Chicken Assasins. Word.

Kai Pyrahe, Mandioca smuggling, and a touch of emotion

Been a while since my last entry, eh? It may be that I have run out of exciting stories to tell. Maybe they sound exciting to you, but to you they have become routine. My life. My life that will be over in 2.5 months and then it´s back to America to start all over again. I was told that once we go back, we must now get used to not really knowing how to function in American society anymore. We must adjust to never feeling like we will ever fit back into that jigsaw puzzle because for the last two years I have been learning how to fit myself comfortably into a completely different, one of a kind puzzle that can´t be replicated. Maybe us former peace corp volunteers should start our own colony like the lepers. I had a small preview this august when I went home for three weeks and felt like a total alien. Like a tourist on vacation in some foriegn country. Don´t get me wrong, I had a great time. I love my friends and my family and I especially missed driving my car and drinking good beer. It´s just culture shock in its rarest form. Culture shock in the country that I have spent 23 years of my 25 year life. I guess I am angry though. I mean, how can they (who is they anyway, relaly?) expect us to come here for 2 years, establish a new life, build a home, a new family, new close friends, and then we have to just leave it all and what, forget about it? That seems like the easiest thing to do. I am trying not to think anout leaving, but it´s hard not to when it´s just around the corner. I can´t look at my neighbor, Maria without getting nautious knowing that in 2 months the family I have spent everyday with for the last 2 years will be completely erased from my life. Unless I come back here I will never see them again. But I plan on comming back for a visit. Who knows when, but my pops wants to come with me so I am sure we will arrange something.

Anyways, on a lighter note, I had my first Pombero encounter last night (you know, the short little troll looking mythological paraguayan creature in the loin cloth who likes to mess with us and scare us, but I am pretty sure that he is harmless. He will supposedly leave you alone if you leave him liquor and cigarettes in your oven. Kind of like a twisted santa claus). Well, it all started when I was reading in bed (Absurdistan, I recommend reading it) and I heard my wire fence making a commotion and then something ran across my porch and through my yard. I´m convinced it was a large dog. Then around 10:00pm I began receiving a series of texts from the neighbor boy who lives next door in grandma´s old house. He is 21. This is what they said:

9:58pm Him- Sara, I am really scared, the pombero is after me right now and I can´t sleep. He threw an apepu (orange sized, kumquat tasting, fruit) at me. I am really scared.

10:03pm Him- Sara, the pombero is after me and I am really scared. He threw an apepu at me and I´m frightened and this is serious.

10:07pm Him- If you don´t believe me, go outside and you will hear the noise that he is making on the wire fence and he threw an apepu at me.

10:09pm Call- Sara please answer my texts (hangs up)

10:10pm Me- What do you want me to do? I am sleeping and I don´t hear anything

10:14pm Him- I only wanted to tell you that the pombero was after me. He came into my house and threw my notebook, my clothes, and my radio and I am very frightened truthfully. Thank you for responding to my message

I am convinced that is was the ghost of grandma screwing with him because she was always awesome like that. Needless to say, I didn´t sleep that well, especially when the power went out shortly after and I was left in the pitch black to comvince myself that I don´t believe in mythilogical creatures and that there isn´t one at my neighbors right now, and that I didn´t have to pee because I was too scared to get out of bed. I felt like a little kid again.

Well, the mandioca truck was packed to the brim this morning with mandioca and passengers. We were packed like sardines, on top of so much mandioca that our heads were almost touching the roof (at least mine almost was, but I am the abnormally ¨gigante¨american so that doesn´t say to much). Anyway, I wish I took a picture because we looked like a bunch of illegal immigrants trying to cross the border, while smuggling a ton of yuca in the process.

I had puppies once

My Ode to the Mandioca Truck

I wrote this song in my head at 4:00 this morning while trying to sleep in the back of the mandioca truck. Maybe its a poem. No offense to the truck. If it weren't for the truck and it's piles of mandioca I would still be rained into site, and wouldn't have made it to Asuncion today.

The road is so bumpy,

My eardrums are shaking.

