Avy’a Paraguáipe!

This past month has been flying by it seems. The hours at times, not so much, but the days and weeks, yes! And it’s very much due to being busy, finally.

Bread Baking with Maureen and Socias

Yesterday my PCV friend Maureen came to visit. She is an expert breadmaker having completed a course with SINAFOCAL (a group that’s part of the Ministerio de Justicia y Trabajo – Work and Justice Ministry – that helps capacitate Paraguayans in new skills) and her womens’ group. She brought their most popular recipe – Pan de Queso - cheese bread. We purchased the ingredients. Then the bread was sold to the participants of the class to cover the costs, and to earn a small amount of money to help fund future breadbaking and gas costs for the industrial oven.

maureen teaching

Maureen’s demonstrating how to make la corona (not just a cerveza, people!), the crown of flour, with a space inside to mix wet ingredients. And that’s me  kneading the mess out of the dough. It was a cold day, so the bread was slow to warm up and rise.

kneading the bread

The ladies absolutely loved the class. I haven’t seen them so into something like this before! While we waited for the bread to rise, we had an impromptu meeting, and later while the bread baked we got to sit around and socialize a bit, too! Laughing, sharing stories, half-heartedly competing to make the better batch of bread. And the best part?! The bread was delicious! I was concerned we wouldn’t sell the 124 pieces we made, and we’d have to peddle our bread to the high school or around town. But no! They bought the bread at a price of 6 for 5,000 Guaranis. Or 1 for 1,000Gs (incentive, eh?!)

And yet another win. The ladies are talking about having regular baking get-togethers. And trying new recipes like Torta de Coco (Coconut Cake).

divying up the bread

Semana Santa – Holy Week

Semana Santa is a special time to be in Paraguay. For one reason, it’s CHIPA WEEK! Another reason, Jesus.

We all know who Jesus is, so let’s talk chipa. Chipa is a bagel-shaped food, that consists of cornmeal, flour, Paraguayan cheese, anise, and probably pig fat if I had to guess. It’s baked in an electric oven, or during Holy Week, in the giant tatakua, an outdoor brick oven. Tata means fire.

Host family invited me over to make chipa on Wednesday afternoon of Holy Week (Chipa Day). This year, the Ministry of Education ruled that students would be required (loosely albeit) to attend school on Wednesday. Traditionally, no one goes to school that day because it’s the unofficial, but really official, chipa making day. You can imagine people were up in arms about this change in tradition. I’m sure attendance was low that day.

The dough had been mixed when I arrived, so I got to work kneading and forming the chipa shapes. I am good at this. Naturally. Then host sister Karin and I began to decorate the chipa in humorous ways. Chipa Artesania we called it. Chipa with “200″ written across it – The Bicentennial Chipa. Chipa with XOXO (the chipa made with amor). Chipa with a chicken sitting on it. Easter eggs? I don’t know.

Here’s some of our work. We made about 70 pieces. Que guapa.

chipa before

North Carolina chipa

impersonating the chipa ladies with their baskets

amado and tatakua

And that’s host dad Amado being super guapo and preparing the tatakua. First you heat up the oven big time, and then you clean out all the coals, ash and kindling with a special broom. And then in goes the chipa trays.

Apart from chipa making, I attended the viacrusis, sort of the like the walk of the cross, telling the story of Jesus’ last days in Jerusalem before his crucifixion. The theater event took place around the plaza of the church, and the actors were youth ages 15-18ish who participate in activities in the Casa Paroquial.

church, valenzuela

viacrusis

Friday I laid low, and on Saturday had a delicious meal of pork, sopa paraguaya, salad and wine with my family!

English Class

I have wrapped up two terms in my school-year-long English Class. We’re taking a break for now in May, and will resume in June.

So far we have learned greetings, how to introduce yourself (name, age, origin, what you do, what you like to do in free time), numbers, clothing, colors, alphabet, and forming basic sentences. The day we were learning the alphabet, we played Hangman.

the letters spell out caca. haha!

playing memory to practice the pronunciation of the letters of the alphabet.

I gave an exam last week. I was pleased with what they’re understanding at this point, but mostly that they’re getting over being nervous about talking.

