In the months following my arrival in South America, I enjoyed countless exciting adventures, hours of laughter, and some excellent empanadas. It was, however, also a difficult adjustment in some ways. I moved from a nation in which I could easily express myself to a country in which even the most basic conversations could be frusteratingly difficult. Even today, after 6+ months of Spanish immersion, I still struggle to express nuanced thoughts. My Spanish vocabulary remains somewhat more limited than my English one after all.
Words can obviously be quite powerful. They suggest mood; they convey attitude. Most importantly perhaps, they imply a manner of looking at the world. For instance, I've noticed differences in how most individuals from the United States (myself included) and Chileans/Paraguayan refer to mundane weekends in which they simply relax at home or complete other routine activities as opposed to doing something out of the ordinary. Those from the United States generally say that such a weekend was "boring." In Chile and Paraguay, on the other hand, spending Saturday and Sunday relaxing at home is considered "tranquilo" or calm. Obviously the second has a much more positive connotation.
Do those from the United States care less about their friends and families than their Latin American counterparts? I would argue that we attach similar value to those around us. We just have a tendency to expect more excitement in our lives. Why? My immediate hypothesis involved media influences, but those same forces inundate Latin Americans as well. Unfortunately, I cannot pinpoint any other "answer," but this slightly different attitude has already infiltrated my mindset.
After all, when asked about last weekend, I responded tranquilo. Nothing was particularly remarkable, but it was quite enjoyable nonetheless. Friday night brought an asadito with the other interns (from Spain and Italia) and a few Paraguayan friends. Saturday involved a movie marathon and some shopping in the markets of Luque (a suburb of Asuncion), which may very well be my future home thanks to the abundance of heladerias selling two scoops of scrumptious flavors for only 20 cents. Needless to say, I stopped at least once. Once again, I journeyed outside Asuncion to the suburb of Ita on Sunday to sit in a charming little park and sip terere with some friends while fending off overzealous vendors selling everything from bolos (friend puffs of dough filled with dulce de leche) to mosto helado (sugar cane juice. think rum before it ferments).
In the end, a mundane yet excellent weekend that fully embodies the word tranquilo.
25.1.10
18.1.10
La Vida Abajo del Sol Paraguayo
When blogging about both Chile and Paraguay, I tend to focus on my adventures and events varying from the expected norms. Rarely, if ever, do I discuss the mundane routine of everyday life. Yet, its the daily activities that prove the most educational. Living in a foreign country is, after all, a very different experience than visiting in the midst of a whirlwind vacation. Yet, it's still an adventure and I've found that I never know what to expect.
Transportation in Asuncion may be the best example. Like most other large metropolises, the city boasts a system of diesel-spewing public buses with routes denoted by numbers. I cannot, however, determine whether there is any way to actually know which buses go where without asking the drivers. There is no list or map posted anywhere online or in the city. This isn't too inconvenient when going somewhere near a main road. If I need to switch buses, however, it can be impossible. Fortunately, it has given me the opportunity to meet countless bus drivers once I'm hopelessly lost and see numerous parts of the city to which I never would have intentionally ventured. And, I must admit, I often suspect the system is vaguely Harry Potter-esque in that the 31 definately changes its route on Thursdays.
Luckily, I almost always find my way evenutally. While my most frequent destinations (Fundacion Paraguaya's main office, the supermarket, various ice cream shops) lie within walking distance of my house, most of my more interesting adventures occur outside the Villa Mora and Los Laureles neighborhoods. The bus rides are, therefore, necessary and certainly worthwhile.
For instance, last week I had the opportunity to visit the office in Luque, a suburb of Asuncion known for its silver jewelry. I didn't dwell in the city for long though; as soon as I arrived, Mercedes and I trekked into the countryside the meet with a committee de mujeres. While meeting with the Foundacion's clients has become a daily occurance, this trip would leave a particularly strong impression on me.
As soon as we climbed off the colectivo, we were warmly greeted by Marta and ushered to her house. At first,the village seemed relatively well-off, at least by Paraguayan standards. Most of the houses appeared to be made of brick with running water. Yet, Marta's home, as I soon learned, was a shanty built from wood, and tin scraps without running water. Although I have certainly seen poverty throughout the past six months, additional exposure to it still remains somewhat jarring. Perhaps this is a good thing; I'm not numb to it.
After a brief conversation, I learned that Marta's committee was struggling to persuade a woman to pay for her share of the loan. This women, Miguela, was not slacking however. About a month ago, she had fallen ill and could not leave her bed. We, therefore, needed to speak to Miguela before making any recommendations.