The red clay mud on my clothes

Is drying and caking.

The sun's not yet up,

My poor head is aching.

Not even the confused rooster's

are ready for waking.

Well this weekend marked the one year anniversary of my parents visit to my site as well as the anniversary of the saint (Maria Auxiliadora) of my communities church, which means lots of food, music, and parties. Unfortunatly, this weekend, we also lost a very special person, my Paraguayan grandma, and next door neighbor, Bernadina. She died on Saturday, at the age of 82. These last couple of days have probably been some of the saddest and hardest that I have dealt with since arriving to Paraguay almost 2 years ago. Last week I was walking with Grandma back to her house from the other end of the community as she carried a large bundle of sticks on her head, that she refused to let me help her with. I asked her when her birthday was and she told me that she would be turning 83 in June. She also told me that numerous people have told her that she was going to live to past 100 because she was so healthy and still worked every day. I agreed.
A couple days later she fell and apparently broke her hip. She was taken to the hospital in Buena Vista, then to another in Villarica, and Saturday morning at 7am, while I was drinking maté on my porch with my buddy Antonio, watching the people decorate the church across the street and listening to the loud music and fireworks that had been going off since 3am, the news came that Abuela had passed. Out of respect and custom, the music at the church and throughout the community was shut off. Grandma was brought back home from the hospital in her coffin where she stayed over night until she was brought to be buried yesterday afternoon. All day saturday and throughout the night there were visitors and prayers. The immediate family members , and others very close to the family stay awake all night the first night after the death at the house of the deceased. I attempted to stay all night, but only made it until 2:00am, and after being harrassed by the town drunk(s), for most of the night, I decided that 7 hours of listening to them was enough. I am not German, but they can believe what ever they want. And no, I will not marry you. So I went home to get some rest, but after 6 hours of drinking caffiene filled maté it wasn´t easy.
This weekend I saw the toughest most intimidating members of my community show emotion and vulnerability. One of the hardest things I saw was my neighbor; the man who built my house, the man who never shows an ounce of emotion other than laughter or anger; with his body draped over his dead mother, sobbing, calling out her name, kissing her face, for hours. Her children and family members came from as far as Argentina to mourn her loss. Ña Bernadina was such an important member of our village. She was loved by all, and I found out this weekend that she was practically related to everyone as well, either as an aunt, mother, grandma, or inlaw.
I was unable to bring myself to go up to the casket to see her, which I regret now and I knew that I would. Apparently I have to much pride, and did not want to fall apart in front of my whole community. There will be a prayer service everyday for 9 days in a row at her house, and I will be attending them all. If you pray, please make space for her. R.I.P. Love you Aguela.

Proud Grandma

Here are some pictures of the new addition to my family. The puppies are preety big now, and I've given away four so far. I am down to three pups at my house, and although it was hard to give the others away, it sure saves on dog food.

too tired for a title

Ok so I´m in Caazapa today mainly to buy acrylic paint for a project I´m going to be working on at the school and to get more food for my dog because she is a ravenous new mother of 7, and I am working on 2 hours of sleep. Working is not actually the correct word, walking around town like a zombie is a more accurate description of how I am feeling today. All night I listened to Chipa´s puppies whining and howling trying to get comfortable. Even with plugs in my ears and headphones over top blasting Pink Floyd´s the Division Bell on repeat, I could still hear them and of course with any ounce of noise, I am unable to sleep. Finally around 1am they stopped. Right as I started to doze off, a lost baby cow started mooing for it´s mom in a loud, annoying, consistent, nonstop pattern, right in front of my house. Needless to say, the situation ended up with me crying and chasing the cow down the street waving my broom in the air. Twice. It still came back. Come to find out this morning that its because its mom was in my yard eating my beans. Eventually, the dogs started crying again and before I knew it, it was 2:30am, a half hour before I had to wake up and get ready to catch the mandioca truck to town. So I got out of bed, drank some maté, took my time getting ready, swept, cursed my dogs, cursed myself for not getting chipa fixed, and boarded at 3:45 a truck full of mandioca, beans, corn, ladies drinking maté and farting, and children just farting.
Prepared to maybe get 2 hours of rest on the ride, my neighbor asks me, ´Ejokose pa kumanda?´´Do you want to break open my beans?´Which actually meant, you break open my beans for me and I´m gonna sit here and drink maté and play on my cell phone. She knows that I caný resist de-podding a legume and took advantage of the opportunity. So for the whole 2 hours I broke open beans and filled up a plastic bag in the pitch black of very early morning, bouncing in the back of a big truck with a roof made out of orange tarp. But I wasn´t bitter. The way that I was balanced on top of three bags of mandioca, pressing my foot against the side of the truck for support, there was no way that I could have slept. If I had dozed off, it would had been a disaster. We would hit one of the many big bumps/pot holes, and I would have ended up in some woman´s lap or on top of a small child, and that would not have been pretty, considering how ¨gigante¨I am.

