his unpredictability made me hate him. Now I still think he is gross and he creeps me out, but I am trying to except his presence until I can make a Paraguayan come help me with the situation. I guess one week of harmony isn't too hard for me to deal with.

I lead two lives here in Paraguay. Well not really, they are both very much mine, including me being me, but their potential combination seems so surreal that I have deemed it impossible.

Life one: My life in site. The reason I came here, where I work and spend way more than the majority of my time. It’s a simple, but amazing life. It has its ups and its downs, but as I connect with the people more and more I remember that so does life in the States. My life here includes anyone in the community who wants to work with me, but revolves around my family. When I got to my new site, I was told there were no open houses in the community.. that is, until a family I had spent a little more than 6 hours with total invited me to live in theirs, and they would move right next door to their grandpa’s house.

It seemed too good to be true… it wasn’t. They did just that and now I live in a great house only ten feet away from what has truly become my Paraguayan family. They take care of me: when I sniffled this afternoon they were immediately at the orange tree knocking off the ripe ones to make me juice. If I ever get home late from working in the morning, they inevitably show up at my door with lunch, where instead of saying “we saw there was no way you had time to cook,” they always hand me the plate and politely request that I “try” their food. As if all of this was not enough, they guard my house, help me clean my lawn, include me in celebrations, and take wonderful care of my puppy (who is so much bigger!) when I am gone.

My life in site is a simple one, I still laugh when the turkeys and chickens climb the ladder up to the mango-tree branches they sleep in at night. My family still laughs when I sweep the toads out of my house squealing. But it’s a good life, and the one that keeps me motivated to work to help the people around me.

Life two: About once a month I find myself traveling to the big city of Asuncion, be it for a meeting, material gatherings, or a swine flu vaccination. I rarely spend more than 3 incomplete days there, and yet the time seems to pass as in a different world.

In fact, it is a different world. English dominates my time. I stay in hotel rooms that have likely not seen toads or tree frogs or tarantulas. I eat at restaurants with menu’s that include things like shish-ka-bobs, “the American classic” hamburger, and teramisu. I rush about, taking no mid-day siesta, and go to fancy offices to collect papers, free garden seeds, or information for my site. Ironic considering the majority of people in my site could never consider living the life I live as I gather the materials. It’s a break. It’s a relief. It keeps me grounded. But I must admit, no matter the fun I have with the food or the English, or being able to spend time with friends, I am always ready to get back to my other life.

Returning home (to site), its like the time in Asuncion never happened. I pop popcorn for dinner as the turkeys and chickens saunter up the mango trees. I talk about the weather with my grandpa. My neighbors ask what I learned while I was gone. Then I sweep out the toads, and go to bed in my safari-style mosquito net content at the normalcy and balance I have slowly settled into while living in Paraguay.

Tony has gotten bigger!

He spends half his time jumping into my lap to be pet.

Mom, these are the chickens that snuck past me while I was on the phone with you. They lay two eggs. I gave them to my family, the next night they made me two fried eggs for dinner: what goes around comes around!

My people in the city! Who I spend most of my time with in my second life.

The mandarins growing outside my house are now ripe and delicious!

Me and Kendall on a date that was crashed by 6 others during training, more time in the city!

As I sweltered in the heat, in the sun, and in the shade about two weeks, I was told “Just wait until after Semana Santa… its like, we make chipa and its hot, and then after we finish the chipa, it gets cold.” As I sat trying to drink enough terere to compensate for the water leaving my body despite my sitting in the shade, I laughed off the idea.

Then I proceeded to make a ton of chipa, and eat far too much as well. Semana Santa is Easter week in Latin America. In Ecuador this means large parades and church visits, I’ve heard that in Argentina this means fancy vacations to mountain towns… In Paraguay, Semana Santa means tons and tons of chipa, a bit of sopa paraguaya, and various types of grilled, freshly slaughtered, meats. With school and work off, the end of the week is left free for cooking festivities. Wednesday afternoon my family and I mixed the corn flour, mandioca flour, milk, eggs, cheese, and pig fat to make over 100 pieces of chipa. Thursday I helped another family mix the same ingredients, but with more milk and onions, to make sopa to be cooking in the ta-ta-kua (or large circular brick oven) with the sopa. Friday I worked on eating all of the sopa and chipa that everyone had given me. By Saturday and Sunday, Easter celebration is pretty much over around these parts (yes its ironic), but there is still chipa.

As I continued to receive chipa from almost every household (and hid the sour chipa made with rotten cheese…), the chipa became drier and drier, and I continued sweating in the heat. And then I finished my chipa… and honestly… it got freaking cold. No lie.

I still like chipa (a rarity among my volunteer friends here), but I will now eat it in amazement at its power. I have never experienced a more rapid temperature change in my life. I went from sleeping with my fan on, no sheets, to being slightly cold under my sheets, a snuggie, and in my sleeping bag. The sun still burns, but the shade now gives you chills. Easter has passed up north, and surely Spring has sprung. The Chipa for Easter week in Paraguay has O-pa’d (finished, Guarani), and winter is blowing in.

For now I keep busy in my fleece pants and sweatshirts (wondering what I am going to wear when it “Really gets cold”) by presenting a cow nutrition charla with my friend Jordan, and cleaning and preparing the school garden with students and families. Next week I’m headed back to the training ground for Guarani and technical classes. On the activity list for my free day in Asuncion: actively seeking out the very fuzzy tiger blanket my training family had. Winter without heat in a non-insulated house, with or without snow, is going to be an interesting venture.

Now, some photos:

This is the chipa, done, all of it fresh out of the ta-ta-kuaa!

Formed, by hand, and ready to go in the oven. I grew bored of creating diamonds and made everyone in my family their initials in chipa... they loved it.

Mixing it all by hand with my mom and her sister.

The bullfight we walked to one saturday night, it was interesting, and not so fun to walk home at 3 am afterwards...

Baby pigs born the night before! And Tony, my puppy, bigger now, and really wanting to play with the pigs next to them.

Talking from people from home, many have asked me what my job here is. Unlike in the US, my job here is hard to define, and to be honest, it’s a rough question to ground on a skype or phone call. Truth is, the job of the Peace Corps volunteer, no matter where, is hard to define, it contains no specific outlines, can consist of physical labor, talking, or simple smiles, and depends as much on the volunteer as the people in their site and circumstances as incontrollable as the weather.

