2: letrine minus the walls
3: and this is how you use a letrine
Saturday, March 27, 2010
mas pictures!
1: what a letrine looks like pre-losa (losa is a letrine floor)
2: letrine minus the walls
3: and this is how you use a letrine
2: letrine minus the walls
3: and this is how you use a letrine
pictures!
1: my hair after riding in the back of a truck
2: motos at the futbol game
3: all the men watching the futbol game
4: sunset
5: me digging a letrine hole with a bowl
2: motos at the futbol game
3: all the men watching the futbol game
4: sunset
5: me digging a letrine hole with a bowl
ok, a quick explanation of the previous pictures on the last post..
like i said, the wierd brick structure is a fogon, which is a brick oven and those stalactite looking things are ash hanging from the ceiling. that is what happens when paraguayan women cook over fire and don´t use a fogon and then they end up breathing in all that gross stuff.
the water picture is water leaking into the bus during a storm..
and an explanation of the pictures in this post..
1: flash flood
2: yes, those are speakers on a truck
3: chipa man!
4:sad, cold, hungry, and rained out
5: my paraguayan sisters
Scared of the rain, but serious about fútbol
So I knew Paraguay was serious about soccer, or fútbol, as they call it here, but I didn’t realize what that meant until I started playing with 7 and 8 year olds who are better than me. And by better than me I mean they have moves that make me feel like I’m just filling up space on the field. They dance around the ball and get it down the field while I’m still standing there just trying to keep my eye on the ball and that’s after the goalie that comes up to my waist kicks it all the way across the field and two or three kids hit it with their heads to pass it. I feel like they are all born with some sort of fútbol intuition or instinct and us Americans really only play with them because we have some sort of celebrity status and they like to hang out with us. Also, if you want to get into a long, serious, and most likely heated discussion, ask a Paraguayan which professional team in Paraguay they support, Cero, or Olympia. You might get answers like “because they have black and white uniforms” or “the other team is all ugly” as well as reasons like one team has money and the other is the underdog. Whatever reason they have picked to support their team, they will defend that team to the death and they are as serious about supporting their team as serious as they are about drinking tereré every day.
In addition to supporting their professional teams, there is an enormous support for local teams, most of which are named after dates that have some political or religious meaning. Our community team is named 8 de diciembre and now that season has started, they will be playing games every week for the next 10 weeks. Last week was the beginning of season and there was a huge opening ceremony in Villeta, a nearby city and all 18 of the jounior teams were supposed to be presented parade style on the field. Our community had a special bus come through just to take us and our team to the field because so many people were going. It had looked like it might rain all day, but people kept saying “no, no, it will pass, it’s not going to rain.” About 5 minutes before the presentation was going to start, my family practically dragged me and a couple other trainees from the bleachers to edge of the field because they had finally realized that it really was going to rain.
Now before I continue the rest of the story, I have to explain something about Paraguayans and rain. They might tell you all day that it will rain or that it won’t rain and sound like they are absolutely sure of it even if they really don’t know what they’re talking about. I swear though, they have a sixth sense with the rain, because even if they have been telling you for the last hour that it won’t rain, about 60 second before it starts raining they run out and grab all their laundry hanging out to dry so it doesn’t get wet. They will wait until the last second before they bring the laundry in, but I have never seen someone grab all their laundry and then not rain, if they bring in the laundry, it rains. And usually in Paraguay when it rains, it rains really hard… like really, really heavy rain with big fat drops and there is usually thunderstorms. Oh, and when I say thunderstorms, I mean louder than normal thunder and it sometimes feels like it’s right over you even if it’s miles away. Paraguayans also have this weird fear of rain, or actually weather in general, so when it starts to rain, they all run inside, literally, and turn off all electric appliances because they also have this weird fear of being struck by lightning and then they just sit there until the rain stops.
So when my family practically ran down the bleachers, they ran because they knew it was going to start raining within the next 2 minutes because they have that weird instinct/timer system. As it started to rain, the wind also picked up and we soon realized that if we didn’t find shelter soon, we would be drenched, so my family ran to the campo bus that had driven us there. We proceeded to watch from the inside of the bus the worst storm I have thus far experienced in Paraguay. The thunder was so loud it was scaring half the people on the bus, and the wind was so strong trees looked like they would fall over and we had rain making puddles in our bus because half the windows were of course leaking. The storm lasted for about 40 minutes and after people had changed their minds about 5 times about whether we were going to stay or not, and whether the presentation was going to continue or not, we all filed back onto the bleachers and waited another half an hour before the parade started. Half the people had found somewhere to be protected from the rain, and the other half were soaked and there were rivers flowing down the streets. About 3 minutes into the parade of teams, it started sprinkling again, and over the next half an hour, neither the weather or the people watching the parade could decide their course of action. It kind of sprinkled and kind of stopped and people climbed up and down the bleachers and walked into some sort of shelter from the rain and then back again. I think I climbed up and down the bleachers about 5 times in that half hour because my sisters didn’t know what they wanted to do. The fact that people had even stuck it out just to watch all the teams walk by, considering their fear of getting wet, was actually quite impressive to me. I thought it showed how dedicated they are to their local team and to the sport in general.
