end of the journey

sorry i haven't updated sooner.
i've been home just over three weeks now, and time has been ruthless. the readjustment has been incremental and jerky, but i'm slowly shifting into life back in the united states.
it's been a really awesome ride, and the last two months seemed to pack an entire years worth of experience into itself. words cannot describe what it is i'm taking away from this experience, and i don't even know that i have fully come to realize everything it has/will teach me. this is one of those things in life where i expect to be drawing lessons and images and moments from for many many years to come.
i feel a little more solid is some senses, and slightly shakier in others.. but i feel more prepared than ever to do whatever it is this world has in mind. i'm ready. ready to roll.

thank you so much for all of your support and love during my journey..
cuidate.
Zan

The Visit

The simple blur that has been the past two weeks has made me realize how quickly the rest is about to fly on by.

After an incredible hostel stint in Buenos Aires for a few days (involving a Tango lesson--I'm rather good, an epic jam session that lasted until well into the next morning, and several beautifully scenic strolls through botanical gardens and dazzling painted streets), I headed over to the BA International Airport. I waited and waited and waited and then suddenly I recognized three blondy-brown heads bobbing through the double doors: Mom, Dad and Bobbie! =]

Their visit was really pretty phenomenal. I also think it heightened my experience (and Fide's, for that matter) over all. It was a really special thing to be able to bring together my two families and make them one.

Saying "goodbye" to them at the end of their stay made me realize I'm kind of at that point in my life where I'm starting to say "hello, goodbye" to my parents instead of just "hello". They're no longer necessarily home base. Intense.

But enough pensive reflection--the visit itself was a real blast. My family got a good taste of Paraguay, literally and figuratively. We ate so much food: Asado y sopa paraguaya; lomito arabe (one of my Mom's favorites, though she consistently referred to it as "lomalinda". "Can we please go get some lomalindas before we go?" I love her.); empanadas of every filling; ensalada de frutas; feijoada (the real Brazilian stuff stewed with random pig parts that you pretend not to recognize..); ñoqui (I love how phonetical it is) de batata; chipa; giant, fresh avocados; torta negra; Havana alfajores; liters and liters of fresh squeezed grapefruit juice; dulce de guayaba; homemade-from-scratch-down-to-the-pumpkin-even pumpkin pie... and of course, mate every morning (such a wonderful way to spend time with people and talk and talk for hours). =]

I made them ride SO many buses, and by the end of it Bobbie was almost in tears at the thought of another bumpy, sticky-hot ride. But, as I told her, "that's Paraguay".

We took a little viaje to Ciudad Del Este, staying once again with the ever lovely Balbuenas. Our first day there (after an all-nighter on the omnibus) we toured el centro and Itaipu Dam accompanied by my fellow AFSer friend Allison, and our Paraguayan buddy Ale. We took the free Itaipu tour (after a two hour wait because we got there at lunch/siesta time and everything was closed... you have to love South America) which was fascinating; as well as wandering around the Natural History Museum and Zoo. (Allison and I also invented a new Spanish translation for the English adjective "corny"; chocloso. Fabulous.)

The next day the family and I headed to Argentina to see the Cataratas--the Iguazu Falls. Travelling with parents is a very different affair than the low-budget stuff I've been practicing - we got to take the full day tour, complete with raft, motorboat and guided jungle tour. Impresionante (a word Bobbie claims I say far too often). Butterflies of every color in every direction; water spraying over the visitors as we leaned over the balcony to see the giant drop into La Garganta del Diablo; the water-filled air emitting personal rainbows for each onlooker. We wandered up and down through the trails, our mouths open in awe - snakes, furry things, giant bugs, birds--and everything was so green.

On the raft portion of our "Jungle Adventure," our guide, Juan, allowed us to go swimming in the Iguazu River once we were out of sight of civilization (swimming is not permitted, but I have a feeling that because we are such a cute family, and I am such a darn adorable, Spanish-speaking yankee, he made an exception) --we all jumped in fully clothed. Blissful.