So what is my job here? Peace Corps gives us three goals. First; provide technical assistance to those who need it, second and third to learn about their culture, and to teach the people here about our culture. Basically, simply living in the community accomplishes the second two. They include visiting families, drinking terere under mango trees to avoid the burning Paraguayan sun, exchanging stories, swapping eggs for lessons on making banana bread, or teaching a family how to make a Mexican burrito (here burrito is a plant you put in tea). It’s a cultural exchange, and it’s a growing understanding between people, its also probably what I spend most of my time doing.

The first goal is harder. Peace Corps provides training, but assigns no specific project on which to apply our skills. Technically, I am an agriculture extensionist, and so, on a specific scale, my technical training should be applied to restoring fields through lessons on green manures, crop rotation, direct seeding… etc. My recent official technical work includes assisting in a community census of peoples crops to encourage a potential community seed bank, working with families to plan their gardens and help them get the gardens started, and giving garden talks and beginning a community garden at the local elementary school.

However, our jobs are not limited to technicalities. In reality I would describe my job as doing anything I can to help make the lives and futures of Paraguayans a little better, a little easier, a little brighter. A recent list of my work would therefore include having to tell a family their might have to re-dig the beautifully done and very deep new latrine pit right next to their garden plot in a different place to avoid vegetable contamination and potential spread of illnesses throughout their family, organizing a “cow day” with another volunteer to teach the women’s committee how to feed and water cows sufficiently in the winter to optimize milk production, and my weekly English class that has become quite a hit due to my lollipop rewards for participation.

I essentially have to make my own work, and while it can be hard, it’s the people that make it rewarding. They are often so excited that I helped them hoe their garden that its insisted that I walk home with a not-so-small squash in hand. Its for the people that I recently convinced Peace Corps to let me take not one, but two community representatives to a project design management workshop in May… beyond all of my work here, I have a personal goal (one I know Peace Corps would support) to make the presence or a volunteer here unnecessary, to teach the community of its own capability, and to encourage these great people to exploit their own ability to promote their own community development.

I hope that helps those of you who wonder what I am doing here. Its hard work at times, living alone and surrounded by lofty development goals, and I am sure that may lead to me sounding down at times, but boy, when sitting under a mango tree surrounded by the laughter and awes of amazement that lima beans exist in both places but roads close in the States due to snow rather than rain, while eating delicious creamy corn bread, its hard not to smile and take a deep breath of contentment at my work here, and the amazing job I get to not only do, but experience completely.

Peace Corps Paraguay has a rule that each volunteer must live with a Paraguayan family for three months upon their arrival in their new site. This sounds like a short period of time, but when added to the three months already spent with a family during training, and the total loss of control that moving in with a family causes over your own life (I do enjoy Paraguayan food, but I also enjoy vegetables....) moving out is pretty freaking exciting.

When I first got to my new site they told me there were no houses to rent. They were not lying, but somehow I became friends with the right people, and one of my favorite families offered me a deal: I finish building their modern bathroom in their little house in exchange for rent, and they will move next door to grandpa's house for the next two years (they each actually have more rooms now next door). I agreed.

Building the bathroom was a bit of a pain, with people promising and falling through, but at last, and with too much help from my wonderful community contact, it was done, and I moved in (after helping the family out and sweeping out many many spiders) on Monday, with the help of my new puppy! His name is Tony (not my choice, Paraguayans names him, I'm not psyched... but its too late, and my family loves it here). He is super sweet, loyal, soft, and unfortunately loves to eat cow poop and my shoes (but we are working hard on training).

So I hope you enjoy the photos of my new puppy, and the tour of my house. Living alone has made all the difference. I go to the super market, I control my own food intake, and I have my own space to clean, organize and do what I want. Its lovely.Now I am taking a brief trip to Asuncion to celebrate birthdays and grab some abonos verdes (green manure) seeds to plant with some members of the committee in hopes of improving the soil in town. Soon I will also plant my own little garden, and seeds will be purchased this trip. Thank you all for your birthday wishes! I will post more on work and my life alone next time around. Love, Jess

I live in Paraguay. I am a Peace Corps volunteer. Sometimes you forget this while here. I have a job with little regulation, huge goals, and a contract that seems like forever and no time at all simultaneously. It can be overwhleming at times. Its a lofty situation, one full of moments of amazement, contentment, frustration, excitement, happiness, sadness, deep thoughts, and once in a while a realization that this is all real- this is my life... for the next 22 months at least.

And then I take a deep breath and try to embrade it. Some experiences lead inevitably to me wondering what the heck I am doing here, like when I flipped over my bike due to a Paraguayan fetish for overgreasing EVERYTHING, or when I offer to give a simple paper charla, or presentation and am told that the ag ministry is already going to give a talk with powerpoint... But maybe its just because I am a cup half'full person, or perhaps because I am easily entertained, I try to focus on finding myself in happy awe of my situation.

I am living in Paraguay. I recently aquired a puppy and my own house (fotos to come next post I promise!) Things are not that different here. I buy most of my fod at the super market. I play volleyball and soccer. I meet new people, and would like to think I am making friends. Sometimes I am surprised by how open these new people are to working with and knowing me, the strange blond girl who moved in down the road, and sometimes I am reminded that they are also confused and simply human (my initial host family once cheated me out of a gifted pack of 24 eggs... a rough reminder that generosity has its limits=. I still gawk like a tourist at times when the funny things do happen. Like the portable meat store... where my family bought a kilo of tongue (fortunately my guarani includes being able to say I do not know how to eat things like that... my cultural assimilation has its limits...)

So even in hard times, like dealing with losing trust in some of the people in town, I have this simple fact: I am living in Paraguay. There are ups and downs, and being out in the middle of nowhere with no concrete understanding of the world around me, everything is exaggerated. But I am living in Paraguay, and that itself keeps me going. I am meeting new people, I am teaching English, how to make your own yogurt, about gardening and potential latrine contamination, and I am learning, not only about Paraguay but about life itself. Amidst all of this I get to frequently pet Carpinchos, something that I feel I should do frequently because that will definitely only last for the next 22 months.

So I hope you enjoy the little adventures of my Paraguayan life. I have only a little time to post things online, but know that each post is a snippet of an amazing, overwhelming, and never-ending combination of events that have become my life.

Time flies by. I blink and it’s February. It’s hot, it’s very hot. The mandioca leaves curl inward protecting themselves from the blaring sun and gusting winds that splashes the famous red soil on everything. Hard to believe that only two weeks ago I couldn’t go running for fear of mud slides… now I stay running in the fields to avoid coloring my eyeballs some shade of red.