There had been a game scheduled, but whether the field was too soaked to play or because they somehow knew it was going to rain again, they decided to cancel the game. So after the parade was finally over, we all piled back on the bus and it almost immediately started raining again… hard. Team 8 was exhilarated, whether it was from being dripping wet from the rain or from the thrilling parade of teams and they began to sing at the top of their lungs for the entire 30 minute bus ride back home. While the thunder was cracking so loud that mothers were putting their hands over their ears, our wonderful boys belted out, “¡olé, olé, olé, olá! ¡Ocho!”
In addition to supporting their professional teams, there is an enormous support for local teams, most of which are named after dates that have some political or religious meaning. Our community team is named 8 de diciembre and now that season has started, they will be playing games every week for the next 10 weeks. Last week was the beginning of season and there was a huge opening ceremony in Villeta, a nearby city and all 18 of the jounior teams were supposed to be presented parade style on the field. Our community had a special bus come through just to take us and our team to the field because so many people were going. It had looked like it might rain all day, but people kept saying “no, no, it will pass, it’s not going to rain.” About 5 minutes before the presentation was going to start, my family practically dragged me and a couple other trainees from the bleachers to edge of the field because they had finally realized that it really was going to rain.
Now before I continue the rest of the story, I have to explain something about Paraguayans and rain. They might tell you all day that it will rain or that it won’t rain and sound like they are absolutely sure of it even if they really don’t know what they’re talking about. I swear though, they have a sixth sense with the rain, because even if they have been telling you for the last hour that it won’t rain, about 60 second before it starts raining they run out and grab all their laundry hanging out to dry so it doesn’t get wet. They will wait until the last second before they bring the laundry in, but I have never seen someone grab all their laundry and then not rain, if they bring in the laundry, it rains. And usually in Paraguay when it rains, it rains really hard… like really, really heavy rain with big fat drops and there is usually thunderstorms. Oh, and when I say thunderstorms, I mean louder than normal thunder and it sometimes feels like it’s right over you even if it’s miles away. Paraguayans also have this weird fear of rain, or actually weather in general, so when it starts to rain, they all run inside, literally, and turn off all electric appliances because they also have this weird fear of being struck by lightning and then they just sit there until the rain stops.
So when my family practically ran down the bleachers, they ran because they knew it was going to start raining within the next 2 minutes because they have that weird instinct/timer system. As it started to rain, the wind also picked up and we soon realized that if we didn’t find shelter soon, we would be drenched, so my family ran to the campo bus that had driven us there. We proceeded to watch from the inside of the bus the worst storm I have thus far experienced in Paraguay. The thunder was so loud it was scaring half the people on the bus, and the wind was so strong trees looked like they would fall over and we had rain making puddles in our bus because half the windows were of course leaking. The storm lasted for about 40 minutes and after people had changed their minds about 5 times about whether we were going to stay or not, and whether the presentation was going to continue or not, we all filed back onto the bleachers and waited another half an hour before the parade started. Half the people had found somewhere to be protected from the rain, and the other half were soaked and there were rivers flowing down the streets. About 3 minutes into the parade of teams, it started sprinkling again, and over the next half an hour, neither the weather or the people watching the parade could decide their course of action. It kind of sprinkled and kind of stopped and people climbed up and down the bleachers and walked into some sort of shelter from the rain and then back again. I think I climbed up and down the bleachers about 5 times in that half hour because my sisters didn’t know what they wanted to do. The fact that people had even stuck it out just to watch all the teams walk by, considering their fear of getting wet, was actually quite impressive to me. I thought it showed how dedicated they are to their local team and to the sport in general.
