I think this is overdue...

It's hard to believe that it's already been two weeks since I came to this amazing country.  On the other hand it's hard to believe that only two weeks ago I was still in the United States.  Time is funny here.  The days seem long, because of all the things I learn and do in them, but the weeks seem short because there is never a dull moment for time to drag.  I have started to lose the immediate excitement of everyday tasks.  It has been replaced with a comfortable familiarity, as if this is a life that I used to know but had forgotten about until I arrived here.   I couldn't have gotten a more perfect family for myself if I had tried.  They have welcomed me since the moment I arrived and treated me as the lost member of their family since then.

I have realized that there are many things for me to see still in the city.  I have been to neither the central shopping area; filled with clothing, jewelry, and other accessories, or the black market shopping area that the city is famous for.  As far as I know they could very well be the same place.  I can still remember when my dad drove me around a different part of the city for the first time as we went to pick up the parts needed to fix the shower that broke.

I had been showering one night, like I usually do.  My hair was full of shampoo and the lukewarm water was splashing down on me.  As I ran my hands through my hair to wash out the product I suddenly felt a strange sort of tingling in my arm.  It didn't last long, but it was followed by a loud bang and a sudden rush of cold water on me.  I learned that the tingling had been me getting electrocuted followed by the shower head falling off, which had been responsible for the loud bang.

The next day my dad took me into the city to buy the parts needed to fix the shower.  The streets were full with a liveliness that I hadn't experienced on my trips to and from school.  The drivers seemed even crazier than normal on that day, which is pretty hard to believe.  All along the sides of the road street vendors were hanging up their selections of soccer jerseys for the game that was to take place that night.  the red and white stripes of Club Cerro Poreño blanketed the city, over powering the normally bright colors of the buildings and leaving a surreal uniformity to everything.  "The soccer match is one of the biggest all year."  My dad explained to me.  "Two of the most popular, and best, teams in Paraguay will be playing each other."  That is when I noticed the black and white jerseys of Club Olympia sprinkled throughout the hanging shirts.  There seemed to be an abundance of people walking both next to and in the streets.  Women with babies tied to them walked from car to car asking for spare change.  A man with a large coke bottle of water was offering to wash car windows for money.  Groups of fit people with Rastafarian hair styles and dull, but colorful, clothes juggled in the middle of the road.  This was the first time I noticed the large number of poor people in the city.

I had read before I came to Paraguay that the native people had assimilated into the culture better than in other countries.  Which is a fact I found to be somewhat true.  Not all of the native people were poor, but a majority of the poor people were of native.  The natives are easy to spot because of their darker skin complexion, and their lighter, sandy brown hair.  This is noticeably different from people of European descent that look like Spaniards.  However, most of the people are the product of years and years of the mixing of culture and are a look all of their own.

My dad parked the car in the middle of the street and ran into the small hardware store.  I waited in the car and took in this new part of the city.  The smells of blooming flowers intoxicated the street.  Motorcycles raced passed my door as they recklessly weaved in and out of cars, like someone in an action movie would.  I could see into the store directly to my right.  A man was inside making leather shoes that were on display in front of his small shop.  I wished I had brought my wallet so I could have purchased a pair, but no sooner had I finished my thought than my dad was back in the car.  We pulled a daring U-turn that I would come to expect from any Paraguayan driver who decided they didn't like the direction they were heading, and we headed back home.

I still feel as if I am observing the new culture more than taking it in, but I can tell that will change with time.  The way I eat has already become a strange mix of my two cultures.  I have grown a new fondness for bread, which has it's place at every meal.  I look forward to the new, and always delicious meals that my mom, or grandmother, place in front of me.  Since arriving here I have learned what fruit really is.  It is leaps and bounds sweeter and richer than anything I have had before.  That's what happens when it can be picked and brought to market in the same day.  Vegetarians be ware, Paraguay is not the country for you.  Meat is a staple everywhere I go, and for good reason too.  It is slow cooked to perfection.  They understand here the effect that time and care can have on a meal and they have no problem with putting them into everything we eat.

I know there is more I could write about, more I could describe to you, but if I spend my whole day writing who knows what new thing I'll miss out on.  That's the most exciting part for me here.  Although there isn't a new excitement in everything I do there are still new things everyday.  I never know what they will be when I wake up, but that's what keeps it an adventure.

- Paz y amor mis amigos,
Samuel