Leathergoods Class at AMUR

Today we completed 4 weeks of an 11 week course in crafting leather goods or marroquineria. That refers to smaller scale projects like wallets, belts, keychains, termos. Our first project was a wallet. And next up will be a cellphone case. And finally, a termo. Here’s our class at work. A teacher from IPA (Instituto Paraguayo Artesania) comes out weekly to teach a 3.5 hr class. AMUR pays nothing to IPA for the course, but the participants in the class must pay for materials, which in this case with leather, can be expensive. The participants also pay a cuota, like dues, for the course, which AMUR uses to pay for the professors travel costs via bus and a meal.

leather class

NCAA Tournament

I realize it has been a while, but I forgot to post this picture and say GO HEELS! I’m proud of you!

watching a game live at the PC office. that's just diet coke in my Zack's coozie!

Bicentennial Kick-off

Bicentennial celebrations have officially begun. There was a lighting of the Antorcha de La Libertad (Freedom Torch), lots of school kids attended, dancers fainted.

paseo de los ilustres valenzolanos

That’s the new municipal plaza structure with a walkway honoring past citizens of Valenzuela. There are plaques along the way. The work was inaugurated on the symbolic 100th day of the mayor’s service.

What’s cooking?

Yeah, so I’m always playing in the kitchen a little bit. Recently I did a lasagna luncheon for my host family, mbeju (my favorite Py-an snack food), baked spring rolls, Paneer with homemade cottage cheese and an awesome spinach salad with green apples, beets, raisins and almonds.

mbeju

lasagna lunch with the family

spring roll filling

spinach salad

curry veggies with homemade paneer

Work work work

el pueblo valenzuela, bus stop

What is new on the work front, you ask? Good things. Very good things.

PC has three worldwide missions that guide my role here. You’ll notice 2/3 of my job is cultural exchange (and that’s why it’s the best job in the world):

1. Help the people of interested countries in meeting their need for trained men and women.
2. Help promote a better understanding of Americans on the part of the peoples served.
3. Help promote a better understanding of other peoples on the part of Americans.

I have just finished up my first month in site, and completed many personal goals thus far. They were:

1. Visit the public institutions in the community and identify community leaders.
Check! I visited each institution and delivered, in person, an invitation to my site presentation. I met the Chief of Police (he gave me his personal cell number, and the station number), the doctor (he offered to teach me how to do stitches–no thanks! I declined saying I only wanted to learn to sew aho po‘i), the post office workers, representatives of the Cooperatives (local banks, essentially), teachers, principals and priests.

aho poi (snapped this picture in the fancy aho poi store in the capital. i plan on copying it to learn some new stitches.)

There’s a favorite word among volunteers to describe many of our daily interactions, especially early on in our service: awkward. Yes it’s true. It is not easy to just up and introduce yourself at random. In a second language. In a different culture. It’s also awkward when you get the question, “So what are you doing here?” It takes a certain amount of guts and resolve. I’m proud of myself for doing it.

2. Get to know the socias of AMUR and other community members.
Working on it every day! One of my best friends right now is the 60-some-year-old socia Ña Ede. I visit her at the AMUR store every afternoon from about 230 to 430 (after my nap). We drink terere, she helps me with Guarani, we sew or organize the store. I run ideas by her. Last week I told her I learned to say “underwear” in Guarani and she about fell out of her chair from laughing. P.S., It’s chulu.

I’ve lead one meeting with AMUR so far. I started with an icebreaker that had all the ladies playing charades. And then I gave a brief introduction of myself, my family in the States, what I studied in school, why I joined Peace Corps. And then I conducted a group activity, asking the socias to consider the expectations they had of me.

my pretty agenda poster for meetings

I discovered quickly it is harder than I imagined to stay on topic, though most things on the agenda were covered. But normally wherever the conversation goes, I will learn something new. For instance, though I didn’t ask for this directly, I got quite a bit of information about former projects or classes the ladies have done (leatherwork, making homemade household cleaners, aho po‘i, bread making, dressmaking), what worked, what didn’t. There was a lot frustration in the group. So I have identified a bit of a morale issue and lack of unity. Though there was one point of unity: the ladies would like to operate a sustainable micro-business. I know this has been a goal for some time, but has not been fulfilled. And to be honest, I’m not sure it’s in their future. All the ladies have different interests, and different levels of time available to put toward AMUR. But one of my roles will be to help explore this idea and inspire some unity within the group.