Upon arrival at her house, it initially seemed as if Miguela was one of the luckier members of the community. An expansive shaded garden surrounded her neat brick house. Yet, it was soon apparent that this women desperately needed help. As she couldn't leave her bed to open the door, we needed to talk to her through an open window. She quickly explained that she couldn't pay the installment due to her disease. After all, she couldn't sell anything from her room.
As she was clearly desperately ill, I began to wonder why she was not at a hospital. President Lugo recently decreed that all healthcare needs including medicine and surgery would be covered by the state, so she certainly had access. However, I also realized that this access only exists on paper. Without any family except an overworked daughter who just gave birth, Miguela had no one to bring her to the hospital. Walking to the bus about a half mile down the road was certainly not an option.
Even if she did arrive at the hospital, she most likely would not have experienced excellent care. Due to the free healthcare, all public hospitals and clinics are overrun with patients. Newspapers report that hospital have seen a 23% jump in patients since the law was passed. This isn't surprising; thousands of people with long-time medical conditions now have access to treatment. Unfortunately, it also means that anyone hoping for help must arrive around 4:00AM in order to receive a deli number and hope for treatment that day. If time runs out, they must return and wait once again the next day. Given the obvious problems plaguing these hospitals, its unsurprising that anyone with money chooses to utilize private clinics and hospitals.
Universal healthcare does not, therefore, necessarily denote that all can receive medical care when needed. Seeing the system firsthand has made it evident that it is not a successful means of ensuring that all possess the same basic human right to health (or possess the opportunity to enjoy it to the largest extent that is technologically possible). While the word for health and healthcare is the same in spanish (salud), it's becoming very clear that salud =/= salud or free healthcare =/= improved health.
Anyways, we soon needed to return to Marta's house to discuss the situation. It was evident that Miguela was teetering on the edge of death. Yet, accoridng to Fundacion Paraguaya's rules, the committee was still responsible for paying her debt whether she was healthy, sick, or dead. At first, I was appalled. Was Fundacion Paraguaya, ostensibly an organization designed to help the poor, actually going to ask these impoverished women to assume another's debt?
Unfortunately, microfinance is ultimately a business, as the head of Accion pointed out in a recent interview. Although the organizations do provide impoverished communities with the credit necessary to build their economies, they also function like banks. With too much loan foregiveness, they would lose all capital and close. They would also fail in their mission of allowing poorer individuals to eventually access credit through regular banks since no loan officers would trust that the microfinance program functioned like a profitable bank.
Regardless, I left the meeting feeling slightly guilty. Not only had our visit potentially increased each women's financial strain, but we also left a sick women alone in her bed. Guiltily, I asked Mercedes what we could do for Miguela. Nothing, she answered, unless we buy a car and take her to the hospital. Unfortunately, this is not exactly an option. Hopefully, she'll miraculously improve before my next trek out to Luque.
Fortunately, not all my visits are that depressing. We often meet with groups of entrepreneurs who have successfully repaid small loans, expanded their businesses, and our receiving more money to continue the process. They happily show their goods while eagerly beginning the weekly lesson in finanical literacy. Microfinance has, after all, proven very successful in many part of Paraguay.
In addition to meeting with successful committees at work, I also have the opportunity to enjoy la vida paraguaya on a daily basis. Whether wandering through the local farmers' market and sampling the delicious fare, bargaining for exquisite artisan crafts in the open air market downtown, running through the sweltering heat on the Ciclovia or in Parque Nu Guazu, reading in the elegant jardin botanico, or sipping terere during a torrential downpour breaking the aforementioned heat, good times certainly abound. I eagerly await the opportunity to explore more of the city... I just have to find my way on the buses...somehow.
Transportation in Asuncion may be the best example. Like most other large metropolises, the city boasts a system of diesel-spewing public buses with routes denoted by numbers. I cannot, however, determine whether there is any way to actually know which buses go where without asking the drivers. There is no list or map posted anywhere online or in the city. This isn't too inconvenient when going somewhere near a main road. If I need to switch buses, however, it can be impossible. Fortunately, it has given me the opportunity to meet countless bus drivers once I'm hopelessly lost and see numerous parts of the city to which I never would have intentionally ventured. And, I must admit, I often suspect the system is vaguely Harry Potter-esque in that the 31 definately changes its route on Thursdays.
