Tuesday, November 30, 2010

hotels, doctors, and thanksgiving

I’ve always enjoyed hotels and traveling. There is something exciting about leaving what is normal for a little while to see and experience something different. I think that’s partly why I decided to join the Peace Corps. I also find an incredible amount of pleasure is staying in a hotel where someone else will make my bed for me, deliver me fresh towels, and give me a complimentary breakfast. But this is only pleasant for me if I know I get to go home soon. As much as I like feeling like I get pampered from staying in hotels (even if the one’s in Asuncion look like they were built in the 1950’s), after a while of living out of my backpack, I am more than ready to get back to my own bed, my own space, and feel organized and normal again.
I am now at that point again, ready to be back home with my dog and sleep in my own bed. I just spent the last 5 nights in a hotel in Asuncion. Normally, I think that might have been a great break for me, but the problem was, I couldn’t even really leave my room because if I walked further than a city block, I started hacking out one of my lungs. I left my site last Tuesday to come into Asuncion for a 2 and a half days of meetings, and the timing perfectly worked out to my advantage in that I got sick the first day there. Wednesday the doctor was called and came out to our training site and I was informed that I had both a viral and a bacterial infection. Four medications and a few hours later, I started feeling better. Then came the real problems. Luckily, I have not had problems with my asthma since I have been in Paraguay, but as my sinuses began draining out the infection into my lungs, I started finding it difficult to breath. Thanksgiving morning I was driven to the Peace Corps office by one of my bosses to meet up with my doctor who gave me a steroid shot in my butt (that by the way hurts A LOT), 2 nebulizer treatments, and 4 more medications. I took a taxi to a hotel and spent the rest of my afternoon trying to find TV channels in English and trying not to think about all the great, all-American food my family was consuming back in California. Had I had a choice by the way, this would not be how I would want to spend my Thanksgiving.
Five days, one medication, and 2 more nebulizer treatments later, I am well enough to travel back home. I spent the majority of my days taking naps, watching more TV than I have in the last 9 months combined (and in English!), and read half of Tolstoy’s Anna Karenina. Maybe it was a blessing in disguise to be so sick on Thanksgiving that I couldn’t truly concentrate and therefore couldn’t miss fully my favorite American holiday. I was too focused on getting enough oxygen into my lungs and trying not to worry about the fact that my arms and legs were tingly from all the chemicals that had been pumped into my bloodstream and airways. But either way, my first major American holiday that I have to spend in Paraguay has now passed and it has left me with an eagerness to return to my Paraguayan house and sleep in my own bed, and did I mention that I get to see my dog and that I miss her?
Oh, and to all of you dutiful taxpayers of the United States of America: not only are your hard-earned dollars paying my salary of approximately $250 a month, they also paid for a week of hotels and 9 medications for me. Thank you.

