That phenomenal feeling of euphoria on finally reaching a stretch of smooth, straight road was unfortunately short-lived. Having replenished our gas tank and purchased what appeared to be a month's supply of water, we soon found ourselves feeling rather bored. Instead of experiencing an adrenalin rush each time we pushed our way successfully through sand traps, avoided twelve inch ruts and forded the occasional stream and river, we found ourselves cruising smoothly at 90 km/hr down the Trans-Chaco highway. With nothing to look at but thorny scrub bush and trees, and the occasional tiny indigenous settlement, the time passed rather slowly. Some people are never satisfied!!
The folks at Hotel Florida in Filadelfia must have cringed at our arrival - two dusty vagabonds dripping with sweat, appearing in a mud-caked van - but they graciously welcomed us to their modern establishment. The idea of camping in such a hot and humid environment wasn't even a remote possibility, and we spent the better part of two days appreciating the hotel's air conditioned rooms and the swimming pool, while intermittently giving DC3 a thorough cleaning.
Filadelfia itself is one of three Mennonite colonies that were established in the Gran Chaco area of northern Paraguay early in the twentieth century. Fleeing religious prosecution in Russia, Germany and even Canada, many Mennonites took advantage of the Paraguayan government's offer of religious freedom, political autonomy and huge expanses of inhospitable wilderness. True to fashion, they worked diligently to create productive farms and establish contemporary communities, complete with schools, hospitals, co-operatives, radio stations, and of course their many churches. Noting the business signs along the wide but dusty streets of Filadelfia brought back vivid reminders of my Mennonite heritage: 'Farmacia Hiebert', 'Lavadero Rempel', and 'Penner Automotive'. 'Pauls Commercial'(my maiden name) was of particular interest, and we were lucky enough to meet and spend some time with owner Heinz Pauls. Although we were unable to trace a family connection, Heinz does have relatives in Ontario and was keen that we keep in touch through e-mail.
Heading south again on the straight and narrow highway, we were flagged down by a family that we had met in Filadelfia. Not long into their journey back to Asunción, they had unfortunately collided with a deer and were left stranded for several hours with a smashed radiator. Pleased to be of some assistance, we gave them a lift to Pozo Colorado, a larger community where they finally got a signal for their cell phone and arranged for a tow-truck. Leaving them in safe hands, we branched east to Concepción - a port city languishing on the banks of the Rio Paraguay that time seems to have forgotten. Down at the docks we made enquiries about taking a trip up the river, and found that the 'Aquidabán' was already moored at the water's edge being loaded with cargo in preparation for the trip upstream. Assured by the ticket agent that arrival by 10 the next morning would ensure us a berth, we proceeded in search of a final good meal before commencing a two-day passage, with supposedly very few amenities. That evening as we sat in the shade sipping cool drinks and trying to avoid any semblance of activity in the sweltering heat, we felt as if we had been absorbed right into a Graham Greene novel!
The next morning we were up bright and early, and made our way down to the port again, eager to embark on our unique Paraguayan river adventure. Our guide book describes the trip as follows: "passengers sleep either on deck or in hammocks below deck, crammed into very hot spaces with an unbelievable assortment of cargo ranging from chickens to motorbikes." We found that portrayal to be somewhat of an understatement, as the 'Aquidabán' already appeared to be sinking from its gargantuan cargo of fruit, vegetables, furniture, flour sacks, oil drums and gas cylinders. In spite of the seemingly overwhelming obstacles, we carefully crossed the gangplank to check out the cabin area. The whole boat was in a frenzied state of mayhem, and every square inch was occupied either with bodies or stacks of merchandise. Finding anywhere suitable to sit was clearly out of the question, and the only option left to us was to stand crammed in the hold for the entire two days. Our original image of slowly cruising up the lazy river, lying in hammocks and watching the abundant wildlife and birds, suddenly evaporated before our very eyes. When even the ticket agent admitted that he had oversold the spaces available, we reluctantly decided to abandon what had promised to be a truly memorable experience.
Downhearted, we lugged our substantial supply of water, snacks and toilet paper back to the van and headed out again on to the monotonous highway to Asunción. We did give some consideration to the thought of catching a cargo boat from the capital to Concepción and points further north, but we found that we had just missed the 'Cacique II', and the next departure was simply too many days away. Guess our river adventure will just have to wait until we're in Brazil!
Our first impression of Asunción was somewhat similar to that of Montevideo - a once beautiful but now crumbling city, due to years of neglect during the economic stagnation in one of South America's poorest countries. However, walking the streets as usual enamoured us to many of the highlights - the attractive 19th century architecture, the multi-coloured spider web ñandutí lace, the street-side mortar-and-pestle pounding of fresh herbs into refreshingly cold drinks, the flame trees ablaze with colour, and as always the ordinary people who are at the heart of every city.
Taking a drive east of the centre, we discovered areas of Asunción that are just as ultra-modern yet more attractive than many of the major cities of North America. It was in one of these neighbourhoods that we went in search of the family whose car had collided with a deer in the north, eager to make sure that they had arrived safely back home. Canuto - who immigrated from Germany about eighteen years ago - his Paraguayan wife Maria and children Francisca and Antonio were very pleased to see us and insisted that we join them for dinner at their four star hotel, the "Paramanta". A small but truly charming establishment that Canuto and Maria have lovingly built up over the years, the "Paramanta" is a definite must to include in your next trip to Paraguay! Check out www.paramanta-hotel.com for details. Quite unusual for a ten year old, Antonio was extremely attentive to his fourteen year old sister Francisca, who had recently travelled to Buenos Aires for major corrective leg surgery, and both children were extremely well mannered. During the evening we were wined and dined in royal fashion, and thoroughly enjoyed our short time with such a beautiful family.
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