I went with my host family this past week to a neighboring town called Santa Elena. My host sister’s dance group had been invited to perform at the night-time festival for their patron saint. I went along in support.
el tajy - from ultima hora
The MC called it the Festival Agosto Tajy – The August Cherry Blossom Festival, essentially. The tajy (Guaraní tah-juh) is Paraguay’s national tree, or in Spanish lapacho. The blossom is similar to the Cherry Blossom, and comes in colors yellow and pink. And it’s their time now. Think of them as prevalent as the southern Crape Myrtle perhaps.
The mass went on forever in the church plaza. And wow. Quite a bit of political and ideological rhetoric coming from the robed man. I like my politics and faith separate, though I believe that much of my politics is influenced by how I was raised in my faith. Needless to say, I didn’t agree with a lot of what the priest was saying. And I couldn’t help to think, if those are the ideas that I’m truly up against, what hope do I has as a Volunteer? But I’m only one person. And I hope that the way that I lead my life and treat others equally is a stronger example than a priests mere words.
So I found a chair and drank mate with my host mom. Once that was over, we had to turn in our white plastic chairs from the church service, only to buy them back for the secular event that followed. Ok. Worth it. I’m a sitter. We also found the cantina and ordered empanadas and sopa.
The show began with several musical acts. Harps. Guitars. Vocalists. And then dancers. Dancers from this and that town, representing this municipality or this cooperative. Karin’s group performed, and they were fantastic. I only wish they’d had room on the stage with better lighting, but así es.
Here’s the video:
Isn’t the music great, too?!
One of the best parts about going to the festival was the actual travel. You see, my host family just traded out a pickup truck for a two-door VW. Which means we went via auto. In style. Balogs: think of the VW like the silver Honda Shark of Grandaddy’s. That’s what we’re working with.
Santa Elena sits about 10K off the ruta. The entire road is paved with smooth asphalt, painted with double yellow and single white fog lines. There are also reflectors. The road is tree-lined (beautiful!) It’s somewhat curvy, but illuminated better than most.
This is in stark contrast to my road to Valenzuela. And I was glad my host family got to see this. Granted, Valenzuela only recently has asphalt, as opposed to empedrado or rugged stone pavement. But it left them wanting more for their community and drivers’ safety. There have been some fatalities in recent years on that road, motos at night time is my understanding.
When we arrive to Santa Elena, the town is packed. There are motos and cars everywhere. There’s no where to park. We cruise for a bit until host mom asks my host dad to just let us out and meet up with us later. Sounds familiar. He goes to park the car. Time passes and we don’t see him. So we go looking for him and the mate termo in the car. “Amado! Why did you park so far away?! The event is over there! This is too far.” I’m laughing out loud thinking of my Dad parking a mile away to keep the car from getting dinged. I miss you, Dad!
Second part of the funny comes later in the evening. Close to 11 at night we leave Santa Elena. It’s very dark and beginning to drizzle.
We’re cruising home and host mom says something like, “My, how the rain just invites you to sleep.” Host dad driver says, “Huh?! Rain what rain?” The car falls silent until I laugh and point out the giant drops of water on the windshield. “Oh!!!! It is raining!” We almost got host mom to drive, but luckily we were creeping at a very slow horse-and-buggy speed.