Semana Santa. The week leading up to easter. The week of unlimited, endless amounts of freshly made chipa (not as fresh by the end of the week). Week of greasy, cheesy sopa Paraguay, mandioca by the kilos, scents of pigs, cows, chickens, and sheep BBQing emanating from every house in the country. Week of tortas, boxed wine and coke, or beer and coke, or cana and coke, as long as it's mixed with coke, and more chipa washed down with coke. Every gluttons dream. My fridge is stuffed full of gifts of sopa, cake, various barbequed meats, and did I mention chipa? Though the site of it makes me sick after all that I ate today (I write this March 20th, Holy Thursday. Day of the asado. Today we feast and tomorrow we must only eat chipa). I had a huge lunch. Two actually. First at Dalida's (The greatest woman in the world) after preparing together all morning, then immediately to my neighbor's house ( I was hoping they would have eaten already), because they invited me too and I didn't have the heart/balls to tell them that I already had lunch plans, but maybe I cuold pencil them in around 2ish. Give me time for a nap.... Well I arrived just in time for lunch #2, and ate the same thing all over again (just not as much in order not to explode). After going home and bathing the greasiness off of me, I went and visited another family, whom I adore. Immediatly I am brought chipa and forced to try it while the whole family watches. I insist that I am stuffed. I tell them that I am going to explode, but that gets lost in translation and I just got really odd looks. I try a bite, tell them its delicious and place it on my lap until I leave. Then it's off to Grandma's house I go. She is so happy that I "remembered her," because she has been alone all day, cooking and sweeping, she loads a plastic bag full of chipa, sopa, and cake, but doesn't make me try it in front of her ( thank god!). She's really busy sweeping her yard and sends me on my way. She says to come back tomorrow if it doesn't rain, because if it rains, she'll just have to sweep her yard all over again and that takes all day. She's great. A little nuts, but I effing love her.

So, moral of the story is, there is such a thing as free lunch (who ever made up that saying has never visited Paraguay), but it's not always a blessing. It can lead to wicked bad indigestions and an awful stomach ache.

And after the chipa is gone, you will have withdrawals. I swear the secret ingredient in that stuff is CRACK.

P.S. Chipa had her puppies!

Welcome Home

When I got back to site my power (only my power), had been out for days. My fridge stunk and was completely moldy. Everything inside it was ruined, including my heinz ketchup, rocher chocolate, dum dums and jolly ranchers.
I have mice now and they pooped all over my house. I had my cat sleep inside to kill the mice but instead, she pooped all over my house too.
The women who pawned her dvd player off on me in exchange for 50 mil (and convinced me to give her back the dvd player before i left for vacation so she could sell it and pay me back), up and left for ciudad del este while I was away. Serves me right for being an idiot.
It rained a lot while I was gone, which means in rained inside my house as well. The floors and everything on them are still damp and my bed smells like mildew.
Grandma gave me a giant squash to welcome me home, but while trying to peel it I stuck the knife through my thumb nail. Then I kicked the corner of my door running inside for a band aid and split open/ smashed my big toe.
Lassie continued to have seizures while I was gone, and Chipa got more pregnant (any day now). How nice of the paraguayans though, I have had numerous offers from people who are happy to kill all the female pups once they are born. Nobody is killing my puppies. I will find homes for all of them, even if that means they stay with me.
Thats all I have for news (good and bad). It´s great to be home.

