The Other White House

A couple of notes on the Paraguayan White House: Based on no other information other than personal observation, it has to be said that the Paraguayan White House is at least 10 times bigger than its counterpart in Washington D.C. How else do you explain the difference in the two pictures I have taken?

Then there is the matter of security. You are able to get much closer to the Paraguayan White House. There is no huge, black fence surrounding the compound. There are no snipers on the roof.  There are no stewards shooing you away from the fence if you stand/sit/look/breathe there too long. In fact, there are only a few guards with automatic weapons, but even they mostly sit around drinking a local herbal concoction while reading the newspaper.  

Crocodile Meat

Learning another language can be like walking through a minefield when it comes to innuendos. Make sure that when you try and learn the local indigenous language of Guarani that you are really asking for crocodile meat and not suggesting that you desire someone else’s wife. Make sure that when you ask a person if they heard the drums on the street that afternoon, you annunciate clearly and use tambor instead of tembor. One is a drum, the other is a Guarani word for the part of the body specific to males. Context clues should help you sort out the two.

Yes Virginia, There is a Paraguay...

Honestly, where should I begin? How do you describe a week anywhere, let alone a new country, climate and culture, with any kind of justice in a few sentences or even paragraphs without it turning into the War and Peace of blog entries?

I could go into detail about the physical aspects of the experience. The fact that landscape and infrastructure of the suburb of Mariano Roque Alonso reminds me of some kind of cross between Florida and rural Guatemala. Or the oppressive mid-day heat that already exists here in spring. Or yes, even the new smells while packed into the bus on the way downtown.

Then there are the experiential things to discuss, the warm reception of the church that first night, that nearly violent encounter Nestor and I had with the old drunk while walking home with our wives from Maria’s, or the adventure that became of the simple task of exchanging a 20 liter bottle of water in another language.

But these will all take thirty pages to describe, so I will simply end by saying that, yes Virginia, there is a Paraguay, and Krista and I are experiencing it. That and, most importantly, I have already had the chance to play soccer with some pretty stiff competition. I held my own, and could have left proud if I hadn’t played one game too many for my out of shape body.

Building my Character

My parents say, “what doesn’t break you, only builds your character.” I don’t plan on going home broken!

As I write this we’ve been in Paraguay for one week, and I can honestly say I overall am thoroughly enjoying myself. This is not to say, I haven’t been frustrated when I don’t understand a sentence after it has been broken down to the “Nth” degree, or when I can’t even understand a 5 year old. It’s humiliating! But I can’t explain how happy I feel every time I say a complete sentence that people don’t need to correct, or ask me to say again. Or the best is really when I think of what to say, smash all of the Spanish words together that I think I need and struggle through the sentence, 30 minutes later when I finally finish my sentence, the person I’m talking to asks Craig, “what did she say?” Yep that‘s really the best. J (insert sarcasm here) However, as difficult as it may seem sometimes, I think that it is maybe better than I’m coming to Paraguay to teach English and not be fluent in Spanish myself---empathy.
I will say now, those of you who are planning on coming down for Mennonite World Conference, be gracious with the new English speakers that will be helping with the convention! The Radical Journey group met with the Mennonite World Conference persons today at their offices and talked about why our role is important in this conference. It really connected the picture for me that we are not in Paraguay to specifically be apart of a program, Radical Journey, but to assist in the communication between Mennonite persons in Kidron, Ohio, and persons in Asuncion, Paraguay-- to help somehow bridge the language barrier, and in doing so give those persons learning English a gift that will surpass World Conference --the ability to communicate in a new language.


Much more to come, thanks for your prayers of support.

30 Hours Later...

To make the story more interesting, I could say that we rushed around Tuesday morning trying to get everything together for the flight, but the fact of the matter is, when you spend a month living in a 15X12 foot room it means that your stuff hasn’t gone very far, and there ain’t much of it.

In fact though, the story didn’t need spicing up. Logistically, we needed to get from the West Side of Chicago to O’Hare airport with public transportation and all of our baggage. That meant a half-mile walk with all our groups luggage, including the bags of Scott and Dorothea which were grounded enough in antiquity that they did not possess the luxury of wheels. We were a grand caravan of pack mules to behold! (see illustration.)

The experience of flying in and of itself was never something that I have been a fan of. And let it be known that I am all for sacrificing personal comfort to save money, but after thirty hours in transit from Chicago, over Miami, to Lima, Peru, to Santiago, Chile, before landing in Asunción the next day, I am ready to abstain from flying for at least a year.

In the Last Days

The last several days of orientation in Chicago passed without much outside incident, save that I discovered that Dunkin Donuts managed to make a pumpkin-flavored additive that renders their otherwise unpalatable coffee very addicting. While groups were packing up to leave Chicago, there was yet again another round of “lasts” that found Krista and I traveling downtown with different people in order to see Chicago one last time and to take a ride to the top of the Hancock Building to accomplish the task in spectacular fashion.

nside the house, the teams began leaving, forcing those of us left behind to consider now that our time to go was indeed very close and very real. First, the team to England left on Saturday. Then Brazil left on Monday morning, meaning that only our group and the three Sweden folks were left...

On the Diving Board and Ready to Jump!

It’s strange how in just a month, you can entirely become comfortable in a once uncomfortable place, and seemingly forget what is about to come!  Our “Radical Journey” group of 16 has just dropped to 13, with the first group, England, leaving for their year of service on Saturday, October 4.  It reminded me how each person in our house has played an integral part, and with the three of them gone, it’s apparently obvious that our group is no longer complete.  

Friday night as a last night “hurrah”, we all went, along with KD, Darrell Gascho and Liz Weaver, to a restaurant that promotes giving homeless people experience with being a chef, in hopes that they then will be able to go out and get a job as a chef in a competitive restaurant with this experience.  The food was excellent, and I had to hold myself back from wanting to take pictures of every dish. J  This is something that Craig has yet to understand about me, and I have a sense that this will be something that we never see eye to eye about--and I am completely comfortable with having that difference between us.  I love food, and everything about it!  But I’ll try not to diverge.  

After the delicious dinner, we walked over to the lakefront.  Once there, we had a time of prayer and sending for every group, with each team surrounded by the others while we prayed for them.  Whether it was to give every team a little break from

 the frigid temperature, or to give the groups a sense of our support and prayer, I’m really not sure, but it was nevertheless a meaningful time as we let go of racing minds with what the future holds for us.  

Skipping to Sunday, Craig and I were planning to go to Community Mennonite Church that is housed in the church that Craig and I are living in.  However, what we did not know was that the one day that we decide to go to a Mennonite church was the Sunday that they were having “house church Sunday.”  So, instead of finding a church last minute, we had our own church, going to the (free) Chicago Zoo, cheap Thai for lunch, st

opped for some coffee and finished by reading our books at Barnes and Noble.  My mind ran wild, and butterflies jumped in my stomach as I asked Craig, “just think what we will be doing next Sunday!”  Ahhh! 

And for those of you wondering about the no ketchup on a Chicago hotdog, may I recommend a book to you: