February 27, 2010
Asuncion, Paraguay
Friday morning on the Asuncion--Yanguaron local. I'm
bumping along on an ancient bus. Ramrod straight bench seats. It´s early in the day, and the temperature´s already 33º(92º) and climbing! Part of me doesn´t think I´ll survive the heat and humidity, and the whole day is still ahead of me.
Summer in Asuncion.
I sit at the back of the bus, next to an open window. Full view of the 37 km ride that will take 90 minutes just to see a church that was built in 1572. The journey is often more than the destination.
Only a few of us board at the Central Station in Asuncion. Gives me plenty of time to read some of the graffiti on the backs of the seats:
KOMANDO THOMSON
Marca (Dial) 0998 7864-4596 para las chicas!
Puto Alfonso! Oohkaaay Someone´s got a grudge.
Dios es amor!
Graffiti covers graffiti. I'd love to be able to read all of it.
The bus stops all the time. People get on, get off. No one stays on for very long. A group of high school boys get on, speak a rapid fire mix of Guarani and Spanish. Everyone´s bilingual--Guarani at home, Spanish at work and school. They check out every-tight jeaned girl in the back of the bus, look at each other, raise their eyebrows, then laugh. They´re fun to watch.
Two soldiers get on, automatic rifes slung over their shoulders. Not much chance of getting my pocket picked on this trip. The first time I saw this sort of thing was 30 years ago. 30 years ago! Israel, summer of 1980. Soldiers everywhere, each of them carrying their weapons. Public buses, long distance busses, every street corner, tops of buildings. Now I never even notice this sort of thing.
Vendors. I love public trans
portation in this country! All sorts of things to buy. Guys get on, ride for awhile, get off. Chipas. Everyone´s got chipas. It´s one of Paraguay´s great culinary gifts. Round rolls, baked, filled with yummy Queso Paraguay. I think it would impossible to replicate the recipe at home. I buy more than one.
Chocolate donuts. One kid is selling hot dog rolls. Fruits. Pargaguay is sub-tropical and everything grows here. Apples. bananas, sweet, sweet pineapple, mangos, papayas, plums, peaches. All on the bus.
One woman gets on with a wicker basket full of freshly killed chickens. Chickens! It´s in the mid 90´s for pete´s sake.
¨Oh, yes, I´ll have one chicken. Double wrap it in a refigerated bag, please.¨
Right!
Boys get on and off selling lottery tickets and newspapers. They´re 12, maybe 14. No more. Probably younger. Tuesday was the first day of the new school year. It´s 10:00 a.m. Why aren´t they in school? Things like that bother me.
There´s no end of things to buy. Kitchen towels. Who´d think of selling kitchen towels on a bus? Several guys have built carrying cases that resemble the kind cigarette girls carried in movies from the the 1930´s. It´s got all sorts of stuff: candy, cigarettes, lighters, sun glasses, gum. More than once I buy a few things. I´m still a candy addict.
One guys tries to peddle me a truss. A truss! He looks at me. ¨Tengo grande,¨ he says. "I´ve got a large." Gee. Thanks. I need to be reminded that I´m a large.
My window seat gives me a perfect view of what´s going outside. I get to study the exurbs of Asuncion when the bus stops. One house, not a bad looking one, has two sheep tethered to a tree. They´re munching grass. Sure beats mowing the lawn and it provides free fertilizer.
Another time I look down and notice a puppy. The poor creature has recently been hit by a car. It appears dead, eyes wide open, but its muscles still twitch. Life is cheap for many animals in poor countries.
In denser areas, there are rowdy morning markets selling shoes, pirated CD´s and DVD´s.
It´s hard to tell when Asuncion begins and ends. But after about an hour we slide into more and more open countryside. Cows, sheep, chickens, horses. I finally get to Yanguaron, visit the church. The museum I wanted to visit is closed. I linger a bit, catch another bus back to the city, but its an express and no where near as interesting as the one I was on earlier.
The church was ok, but this more about the journey than the destination.
Friday morning on the Asuncion--Yanguaron local.
