Getting Started in the Guay

I promised a bunch of people that I would have a blog. I'm not sure how much you all actually want to read it; but since I told you I'd do it, I'll do it.

I arrived here in Asuncion Paraguay about a week ago. Before that, I had been in Panama since early June, working as a supervisor with AMIGOS de las Américas. That was a lot of fun and I got to work with some really great people: staff, volunteers, and Panamanians. Last Tuesday I flew out of Panama City and arrived, two delayed flights and two free nights in hotels later, in Asuncion at 10am local time. I spent the day walking around the neighborhood and getting to know Cristian and Nestor, two brothers who work in the hotel I've been staying in. I asked them how to greet people in Guarani, the native language that most Paraguayans use for everyday conversation. They've been quizzing me ever since. At night I took the bus downtown with Nestor and walked around while he went to his high school to sign up for this fall's classes.

Friday morning I went jogging and ran past a bunch of soccer fields on the way. All of them were fully occupied even while the rest of Paraguay was busy swearing in a new president and then celebrating the occasion with a special mass. Saturday I ran back along the same route, hoping to get to start a conversation with a coach or spectator and start figuring out how to get closer to the action. I stopped to watch some 8-10 year-olds practice in a public park and struck up a conversation with a soccer mom. Within literally 5 minutes she introduced me to the older kids' coach (who asked me to practice with them in the next time slot) and invited me to visit "the interior" and stay with her brother who "is always hosting Peace Corps Volunteers." I didn't have the adequate footwear (or foot-skill, obviously) and certainly did not impress anyone. Still, the coach, a Peruvian who has lived in Asuncion for 16 years, invited me to come back and practice with them Tuesdays, Thursdays, and Saturdays and virtually ordered me to come watch their game the next morning.

Later that afternoon, on the advice of a Peace Corps Volunteer staying in the same Attic dorm as me, I went for lunch at a place called "Mount Lebanon" that promised "Arab Loin Sandwhiches." The guy at the register did not seem to understand my order and, since I was pretty confident I had used the right words, I asked if he was Lebanese. He said yes, and I ordered in choppy Egyptian Arabic, which he understood, with a chuckle. It turned out that he had been born in Panama, but grew up in Lebanon and was just in Paraguay for a week visiting his father, the owner of the restaurant. We chatted in a mix of Arabic, English, and Spanish and his father came over after a while and invited me back anytime to practice my Arabic and eat more of what turned out to be Shawerma.

Sunday I went back to watch the kids play well but only manage a tie. Coach Infante was happy, however, telling me that their first two matches had been "disasters," and a well-played draw was a step up. We then hopped on a bus to another neighborhood to watch Infante's adult squad, "Defensores de Lima" play in the "Embassy Tournament." They lost 2-1 after an awkward failed clearance by an over-weight defender handed their Uruguayan opponents an easy go-ahead goal. The day went better for me than it did for Defensores, as Arturo (a not-so-overweight defender) invited me to move out of the hotel and live with his family downtown.

I spent the beginning of this week trying to finalize my living arrangements and figure out where I can volunteer while I'm here. I now think I will be living with Arturo and volunteering at a foundation that works with street kids. I'm hoping they will let me organize a soccer tournament for the kids or something along those lines.

I'm tired of writing for now and want to focus on the Olympic soccer final that I'm watching. I'll write more later. For now: go Nigeria!