baking cookies and cake for my site presentation

My next step in really getting to know the socias will be to start making house calls! I got the idea from Nikki to complete an archivo of the socias. This would be like a database with name, map to house, family information, etc. Plus it’d give me the opportunity to talk one-on-one to learn about each socia’s personal interests and goals in AMUR. Group dynamics, politics, simply being outside of one’s own house may make a socia a little more reserved . I suspect some of the more timid ladies may be more comfortable in their houses. I’ll schedule a few visits each day to go and chat. Now that I have been in site for a month, I am feeling more comfortable with my language skills, and I’m up for this challenge.

3. Visit the campanias (surrounding rural areas).
Check! My host mom is the principal at a rural school in the campania Pirareta. I’ve been out there with her a couple of times to meet the teachers and students. Trouble is, the school is some 8k away, and I had a ride in a car each time I’ve gone. I hope to visit again when I have my bike.

pirareta with our shadows

host mom's school: Séneca says, "Difficulties strengthen the mind as labor strengthens the body."

4.Contact my World Wide Schools partnership match.
I am participating in a program that matches State-side teachers with PC volunteers in the field. My match is a 7th/8th grade Spanish teacher Meredith McCoy, a fellow Tar Heel and Teach for America teacher in Nashville, TN, at Kipp Academy (Meredith says, “At my school, we focus on college as our ultimate goal and constantly teach kids about what it’s like to be in college.”–That is one reason I love Teach for America.) Hi Meredith and students! I look forward to sharing stories, pictures, culture with you over the next two years! Let’s see if I can’t find a Paraguayan classroom to write you guys letters!

5. Identify a a potential early-win project.
Check! Early in my service, I wanted to lead a small-scale secondary project (outside the realm of Community Economic Development) that would allow me to get my feet wet and experience some early success. In other words: a feel-good project to get to know some new folks and gain their confidence and friendship. During my initial meeting with the socias I mentioned that I’m artistic and enjoy painting. So they asked if I knew how to paint fabric. My response? I guess so, it can’t be that different, right? Well, they expressed interest in a class. So I went home and practiced painting a linen kitchen towel and it turned out quite nice. I need to put a border on it, and I’m sure a socia will add crochet.

voila

I submitted a proposal to my contact last week with our budget, class schedule and plans for an interest meeting. She’s on board, so we’ll see where this goes. I suppose if the ladies really enjoy it, it could prove to generate some income if we decide to sell their wears.

6. Find a place to live independently.
Check! Former volunteer Sasha rented a small house in town with a great location relative to AMUR, neighbors, place to get groceries. A couple weeks ago I met with her landlady and got a tour of the house. A señor was there making some repairs, paint touch-ups. I negotiated the price with her, weaseling her down 50,000 Guaranis (about $10.42) from her asking price by reminding her it was a 2-year contract, guaranteed payment every month. In Spanish. BOOM. I get the keys October 1 and will probably spend some time collecting things, cleaning, prepping the backyard before I move it. Plus I’m not really ready to cut the cord from the washing machine and the awesome food my host mom makes.

mi casita

The house is simple. There’s a front stoop where I can put my chair, drink terere, and watch people walk by. Immediately inside is a small entry room/guest room. Then the big bedroom. Then hallway/dining room space with modern bathroom off to the side. In the back room is the kitchen. And out back is my laundry sink, garden and clothes line. And beyond that is more yard where I’ll put my chickens.

As far as furnishing the place goes, Peace Corps provides a “settling-in allowance” that should allow me to cover what I need. But to save, I’m hoping the socias may be able to help me round up and borrow an extra bed frame (I want to invest in a mattress) and fridge. As for the gas stove top, I’ll look for a used one. And I‘d also like an electric oven. And then finally, and most importantly: a ceiling fan.

