That Group

You know that group. Maybe it was in high school or college or at a job, but everyone knows that group. They're so cool, not in that "popular, football player, cheerleader" sort of way but genuinely, profoundly cool. That perfect mix of not giving a shit what other people think and doing everything so well that people only think good things anyway. They are all witty and funny, and they have this rapport with each other that just makes you wish you were in with anyone like that, and, dare you dream, you could be part of that group. If you're lucky, and skilled at playing it cool, the way you idolize them doesn't come through when you're with them, and they actually like you, too, at least a little, in a pesky, little sister sort of way. Maybe they even invite you places. Maybe you're not too shy to throw in a witty comment of your own every now and again so they don't think you're a complete dud during those witty repartes...if you're lucky.

Allow me to illustrate. The World Cup in Paraguay. There is nothing bigger. This is a country where they closed schools the day after qualifying for South Africa. Where, during every game, firecrackers are set off all over the country when a good block or pass is made, let alone a goal. Where, win or lose, caravans of motos and cars and vans and trucks, decorated in Paraguayan flags, drive all over the city. They honk and yell and smile through their face-paint and wave at the people on the sidewalk, for no other reason than to show their team support. And that's just the regular season.



There were some tense moments in the world cup. That Japan game just about killed me.



So the Saturday of the Spain game, Asuncion was eerily silent everywhere there was not a big screen TV in the vicinity. There were ups...



and downs...



and in the end...well, you know.

But despite all that excitement, my favorite part of the game was half-time. I was outside the bar in a little group talking to Shola, from G-27, who was quickly becoming my new favorite person as we were having a very serious conversation about nymphs. He interrupted himself in the middle of "A nymph and his...What? There's a word, what is it? I won't rest til I know..." when a vendadora passed by selling jewelry, purses and chotchkies.
"We should buy everything she has and make her day. Right now, who's in?"
"I'm in," I said, thrilled.
Between the 5 of us, we bought out of her whole supply, with the stipulation that she had to go home and relax for the rest of the day. She promised, and we suddenly had kilos of hand-made jewelry. Then we got to play santas and go give it all out to our group as gifts.



They were happy, we were happy, the vendadora was happy. This apparently had been something they'd joked about doing for their 2 years here.

After the game (city eerily quiet again), we wandered down to the park to have terere with a terere lady with whom Timmy Charlie is freakishly close friends, and gave out more necklaces and gum to her kids. Then we're wandering toward the river when we make spontaneous friends with a random group of Paraguayans who were sitting in a parking lot.

Shola as nymph
Shola and Tessa, having a moment
With new friends

These Paraguayans were so cool, and then the guy invited us down the block to his roof, which overlooked the city.

Paraguayo, Tessa, Paulette, Liam, and Eric


He told us amazing stories about how the church next to his house used to be a prison where they tortured people and the bodies were buried down below where there are now wooden shacks. Then we started to walk back and got about 20 meters before joining kids in a soccer game in the church courtyard. They of course won, the kids, despite all the dirty American cheating.



And this was just one afternoon with these guys. One of the last, since their service is ending soon. That's the thing about Peace Corps - you're always on rotation. I've been in to training to do charlas with the newbies that are coming in now, and have gotten to hang out with them quite a bit. I see it - the idolatry. They look up to me, to my group, the way I looked up to this group, G-27. During their volunteer visit, my newbie Ashley burst out with, "You're just so cool!" which is flattering, of course, but come on - I'm no G-27.

(Dedicated to G-27)

Ketchup

I have been slacking lately, if not necessarily in writing the blogs, at least in putting massive amounts of effort into them. In continuation of this theme (I like to keep consistent), here's another half-assed effort. Plus, I had a bunch of pictures that I haven't posted that work well to fill in all the little moments and catch up (ketchup) everyone on life to this moment.

Kevin, Sasha, and Stu at 4th of July party at embassy (Kevin apparently thought it was a redneck costume party)
No, not the Beverly Hillbillies - this is the normal method of moving in Paraguay (Juan just built a new house)
Meli's inauguration of her pavilion (And last project of her service - don't worry, she's extending)

Kyle came to help me start a huerta (vegetable garden) and now I have tomatoes, carrots, lettuce, peppers, onions, and parsley growing like gangbusters

The Kittens are growing

Making Kabure (chipa on a stick) with English class

Max, Robert, and me (They are exchange students that were here for a year and have sadly returned)
My Abuela is doing much better
(yet another) Parade



Me and Fatima, the librarian for the digital library
Project completed
Official "You can go now" certificate from the Co-op (much to my relief)


Karen's family at Quince
Meli and me at Karen's Quince

I DID have a mouse problem (this created quite a crisis of conscience for a moment since that is a sticky trap and they were still alive. I eventually decided that the way to go about things was to close it and throw it away, ignoring the little squealing screams. Has Peace Corps made me a less sympathetic person? I thought about it, but the life or death of my ketchup and all my plastic containers was a stake, so I say no).