ROAD TRIP 2008!

That's right, now I get a chance to chronicle my cross-country trek that took my from the Western deserts of Utah to the Eastern forests of Central New York. After returning from my whirlwind visit to D.C., I packed up my possessions and loaded down my beloved 91 Honda Accord named Lucy to take a venture into the wilds of interstate travel. Accompanied by a lifelong friend Adrienne, I barely had elbow room around my sleeping back wedged between the seats, all of 3 inches of space visible from the rear-view mirror, and all that after leaving behind lots of precious possessions like my printer, my bedrest, and even my bed pillows.

We stopped the night in Cheyenne after accompanying the freight trucks in the slow lane as we plodded up the mountain passes, watched the gigantic windmill gathering wind energy, and braved the lonely 1-80 interstate across the Wyoming desert. We got in late into Cheyenne but found a decent hotel right off the freeway and crashed for the night.

With one leg of the journey down, we turned south on a slight detour that would take us straight for Wichita, Kansas and the second night to be spent alongside Kenneth and Bryn where they have been stationed for the past couple of years as Kenneth finishes up his residency. It was interesting to see the changing scenery as the mountain peaks of the Rockies receded away into the distance with open flatlands filled with the copper-brown tint of wheat and the rising red and silver outlines of barns were all the eye could see. I'd never been through the Great Plains though Kenneth and Bryn have told me about its charm. They will soon be heading for Iowa and a permament position as Kenneth works as an anaesthesiologist (I have NO idea how to spell that, but you get the idea.) Congrats bro!!

Unfortunately, despite the good weather and the quote-unquote picturesque landscape of pancake countryside, the second day was dampened by a friendly police-man forking over a speeding ticket. There's just no mercy these days! I could have understood it in congested freeways but in the nothingness of Nowheresville, Kansas, I couldn't believe that I could get a ticket as the ONLY car on the road! Such is life I guess. We did a good visit in with Kenneth, Bryn, and the three little munchkins running around the house. Little Evan was only 4 months old the last time I saw him, now at almost 2 years, he's spry as ever and quickly building his vocabulary (including a mighty valient effort to say Aunt Kristine that came out more of a (RRiiitty). Autumn, now 6, is witty and spunky, full of questions, including "why do you and my mom look so much alike?" We have talked a lot about how I look a lot more like my sister-in-law than my brother--no explanation that I know of. Little Isaac was a lot of fun too and while I had a hard time understanding all that he said, he was just as playful and genuine as ever. I miss seeing the little guys and I wish we had had more time to visit....We chatted over some Southern Barbecue the next day before heading out for our next stop: St. Louis.

We visited Adrienne's brother in St. Louis as he has been installing security systems in the area for a summer job, though was packing up and heading out for Michigan the next day. We headed down to the Gateway Arch, fighting the congested streets of the riverside bars and night life of a St. Louis Saturday night.

Playing around at the park built at the arch, Adrienne skipped across the giant spotlights and I got eaten by the mosquitos...good times. We grabbed dinner at a Steak n Shake diner before heading back to the apartment, chatting with her brother's roommates and Mapquesting the closest chapel to go to church in the morning. I didn't hit the sack until past 3 that night and I don't know how much later Adrienne stayed up, but we were both beat in the morning.

We went to a local ward, small and generally uninviting as not one soul came to greet us, but that's OK. We jumped back on the freeway and headed out to Columbus OH. That was definitely the most taxing day and the long hours behind the wheel started to take their toll. Passing through Indianapolis onward towards Columbus, the vegetation started to turn into more dense oak and aspen forests, and the sharp rolling hills of Missouri turned into bigger but more gradually sloping rises. The skies looked threatening and the winds were strong, but we made it all the way to Columbus without a drop of rain. Once inside the Econolodge and waiting for a pizza delivery, the rain started to pour. It was such a blessing that no storms had hit us thus far and even Bryn had said that the night before we arrived in Wichita they had had a tornado warning.

