Two Worlds Meet

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…

Vamos Paraguay!

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.