Luckily, I almost always find my way evenutally. While my most frequent destinations (Fundacion Paraguaya's main office, the supermarket, various ice cream shops) lie within walking distance of my house, most of my more interesting adventures occur outside the Villa Mora and Los Laureles neighborhoods. The bus rides are, therefore, necessary and certainly worthwhile.
For instance, last week I had the opportunity to visit the office in Luque, a suburb of Asuncion known for its silver jewelry. I didn't dwell in the city for long though; as soon as I arrived, Mercedes and I trekked into the countryside the meet with a committee de mujeres. While meeting with the Foundacion's clients has become a daily occurance, this trip would leave a particularly strong impression on me.
As soon as we climbed off the colectivo, we were warmly greeted by Marta and ushered to her house. At first,the village seemed relatively well-off, at least by Paraguayan standards. Most of the houses appeared to be made of brick with running water. Yet, Marta's home, as I soon learned, was a shanty built from wood, and tin scraps without running water. Although I have certainly seen poverty throughout the past six months, additional exposure to it still remains somewhat jarring. Perhaps this is a good thing; I'm not numb to it.
After a brief conversation, I learned that Marta's committee was struggling to persuade a woman to pay for her share of the loan. This women, Miguela, was not slacking however. About a month ago, she had fallen ill and could not leave her bed. We, therefore, needed to speak to Miguela before making any recommendations.
Upon arrival at her house, it initially seemed as if Miguela was one of the luckier members of the community. An expansive shaded garden surrounded her neat brick house. Yet, it was soon apparent that this women desperately needed help. As she couldn't leave her bed to open the door, we needed to talk to her through an open window. She quickly explained that she couldn't pay the installment due to her disease. After all, she couldn't sell anything from her room.
As she was clearly desperately ill, I began to wonder why she was not at a hospital. President Lugo recently decreed that all healthcare needs including medicine and surgery would be covered by the state, so she certainly had access. However, I also realized that this access only exists on paper. Without any family except an overworked daughter who just gave birth, Miguela had no one to bring her to the hospital. Walking to the bus about a half mile down the road was certainly not an option.
Even if she did arrive at the hospital, she most likely would not have experienced excellent care. Due to the free healthcare, all public hospitals and clinics are overrun with patients. Newspapers report that hospital have seen a 23% jump in patients since the law was passed. This isn't surprising; thousands of people with long-time medical conditions now have access to treatment. Unfortunately, it also means that anyone hoping for help must arrive around 4:00AM in order to receive a deli number and hope for treatment that day. If time runs out, they must return and wait once again the next day. Given the obvious problems plaguing these hospitals, its unsurprising that anyone with money chooses to utilize private clinics and hospitals.
Universal healthcare does not, therefore, necessarily denote that all can receive medical care when needed. Seeing the system firsthand has made it evident that it is not a successful means of ensuring that all possess the same basic human right to health (or possess the opportunity to enjoy it to the largest extent that is technologically possible). While the word for health and healthcare is the same in spanish (salud), it's becoming very clear that salud =/= salud or free healthcare =/= improved health.
Anyways, we soon needed to return to Marta's house to discuss the situation. It was evident that Miguela was teetering on the edge of death. Yet, accoridng to Fundacion Paraguaya's rules, the committee was still responsible for paying her debt whether she was healthy, sick, or dead. At first, I was appalled. Was Fundacion Paraguaya, ostensibly an organization designed to help the poor, actually going to ask these impoverished women to assume another's debt?
Unfortunately, microfinance is ultimately a business, as the head of Accion pointed out in a recent interview. Although the organizations do provide impoverished communities with the credit necessary to build their economies, they also function like banks. With too much loan foregiveness, they would lose all capital and close. They would also fail in their mission of allowing poorer individuals to eventually access credit through regular banks since no loan officers would trust that the microfinance program functioned like a profitable bank.
Regardless, I left the meeting feeling slightly guilty. Not only had our visit potentially increased each women's financial strain, but we also left a sick women alone in her bed. Guiltily, I asked Mercedes what we could do for Miguela. Nothing, she answered, unless we buy a car and take her to the hospital. Unfortunately, this is not exactly an option. Hopefully, she'll miraculously improve before my next trek out to Luque.
Fortunately, not all my visits are that depressing. We often meet with groups of entrepreneurs who have successfully repaid small loans, expanded their businesses, and our receiving more money to continue the process. They happily show their goods while eagerly beginning the weekly lesson in finanical literacy. Microfinance has, after all, proven very successful in many part of Paraguay.