National Lampoon's Uruguayan Vacation

I returned yesterday from my 8-day vacation to the coast of Uruguay. I left Paraguay super excited to go to the beach every day and eat tons of delicious seafood. Unfortunatly, it rained 7 out of 8 days of our trip, and the shellfish selection was extremely dissapointing! Our trip started out in the city of Montevideo for two days. The weather was beautiful the first day, but by the second day the rain had started. We did a lot of walking, eating at expensive restaurants, sightseeing, and overspending on clothes while in the city. Sounds like what most tourists do in most cities around the world, no? The city had a lot of really beautiful buildings and plazas, but also had some really shitty areas that made me feel like I was back in Asuncion, Paraguay. For our second stop, we took a 3-hr bus ride east to La Paloma. In La Paloma it was cold and rainy the whole two days, so I don't have much to say about the place. I bought a warm sweatshirt because I didn't think to bring one with me, and we walked up the beaches, went up into the lighthouse, which involved climbing a really scary ladder, ate yummy fish, and met lots of travelers at the hostel we stayed at. The last stop, and by far the best, was to Punto del Diablo, a small surfing/fishing village near the border of Brasil. As soon as the bus pulled into the town I knew I would love the place. The town is basically built on the beach, and consists of hippies and surfers. The first day we walked around the town and the beach in between the rain. The hostel we stayed at has a bar located on the ocean, so we decided to venture out of the hostal for dinner and drinks despite the torrential down pour. The staff from the hostel, and one other group of guess also were at the bar (but thats it). After sharing a sandwich and couple liters of cerveza with Carin, the power went out in town. The wind and the rain were so strong, the paint was dripping off the walls inside the bar. After heavy contemplation of how we could sleep comfortable on the tile floor of this bar, and after a few more beers, we decided to try to brave the elements and go back to the hostel. The rain was not letting up and probably was not planning on stopping anytime soon. The town was pitch black because there was no power, our brand new umbrella was inside out, and our mini maglite basically served no purpose. It was one of those things that you look back and laugh at, but at the time, it SUCKS! Day two surprisingly cleared up and we made it to the beach and I go to go in the ocean. We let the giant waves throw us around for a while until we realized we were in the middle of a school of jellyfish. I ran the hell out of the water, and then was too scared to go back in past my ankles. At night we had a yummy dinner with some kids we met at the hostel and then went to see a reggae band play at a bar on the ocean that totally reminded me of the Wheelhouse in Galilee, Rhode Island. At the hostel we met kids from England, Ireland, New Zealand, Australia, South America, Canada, France, and Massachusettes. Definately a more diverse crowd than I've ever experienced in Paraguay or Newtown, Connecticut. Anyway, It started raining again, but stopped by the time we left the bar. I fell in love with place, and have already inquired about jobs in Punto del Diablo for when I complete my peace corps service in December.

The next day, it was raining again, and we were depressed because we were leaving Punto del Diablo and heading back to the cityto catch our flight back to Paraguay the next day. A nice guy from France who was staying in our hostel offered us a ride back to Montevideo in his renta-car, and we gladly accepted the offer. This way, the trip was 2 hours shorter than a bus, and free. It ended up as 5 of us crammed into a little hatchback. The frenchman who was living in Uruguay and than Chile to work at winery's, two germans who lived in Buenos Aires, Argentina and were interns at hospitals, and then us, two americans who lived and worked as farmer's in the middle of nowhere, paraguay. We all shared the common language of spanish, even though it is none of our fisrt languages. It was an interesting, silent ride back. We had delicious sushi that night, at a restaurant near the hostel, went to bed, and woke up super early the next day to catch our a.m. flight that ended up being delayed until noon. But, we made it back to Paraguay, where its always hot and humid, but there are no beaches to make up for it. Although, the chaco hotel does have a 2 foot deep pool on the roof...