There had been a game scheduled, but whether the field was too soaked to play or because they somehow knew it was going to rain again, they decided to cancel the game. So after the parade was finally over, we all piled back on the bus and it almost immediately started raining again… hard. Team 8 was exhilarated, whether it was from being dripping wet from the rain or from the thrilling parade of teams and they began to sing at the top of their lungs for the entire 30 minute bus ride back home. While the thunder was cracking so loud that mothers were putting their hands over their ears, our wonderful boys belted out, “¡olé, olé, olé, olá! ¡Ocho!”
long field: long week
This last week was “long field” for all the trainees which means that we went in groups of 5 with a language teacher to go visit a current volunteer for a week to do construction projects and charlas, etc. (Charlas are talks or presentations usually in schools) Long field was definitely the longest week I have had here, and while it would take a week to fully explain the details, maybe I can give you a taste of why it was so long for me…
Day 1: We arrived and it was pouring rain, which means that our plans for the week might or might not be completely changed because we can’t do anything in the rain. My host family for the week did not have a light in their bathroom, so they put up a lantern so I could see. Before I was done showering, the lantern exploded, dumping gasoline all over my towel, my clothes fell on the wet floor, and water started shooting out of the wall from behind the lantern. (I’m still not sure why this happened) I told the señora there that I had a problem and she came and took the lantern and walked away, leaving me to figure out how to dry myself with a gasoline soaked towel and dress in wet clothes in the dark. And by the way, I had to use that towel for the rest of the week.
Day 2: It rained all morning, and thinking it would be hot all week, I was not prepared for the cold weather so I sat on the porch in shorts and a tshirt for 4 hours. That afternoon it stopped raining and we went an old guys house to start digging a letrine in literally rock hard dirt.
Day 3: We built half a fogón, the corner caved in because the ground was uneven and we had to tear everything down and start all over again. The old man decided he didn’t want his letrine so far from his house, so we were told that we would have to dig the hole all over again. We also decided rather filling in the hole we already dug, which by the way still had water in it from the rain, that we would turn it into a trash pit.
Day 4: By the end of the day, we finished the fogón and I’m praying it doesn’t fall down anytime soon. Three of us did a nutrition charla in Guarani and I didn’t understand pretty much half of what was said. Three of us finished digging the second hole for the letrine and used, I kid you not, a bowl and a shovel to dig, a coke bottle with water for a level that we set on a piece of wood, and a stick to mark the ground. I was so dirty that night I had to rub the top layer of skin off with my towel to get myself completely clean. I also calculated that we walked a total of 2 hours that day back and forth in between houses.
Day 5: We finished laying the losa (floor) for the letrine, packed up and drove home. I never thought I would miss my community and my family so much and was so excited to finally go home.
Day 1: We arrived and it was pouring rain, which means that our plans for the week might or might not be completely changed because we can’t do anything in the rain. My host family for the week did not have a light in their bathroom, so they put up a lantern so I could see. Before I was done showering, the lantern exploded, dumping gasoline all over my towel, my clothes fell on the wet floor, and water started shooting out of the wall from behind the lantern. (I’m still not sure why this happened) I told the señora there that I had a problem and she came and took the lantern and walked away, leaving me to figure out how to dry myself with a gasoline soaked towel and dress in wet clothes in the dark. And by the way, I had to use that towel for the rest of the week.
Day 2: It rained all morning, and thinking it would be hot all week, I was not prepared for the cold weather so I sat on the porch in shorts and a tshirt for 4 hours. That afternoon it stopped raining and we went an old guys house to start digging a letrine in literally rock hard dirt.
Day 3: We built half a fogón, the corner caved in because the ground was uneven and we had to tear everything down and start all over again. The old man decided he didn’t want his letrine so far from his house, so we were told that we would have to dig the hole all over again. We also decided rather filling in the hole we already dug, which by the way still had water in it from the rain, that we would turn it into a trash pit.
Day 4: By the end of the day, we finished the fogón and I’m praying it doesn’t fall down anytime soon. Three of us did a nutrition charla in Guarani and I didn’t understand pretty much half of what was said. Three of us finished digging the second hole for the letrine and used, I kid you not, a bowl and a shovel to dig, a coke bottle with water for a level that we set on a piece of wood, and a stick to mark the ground. I was so dirty that night I had to rub the top layer of skin off with my towel to get myself completely clean. I also calculated that we walked a total of 2 hours that day back and forth in between houses.
Day 5: We finished laying the losa (floor) for the letrine, packed up and drove home. I never thought I would miss my community and my family so much and was so excited to finally go home.
Saturday, March 20, 2010
Peace Corps: The only dating service that pays YOU!