The past few weeks in Paraguay I have learned a lot about myself. Living in new circumstances always teaches you things. What I spent the first 2 weeks in site learning about myself is that all of the grace I thought I had, I may lack, although I like to think that Paraguay makes it impossible for it to shine through. Despite what the general person may think of people in developing countries, Paraguayans are impeccably clean people. This meaning, they shower generally more than twice a day, wash their clothes often, and even wash their shoes about once a week, or as soon as it looks like the red tint starts to settle in.

I have discovered that I, on the other hand, while generally a clean person, am often willing to take some short cuts when the cleanliness factor requires hours scrubbing my clothes with a brush in the hot sun. I do, however, shower, and wash my clothes enough so that the red stains fade to pink. Mostly, Paraguayans have forgiven me for this.

The one thing they cannot seem to understand about me is how my feet are always dirty. As a Peace Corps Volunteer, one of the largest parts of my job is to go visit families, and so, I often spend twenty minutes walking down the bright red dirt roads in flip flops (to fit in), and therefore arrive with red-tinted feet. They tend to laugh at them, ask how that happened, and then make me wash them.

What I don’t understand is how this does not happen to Paraguayans. I do not walk recklessly, I am not sticking my feet in piles of dirt to fling them into the air, nor picking it in my hands and rubbing it in, but even when I walk on the most solid section, wind comes and blows dirt, which then sticks on my sweaty feet. Even when the dust is low, as it was two weeks ago when it rained heavily, my situation seems worse. The famous red dirt becomes the most slippery layer of mud you have ever seen, and by the time I have slipped and slid down the road, at the very least the sides of my feet are caked in the newly formed road clay. Then too, they laugh and lead me to a trough to clean them.

And yet daily, Paraguayans manage without dirtying their feet. I know I am here for cultural exchange, but even with all my practice, I fear this is a skill I will never master. Perhaps its my lack of grace, or the natural world spiting me as I walk, or perhaps (especially when its muddy) its that little part of me that loves to be dirty, and that secretly wishes it were culturally appropriate for me to treat the main road as the gigantic, fairly well groomed mud-slide that it is after it rains.

And since its been so long since I have posted I have included photos of petting the Carpinchos in my nearest town (Villarica)… and yes, it is true they feel like a broom… And of my family in the river in Itape, where we spent one whole hot Sunday lounging about in the heat, and where, once again, I seemed to be the only one to arrive back home with sand stuck to my feet. Oh well.

Its my first day in the fields. I awake at 530 AM for the mate that is supposed to be had, should have figured that a 530 wake up call would be Paraguayan time. At 550 we commence mate, and at 600 I head to the fields. I arrive only to sit down to yet another meal. My plate piled high with corn and cheese mash and a large side of Mandio. ¨You need to eat like a man,¨ they say, then laugh, ¨today you´re doing the man´s work.¨

And its true, culturally, working in fields, or at least the clearing of the field with an ox plow is pretty much limited to men. Somehow my foreign presence breaks the boundry. We head out to the field´s, cart full of cow manure and a plow towed behind. Soon I find myself bracing the plow against the pull of the cows, make it straight. Despite the wavyness my work is applauded. ¨Nde vale,¨ exclaims in awe the owner of the ox cart, ¨Nde Guapa.¨ I can do it, he says, I am hard working.

We spend the next four hours filling in the newly made lines with bucket'fulls of manure. The sun breaks through the clouds and the heat increases the intensity of the work. My arms are numb, but it is nice. A new sort of work, fullfilling. In a few months we should have corn in the field. I have plans to make chipa guasu, or fresh corn bread with cheese, with the farmer´s wife. Finally its done. Twelve lines carved and filled with manure. Tomorrow, they say, we´ll plant. ¨Koaga, jaterere.¨Now, we terere. After all my hard work, we head back to the house for the cold, fresh yerba. They let me ride in the back of the now empty ox cart. I debate being offended that they also tell the 11 year old to join me, but decide instead to revel in the view. It compares quite well, I decide, to the majestic moments one can experience in the back of open trucks.

My new site suits me. I am happy. I have a ton of work, and the community is amped. My family is incredible, my host dad (and community contact) taking time out of his day to work in the fields for random people with me so that it is culturally appropriate, and my youngest host brother is a doll. There is not a moment where Toby does not have everyone laughing. The following are photos from the new homestead. Toby, the house from the outside (it is actually a community house built by the chinese government in a project 5 years ago...my family lives in the office, I live in another room, and we have meetings in a big classroom). Followed by a photo of the view across the street and the entrance to my room.

Its a good situation, and I will enjoy my months here. Now, I must go research goats, the newly formed agriculture commitee is determined to begin a community goat project, and since I am american, they assume I know everything about goats. I have been assigned to present on all goat needs and care and nutrition and value of possible products on monday. I know nothing about goats, except I think I heard once of one that ate a shoe. But I will learn, and I will teach, and so begins my time as a volunteer at work.

Home again? Home at last? Who knows how to put it, but I have been moved. Conveniently, obama in guarani means one who has already moved, a word I can now use, and one that I always remember. Moving was a whirlwind experience. The security employee of Peace Corps was kind enough to drive me all the way to my old site to gather my things, and then take me to my new site. In the twenty minutes I had to pack at my old site, my neighbors and host family there made it clear that they thought I should stay. After all, I didn´t have an allergy, I must have had the reaction, they say, because I worked too hard on my first day, and showered when it was too hot out. A new belief nonetheless, but demonstrative of their wanting me to stay. If only I had eaten watermelon amidst the shower, then the entire Paraguayan country would say that my blood vessels exploded. But despite their greivences, I said goodbye and drove off.

My new site is located about 7 kilometers outside of Villa Rica. Its rural, on a dirt road, with beautiful mountain views, and the people I have met thus far have been amazing. They speak spanish, which is nice, because we can talk. But still rely heavily on Guarani, which means that hopefully I will successfully become tri'lingual in the next two years. I am living with a great family, who live in and take care of the community house. The house was actually built by a Chinese NGO about 5 years ago. They share a large room, there is a large classroom across the way, a decent sized storage room and a kitchen. After much lifting, moving, cleaning, sanding, re'painting and my host dad installing a ceiling fan for me, I am officially a resident of the storage room.