In addition to meeting with successful committees at work, I also have the opportunity to enjoy la vida paraguaya on a daily basis. Whether wandering through the local farmers' market and sampling the delicious fare, bargaining for exquisite artisan crafts in the open air market downtown, running through the sweltering heat on the Ciclovia or in Parque Nu Guazu, reading in the elegant jardin botanico, or sipping terere during a torrential downpour breaking the aforementioned heat, good times certainly abound. I eagerly await the opportunity to explore more of the city... I just have to find my way on the buses...somehow.
13.1.10
El Amanecer del Año Nuevo
When reflecting on 2009, the first adjective to spring to mind is new. New continents. New languages. New friends.
Fittingly, it also ended with an entirely new experience: a weekend spent on a rural farm in the department of San Pedro. Rather than spending the new year in Asunción, I joined a co-worker on her trek to her parents home roughly 4 hours from the city. Well, four hours in a functioning vehicle. Unfortunately, her car broke down upwards of five times direction, so we spent hours languishing on the side of the road. On the bright side, this provided an excellent opportunity to sample local farmers' produce including memón, acerola, mburukuyu, and carambola.
We finally reached our destination about an hour before midnight. After meeting dozens of family members and promptly forgetting most names, we just relaxed, sipped terere, and prepared for the upcoming festivites. When midnight struck, the hillside erupted in noise. Some launched fireworks; others descended upon a long table overflowing with beef (from a former cow), freshly picked mantioca, and other treats. Regardless of the amount of food being consumed, conversation never ceased. By the end of the meal, I was struggling to learnn some Guarani, fending off marriage requests and trying to explain the significance of Rihanna's song "Polkerface" in Spanish. Looking back at that night nearly two weeks later, I still cannot stop laughing.
As no one tumbled into bed until nearly 2:00 AM at the earliest, I was absolutely stunned when everyone arose before dawn. The cows, after all, still needed to be milked and the crops tended to before it was dangerously hot. By noon, we were all relaxing in the shade of a mango tree, sipping terere, and munching on watermelon while intermittantly venturing into the sun to play fierce games of volleyball and soccer. Slightly before beginning evening chores, we wandered to a neighbor's house for a neighborhood prayer and blessing on the new year. I did not understand a word of the Guarani, but the community sentiment certainly made an impact on me.
Rather than relaxing on the farm during the heat of the following day, we ventured to a nearby river to swim, float in the current, and play even more volleyball while surrounded by the rainforest and swarms of butterflies. Yet another excellent day minus the massive sunburn I acquired.
While I do want to spend some weekends in Asuncion, I ventured from the city once again last weekend. This time, however, I went to the southern border town of Encarnacion. The city itself proved relatively unremarkable. Aging buildings line most roads, dilapidated buses from the 1960s spew black fumes, and omnipresent vendors harrass anyone in their path. Yet, the trip was certainly worthwhile in that I had the opportunity to visit the aging Jesuit ruins in nearby Trinidad and Jesus.
Soon after the Spanish conquered the "new" world, Jesuit missionaries began streaming across the Atlantic in order to convert indigenous groups to Christianity. As part of this process, they built gigantic settlements consisting of churches, homes, farms, and even more churches. The settlements thrived, but fell into disrepair when the missionaries were expelled at the end of the eighteenth century. Today, only the shells of the building survive creating an eerily haunted environment.
Regardless of the settlement's condition, the ruins easily constitute one of the coolest places that I have ever ventured in my life. The sprawling red clay structures contrast sharply with the lush Paraguayan countryside. Moreover, unlike many similar sites, they have not been overrun by the tourist industry. When visiting, there were often no more than 2 or 3 others on each site making it much easier to imagine I was living in the settlement during its heyday.
My time in Paraguay has not solely consisted of travel, however. As expected, I spend the majority of my time at my internship designing a program to educate women to advocate for their own rights. As I enjoy my work, I actually look forward to my short trek to the office each morning, although I admit I prefer the days when my project takes me into the field. Even the simplest tasks often become adventures because, as I am quickly learning, nothing ever goes as expected in Paraguay.
Two weeks ago, for instance, Lourdes and I had a relatively simple assignment. We needed to drive to the village of Villa Ygatimi in the Departmento de Canindeyu, collect a rural microfinance committee's payment and deposit it in the bank before the close of business. Easy, right?