For those of you who are already jumping to conclusions, let me first say no, I’m not dating, this is just another reflection on the culture. Before I left, many of my friends told me I would find someone in Paraguay and never come back to the United States and I laughed every time I was told that. I also thought that once I left the states I would be freed from people teasing me about finding a boyfriend. Again, like so many other things in this country, I was dead wrong. In one of the first few days of training, our trainers told us they would be shocked (yes, they said shocked) if at least 5 or 6 of us out of our training group of 49 weren’t married by the end of our two years of service. Of course we all started laughing, but after they emphatically insisted it was just short of being a scientific fact, we all started looking around the room trying to figure out which one of us would be the first to go. The jokes and suggestions are not solely exclusive to Americans and I think most of us have gotten more questions from Paraguayans about significant others in the last month and a half than any other thing in our past lives. My host mom and dad have asked me at least three times if I have a boyfriend at home because apparently twice wasn’t enough, and they have told me probably over 7 times that I will find a boyfriend here. It’s almost like they think I’m worried about not having one although I’m not sure how that was ever communicated.
Apparently though, it’s not just my family that wants to see me and every other volunteer find a Paraguayan boyfriend or girlfriend while we are here. Everyone wants to know if you are dating and if you aren’t, they immediately tell you that you will find someone here and they begin “helping” you by suggesting cousins, sisters, brothers, neighbors, and anyone else they think might be suitable for you. Sometimes it doesn’t even matter if you do have a significant other because they will tell you it doesn’t matter anyway and continue suggesting other family members for you to consider. While my dad no longer asks if I have a boyfriend, he continually asks me if I’ve found someone or seen any “churros” which basically translates cute boys. While I think part of him just likes to joke with me particularly because he likes to hear my sarcastic responses, I’m pretty sure he’s partly serious.
While I’m sure my host family would be more than happy to marry me off to a Paraguayan, I’m not really sure who they are considering as viable options. There is of course the 14 year old who yells out “I lohv yuu Aleesohn!” every time he sees me and his wonderful friends have made it their personal mission in life to convince me that he is indeed my boyfriend simply because he says he’s in love with me. Although I continue telling them there is a major age difference, his apparently undying love is affirmed every time I see him or his friends. There is also the hyperactive 5 year old across the street, who also happens to be my cousin, who is friends with me because I play a little soccer with him and don’t get freaked out by his hyperactivity. When I was still new in my community and would pass him on the street, he would usually either yell out an obscenity at me or yell “Adios mi amor!” My sister of course thought that was hilarious and started calling him my boyfriend. Now when my dad teases me about boys, I laugh and tell him that the 5 year old, his nephew, is my novito, or little boyfriend. He always thinks it’s funny and while I think it gives him a further sense of pride of his nephew, he also lays off on insisting that I become interested in a Paraguayan… We’ll see how long that tactic lasts.
Apparently though, it’s not just my family that wants to see me and every other volunteer find a Paraguayan boyfriend or girlfriend while we are here. Everyone wants to know if you are dating and if you aren’t, they immediately tell you that you will find someone here and they begin “helping” you by suggesting cousins, sisters, brothers, neighbors, and anyone else they think might be suitable for you. Sometimes it doesn’t even matter if you do have a significant other because they will tell you it doesn’t matter anyway and continue suggesting other family members for you to consider. While my dad no longer asks if I have a boyfriend, he continually asks me if I’ve found someone or seen any “churros” which basically translates cute boys. While I think part of him just likes to joke with me particularly because he likes to hear my sarcastic responses, I’m pretty sure he’s partly serious.
While I’m sure my host family would be more than happy to marry me off to a Paraguayan, I’m not really sure who they are considering as viable options. There is of course the 14 year old who yells out “I lohv yuu Aleesohn!” every time he sees me and his wonderful friends have made it their personal mission in life to convince me that he is indeed my boyfriend simply because he says he’s in love with me. Although I continue telling them there is a major age difference, his apparently undying love is affirmed every time I see him or his friends. There is also the hyperactive 5 year old across the street, who also happens to be my cousin, who is friends with me because I play a little soccer with him and don’t get freaked out by his hyperactivity. When I was still new in my community and would pass him on the street, he would usually either yell out an obscenity at me or yell “Adios mi amor!” My sister of course thought that was hilarious and started calling him my boyfriend. Now when my dad teases me about boys, I laugh and tell him that the 5 year old, his nephew, is my novito, or little boyfriend. He always thinks it’s funny and while I think it gives him a further sense of pride of his nephew, he also lays off on insisting that I become interested in a Paraguayan… We’ll see how long that tactic lasts.
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