The community is pumped to have me, which is nice. They have a huge plan to begin a community goat farm and sell the products. First though, they must be able to raise enough pasto to feed the goats and still have enough land to raise food to live off of. Thus, we will be working together to teach crop rotation, crop partnering, and the use of green manures to restore the soil and get the needed things growing. Since my training in all of this was fairly brief (compared to my vast knowledge of now useless bee information) I have been spending a decent amount of time reading up on things. The long-term goal is really exciting though, and I am hoping I can be a big part of its success. But it will not be me alone, this afternoon an engineer is coming to help teach about pasto, and I will likely work heavily with her.

That's about all for now. My family is sweet, very protective, and fantastic. The kids are super sweet, including the little 1.5 year old Tobias. Its going to be weird to get used to being so near a town. This internet cafe is in a very fancy and complete super market! The town is also very near a German colony, so there are blond'haired blue-eyed paraguayans speaking German at my side as we speak.

Its going to be a different experience here, but I am excited. I will work to get up some pictures the next time I come to the big city. Jajotopata.

Its official, I am allergic to bees.

Ironic, after about 75 stings during my first three months that all lead to no reaction. But yesterday they pricked my arm with only a 10 cc mixture of venom and it swelled and my face got hot. I am now allergic.

This means that I will no longer be a beekeeping volunteer down here, and will likely join the agriculture group. Luckily I know them all pretty well and am pretty amped about promoting green manures, gardens, and crop partnerings, so its not too sad. I will also move sites, to one where there are fewer bees and closer to a hospital. No sure news on where-abouts yet, but I will likely hear everything on Monday when my boss returns from vacation.

Its going to be sad to leave my community. Peace Corps will take good care of me and provide a car to take me down and gather all my things. I currently am working on my vocabulary to explain that I will not be there for a while. Not sure I can tell my sweet host dad over the phone that I will actually never live there again.

But despite the bump in the road. I do realize the irony of my situation, and the comedic nature of it all. And in the mean time I have gotten to live in a hotel (its not as great as it seems), eat salad, meet a lot of people from other training groups, and most of all, have gotten ready mentally to begin what I hope will be an excellent service.

I'll let you all know what's happening when I know more.

Rain.

At home rain means run to the car, throw on a jacket, or take off your shoes and enjoy. In Paraguay rain means do nothing, and the world may or may not run that day. During training while we remained on the American mindset, we had to walk to class in the turrential downpours, while our brothers and sisters slept in. When it rains in Paraguay, there is no school. Unfortunately when it rains in several parts of Paraguay, there are also no busses.

I did my best to get back to site for Christmas. I awoke at 5am, got to the terminal quickly, purchased a ticket and waited for the bus to come at 7:30. Only upon trying to enter, when the bus driver laughed at my ticket, did I find out that due to rain there would be no busses passing my site. I was stuck.

So, no Christmas in site. But a campo Christmas was a must. Conveniently, my friend Kendall was placed in a site only 4 hours from Asuncion and with constant bus service, so a few days later I headed out to see her.

I arrived not knowing what to expect, beneficial as the night to come never could have been imagined in my mind. After greetings, a terere session, and quick bucket bath, the three americans in town headed to church. Finding a seat under a fan we struggled through an odd service, and Kendall and I headed to the house of one of her favorite families in town. We arrived at 8:30 and sat in a circle, talking, drinking Niko soda.... until 11:30, when, due to impending doom as demonstrated by a technicolor lightning show approaching, they decided to serve up the sheep they had killed that afternoon and grilled, with sweet potatoes and chipa guasu (a fresh corn bread).

I new it was delicious, and it felt like a celebration, and then it felt rainy. Two minutes into the meal the clouds broke and we sprinted inside, balancing plates of sheep ribs in our hand, and finished eating inside. At midnight we stopped eating, and all walked around in a circle and kissed everyone´s cheek to wish each person Merry Christmas. A traditionally awkward Paraguayan dance circle soon started, and right as we were getting into it the electricity went out.

Sitting in the dark, surrounded by pouring rain and dim candles it was impossible to not appreciate the moment. While it was not a Christmas I could have ever planned for myself, it was definitely a Christmas to remember. A last minute change of plans seemed to work out OK, and at the very least, got me excited for my future return to my own slice of campo heaven.

Medical Note: First blood test negative! This means that I might still be able to work with bees. Now I wait in the city until Tuesday for the skin allergy test. Lets hope they find something definitive and perhaps I can be back in site, or in a new site, by this weekend!

Last friday (the 11th of December) we doned our best and headed over to the embassy to swear in as official volunteers. Following various speeches, including an excelent speech and interactive game by our own Carlos, and munching down on delicious fried chicken and the infamous swearing-in chocolate mocha cake, swearing in weekend began. We all stayed in a great hotel downtown, and days were full of eating all our favorite non-paraguayan foods we could find, and lounging at the hotel pool celebrating the accomplishment of 11 weeks of language and technical training.

But after a long weekend, sites were calling. While the city was pleasant, I must admit I was anxious to head back to begin at my site. Myself and my neighbors headed out from the hotel at 7 am and were on our bus at 8, we arrived in Caazapa at 2:30, where we proceeded to wait 4.5 hours (getting to site was not meant to be easy I guess) and I was finally dropped at my cruze at aroun 9pm. I was greated in the dark by my community contact, a random teenager on a horse, my host dad and his moto, and my host mom to walk beside me.

Getting back to site was great. I had a short first night of greetings, slept well, and awoke with neighbors already visiting to say hi. I dropped my extra stuff at my future house since I will be moving around every 15 days, and then headed off to beekeep with Karai Carlos down the road (he had shown up at my house at 8 am to make sure I could work with him that afternoon!). We worked bees for 4 hours in the blazing heat, but towards the end of our second traciego the bees started getting annoyed, and a very common event happened, I was stung.

What followed unfortunately was not normal. I became unusually hot, and worried, and I ignored it for thirty minutes and helped out, feeling very strange. When I finished and pulled off my gear, I found that my head and neck were itchy, my ears red and swollen, and I was very spacey. I somehow excused myself from a terere session and walked home. That's when I noticed I could not take deep breathes either, and as I rested, they became more shallow. I took meds, called the doc, and we monitered everything very well until the reaction ended.

Soooooo, the danger of the potential situation is evident. I was sent back to Asuncion (my sweet little family woke up at 3:30 am to hike me out to the ruta to catch the 4am bus, and have proceeded to call every day), where I have been since thursday (its now monday). They couldn't do anything until today, and then they drew blood. Results will not be back until Christmas Eve, so there will be no appointment until at least a week from today. Thus, they are letting me go back to site for Christmas.