Our last day on the road, we stuck around Columbus for a little while to check out some land Adrienne's dad had bought and then stopped over to see the Columbus OH temple--a small temple but beautiful and accompanied by a simple and elegant stream running between the temple and the stake center.

We marched onward through the tip of Pennsylvania in to our final destination state--New York. And, as if to welcome me into my new home, the second we crossed over into New York State, I had a guy tailgating me. Shocked that he would be on my tail as I went 75 down a road marked with a 55 mph sign, I moved over only to have 3 more do the same thing to me in the right hand lane! At one point, I was sandwiched behind a sedan with a semi truck on the right and a tailgater motioning in the rear-view for me to get over though I had no idea at what point he imagined I would have the capacity to do so. Once I had a break and was ready to let him go by, I didn't have a chance to because he speeded around me, waving out the drivers' side with a sardonic grin on his face as he went by. And, after all the drama, he ended up slowing down, content to cruise at 70 right in front of me, but I'm sure feeling accomplished at having beaten me on the road. Incredible. I have yet to understand the NY road mentality, and I'll update you if I get anywhere with that.

So, after a long and tiring journey through the heart of the USA, we pulled into Syracuse NY just after 7 o'clock local Eastern Standard Time. I made a mistake of staying in the right hand lane which became an obligatory exit and so was forced to head into downtown rather than take the exit I needed to get to my new apartment...a mistake that took me through some rather questionable neighborhoods and gave me my first glimpse at the run-down urban center of Syracuse. I had no idea where I was, couldn't find any of the main roads that my limited map had to show me, but was determined not to stop and ask for directions short of finding a better neighborhood in which to do so. By a few small miracles, I actually found my way back onto the freeway and by another miracle, hadn't passed the exit I needed and so was able to make it to my new apartment and the waiting entrance key in the hand of a very helpful former tenant.

I didn't have much to offer, but we grabbed some grub at a nearby "Mexican" restaurant. I had to question the authenticity as a guy that looked Irish took our orders which he delivered to 3 African-Americans working in the kitchen. I'm finding that the Latin population is sparse at best in these parts and I don't know how long it will be before I can get any real Latin American food... We settled down on the hardwood floor atop some make-shift beds with the blankets I had brought, forced to accept just a few hours of sleep before taking Adrienne to the airport and sending her back to Utah to face her final and another hot summer in Logan.

Believe it or not, all of this plus a gigantic suitcase and other boxes plus my clothes that were on hangers already in the closet ALL fit into the backseat and trunk of my Lucy. NOT BAD uh??

Here are some crazy views from the road, including:

livestock, a shiny oil tanker that we could see ourselves in, a house, and some cool cars.

In the end, after all the stress and worries and stress and stress of moving and getting adjusted back to the States, I think the move was an incredible success. THANK YOU Adrienne for being a patient, kind, and dedicated friend and a great copilot in making this trip possible!! Also to mom and dad for helping me get things packed in...even in helping filter after what I THOUGHT would fit didn't end up fitting. I'm now meeting new people, getting acquainted with the Syracuse area and am sure to have plenty to comment on in future blogs about this new reality of mine. All in all everything points to great things ahead.

From capital to capital

Shortly after getting back to the U S of A, I had a pressing interview in our nation's capital, the famious Washington, District of Columbia. So, after leaving the red-roofed houses and cobble-stoned houses of sleepy Asuncion, Paraguay, I headed to the bustling metropolis of neo-colonial, modern, post-modern, and neo-classical splendor of Washington D.C. It was only the second time in my long life that I've been in the area, the first being attached to the same organization, but as a graduating high school senior. Only this time I didn't have a welcoming party, the mingling of other scholarship recipients, or the glamour of being escorted around the city. I was being invited to an interview and things were straight down to business. I was to fly in on Sunday and leave on Monday, leaving an all-important decision about a possible graduate school scholarship left for the deciding.

I stayed in an amazingly beautiful (and I can imagine expensive) hotel room that they had reserved for me in the Fairmount Hotel. The luxury burned my eyes as I could hardly believe that I was sleeping on down pillows atop a king size bed in an attractively coordinated business-style suite.