The visit also helped my Spanish immensely, though I'm suffering from pretty severe hoarseness after saying everything double; once in Spanish and then repeated in English. =]

We had many adventures, too numerous to relate them all ... but overall it was a very, very special thing. Now my two families have been combined and we shall forever have this extended family to share together down here in Paraguay.

Tranquilo Pa

There's a Paraguayan philosophy along the lines of the African sentiment "hakunamatata" which the Lion King has made so famous. But this philosophy is unspoken, and really un-thought of. Maybe it is this lack of premeditation that really defines its nature. Tranquilo pa is a combination of Spanish and Guarani. (Actually, add "pa" to the end of anything and ta-da!--Instant Guarani!) It can be a response to the question "¿Como estas?", or it can just be something you feel or say out loud. There's no one definition, but my personal interpretation is "perfectly at peace," just chilled to the point of comfortably aware but hazy on the edges and not the slightest bit concerned about anything, because, well frankly, why worry?
The general tranquility of the Paraguayan lifestyle has really rubbed off on me. I never thought of myself as an uptight kind of person, but I have certainly always had a thing for being on time, making plans and rushing around in my mind instead of looking around in the moment at hand. Throughout this year I've slowly lost the need to BE somewhere... I am simply content with where I am, and, sure, look forward to being somewhere new/else--but that will come later. If I miss the bus? There will be another one. Whether in fifteen minutes or three hours from now, another one will indeed pass.
My focus on things has shifted slightly too... I sweep through a scene more broadly than before. Like this morning for example: as I walked down the road to my work (which I have done now countless times) I suddenly looked up and couldn't believe how beautiful it was in all ways. I opened my arms hoping that would help me perceive its beauty and grandeur a little easier. It sure made me feel bigger.
But this doesn't seem to explain it quite right... quite the way I imagine it. Then again, maybe this is how it is defined: by its indefinability.
Bueno, igual no más. Tranquilo pa.

... Jiggity Jig

Here we are, back together again. One giant, happy familia paraguaya. (I could try to explain the family tree, but it's incredibly complicated. If you are very interested, comment and we will see what I can do.)
It is really wonderful to have Fide (and Nicole) home once again. I hadn't realized quite how much I missed them. Fide and I spent the evening last night discussing food, eating with your fingers, and culture. (I love eating with my fingers.) There may have also been a story or two about someone dying (have I mentioned Fide has a lovely little morbid streak?). She was also filling me in on all the craziness going on above ... something about a woman pregnant with eight babies (and already the mother of sextuplets?); the high cost of, well, just about everything; Los Angeles beauty, etc. Fide also received her official permanent residency card for the States (!!) on the condition that she return yearly. I am so excited for her AND me because this means I'll be able to see her on a yearly basis, which I had not expected. One of the difficulties I've come to learn about AFS in general is you can make such strong ties, but the reality of keeping in touch is not always as we would hope. Also, I've never been to LA (where Fide's hija lives), and I think it is high time I jetted over there to see what it is all about!

I've really begun to feel like myself again in this past month. Since June, really, I've been feeling like a bit of a stranger to myself. Through the challenges and joys of being here I've adapted, broke, become stronger, and learned such an exhaustingly vast amount of things (and continue to learn daily), but for the longest time I was having a hard time "recognizing" myself. I was a bit hollow. But since the beginning of February that's really changed and I feel like my old self again with a few new updated features and experiences. Finally I feel as if Paraguay is a part of me and I am a part of it. I am completely comfortable here. I never thought I'd be able to say that (with confidence).

Some days I cannot believe all that's happened and how long I've been here. Then again, seven months is really no time at all in the scheme of things.
I am now looking forward to my Family's visit, and the prospect of joining both familia and family under one roof.