Friday, November 12, 2010

my best friend

It was about 8 weeks into my training when I fell in love. It was actually during my preview site visit 4 weeks before swear-in when it happened. Dark-brown hair. Greenish-hazel eyes. She could fit into both of my hands and she was covered in fleas. Once I started calling her Pulgita (from the Spanish word for flea), I knew I didn’t really have an option anymore. I had to keep her. The family I was staying with amiably told me I could have her when I got back in a month. I later figured out that people typically give puppies away, or dump them on the side of the road, whichever is easier. Being a girl made her less appealing because the owner has to keep the dog from getting pregnant, so I was actually doing them a favor. But either way, she was there waiting for me with a brand new collar my first day I rolled into site on an ox cart with my host brother and sister. I whistled to her and she came running. She already knew she was my dog.
From that moment on, it was made clear to the community of Cariy Potrero that the American was clearly crazy in her devotion and in the attention she gave to her dog. Dogs here are typically viewed as an expendable commodity and I’m sure any animal rights activists would go on a rampage were they to visit the Paraguayan campo. Most dogs get fed only if there is leftover food, and even then it is often split between a couple of dogs and a cat and they viciously guard their portion from the others and from pecking chickens. The amount of leftover food available in a household is often apparent by the visibility of the ribs on their dog. It is unfathomable that I buy special food to feed my dog. Their method of training them is yelling and throwing rocks and sticks at them. The dogs quickly learn that when someone yells “fuera” (outside, or away), they should run away fast. When I tell my dog “eguapy” (“sit” in Guarani), and she listens, jaws drop in astonishment. Needless to say, dogs are not typically petted and it is strange to see anyone care too much about the wellbeing of their dog as I do. If something happens to one dog, you can always just get another one.
She and I became fast friends. I needed a friend, and she is an attention whore and an extremely friendly and playful dog. When I was living with my first host family, I would sneak her in my room so that she could sleep on my bed. I couldn’t bear listening to my puppy crying outside my door in the cold. She began to follow me everywhere and she leaves my side less and less as time goes on. When I go visit people, she comes with me. When I ride my bike or go for a run, she trots along beside me or in front of me and runs ahead to growl at the cows on the side of the road, jumping in excitement. She follows me when I walk to my latrine, sighs, and plops down on the cement floor, waiting for me to finish relieving myself. She follows me to the school and waits outside the principles office or runs around outside in the field until I am done talking. When I go into town or somewhere she can’t follow, I have to tie her up to a tree outside so she won’t follow me. When I come back, she has usually chewed threw her rope and runs up to me, wagging her tail so hard, it appears as if her hind legs and butt are a separate entity than her front legs and head, bobbing back and forth. And if I leave her for more than a couple hours, she will cry on my return. At night, she stretches out next to my torso or curls up by my feet and sleeps next to me. When I have a bad day and need to cry, she cries with me and starts chewing on my hands, trying to get me to play and chase away the sadness. She is a great companion.
Like her owner, she loves food, and will eat just about anything. Literally. No matter how much I feed her, she is always still hungry and searches around for more things to eat or chew. I have seen her eat cow poop, chicken poop, human feces, and diapers. Of this, I am not proud. If the neighbors have not stored away their chickens and eggs above ground level, she will search around until she finds the eggs and eat as many as she can until someone starts yelling at her. She will chew on sticks and pieces of plastic that have the smell of food on them until they are completely obliterated. Bones never last long when she has them. She even eats a variety of fruits including tangerines and blackberries. I have quite a few large moths and beetles that find their way into my house and night and she catches them, tortures them, and eats them. Some nights she will stand on my porch under the light waiting for the beetles to fly lower so she can have a snack. I do not know the variety of animals she has caught and eaten, I just know that it has included rats, and in the past, baby chickens. Once she ate the hide of some animal and kept throwing it up and eating it again until I put it in a plastic bag and buried it.
Because I am the white girl, I get special allowances and privileges for my dog and while I will argue with people to give me equal treatment as Paraguayans, I will not say a word if they want to give my dog special treatment. When I eat at people’s houses, they often give the best parts of the leftovers to my dog and let their dogs fight over the rest. Once someone even put leftovers in a plastic bag for me to bring back for her. One day at the school, she got in a little fight with another dog, and she was allowed in the principles office to protect her from another fight. This was a huge offer, as most dogs are not allowed in any type of building. People know better than to hit her in front of me and will let her take her place beside my chair rather than shooing her away like they do with the other dogs. On the rare occasion that people see me without her, they ask me, “And your Pulgita?” She is not just “Pulgita,” but she is “My Pulgita.” Most of the kids in my site know her by name and when they see her will call out, “Pulgita! Pulgita!” and try and play with her.
The phrase, “a dog is a man’s best friend,” is so true. Few days go by that she doesn’t do something that makes me laugh or puts a smile on my face. She needs me, and I need her. She is always happy to see me. Even though she doesn’t understand, I talk to her and tell her my problems and how crazy the world is. She is the one living to whom there is no need to give explanations and she never laughs at me. Perhaps better yet, she is always there, day in, and day out. I truly can not ask for a better friend.