Sarita the dog

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  Caaguazu, Paraguay
Sunday, May 21, 2006

PARAGUAY STORY NUMBER ONE: THE DOG AND THE SCONE

So, the other day I had the morning off and I decided to make scones. My mom had kindly sent me dried cherries and almonds, so I made cherry almond scones. Delicious. Better than any scone I had ever eaten. Simon came home and ate one and then had to eat two more. But we both saved one for the morning so we could have a no-fuss breakfast before getting on the bus at 5:45am.

The next morning we wake up, it's raining so who knows if the bus will even come, and the electricity is out. So we're bumping around in the semi-darkness of candlelight, I'm packing, Simon is feeding the pets. We get out the scones, and Sarita, after eating a huge pot of food, steals my scone right out of my hand and runs off! I yelled at her so furiously that she scuttled over, dropped the scone at my feet, and ran off to hide. What can you do? The dog is such a punk that she steals your breakfast, but loves you enough to give it back.

PARAGUAY STORY NUMBER TWO: A LITTLE MUD NEVER HURT ANYONE

A couple of months ago, Simon and I need to travel to Asuncion. The sky has been clear for weeks, but because we have decided to travel, it inevitably rains all night, with no sign of letting up in the morning. So, we put on our plastic shoes and jackets and head out walking (hey, it's only an hour walk, right? No big deal). We soon discover that shoes only serve to stick your feet more segurely in the mud, slowing progress to an infuriating step, sploosh, slurp, suck, pop. So, we lose the shoes and arrive at the road to town muddy to the knees. Eventually, the bus comes and we get on with many other wet and muddy (but fortunately, not stinky, Paraguayans never smell bad) passengers.

About an hour down the road, we come to a hill. It is still raining, and as you may have guessed from the sploosh, slurp action of shod feet, there is a lot of clay in our soil (at least after the rain has washed away the sand) and the road is therefore slick as a vasolined otter. So the bus gets about halfway up the hill and slides back down. Driver decides to get a running start. Backs up, backs up, shifts gears and takes off at speed, this time achieving three-quarters of the hill before sliding back. Again, the running start; backs up, backs up, shifts gears, speeds up, waits to shift for more power, waits, waits, shifts, and breaks whatever mechanism allows you to shift. Bus is now, not only incapable of climbing hill, but also incapable of moving at all.

Half an hour goes by. Another bus comes. Fails to climb hill. Simon and I strip off our shoes and dash to the new bus. New bus fails hill three more times and gives up. Wait about twenty minutes and some guy comes around taking up a collection to pay a tractor to pay us up the hill. Asks Simon and I for 20 mil guaranis. We pay. Asks everyone else on the bus for 5 mil. We wait. A third bus comes and of course is just as stuck as the rest of us. The tractor shows up. All of the wet-muddies from bus number one crowd onto busses two and three. The tractor we paid for hauls the bus we're not on over the hill and disappears for a quarter hour. Comes back and hauls us over.

We get to be grateful for the five minutes it takes for the driver to get to speed, at which time we discover we have gotten on the bus driven by an unknown Paraguayan nephew of Mario Andretti. In case I haven't previously mentioned it, the road to town is sandwiched between two mini-canyons created by runoff from several natural springs and rain. There are no supports for these mini-canyons (and by mini I mean 15-30 feet deep) and huge chunks of the sides frequently slide off into their depths. The speed of the bus causes it to rock more than normal and the driver seems to have no fear of driving within inches of the canyon banks, sofened by the rain and apt to fall under our collective weight. For the first time in my life, I was sure of immenent death.

When the bus pulled into the bus terminal in town (only five hours after we set out from the house) I was shaking so badly I could hardly step off the bus. I stood immobile for a good ten minutes thanking God and feeling solid (muddy) ground beneath my feet.

Stay tuned for more stories.

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