It's been a great day!
Asuncion, Paraguay
Friday morning on the Asuncion--Yanguaron local. I'm
bumping along on an ancient bus. Ramrod straight bench seats. It´s early in the day, and the temperature´s already 33º(92º) and climbing! Part of me doesn´t think I´ll survive the heat and humidity, and the whole day is still ahead of me.Summer in Asuncion.
I sit at the back of the bus, next to an open window. Full view of the 37 km ride that will take 90 minutes just to see a church that was built in 1572. The journey is often more than the destination.
Only a few of us board at the Central Station in Asuncion. Gives me plenty of time to read some of the graffiti on the backs of the seats:
KOMANDO THOMSON
Marca (Dial) 0998 7864-4596 para las chicas!
Puto Alfonso! Oohkaaay Someone´s got a grudge.
Dios es amor!
Graffiti covers graffiti. I'd love to be able to read all of it.
The bus stops all the time. People get on, get off. No one stays on for very long. A group of high school boys get on, speak a rapid fire mix of Guarani and Spanish. Everyone´s bilingual--Guarani at home, Spanish at work and school. They check out every-tight jeaned girl in the back of the bus, look at each other, raise their eyebrows, then laugh. They´re fun to watch.
Two soldiers get on, automatic rifes slung over their shoulders. Not much chance of getting my pocket picked on this trip. The first time I saw this sort of thing was 30 years ago. 30 years ago! Israel, summer of 1980. Soldiers everywhere, each of them carrying their weapons. Public buses, long distance busses, every street corner, tops of buildings. Now I never even notice this sort of thing.
Vendors. I love public trans
portation in this country! All sorts of things to buy. Guys get on, ride for awhile, get off. Chipas. Everyone´s got chipas. It´s one of Paraguay´s great culinary gifts. Round rolls, baked, filled with yummy Queso Paraguay. I think it would impossible to replicate the recipe at home. I buy more than one.Chocolate donuts. One kid is selling hot dog rolls. Fruits. Pargaguay is sub-tropical and everything grows here. Apples. bananas, sweet, sweet pineapple, mangos, papayas, plums, peaches. All on the bus.
One woman gets on with a wicker basket full of freshly killed chickens. Chickens! It´s in the mid 90´s for pete´s sake.
¨Oh, yes, I´ll have one chicken. Double wrap it in a refigerated bag, please.¨
Right!
Boys get on and off selling lottery tickets and newspapers. They´re 12, maybe 14. No more. Probably younger. Tuesday was the first day of the new school year. It´s 10:00 a.m. Why aren´t they in school? Things like that bother me.
There´s no end of things to buy. Kitchen towels. Who´d think of selling kitchen towels on a bus? Several guys have built carrying cases that resemble the kind cigarette girls carried in movies from the the 1930´s. It´s got all sorts of stuff: candy, cigarettes, lighters, sun glasses, gum. More than once I buy a few things. I´m still a candy addict.
One guys tries to peddle me a truss. A truss! He looks at me. ¨Tengo grande,¨ he says. "I´ve got a large." Gee. Thanks. I need to be reminded that I´m a large.
My window seat gives me a perfect view of what´s going outside. I get to study the exurbs of Asuncion when the bus stops. One house, not a bad looking one, has two sheep tethered to a tree. They´re munching grass. Sure beats mowing the lawn and it provides free fertilizer.
Another time I look down and notice a puppy. The poor creature has recently been hit by a car. It appears dead, eyes wide open, but its muscles still twitch. Life is cheap for many animals in poor countries.
In denser areas, there are rowdy morning markets selling shoes, pirated CD´s and DVD´s.
It´s hard to tell when Asuncion begins and ends. But after about an hour we slide into more and more open countryside. Cows, sheep, chickens, horses. I finally get to Yanguaron, visit the church. The museum I wanted to visit is closed. I linger a bit, catch another bus back to the city, but its an express and no where near as interesting as the one I was on earlier.
The church was ok, but this more about the journey than the destination.
Friday morning on the Asuncion--Yanguaron local.
It's been a great day!
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