Séneca

A few tidbits and anecdotes

First night (and morning) in Asuncion

About a month and a half ago, there was a national exposition of industry and crafts in Paraguay. It was held outside the capital at a place reminiscent of the N.C. Fairgrounds. Well, a few of us from the Villeta crew had the ganas or willpower to venture there via micro (bus) on the night that Calle 7 (a popular evening gameshow…think Survivor-style competitions with the exaggerated sex appeal of Baywatch) was filming a live show . There aren’t words to describe how grateful I was to have a seat on that bus, and better yet to have Maureen as my seatmate. It must have taken 2.5 hours to get there. Body to body. Stop and go. Maureen’s right shoulder supported a man’s protruding stomach for much of the ride.

We arrive at the expo. We’re checking out the national pavilions (Taiwan, U.S., Argentina, Brazil were among those represented), artisan booths, performance stages and livestock showcasing barns.

zach with barack at the US pavilion

this cow is realizing he’s up for sale.

ox = buey

We pass on the slabs of carne, and opt for shavings of carne and chicken: lomito arribes, essentially a gyro, with French fries and hot sauce. And a cold Tecate.

carne at the expo

lomito arribes at the expo

After some more wandering we’re ready to catch a micro to more central Asuncion to meet up with some other trainees from Ypane (other satellite training community) and go to a discoteca or club!

Well. The streets outside the expo gave the impression that all of Asuncion was evacuating for some natural disaster. Bumper to bumper traffic for miles. And every micro was full, with people hanging outside the bus.

So we walk. And walk and walk. Looking for any micro that might have room for us. And then our standards change and we’re looking for a taxi. It might be worth it. Nope, all full. Ok, maybe a truck or van? Some nice Paraguayan could give us a ride part of the way?

And then I see a familiar van. I look at Brett and say, “Uh…is that your host brother from Villeta?“ I’ll be damned. He had come to the expo with his wife and kid, but decided to turn around because it was a mad house. If that’s not coincidence I don’t know what is.

So he gives us a ride to the club: Faces. It’s 11pm by this point, way too early by Paraguayan standards to head to the club. So we go to a corner store with a patio across the street and wait it out until about 1am.

(I am shaking my head to myself as I tell this story.)

So we party hard. We make friends with some Paraguayans. Maureen actually used the line, “Entonces, vienes vos con frecuencia?” — “So, do you come here often?” And she’s wearing a genuine leather Paraguayan cowboy hat she got at the expo (with some not too shabby negotiating skills). We also successfully requested Lady Gaga from the DJ. He obliged. The group from Ypane, due to some transportation issues of their own, arrived at 3am.

We leave. The club. At 530am. The hamburger street vender is still outside. We eat and chat with him, hovering beneath his umbrella while it begins to drizzle.

And suddenly the veil of a fun night has been lifted, and we see the gross reality that is the next morning when there’s sunlight, you haven’t slept, it’s raining on you, and you don’t know when your bus will ever come. And my gosh where is my bed? And then you take the wrong bus, that takes a huge loop around the city before going to the terminal.

And then you take the wrong bus from the terminal. Because no matter  how many times you ask if the bus is going to VILLETA, the bus driver thinks you said some other town. And suddenly we’re in the campo, hauling ass down a red dirt road, full of pot holes. And we see a roadsign that says Capiataa…and that’s in the wrong direction.

I’m sitting in the back row of the bus alongside Brett, and we hit a particularly bumpy ditch, he both look at one another, not sure whether to laugh or scream of frustration. We laughed. And then we found something to hold on to. And the driver is getting a kick out this, watching our reactions in his rear-view mirror.

An hour later, the bus drops us off in Nemby. Nemby is a thoroughfare on the way to Villeta.

It’s 9am by this point. So we say, eh, we’re here at the supermarket. We might as well eat breakfast. So I pick up a bottled water and miraculously find cereal bars.

We wait until 10am for the Villetana (our town bus) to come through. We board, rolling back into town at 1030am. I said good morning to my host mom, she laughs when I explain the bus situation and that we were in Capiataa, and excuses me to go sleep.

End scene.