my very own casa de empeños

Not only am I known here in my little as an ice seller, an egg vender, a photgrapher, and a money lender. A garden planter, a soap maker, a jewelry giver, and a banana bread maker (and apperently a nursery rhymer too), but now my house has officially been converted into a pawn . Yesterday a woman come to me with a brand new DVD player and a proposition. Her son needed to catch the noon bus headed to Asuncion, and it was not 11:45am. He needed 50mil for his bus ticket but didn´t have a dime. They did indeed have a nice new shiny DVD player, complete with remote, mp3 player, and 2 microphone input jacks for karaoke. Her offer was to let me hold onto the DVD player as an ´empeño´ (a pawn) if she could borrow the money until Friday. At first, I didn´t understand the question, and I thought that she wanted me to pawn it for her. Then I thought that she was just trying to sell the thing to me. ¨What am I going to do with a DVD player when I don´t even have a t.v?¨I asked her. She explained again and I finally understood. I reluctantly accepted the offer. Her son was going to miss the bus if I hesitated any longer. I gave her to 50mil and took the DVD player (which is now being used as a really short coffee table). At least I have some sort of collateral to guarantee that I get my money back. If not, I got a new DVD player for $10, that is no use to me in my televisionless house, but it works very nicely as a table to hold my trashy magazines and yoga books nonetheless.
Yoga. Thank god for it. I don´t think I would have survived this mornings mandioca truck trip to caazapa if I hadn´t been practicing my breathing and using yoga to calm and sooth my nerves. The truck arrived around 4am and was practically empty when I boarded ( a good sign), but kept stopping all through my community to pick up passengers (all which had at least 3 giant bags of mandioca; about 150 pounds each; to load into the truck). By the time we got out of my community and were on the road, We were all piled up so high on bags of mandioca, that our heads were touching the ceiling, yet somehow people still managed to step on me. I literally had a really pointy piece of mandioca sticking straight up my ass for the 3 hour trip. The 3 hour trip that usually takes 1 hour on a bus, but we were so heavily sardine packed into this truck, it couldn´t go faster than a snails pace. A poor little women next to me was sitting on a sideways bag of mandio and ended up in my lap for the second half of the ride. I tried to nap but If I wasn´t holding on the the side of the truck for dear life, I would fall inbetween the two bags I was sitting on, or bounce and hit my head on the ceiling. I closed my eyes, and took deep breaths. I did not get claustrophobic or angry at the woman next to me grinding her heel into my bare foot. Yeah I totally meditated and achieved om. No that´s not true. It was 4am in the morning and I was to tired to give a crap about anything. When the sun came up around 6, I lifted up the flap of fabric that hangs down as the roof to look outside. Aside from all the dust from the dirt road that hasn´t seen rain in way to long, it was beautiful. The red sun, the pink and orange clouds, the clouds of mist rising off the rivers, all types of exotic birds taking flight, outlines of palm trees, and the smell of the kids farting behind me. That instant made the trip all worth while.
And I am extra tired today from getting only 3 hours of sleep. I was all ready in bed with my book by 8pm, prepared to get a good nights sleep because I had to wake up at 330am today, when I get a text from my stalker (the same cowboy that I thought was so cute a few months ago). ¨I´m comming to your house¨ says he. ¨No.¨Say I. ¨I´m drunk and I´m crazy and I´m comming to your house.¨ Bullshit I think, and ignore him like I have been for the last 3 months, even when I get 30 missed call a night. 30 minutes later, ready to retire I hear a noise outside, but think its my dog. Its behind my house. Maybe its a toad? Then it starts knocking on my walls. ¨Toads don´t knock.¨I think to myself. Then it starts talking. ¨Frog´s definately don´t talk.¨ I think again. I ignore it and don´t move, until I realize my door is unlocked. He hears me get up. I don´t know what to do so I start yelling ¨Leave my house! Go away ! Your crazy!¨ My neighbors on both sides of me are outside bathing, talking, dining, but no one acknowledges my screams. Weird. He won´t leave. I grab my blow horn. ¨only to be used in case of emergencies.¨ Stressed to the people of my community by my boss that ¨if you ever hear this noise, there is an emergency and you need to come immediately.¨ I put the horn against the wall where the psycho is whispering and press on it hard. ¨a la puta!¨screams he. Still no neighbors come running. I wait in silence. My phone starts ringing. and ringing. Finally I answer to make sure he left. He did. I hang up. Calls keep comming. Drunken angry voicemail. Yelling. Finally I start answering my phone and letting him yell and drunken unintelligable guarani Jibberish. Paraguayans never have more than a couple mils worth of minutes on their phones, and his was bound to run out soon. He kept calling, yelling. ¨I´m telling the neighbors.¨I say because I can´t think of anything cooler to do than to threaten to tattle. He starts talking shit about my neighbors. Finally the phone cuts off and the calls stop. Victory! He has run out of minutes! Now I have to pee. What if hes waiting outside? I pee in a bucket, as instructed by a fellow volunteer who will remain anonomous. Get in bed. Toss and turn until midnight. Wake up every hour until my alarm goes off at 320. Get dressed. Get back in bed and doze until I hear the trusty old mandioca truck puttering up the road. And now I am here. tired. hot. out of money in my bank account. nothing at the post office. and have 4 hours left here until I have to get back on the truck home, and all I really need to do is buy cat food.