I head back tomorrow morning, though uncertainty still looms. I love my site, I love the people, I want to stay. Unfortunately if I am severely allergic to something, I may have to be moved to a location closer to a hospital (when it rains at my site you cannot go anywhere for 2 days, and the nearest hospital is about 3 hours away on the sketchy dirt road anyways). I am trying to stay positive about either option. After all, I signed up for this knowing that I would have little control. I am only finding it hard as all my friend settle into their two year futures, and I continue to wander, not knowing for sure where my home will be for the next two years. For now I will just have faith, so far Paraguay has treated me well, there is no reason to think that this situation will turn out any other way.

So time has shortened, and swearing in is only a day away. In the mean time, I did manage to hammer my finger yesterday, and it did not break! So now it is just huge. red, hurting, and covered in a very large bandage, which may or may not end up in my swearing in photos...

anyways, i have some brief instances on why sometimes paraguay is great. The first is that due to the massive number of toads (kururu in Guarani and very fun to say) and frogs here, all along the streets of Paraguay there is a massive game of Frogger going on. Needless to say, the real toads and frogs are not nearly as smooth as my own hand at the computer, and as I step on, over or by around 20 dried toads smooshed flat on the ruta every time I walk home, I must say, Paraguay's motor invasion is totally kicking the local frogs rear behinds.

Another thing that always puts a smile on my face are the random English t-shirts that make it down here. The best two are as follows: first, on a girl my age in hooded, tank-top form "sun you buns... IN HELL" with flames and flowers adorning. Second, on a middle-aged very american looking older women who clearly had no idea what she was wearing around at her young child's school bash "FRESHMAN: the hookups of tomorrow."

OK, now its back to training for the last day. Swearing in this weekend with photos of my site and other updates to come.

Last Wednesday was the big day: Peace Corps gave us the names and locations of the places we are to live and work for the next two years, and... I will be a follow up volunteer in a small rural town outside of Yuty, in the Caazapa department of southern Paraguay.

Understandably this means nothing to you all, as well as it pretty much meant nothing to me upon first hearing it. The name, the location, the hours that I will spend on a bus (7 from Asuncion sans traffic) are really minor details when it comes down to it, and so, what it came down to, what this post comes down to, are the three days I spent there to orientate myself, and to meet the people and see the land that I will call home for the next 24 months. However, it was important to learn that I will be close to two other volunteers, one only 7 kilometers away (and as you will see soon... I am pretty sure I am going to try to get a horse to make that ride feasible throughout the year).

Naturally, the visit was to be a reality slap. Fortunately it included a difficult, and yet fantastic arrival including the backs of several trucks, lots of walking, and many laughs. You see, my site is located off of a "ruta" that runs from Caazapa city to Yuty, and when it rains, that dirt Ruta becomes a massive mud slip and slide... and there are no Buses. Conveniently, there was a tremendous storm the night before we headed in.

The story could be longer, but lets just say that it resulted in a probably very dangerous, yet fun and mud-filled truck ride, a night with a random family in a town I could not ever get to again, and then thoughts of potentially walking 24 kilometers with my contact and neighboring volunteers, but fortunately hopping on a delivery truck and stopping at every small store on the ruta. But I made it to the cruce with my contact, and trecked the 3 Kilometers into site.

I am a follow-up volunteer to two other volunteers, who have both had successful projects, but there is more to be done. My town is very poor, and all Guarani speaking. Lucky for me they recently got running water (which means a spicket outside), but it is treated, and therefore chances of water illness are way down. I also have a house built for me already. Two rooms, wooden, electricity (most of the time at least), and a latrine and bath shack (for bucket bathing) located behind the house and the garden. I will most likely reroof it as soon as I get to site because water poors in right now, but it will come with a fridge, gas stove, bed, dresser, tables, chairs, and pretty much the main expensive things I would have to buy, so the allowance would cover it. I am excited to live alone, but will be close to neighbors who I will pretty much be living with, and therefore I should be safe.

For the first few months I will live with families. Since volunteers have been so successful in the past, I have a ton of offers, far more than I want, because I do not want to move around that much. I think I will strategize by sticking to central houses along the sprawling roads and houses with potential bee work (as I can do that with them even before my Guarani is perfect). But the people are wonderful, and I am excited to get to know them. Also, the community is big into growing oranges, and currently there are Peach trees galore, as well as mentions of avocados, mangos, and plentiful watermelon to come around Christmas time. Not very Christmas-y, but definitely a plus. I am sure more stories will come as I settle in.

Also, there is a refuge from the hard life in the town that is a 45 minute bus ride away (if its not raining) with a kind and well-off family that often befriends volunteers and allows them hot showers, internet, a bed, and pizza at the disco pub they own. While I am excited about site, I can already tell that I will appreciate the oasis. As far as I know, my site is one of the three furthest out of the sites from my beekeeping group, but I can tell that there is work to be done. It will be an adjustment for sure, and every ride in and out of site, not to mention every day in site, will be an adventure.

For now its back to studying Guarani (and preparing to be isolated by lack of language for a few months as I adjust), and enjoying simple things like showers, walking to the internet, and somewhat reliable busses, before I move out on the 15th of December.

Also, this means that as of now (since mail takes so long), I have a new address! Please do not send it to the old address, as the new address will be closer to me and should arrive faster (this is for anything new anybody wants to send)

It is simple:

Jessica Clayton

Cuerpo de Paz

Yuty, Depto. de Caazapa

Paraguay

South America

Photos of the land and the house to come as soon as I can figure out how to work Paraguayan technology. Now I must go to the supermarket to buy food to cook for a thanksgiving celebration at the Country Director's house tomorrow. Happy Thanksgiving everyone!

No bad thing can come from riding in the back of trucks, and so that was the perfect way to end our trip last week. It was long field, and it was long, but went so quickly. We split into two groups (which was sad), and headed to completely different sides of the country. One group went to the site that I visited for my PCV visit, and I headed way down south to a little farm town called Isla Ro´y which means ¨cold island¨. It was exactly what I needed.

The countryside has a calmness too it. (the first picture is the view from my window). Luckily, it also followed the trend and gave us some time away from the heat, and away from the pressures of the routine life here.

I also got an amazing family. I was placed with a young married couple, age 28 in a new house close to others. They are both professors at the local school, one in elementary school and one at high school. Also, about the school, kids come on horses, from up to 20 kilometers away to get there... finally, a legitimate reason to not have school when it rains.

Besides stories of the crazy situations the town has brought its volunteer, the week went smoothly and was a great idea of all the potential work we will have at site. We finally successfully captured a wild hive. It may have helped that it was open and under a road stop rather than in a tree, but it was nice to end a traciago on a positive note, especially in a place where the bees will be utilized and provide additional income.