Getting in the habit of identifying emergency exits

I am only partially joking! This past Saturday I went to a school production put on by the high school to tell the story of Paraguay’s history. This year marks the country’s Bicentennial.

viva el pueblo paraguayo 1811 - 2011

So each grade level put together a skit depicting an aspect of Paraguayan culture. The first skit opens with a little house with flaming porch torches…flames maybe 6 inches from an entirely wooded and paper construction. And then the canons start firing.

fire hazard

Not to be outdone, another grade level was tasked with telling the story of the Paraguayan rail system. So they disguised a car as a locomotive and drove it into the building.

train

And finally, for a reason I could not decipher, another group had a woman ride a completely terrified and skittish horse into the noisy, crowded building. And the horse was losing its grip all over the slick floor. He needed some sneakers.

horse wigging out

Birthday Surprise

Back in August on my birthday, my host mom threw me a little fiesta and afterward fellow trainee friends and I went for a walk around town, a vuelta, as we had become accustomed to doing in the evenings. We’re walking along the main road, when a moto pulls up beside us, and I recognize one of the teenage riders to be trainee Zach’s 15-year-old host brother Victor. And he has a gift, which he presents to me. Bless his sweet lil 15-year-old corazón. The first part of the gift was a pink teddy bear key chain with a suction cup attachment (I put it on my mirror in my room) and a giant, gaudy white flower hair clip (they’re all the rage here, and I promptly put it in my hair).

Carolina del Norte

I’ve been out of the loop as far as news goes–international and U.S. news especially. But my host family was watching the news just last week, and came to report that there was a hurricane and it was heading toward tu estado, Emi–Carolina del Norte! I was so proud that they remembered my state, and even better that my host sister Karin remembered that Michael Jordan went to my university! I got lost in that moment and forgot to ponder the severity of the hurricane. A few days later, from the room with the television I hear my host dad yelling, “CAROLINA DEL NORTE! CAROLINA DEL NORTE!” So I go to check things out, and he’s watching the news, which has footage of Earl coming inland along our coastline.

I say Chomache, you say tomate

Over the weekend, host brother Derlis brought a large crate of tomatoes home, which he’d gotten for a real deal. There were tomatoes everywhere. So I ask my mom what she’s going to do with them. And she says she’ll freeze them. To which I banter we could open a tomato stand on the ruta and have a tomato-selling contest. But in the midst of this, my entire family starts correcting how I say tomato. Send in the pronunciation police. It’s not all that different in Spanish…but they were convinced I was saying chomache. And I could not stop laughing. That’s absurd. Who says chomache?

But I diffused the situation and we all got the last laugh when I surprised them with a Guarani phrase they had taught me the day before: Aña memby peguare TomaTe! Translation: Son of a devil tomato! Score 1 Emily.

Another useful phrase I learned: Hendy kabaju resa. Literal translation: Flashing horse eyes. The phrase is used when a situation is rotten. Like you’re broke. Or you’re a native English speaker learning Spanish (and Guarani), but you’re in a room full of people all speaking in Guarani.

My first meeting at AMUR

I was nervous about this. All eyes in the room looking at the newbie in town. So I came prepared with a short speech I wrote to introduce myself and my personal goals for the first few weeks, months in town. And I wore my new aho po’i shirt.

The meeting begins with mingling. Each of the socias arrives and I greet her, introducing myself in a jopara (mix) of Spanish and Guarani because I know they will appreciate the effort to speak Guarani. We kiss on both cheeks. They look me up and down and say something like Oh que linda or Ipona, which mean “So pretty!”

We arrange our meeting room with classroom desks in a circle. My community contact who’s also the Vice-Coordinadora of AMUR, kicks off the meeting with some formalities welcoming me. And just as I knew she would, she looks at me and says… “Emi, do you have something to say?” And this is why I came prepared. So I read my little speech, introducing myself, where I am from, what I studied in school, that I have been involved in community work my whole life with adults and young people alike, that I am motivated and organized, and that I look forward to visiting and chatting with the ladies one-on-one very soon. Whew. I’m feeling good. Time to relax and just listen.

Not. Too. Fast. Conversation erupts around me. Two, Three, Six people talking at once. In Spanish and in Guarani. In a serious jopara so that in one sentence you’ll get half of each. I sit back, smile, trying not to let the frustration crack on my face.

I pick up on the fact that they’re talking about me and where I’m going to live. In three months I’ll move into Sasha’s house. Oh but rumor has it the landlady wants to up my rent by what amounts to 40%. And that house has moisture in it. Maybe it needs repairs and she shouldn’t live there! Oh but she needs to see it first to decide for herself. But there’s no other house in town! And there’s competition for that house, she needs to act fast!