Paraguayan Paradoxes

So I've been having this inkling--for the first time in the 6 + months I have been a Paraguayan resident--that I'm not sure I want to go home. For those of you who don't know: this is a big deal. I have been ready to come home practically since we touched ground all those months ago. Though I've enjoyed and learned a lot here, it's been really, very hard on me. I've dealt with a lot of loneliness and emptiness... but suddenly I feel so excited about my huerto and all the things I still have yet to see and experience, I just don't see how I could ever go home! This, I believe, is classic cram-everything-into-the-last-minute syndrome. Also important to remember--and as my Father always says: "Always leave the party while you're still having fun." I am finally beginning to truly enjoy this fiesta. I suppose it's all part of the Paraguayan Paradox: you're miserable until the end of your stay and then you suddenly realize you can't leave.

Another Paraguayan Paradox is the Panza Paraguaya. "Panza" in Spanish means "tummy"; and every single Paraguayan--young, old, muscular, fat, or stick thing--has one. Panzas are a downright PLAGUE I'm telling you! Even in the face of my weight loss and infrequent eating I've developed what my Peruvian boyfriend used to refer to ever so lovingly as a "tire". It makes me horribly self-conscious, but hopefully once I'm no longer a "paraguaya" the panza paraguaya will leave me in peace! =]

And yet another paradox (also beginning with "P", which, I just realized, seems to be a theme here) is a discovery Maria (mi compañera en la huerta) and I made recently while eating some papaya: though this particular fruit was a still a little hard, and possibly the TINIEST bit green, we couldn't help ourselves and dug in anyways. Much to our surprise and confusion the seeds filling the orange-pink interior had begun to sprout! Now, I could understand if we'd been eating a papaya that was a little over-the-hill, so to speak, and, having begun it's next cycle in life, was preparing to reproduce, but, as I said earlier, this was not a very ripe one! I would guess about 60% of the seeds had little green/white legs poking out through the scrunchie black balls. Very bizarre. We have yet to find an explanation (if anyone has any thoughts/theories or straight up answers, we would be very much obliged). We are thinking it might be related to all the direct sun exposure combined with the womb-like atmosphere inside of the papaya. It's super strange, and kind of exciting.

We also carved up some melons today and I rinsed and dried the seeds... goodness I love my job. =]

In other news, me viajé to Encarnación this past weekend for Carnival! with an AFS group was quite the event! It is quite the pretty picture: imagine Mardi Gras but everyone is holding a spray can (or two) full of shaving cream and they have some serious ganas spraying you into a white, puffy, foam-covered oblivion - it was a trip, let me tell you! Through the foamy-haze were the sparkling-peacock ladies "dressed" in intricately beaded thongs and bras, attached to story-high peacock tails made out of feathers and diamonds (With their five inch heels, it is a miracle they didn't topple over into the stands!), with headdresses to match--and their skin so covered in glitter you had to wear the sunglasses los vendadores were shoving down your throats for "cinco mil!" so that you could see them! It was exciting to say the least.

So now that I'm down to the wire (Just a little over twelve weeks left! WHOA! Where does time go?!) I'm determined to just make the most of every single moment I am given--be it dancing in the yearly 72 plus inches of rain, planting flats full of 19 different varieties of tomato, exploring every corner of this crazy country, or eating so much chipa that I puke; so when I am home once again I will have a chance to truly miss this place. I have a feeling I've been taking my life here for granted, and I am ever so glad I am now looking around and seeing everything for what it is and appreciating it.