Beyond bees, we got to give two charlas, utilize our Guarani, and teach the local kids to play frisbee. I also ate grilled Carpincho (everyone should probably google image what that is). And it was delicious.

My other two favorite activities of the week were the sunsets and fishing. For some reason, despite the flatness and lack of mountains or snow for the sun to reflect, the countryside here produces amazing sunsets (as you can see on the attached foto).

Fishing was also amazing. The long awaited trip began in the back of the truck (see the shadow foto) headed out towards the river, where the land had been flooded only a few days before. The truck ride out was amazing, as riding in the backs of trucks generally goes, until suddenly we stopped as the road went below water again. Take off your shoes and roll up your pants, said the choffer, and despite having seen my first extremely poisonness snake earlier in the day, I trudged through the mud with my shoes around my neck and began the two kilometer trek to the water´s edge. Besides a few pricks and very squishy mud between the toes, the walk was beautiful, and the arrival at the river buggy. But fishing with expired cow meat we caught 3 piranas and a catfish! Then trecked back through the mud pits as the sun faded, and went back to town to eat the cake my host family made to say goodbye.

The trip was great, and needed. In the everyday schedule here its easy to forget why we are here, and the trip reminded me in every way. Paraguayans are what make this country; the beauty of the countryside, the chances to go fishing, the ample wild beehives, and everything else are just icing on the cake. There are still things here that will bother me, most likely for the next two years, but the trip confirmed that I want to be here.

This is a good thing, considering I get my site assignment on wednesday! This wednesday I will be told where I will be living for the next two years. I will hopefully be able to post my location soon! After that its off for a future site visit, and I will keep you all posted on how it looks.

Time here both drags and rushes. Days either seem repetitive or brand new. As the newness and excitement wears off, life becomes life, and the wear and tear intertwine with the hilarious and the every day.

This week Peace Corps gave us a chance to express some of our difficulties about Paraguayan culture. While some people couldn´t think of some, mine were easy and were as follows:

1) the inability to be straight-forward. This goes both ways, first, when you ask for directions, people will make them up if they do not know, which means any question you have you must ask 3 or more people and balance the answers.. when busy, this sucks. Then, it comes the other way, if I say that I am not going to eat much of something because I am full, they take it as a non-straight-forward way of saying that I do not like what they are offering me. As a fairly blunt person, I find myself constantly stepping on toes while attempting to adjust to the Paraguayan waltz around the truth that they so elegantly manage.

2) the somewhat cruel way they treat kids conceived outside of marriage. they end up cooking, cleaning, and kinda of being treated like dirt by the families that adopt them. fortunately they seem to adapt well and accept cookies from me with sweet smiles. Also fortunately Peace Corps has a rule that we cannot adopt kids while in service... I think that probably derives from volunteers like me trying to save them...

3) Guarani is still hard. For example, the other night, rather than saying I am going to brush my teeth, which are rai, I said ra´y (the y is actually pronounced like a high pitched sigh and thus is very similar to an i) and thus told my host mother I was going to brush my testicles. Oops.

But, beyond the unfortunate things, I also recently realized, much to my hilarity, that my host mother pretty much thinks I can see the future. First, while she thought I would visit a volunteer near the city, I told her I would go far away and I ended up with the volunteer the furthest north. Then I told her that I was sure my first illness would not be a stomache problem, and when I came down with it this week it was indeed a fever. Addmittedly, she was freaked out. She mentioned my ability to sense things, and then, when I told her that rice in the salt would help it not stick together.... she whipped the rice out of the cubbored and had it in the salt shaker in 2 minutes flat.....

apparently now I need to be sure of any advice I give....

that´s all for now.

-Jess

A quick note;

today David and I had our first actual dia de practica (or a day to practice finding and making work for ourselves once we get to site). We are working at the public high school teaching about trash and recycling and the like. We started off today with teaching the decomposition time of trash (who knew that a cigarrette butt takes 4 years to decompose?) Anyways, it went really well! I love working with teenagers, they were hilarious, as in the states.

Beyond that things are going well, though repetative. First Guarani interview on Friday... a bit scared, but we´ll see. Also, family is good, although this morning there was no water because of a storm last night and my host mom said, ¨now God is punishing us, the end of the world is beginning¨ . . . I laughed, and she turned to me and said, ¨no, seriously¨. Hopefully the domesday (sp?) sentiment ends before I get home for lunch!

Its funny when cultures start to blend, when normal is suddenly questioned and the unexpected or previously interesting becomes the every day. I would say that after about a month, my reality has more or less become Paraguay. I wake up and only have an interest in a hot cup of whole milk coffee with bread. Though throughout Guarani class breaks I joke around about the carb-heavy meals so common to Paraguay, come lunch time I happily dive into my pasta with a potato sauce, and then catch myself scanning the table for sweet potatoe fingerlings to complement the meal. As I slipped out of bed this morning I realized that I had forgotten how strange it would appear to an outsider that I army crawl under a tucked-in mosquito net to get out of bed. These idiosyncrysies that left my jaw dropped for the first few days are now my comfort blankets, the little normalcies of Paraguay I now appreciate.

I no longer an shocked at how the red dirt from the road cakes on, nor at having to dive to the side of an oncoming bus. I forget when I last washed my underwear anywhere but in the shower, and have willingly begun to sling spanish and Guarani back and forth throughout my english with friends. And while I understand that I am not nor will ever be Paraguayan, I am now comfortable with the idea of living as one, albeit one that is more white and speaks Guarani not so well, for the next two years.

Back in Costa Alegre, the schedule of class and lunch and more class and studying has already become repetitive (something big for me to say considering my love for schedules) still I have noticed recently that I am absorbing the information. I only hope it stays long enough to work once I get at site for the next two years! OK, now the long-promised photos. Enjoy! First is my house from the front with my cool dog Jango out front. Next is my kitchen, and then my bathroom (notice, there is no curtain, so after you shower everything is wet and you have to dry it off again, which sucks). Next is my family holding down the baby cow to cut off its balls. Then the group when we first got our gear, in the apiary checking a kenya top-bar and finally Kendall with a frame from the top bar hive!

Jajotopata-

Jess

I am currently in Concepcion, about 7 hours north of Asuncion, where I searched out a special internet cafe that could handle uploading photos.... and where, upon insertion of my usb falsh drive, the computer detected a virus and deleted my photos. Yes, they are still on my camera, but this means none for you yet. (sorry Laura, I was really trying to make your request about my blog come true!)