lets talk about poop baby

I'm in Asuncion for superbowl weekend and Friday was spent in Villarica for Carnival. I am supposed to leave today to go back to site, but am easily influenced and will be heading back tomorrow. Last night a bunch of volunteers watched to super bowl and hooter's. Yes very Paraguayan. I almost felt like I was back in America. Football, Buffalo wings, Hooter's, oh yeah and there were hula hoops present as well.

Chipa is still in heat, and she finally got so sick of getting raped repeatedly on a daily basis, that she came to me for help. Lauren (a fellow volunteer and basically my new roomate; shes in the picture with me in a moo-moo. Thats right we bought moo-moo's and you are jealous) and I decided to put a pair of my underwear on my dog to protect her. We were smart as to cut a hole for the tail, but neglected to remember that dogs are not potty trained and cannot pull down their underwear when they have to poop. The next morning chipa still had on her pretty pink undies, but she brought me a steaming poopy surprise as well. I had poop stained underwear in my front yard for about 4 days until i finally swept it to the side of the house, where it will probably remain for eternity, or until a little kid finds it and tells everyone that the americana pooped her pants and left her dirty underwear outside.
Carnival in Villarica was a blast. Carnival is pretty much the Mardi Gras of South America. It's biggest in Rio de Janiero, Brasil, but Paraguay knows how to party too. It's basically a big parade with lots of feathers and pasties, lots of foam being sprayed, and lots of beer being dranken. We were to cheap to pay for the bleacher seats so we bought the 10 mil tickets and stood a long the street to watch. We couldn't see soo well through all the people, but Carin and I were lucky enough to find a ledge on the side of a building that we climbed and sat on. It was fun. I got foam sprayed in my eyes numerous times and it hurt. I slapped a paraguayan for that but that only provoked him more. Don't slap Paraguayans if you don't want foam sprayed in your eyes.