Although we expected a smooth trip, the problems began about 45 kilometers outside Villa Ygatimi in the midst of a small storm. At this point, the only road leading to the village changes into a dirt road. On a sunny day, this certainly isn't a problem as the red clay makes an excellent surface. Rain, however, turns the road into an impassable muddy pit. As the village is located in the rain forest, this is a relatively frequent occurance.
As we needed to collect the money that day, Lourdes and I continued forward anyways. Our progress was slow; we constantly had to climb into the mid to push the car and adjust the tires. Fortunately, we finally arrived at our destination a little dirtier and quite a bit later than expected. Along the way, we saw numerous trucks that were not as lucky. Often from multinational logging companies or other groups extracting the areas resources, the large vehicles simply could not navigate the mud while some of the desperately poor children living in the area sat on the ridges laughing. Poetic justice if you will; the companies take the resources and leave very little of their profits to help the local communities but the children have the last laugh.
Unlike the truckers, we did reach Villa Ygatimi at our destination. Upon arriving, we were warmly welcomed by a rural microfinance committee, or a group of unrelated farmers receiving loans collectively. While each man will receive his own capital, all accept responsibility for the group’s debt. If one man cannot afford his monthly payment, then the others must repay his debt or risk incurring more interest.
In this case, the men needed to pay before December 30, 2009 to avoid incurring more interest. After collecting the money, we gave them the money from their next loan and explained the conditions. Each man actively took an interest in the proceedings by asking questions and determining each man’s monthly payment.
Unfortunately, we needed to end the meeting abruptly in order to deposit their payment. We needed to return along the same seemingly impassable road before the banks closed at 4:00PM. Miraculously, the road had improved significantly throughout the past few hours and we made it back to paved roads in only half the time we needed to arrive. Once we arrived on the asphalt and in the town of Curuguaty, we believed we had succeeded. The clock had just struck 2:00 and the local bank did not close until 4:45 or so the sign suggested. However, as we soon learned, this did not necessarily matter. According to the man inside, the bank closed at 2:00 and there was absolutely no way he could serve us. Would we be able to deposit the money on time?
As there were no other banks with which Fundación Paraguaya has an account in the town, we needed to continue onward and find one that actually helped clients until its posted close. Lourdes soon realized that the nearest one could be found in “nearby” Santani, only two hours away. Although unsure if we could arrive on time, we knew we had to try. Driving just at the speed limit, we hurtled through farmlands, rainforest, and yet another storm. Somehow, we managed to arrive with a few moments to spare after our harrowing trip. SUCCESS.
Not every trip proves as exciting. Regardless, venturing into the field easily constitutes my favorite part of my internship and I cannot wait to embark on more trips in the coming weeks.
Pictures have, of course, been posted.
Fittingly, it also ended with an entirely new experience: a weekend spent on a rural farm in the department of San Pedro. Rather than spending the new year in Asunción, I joined a co-worker on her trek to her parents home roughly 4 hours from the city. Well, four hours in a functioning vehicle. Unfortunately, her car broke down upwards of five times direction, so we spent hours languishing on the side of the road. On the bright side, this provided an excellent opportunity to sample local farmers' produce including memón, acerola, mburukuyu, and carambola.
We finally reached our destination about an hour before midnight. After meeting dozens of family members and promptly forgetting most names, we just relaxed, sipped terere, and prepared for the upcoming festivites. When midnight struck, the hillside erupted in noise. Some launched fireworks; others descended upon a long table overflowing with beef (from a former cow), freshly picked mantioca, and other treats. Regardless of the amount of food being consumed, conversation never ceased. By the end of the meal, I was struggling to learnn some Guarani, fending off marriage requests and trying to explain the significance of Rihanna's song "Polkerface" in Spanish. Looking back at that night nearly two weeks later, I still cannot stop laughing.
As no one tumbled into bed until nearly 2:00 AM at the earliest, I was absolutely stunned when everyone arose before dawn. The cows, after all, still needed to be milked and the crops tended to before it was dangerously hot. By noon, we were all relaxing in the shade of a mango tree, sipping terere, and munching on watermelon while intermittantly venturing into the sun to play fierce games of volleyball and soccer. Slightly before beginning evening chores, we wandered to a neighbor's house for a neighborhood prayer and blessing on the new year. I did not understand a word of the Guarani, but the community sentiment certainly made an impact on me.
Rather than relaxing on the farm during the heat of the following day, we ventured to a nearby river to swim, float in the current, and play even more volleyball while surrounded by the rainforest and swarms of butterflies. Yet another excellent day minus the massive sunburn I acquired.