The Secret Garden

So here I am back at work.
When I first walked into el huerto I couldn't believe my eyes: it was so overgrown you could barely see where one bed ended and the other began! Our walkways are completely grass-covered, and the composts are sorry lumps in the back of our garden plot. It is incredibly beautiful in a rustic, wild jungle sort of way... I can get completely lost in the seven foot maiz y sorgo and the crotolaria has flowered its lovely and delicate yellow buds.
There is much work to do, but it's refreshing after a month of more or less doing nothing. I'm excited to get back into the swing of things, and we've recruited some new first years to do the "dirty-work" of weeding everything out and making it somewhat recognizable once again. My biointensivo colleagues sit around and watch the first years while they work, but that makes me feel uncomfortable playing overseer - plus I enjoy getting my hands in the dirt.
I feel like I'm in the Secret Garden ... discovering all sorts of new plants hiding in all the brush and overgrowth.

the little moments that help us get by...

Being on summer vacation in a country where the average daily temperature is 104ºF - forcing the locals into hibernation in their fanned (or if they're fortunate enough, air conditioned), dark bedrooms, televisions blaring from 10:00 until 17:00, at which point they peep their heads from behind their doors like groundhogs on February 2nd, and, depending on the number of degrees dropped, will venture out into el calle to pass around tereré and discuss whatever it was they watched that day, or dreamed about - is often suffocating. It is often hard to keep the mood up and feel chipper. But I've had a few truly wonderful moments and experiences that make the days well worth it:

One morning I walked into the kitchen to a headless, skinned beast - though it's claws were still graphically intact - bathing in a large cooking pot in the sink. It was an armadillo. Roberto, mi hermano, had brought it home from the Chaco. Ursu, Roberto's novia, whipped up a delicious meal of armadillo and sweet potato - a wonderful salty-sweet combination. It was the tastiest meat I think I've ever eaten. It was sort of pulled-pork-meets-corn-beef. Awesome.

Another day a bunch of us were wandering around Asuncion, where the streets are full of mangoes, and decided we needed to take advantage of the wealth of golden, juicy fruit - literally at our fingertips. So with the help of a very inventive Emerson (another AFSer), and some enthusiastic eaters (I was among that number), we managed a feast of yellow-skinned, stringy, sticky-sweet Paraguayan mangoes. Half of the excitement was the harvesting of them from a Chevy dealer parking lot, and devouring them fresh off the sidewalks. =] Unfortunately for me, I've discovered I'm rather allergic to Paraguayan mangoes (not to be confused with the smooth, creamy, peachy, purple-green-reddish Brazilian mangoes we enjoy in the states) and eating them resulted in a week of puffy eyelids, itchy-red face, and chapped lips. Doesn't look like I'll be enjoying those again anytime soon. =/ But it was fun while it lasted. =]

And then this week, Hannah ([www.hannahinpy.blogspot.com] a fellow Wisconsinite AFSer who I have been spending almost all my time with since mi familia up and left) and I were hanging out at my casa and decided it was time to try the coconuts hanging, like ornaments from their tree, over my driveway. With the help of Ursu and Roberto we managed to machete a couple open, filling glasses full of their greenish agua dulce and shaving the meat from the middle and dipping it into sugar. So wonderful.

It's sort of ironic all my little, fantastic, Paraguayan moments have been food-related, because I have been having a hard time digesting the local cuisine, resulting in some 10lbs of weight loss; maybe that's part of the excitement: finding something I can actually eat! =]

Other than that I have been trying to make the most of my "time off" with random bus rides, listening to music and swimming in Hannah's pool (and getting some wicked sunburns). I also chatted it up with some Mormon missionaries I ran into in Villa Hayes. That was... something.

La Navidad was uneventful for the most part. Living with a poorer family resulted in limited festivities and I was the only one who gave gifts (their receiver's appreciation was heart-warming and delightful). We did, however, manage to go through over 30 liters of Brahma (the "cerveza" they drink here... it's horribly watery) and sweat a lot. =] It was helpful, as far as homesickness is concerned, that it didn't feel a lot like Christmas. It was as if "Navidad" was a whole new holiday I'd never experienced before. It was excellent hearing all those assorted Crawford voices on the telephone - that was the best gift I could have asked for.

I have added some more pictures (under "y mas fotos") of the events described above and I hope you all continue to write me letters.
Besos