I ask to see the house, and for assistance negotiating the price with the owner. Ña Inma agrees. Done and done.

Fresh orange juice and a cake are brought out from the kitchen and served. I nibble, continuing to listen to segments of jopara conversations. And  I realize one metric of success may be out of my reach:

An ability to understand a group of 10 ladies, talking in a jopara of Spanish and Guarani, 3-5 people at a time, in a room with the acoustics of a cave.

And then I repeat my jopara mantra: Tranquilopa. Poco a poco. It’s all good, relax. Little by little.

About a trip to the campo, and an eager cow

el campo

 What a day today was! I got up around 815 to have breakfast: cocido con leche y mani (yerba tea with milk and peanut bits) and some bread with dulce de guayaba (a sweet and tangy fruit jam). And then I dressed in my gym shorts and my Carolina (Go Tar Heels!)  t-shirt and vowed to find a place where I could run or walk or do some kind of exercise. 

So I headed out down the ruta, which is asphalt. Most of the traffic along our town ruta is just motos, so it feels very safe. However, on the way back into town, I was climbing a hill and coming toward me is a moto with two guys on it carrying some piece of lumber or piping across their bodies, and it’s taking up half the width of the road. Meanwhile I’m picturing myself getting close-lined at 35mph. Have no fear, he was a good driver. 

After a shower and lunch of guiso con arroz (rice dish with tomato sauce with peas and beef) with a green salad and fresh carrot juice (!!!!!), I headed over to AMUR to tend the afternoon shift in AMUR’s store. There weren’t too many sales, so I moved my chair outside onto the front patio and read my 501 Spanish Verbs book until going home around 430 because my host mom called to see if I wanted to go… 

TO THE CAMPO!!!! 

HECK YES! I have been waiting anxiously to go out and see the family farm. 

So I come home and there’s a box of 10 baby chicks sitting in the kitchen, and the dog Luna wants to be in the box, bless her heart. We’re going to be moving the chicks to the campo. 

Host dad Amado, host mom Ada and I pile into the Peugeot pickup and make our way out of town. The stone-paved empedrado road eventually becomes a winding red dirt road. Little houses fade away and we enter open fields of tall grass with a few scattered palm trees, a fence here and there, a cow grazing. 

We turn off the main road, and creep through some fields until we reach the farm. There are cows, chickens, guineas, pigs, dogs. There are fields of pineapple, orange, mandarin orange, mango and banana trees, plus mandioca and beans. The farm is well-kept by my super guapo (hardworking) host dad, and a super guapa lady that lives out on the farm with her family. 

el patio

chickens doing chicken things

host mom, ada, serving up terere aka t-ray. don´t leave home without it.

We delivered the chickens to their new home where they’ll get 24 hours of light every day. 

baby chicks in their new home

Afterwards while relaxing over terere, a baby starts crying in the house. And without missing a beat, Amado gets up, and this otherwise very quiet, stoic man picks up the baby and starts oohing and aahing and saying sweet things until he stops crying. It was precious. 

my super cool host dad, don amado

Later we say our goodbyes, and I’m carrying the terere gear out to the truck and one of the cows really wants the terere. As in, he gets really close and is very inquisitive about what I have in my hand that he could eat. 

cow likes terere

cow envies me drinking terere

i pet the cow! (host mom is saying HAKE, Emi! Cuidado! aka Careful!)

Which leads Ada to tell the story of the time that a cow ate Amado’s cell phone!!!! I kid you not. He had left it in the back of the truck one time, couldn’t find it…and then found it a few days later in the field where the cow had ahem…deposited it. 

After the trip to the campo, we came home to make dinner–hamburgers. Plus, Ada had purchased a head of broccoli (a relative rarity here) while in Asuncion. She was curious about the vegetable and how to prepare it. Our agreement had been that if she brought it home, I’d fix it. And if the family liked it, she would add it to the repertoire. I steamed it, and served it with butter, lemon juice, salt and a little Paraguayan cheese. Mmm mmm yum. Success. 

cooking broccoli with my host sis karin