While I do want to spend some weekends in Asuncion, I ventured from the city once again last weekend. This time, however, I went to the southern border town of Encarnacion. The city itself proved relatively unremarkable. Aging buildings line most roads, dilapidated buses from the 1960s spew black fumes, and omnipresent vendors harrass anyone in their path. Yet, the trip was certainly worthwhile in that I had the opportunity to visit the aging Jesuit ruins in nearby Trinidad and Jesus.
Soon after the Spanish conquered the "new" world, Jesuit missionaries began streaming across the Atlantic in order to convert indigenous groups to Christianity. As part of this process, they built gigantic settlements consisting of churches, homes, farms, and even more churches. The settlements thrived, but fell into disrepair when the missionaries were expelled at the end of the eighteenth century. Today, only the shells of the building survive creating an eerily haunted environment.
Regardless of the settlement's condition, the ruins easily constitute one of the coolest places that I have ever ventured in my life. The sprawling red clay structures contrast sharply with the lush Paraguayan countryside. Moreover, unlike many similar sites, they have not been overrun by the tourist industry. When visiting, there were often no more than 2 or 3 others on each site making it much easier to imagine I was living in the settlement during its heyday.
My time in Paraguay has not solely consisted of travel, however. As expected, I spend the majority of my time at my internship designing a program to educate women to advocate for their own rights. As I enjoy my work, I actually look forward to my short trek to the office each morning, although I admit I prefer the days when my project takes me into the field. Even the simplest tasks often become adventures because, as I am quickly learning, nothing ever goes as expected in Paraguay.
Two weeks ago, for instance, Lourdes and I had a relatively simple assignment. We needed to drive to the village of Villa Ygatimi in the Departmento de Canindeyu, collect a rural microfinance committee's payment and deposit it in the bank before the close of business. Easy, right?
Although we expected a smooth trip, the problems began about 45 kilometers outside Villa Ygatimi in the midst of a small storm. At this point, the only road leading to the village changes into a dirt road. On a sunny day, this certainly isn't a problem as the red clay makes an excellent surface. Rain, however, turns the road into an impassable muddy pit. As the village is located in the rain forest, this is a relatively frequent occurance.
As we needed to collect the money that day, Lourdes and I continued forward anyways. Our progress was slow; we constantly had to climb into the mid to push the car and adjust the tires. Fortunately, we finally arrived at our destination a little dirtier and quite a bit later than expected. Along the way, we saw numerous trucks that were not as lucky. Often from multinational logging companies or other groups extracting the areas resources, the large vehicles simply could not navigate the mud while some of the desperately poor children living in the area sat on the ridges laughing. Poetic justice if you will; the companies take the resources and leave very little of their profits to help the local communities but the children have the last laugh.
Unlike the truckers, we did reach Villa Ygatimi at our destination. Upon arriving, we were warmly welcomed by a rural microfinance committee, or a group of unrelated farmers receiving loans collectively. While each man will receive his own capital, all accept responsibility for the group’s debt. If one man cannot afford his monthly payment, then the others must repay his debt or risk incurring more interest.
In this case, the men needed to pay before December 30, 2009 to avoid incurring more interest. After collecting the money, we gave them the money from their next loan and explained the conditions. Each man actively took an interest in the proceedings by asking questions and determining each man’s monthly payment.
Unfortunately, we needed to end the meeting abruptly in order to deposit their payment. We needed to return along the same seemingly impassable road before the banks closed at 4:00PM. Miraculously, the road had improved significantly throughout the past few hours and we made it back to paved roads in only half the time we needed to arrive. Once we arrived on the asphalt and in the town of Curuguaty, we believed we had succeeded. The clock had just struck 2:00 and the local bank did not close until 4:45 or so the sign suggested. However, as we soon learned, this did not necessarily matter. According to the man inside, the bank closed at 2:00 and there was absolutely no way he could serve us. Would we be able to deposit the money on time?
As there were no other banks with which Fundación Paraguaya has an account in the town, we needed to continue onward and find one that actually helped clients until its posted close. Lourdes soon realized that the nearest one could be found in “nearby” Santani, only two hours away. Although unsure if we could arrive on time, we knew we had to try. Driving just at the speed limit, we hurtled through farmlands, rainforest, and yet another storm. Somehow, we managed to arrive with a few moments to spare after our harrowing trip. SUCCESS.
Not every trip proves as exciting. Regardless, venturing into the field easily constitutes my favorite part of my internship and I cannot wait to embark on more trips in the coming weeks.
Pictures have, of course, been posted.
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