I made sure to make the best of the hotel stay, using the robe hung in the bathroom after a long and luxurious bubble bath and then sitting down to watch HBO and TBS while finishing my interview question preparations.

Monday morning, I headed down to the conference rooms to face the INTERVIEW. I couldn't help but think about the timeline that that particular day was originally planned to have. In a small corner of the world called Itaugua, Paraguay, preparations were being finished for my book launching...the decorations were to be put on the walls of a small municipal salon seating the 200-250 invited guests as they brought in a stereo system for the antiquated microphone set atop a long foldingn table adorned with a nanduti tablecloth. But, I would see none of it, choosing instead to move forward and reach upward in my life towards graduate school and more formal education to prove to the world that I had skills worth a living wage to keep myself fed, clothed, and adequately 'cultured' with some technology, gadgets, and hobbies to occupy my time.

My fears of not being to articulate myself in English were definitely confirmed though my occasional reverse-translation moments were not as difficult as my circumlocutory ramblings to get around them. But, the 'comittee' that was to interview ended up being just 2 people with big smiles and lots of happy side comments attempting to make me actually feel more comfortable as we were to 'chat' and not 'interview.' I had a good time thinking about each question and passed through the more than 1 hour interview without honestly feeling the time. I had a chance to talk with some of the other interviewees and they were all 2004 graduates, making me one year older, a 2003 grad. I walked out not really knowing how to gauge my success or failure but content to know that at least I could show that I had been dedicated to the interview and, in sacrificing my attendance at the book launching, was certain about where I really wanted to go in life--back to the old grindstone and the reconstruction of long-forgotten realities.

I went around D.C. on a fabulous tram system called the Tourmobile. While I half-expected a cheesy, barbie-faced tour guide prodding me not to stick my arms or legs out of the moving vehicle, I honestly really enjoyed the tour. All the trolley-like buses were void of windows for prime no-reflection snapshots of all the federal buildings, memorials, and I even snapped a few of the crazy street signs and traffic signals. I started after taking my first 'metro' from the hotel to downtown by the Smithsonian complex and boarded the tourmobile alongside a mix of tourists from all over the world. As we passed the National Gallery of Art and other museums, I was sad that I didn't have more time to stick around and acutally go through the buildings, but that'll be for another trip. I stopped at Union Station to see the half-station half-commercial center that reminded me a lot of Philadelphia. I stopped to try Godiva chocolates for the first time, snapped my picture in front of life-size cardboard cutouts of Barack Obama and John McCain in a maze of political satire products from playing cards to bobble heads (where all Hillary merchandise was 50% off!), snatched up some pizza, and then got back on the tourmobile.

It was amazing to see sights that cited the grandeur of my mother country's history and development after so much time studying another's. Everything from honoring the servicemen and women buried in Arlington National Cemetery to the iconic homage to presidents Lincoln and Washington. Tourists were respectful and courteous, no shoving or pushing or even competition to get pictures. They actually waited on the side of road for people to come off the bus until they boarded...something I don't think I'd ever see in Paraguay. The buses came frequently punctually and I literally rode the entire tour around the city. We saw the white house only from a LONG distance, Capitol Hill as well, though I did stop and walk around the Lincoln Memorial, providing a picturesque view of the Washington monument were it not for the construction crews in the foreground.

I finished the tour and returned to the Smithsonian metro station to return to the hotel and get moving to the airport. Braving another run on the metro, I opted not to take a taxi and arrived with 15 minutes to spare at the Reagan National Airport. Not bad for a day and a half in the nation's capital?

An unmistakable landmark, the Lincoln Memorial.

Silence and Respect mark the tomb of John F. Kennedy, accompanied by his widow Jacky, his brother Robert, and an eternal flame lighted shortly after his assassination.

Saluting all unidentifiable soldiers killed in the line of duty, a constant vigil is kept at the Tomb of the Unknown Soliders, Arlington National Cemetery, Virginia. Here there are 3 Marines, conducting a changing of the guards ceremony.

Getting back to...