the monks know how to throw a party

I´m going to try to write this blog over the awful music blasting so loud that the bass is making the computer shake from the bar across the street. It´s 9:00am on Saturday morning and the bars in Caazapa are still packed with people partying from the night before. I´ve been here since Thursday, and the place is insanity. Apparently, this is the anniversary of when the monks came to caapzapa way back in the day and found water in time of drought. The Paraguayans celebrate for weeks, but this weekend is the big weekend and its pretty nuts. Theres stuff all over the city including an expo, concerts, a carnival, and of course people getting wasted all day and night at bars. I´m an old lady and a wussy and was unable to drink or party during my time here. I spent the last two days with a massive headache and super dehydrated searching for a place to sleep. The first night I was able to stay in a hotel, but last night a group of us were sleeping on another volunteers tile floor because everything was booked for the weekend.
I hope what I´m writing is making sense. I haven´t slept in two days, and trying to type with the techno version of ¨me vuelvo loco tu tatu (your vagina drives me crazy,¨ blasting in the background is making it very difficult to think.
If you ever want a good laugh, bring a paraguayan from deep in the campo on a ferris wheel. The ladies from my community were in Caazapa yesterday morning selling their mandioca, so Lauren and I decided to convince my neighbor and her daughter to come on the ferris wheel with us. I went on with my neighbor Maria, and the whole time she was laughing her ass off while screaming ¨sarita you are crazy! your making my crazy! This is crazy! Im going to throw up! Get me off! This is so fun! Im scared! Im not scared anymore! Sarita loco! We are crazy!¨It was a lot of fun, and something that my neighbors will never forget. They immediatly went over to brag to all their mandioca buddies that they rode the giant wheel. Everyone thought they were crazy. I think paraguayans just like using the word crazy. I find myself calling paraguayans and myself crazy multiple times a day in conversation.
Well off to the market to stock up on veggies to last me until my trip to Villarica to celebrate Carnival (South Americas mardi gras) feb. 2nd. Until then, I´ll be sitting in front of my fan sweating my ass off in the campo. Think of me while you are roasting marshmellows, taking hots showers, using toilets and microwaves, and eating sushi.

back to the campo life

I made it back to site safe and soundly. I was most worried about carrying all my really heavy bags from the bus stop to my house, but my neighbor children were all waiting for me at the bus stop and they carried all my crap for me. I was also worried that my house would be moldy and flooded because when it rains outside, it rains in my house. Lucky for me, it hasn´t rained in over a month so my house was dry. Unlucky for the rest Paraguay, wells are dry, crops are dying, and its hot as hell. I was worried that my power would be out because it goes out every time there is wind, and all my food in the fridge would be ruined, but it didnt and my food was fine. Other than being covered in cobwebs and some giant spiders, my house was just how I left it. My garden looks like a jungle, and the neighbors did not water it like they said they would so my tomatoes, cucumbers, carrots, green peppers, and some other stuff died. My beans and watermelon have taken over my garden, and i have about 500 jalapeño peppers. so if you have any recipes with hot peppers, please send them to me.
This morning walking to site I passed a drunk passed out on the side of the road. He looked to comfortable to be dead, so I tip toed by him, praying he wouldn´t wake up suddenly, grab my ankle, and demand more caña. Of course a truck passed by, right as I was walking passed him, but he still didn´t stir. If he is still there this afternoon when I go back to site, Then I will start to worry.

Welcome party

I arrived back in PY on saturday after a really long overnight flight, and I go back to site tomorrow (tuesday). I'm not looking forward to lugging my 3 huge heavy bags 45 minutes from the bus stop, up steep hills, on a dirt road, back to my house. But, what can you do? Maybe I'll request back up from some paraguayans. Anways, I am once again getting used to the unbearable 100 degree weather. Thats not true, I never will get used to this weather. I'm still homesick and want to be home, but the other volunteers who just got back from vacation are feeling the same way as well, which makes me feel a little bit better. I know its not just me that would rather enjoy hot showers, toilets, comfy mattresses, good food, driving, old friends and family, etc., etc., at least for another week or so. I'm sure once I'm back in site and am reunited with my emaciated dogs, flooded house with a leaky straw roof, garden with no veggies because they either died or the neighbors stole them, my ripped, barely usable mosquito net, frog droppings, no food, no air conditioning, etc., etc., I will be overjoyed because I will finally be "home." yeah.

I go back to Paraguay tomorrow, and I'm surprisingly really sad. I don't want to have to say goodbye to all the special people in my life all over again. I know it will be fine once I am back. I had an amazing vacation and don't feel ready to leave again yet. It went by too fast. I'll be fine. I'm just being silly.

A glimpse into my new years eve