Anyways, it is my last night on my visit to a current Volunteer. I spent the weekend with Nina, a current beekeeping volunteer, and as I thought I would have to go far, the volunteer that is the furthest north they will place anyone in Paraguay beyond going in the Chaco.

The visit has been great. First we trainees got to go to a ´chuchi´(which means fancy or nice in Guarani) restaurant in Asuncion where Kendall and I split fajitas, however, we did drink until a little late, and got to the bus terminal about 30 minutes later than planned, switching the available busses to ones that took 2 hours longer, and so we arrived in Concepcion at around 9 am on saturday morning. I then got on another bus, which took me far into the countryside, where I got off and started hiking the 3 kilometers into my volunteers site with a dude that only spoke Guarani. I managed to exchange my name, learn his, talk about liking the countryside, name a few animals and express my hapiness in Paraguay amidst many lost phrases on his part, and then ran into Nina coming towards us.

We spent the weekend gardening, and visiting families to meet them and drink terere, terere, and more terere. I also bucket showered with tree frogs and am pretty sure I killed a baby tarantula. It was fun, calm, and a much needed break from the intense studying that will commence again on wednesday.

Since Nina´s site is so far in the campo, we came in to the city today so that I could make the bus tomorrow morning. All the other volunteers hosting trainees will come in throughout the day, and we´re all staying at a sleezy yet charming hotel available both by the hour and the night... Benefits include the 4$ cost and the fact that tonight, the bar downstairs hosts a Kareoke contest! Omarcha!

Stories and a purely photo post to come as soon as technology stops defeating my own capabilities. Now I will attempt to post stolen fotos from the internet to show examples of the countryside I am experiencing.

Jajotopata (see you later)- jess

OK. So, below is a blog I wrote a few days ago.. wanted to post it before I go visit a current Peace Corps volunteer in their site this weekend. I could be as far as 10 hours away from my current host family! However, last night my host dad cornered me to try to get me to convert to evangelicism, so leaving will make things likely less awkward. Today we are in the big city and about to go to the peace corps office, so i have to go. But I hope you all enjoy!

Mba’echapa! My life has become Paraguay, and fortunately the glitter and glam that newness provides to what I have heard others call a flat and dreary land has yet to wear off, I only hope it never does. The repetitive every-day schedule of intense Guarani lessons, attempt to integrate Guarani into a Spanish-dominated lunch conversation and afternoons of lectures, crop practice or beekeeping has already grown weary mostly due to exhaustion and lack of time. But beyond the confines of time, the lessons themselves have been pretty cool so far. Guarani reminds me of an Asian-ized Spanish, and while difficult, is fun to attempt to speak. So far the most I can figure out is that endings are very important, as adding a few letters to the end of a word can both change its tense and add entire ideas to it, such as where the object is or who you did the verb with. Also, tones are important, and so far I have found that I tend to get them wrong, and the words end up being sexual rather than the temperature or vegetable I am trying to talk about… pero, tranquilopa, ndaipori problema, I will learn. My family is still great. My older sister Cindy is in town and the fam is at church now, which explains the blaring reggaeton from the kitchen. (Normally it would be Christian music… Pastor lives here…). My mom and I are also tight, we talk a lot and she has already promised to visit me at my site. Vamos a ver. A lot of people have asked about food. So before I get to posting pictures I’ll talk abit about that. So far I like it a lot. Today I had sopa paraguaya, which is not a soup at all but an oily cornbread with cheese, milk, and egg involved, and spinach spaghetti with a rough meat sauce that included hot dogs. Breakfast is mostly bread, dolci de leche and mate with milk. And Dinner is generally the same as breakfast. Lunch is when we have delicious fried tortillas (little eggy, cheesy, puff balls of dough that melt in your mouth) or begu (the g pronounced as a y) which is corn and wheat flour mixed with cheese and pressed with a spoon in a buttered pan until it gets hot enough to melt together. It is my fave. In other news today my family castrated our little bull. Or the vet did, but as you can see below it was a family affair. The majority of our group came to watch, it was quite the experience. We also had our first experience in the apiary with killer bees (see photos). The bees are definitely aggressive, and though they flew straight into my veil about 800 times, pegging it, bouncing off and returning, I somehow escaped without a pulsing and itching sting (a trend I hope to keep up). OK, now I would put some photos but they are NOT loading fast enough and I have to jet to the embassy. Next time I promise!!!!! From now on I will try to post more often, especially since I now feel safe breaking out my laptop and typing posts up on my computer in my room while the fam sings and dances at church on Saturday night. Jajotopata (See you later) -Jess

So today went by faster then I thought.... and therefore there is no blog post. Sorry! But I will work on it and try to upload one tomorrow or Sunday. Also I forgot to bring my camera chord... so it´ll be better if you wait anyways!

So not much has happened so far. A few funny experiences to recount though...

First, I asked if my room was done at breakfast yesterday and they said no. They then point at a wall and tell me that they have to tear it down so that I could have a door from my new room into the kitchen. They are tearing their house apart for me. Nice but funny. We´ll see when its done...

Also, my two brothers also still do not talk to me. But, one has now walked in on me on the toilet, so, maybe he will talk to me soon? After that I had a very awkward lesson with my mom about how to lock doors...

Finally, my parents are evangelical, that I knew, so I asked if I could go to church to have a cultural experience. Little did I know how much this could change things... luckily a few other people are in the same boat. Essentially it is a new age christian church that is very very very active and a bit pushy, and it turns out my mom is the band´s singer and my dad is the co-pastor. Needless to say, God has entered my life. Literally, everything they talk about now is about God, and they are constantly telling me that they prey for a good site for me that is close so I can visit them after I leave for site. It is all very nice, though slightly overwhelming at times,like this morning, at church again, when they had all three of us volunteers go to sunday school with the teenagers where a 15 year old told us how to rid ourselves of carnal emotions and have a good marriage...

luckily all of this is padded by delicious cold mate with herbs to sip on as a group. Now we sit and wait until drinking straight out of the faucet makes us sick...

until later,

love,

Jess

So I made it to Paraguay after a brief overnight in Miami, where we stayed at a great hotel, and I got my fill on my last few American meals and beers! The flights were long, and as per normal, I could not sleep, but, they were successful... including all of my luggage making it!

