counterclockwise

I’ve spent nearly a year in Paraguay now.

Computer lessons given: 68
Capybaras eaten: 1
Tech support house calls made: 6
Radio appearances: 3
Text messages sent in English: Probably around 600
Text messages sent in Spanish: Probably around 300
Text messages sent in Guaraní: Two or three
Trains heard, squirrels seen, and cars driven: 0
Pique infections: 2
Highest number of pigs in my yard at any given time: 6
Of chickens: 15
Of cows: 2
Of horses: 2
Of children: 9
Approximate monthly consumption of electricity: 75 kWh
Kinds of bug spray on my desk: 6
Palanganas purchased: 3
Packets of seeds purporting to be acelga: 5
Packets of seeds which actually are acelga: 2
Haircuts: 4
Cab rides to the bus terminal at 4 AM: 10
Successful departures from same: 8
Snow days: 0
Rain days: 5
Too hot to move, think, or sleep days: 200

The Guaraní word of the day is pakova, meaning banana. I am about to have heta pakova, because one of the plants in my backyard is putting out a big old stalk of them. It’s really cool to watch, not least because the developing bud looks like some kind of alien monster about to extrude a pseudopod and go searching for brains. And the day I can express that last thought in Guaraní, I’ll know I’ve been in Paraguay for way, way too long.

So I’m in Asunción for a little unscheduled medical visit. Nothing serious at all, just a convoluted it-could-only-happen-in-Paraguay story. I’d had a bit of the flu up in Tacuatí for several days. A little fever, a rotten migraine, nothing to write home about. But I started getting really woozy and shaky around Tuesday, and the weather was getting messy.

It’s just the flu; we all know the modus operandi. You feel awful for most of a week and live on ibuprofen. Then it gets better on its own and there’s nothing a doctor can do about that. But all the same, I decided to play it safe and get myself within range of medical services before the rain took that option away from me.

Of course, by the time the bus rolls into Asunción, my symptoms have pretty much cleared up, and I feel like a stupid cry baby. But no sooner have I struck off for the office, but a massive allergy attack comes over me, the worst I’ve had in years. In the space of five minutes (and to the complete horror of my fellow city bus passengers) I go from a relatively normal kind of non-Paraguayan freak to some sort of oozing extra from a zombie movie. For some reason, my right lower eyelid swelled up like I was trying to bring a pet caterpillar along for a scenic tour of the country. I’m still kicking myself for not bringing my camera. This kind of thing has to be seen to be believed.

So by the time I get to the Peace Corps office, my appearance puts small children in tears, and I actually do need to see our staff doctor. Nothing like a Cortizone shot in the butt to put some zing in your afternoon. It must have been a self-fulfilling prophecy, that’s all I can figure. I came to Asunción because I was worried something bad would happen in a place where I can’t get much help. And then in the absence of any real complaint, my immune system decided to backfire up one of its own once I got within a needle’s reach.

And now my eye is back to normal, my flu is gone, and I’m heading back to site. If I make it through the ride back without acute appendicitis, I think I’ll be ahead of the game.

The Guaraní word of the day is chivivi. This is a digestive symptom I did not experience this week, although most people in Paraguay do sooner or later, especially in those households where the well is too close to the latrine. Living the fancy life, as I do have running water and a flush toilet, I get off light on those kinds of problems.