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…
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