Things have been surreal thus far. I guess I should admit to myself that I am probably in the euphoric stage of adjustment, but I can barely wipe the smile off my face. I met my host family yesterday. I have a mother, father, and four siblings, one of whom I met on the cell phone as she studies at a university in another city during the week, but will come back this weekend so I can meet her in person. I am staying in her room for the time being, but the exciting news is that my family is building an entire extension on the house just for me! I will be located right next to the three cows in my own little room with a large window overlooking the garden! (pictures will come soon, I promise... I at least have to wait for it to be built!) Besides 3 cows, we have two dogs (one of which is named doggie). So far I have little to say about my siblings, because they are too shy to talk to me, but my mom is hilarious and very kind.

The last 24 hours have been good. But I must admit little has happened. I spent the evening last night showing pictures I brought to my mother, and then crashed after a grilled cheese for dinner with some tea and slept until 6 am, when I woke up, ate two breadsticks and walked with everyone to the bus stop. Training is going well. I was forcefully stung by an africanized bee today (they got them angry, then layed them on our arm until they stung us) and I am not allergic. However, it did burn and scream, and I am mostly nervous about having to explain the angry words that come out of my mouth whenever I am stung to the farmers I work with...

Also, we are diving straight into Guarani lessons. It is a super cool language, and besides sharing a few words with Spanish, sounds nothing like it. Beekeepers are required to reach an intermediate level (which pretty much means fairly fluent) by the end of the 11 week training session, so I have to get studying!

Sorry this post has not been uber-interesting, but I am sure a funny story leading from an awkward situation will come soon. This weekend plans include making tortillas and terere tomorrow morning, and afternoon soccer with the women of my community on sunday. Tuesday I will have my first official beekeeping training session-- more tales to come.

PS. In the case anybody ever sends a package they suggested today that we tell everyone to be sure to tape them closed very very very well because there are noses that pry. Also, don´t include anything valuable, as although it will make it to paraguay, it will likely not make it to me. Finally, use USPS, because the others are expensive and USPS makes it in about 2 or 3 weeks.

much love.

-jess

I leave tomorrow. I leave tomorrow. I leave tomorrow. No matter how many times I run it through my head it does not sink in. I have what I think my life over the next two years should consist of (in material terms) packed (or stuffed) into a roller duffel, a backpack, a small duffel and a shoulder bag. I am loading my iPod with the most up-to-date music that I actually like, knowing that in 2 months I will no longer have any concept of the US top 40. Granted, by then I will be able to make a mean cow's head soup, concoct a perfectly sweetened terere (cold mate), and hopefully have a handle on one of the only indigenous languages in the previously colonized world that is also the current countries official language. The emotions I experience now are nowhere near as complicated as the random thoughts I have, and the random fears, and specific excitements... as well as the sadness that I have no room for my own homemade zucchini bread...

I spend tomorrow night in Miami. Maybe a good place to practice spanish. So, for those of you who might want to talk to me before I go, the cellular will be with me and on until I ship it home via the USPS at around 3 pm eastern time on the 22nd. For those of you who do not want to talk to me tomorrow, or those others who have asked for my address time and time again, here it is:

Jessica Clayton PCT

Cuerpo de Paz

162 Chaco Boreal c/Mcal. Lopez

Asuncion 1580, Paraguay

South America

Airmail is suggested, as it takes like 8 days and has about an 85% success rate. I must admit that I would love anything that is sent to me. I love letters! And anyone that writes will receive a response. If you do want to start a letter chain, be sure to number your letters in the order you send them, that way I will know if I miss any. (this is Peace Corps advice, although I must admit that if I do find one is missing, I will have absolutely no way to claim it or find it, so I am not sure what good it does). but...

Packages will surely be welcome as well, as well as photos! But, if you send a package declare it to be worth like nothing, and don't send anything too valuable, as it will probably be opened by a customs officer and taken as compensation for their work. So, send them airmail via UPS, FedEx, or USPS with a declared value of no more than 100$, hide the valuables inside kangaroo pouches, and keep it in about a shoe-box size. Then we'll be all good, and I will be very very happy and send a beautiful postcard in return.

Now I must get back to pretending that I will remember everything, and that I will be able to sleep tonight... Keep in touch. I know my adventures may seem exciting, but I can promise that stories from home will keep me content for hours, days, and maybe even my whole time there if I can get them often enough!

Here are some shots composing a summary of my ventures this summer as I said goodbye to people and places in the US. Climbing the mountains of Colorado Springs

2 Amazing weeks in Hawaii with Chris

Exploring East Coast beaches

Successful whale watching with beautiful sunsetsVisiting Middlebury People

Nannying two sweet babies in Shelter Island

And spending time with family (especially my niece and nephew... photo to come).

I head out in 2 weeks. Now begins the attempt to pack, much less even think, of all the things I will want and need for the next two years that will fit into my 80 lb. luggage limit!

So many of you may have heard the story, and others maybe not. To make it short, strange and unforseen circumstances combined with an official acceptance as a Peace Corps volunteer to make for a very interesting beginning to my summer. Instead of Costa Rica, I will be gracing Colorado with my presence for a while, and I will also have time to see my people and my family before heading out to new strange circumstances, for which I hope to be prepared.

I confirmed about 3 weeks ago as Peace Corps agrobusiness and beekeeping volunteer in rural Paraguay. While the job description attempts to give me a broad idea about what my life will be like for the next 27 months, I know little beyond the fact that I will be working with aficanized bees and teaching other Paraguayans to do so in an attempt to promote sustainable business. My first three months I will be training an hour outside of Asuncion, and after that, I will be placed in a site I will call home for the next few years. It will be hard, it will be scary, it will be exciting, new, fantastic, and I have basically decided to not really think about it. The best things come when you have no expectations before beginning them. Lucky for me, I know little to nothing about Paraguay, making expectations a difficulty to form.

My staging date is on or around September 21st. So I am doing what I can to make the most of my summer. I have been exploring the rockies, and will continue to do so until the 30th of July with a good friend from LA. After that its off to Hawaii, and then Boston on the 12th of August. The last week in August I will be working in NY on Shelter Island. Then back in Colorado until I ship out. I have already had to say goodbye to a few people, but the rest of you should know that if you are near where I will be, I will hunt you down. I want to say goodbye before I begin what will inevitably be a hilarious and awkward life adventure. After it begins, I will post the crazy stories that tend to follow me here. I hope you enjoy, and I will miss you all.

P.S. I was serious about you all starting blogs (you know who you are), so get them started and send me a link. It never hurts to be reminded that lives go on and awkwardness ensues despite my being abroad.