So, I feel like I'm living at least 2, maybe 3 or 4 different realities right now, so keeping a streamlined, technologically-friendly blog of a day in the 'life of Kristine' is a little more complicated at this point in time and space than previously expected.

If that doesn't adequately describe the basic symptoms of re-entry culture shock piled on top of moving anxiety, social anxiety, and economic foreboding as I stare down two years fraught with student loans I'm bound to be paying for the rest of my life, feel free to give me a phone call and we could probably thrash it out into some more expanded terms. But, for the sake of brevity in catching people up on the past month or so that I haven't uploaded anything to my blog, I'll save the details.

And, for the sake of archiving, I'm actually going to break up this post into a few posts--I know, unheard for me!

So, here goes!

Ending reality 1--here I am at the Asuncion airport, definitely anxious to leave the climatically capricious tropics of Paraguay though sincerely distraught knowing that that transition would be filled with quirky language trip-ups, returning to awkward re-relationship-building, not to mention the preparation for an all-important scholarship interview, moving cross-country, and starting grad school. But, more on that in the upcoming posts. Back to reality 1. Sinthia and Lourdes were so generous in offering to take me to the airport and see me off. I had stayed the night with the wonderful Rodriguez family because they had lent me a bed and, in returning it to them, I was left without anything but a suitcase to keep me off the floor. As I woke up and had my last wisdom-filled conversation with Cati while we shared the steaming cup of yerba mate, I watched out the door at the contradiction of the bright green palm trees outlined by dark rain clouds moving over the valley. David took me back to my apartment and to run a few errands before making our last goodbyes as it poured outside. I made my last rounds around Itaugua that stormy Thursday, trying to stop at key houses and give my good wishes to the weavers, the friends, the town officials, and even the landlord that supported my stay in Itaugua. I was noticeably emotional but with the more than a week of goodbyes that I had been making as well as the process of selling my furniture, distributing the published books, and signing the donated books for the local schools, I was a little more put-together than I might have expected. The weather calmed just long enough to get me about 8 blocks from my house on various visits before it started pouring again. I was so anxious and afraid that I would miss my ride that I braved running through the rain and made it back to my apartment SOAKING wet and miserably cold. I couldn't put my wet clothes into the suitcase and opted to pull out a portable blow dryer that I used to somewhat warm me up and dry me off. Cati had come down so that I wouldn't have to carry my stuff on my own and it was a huge comfort to have her by my side.

Which takes us to the airport. I had a surprise visit by the Aldama family including Karen who donned her Havanna uniform to sneak into the waiting room with me until I got on the plane. It was hard to give my goodbye hugs and try to act like my normal self, but I did it. Once inside the waiting room, I thought it would be quick, but the flight ended up getting delayed and I started worrying about my connecting flight. I finally made it on and said goodbye to Karen and headed out, alone.

After short of running across the Buenos Aires airport to make it for the last boarding call for the red-eye to Houston, I finally started to feel dry though my clothes were disgustingly wrinkled and I was desparate for a shower. Approximately 11 hours later, I touched down on American soil and was welcomed back into my country of origin. A few more hours later, I made it to Salt Lake City, travel-worn, tired, shocked at the visual blur of highways, mountains, SUVs, traffic lights, and billboards lining the track back to Bountiful and the luxurious homes of the comfortable American middle class. I was "home" from another "adventure" as many would call it or an "experience" as others would cite. Whatever you call that chunk of life spent out of your comfort zone building new comfort zones, testing your horizons, breaking your spirit and teaching you to make yourself a new one...it had "ended" and now I was supposed to "go back to real life."

As I contemplate on those first few hours back in the States, all I can envision is the literal closing of one reality as it attempted to blend into another, an older, a more distant one that somehow could never really exist again because, with that attempt to blend, actually stops, shifts, and actually transforms in a permament bend in order to accommodate the new person returning the old reality. Then, as time goes on, that transformation acts more like a fault line under a volcano chain. It's always there though you don't always see it. But, every so often, things spark a forgotten memory, a friend left behind under the construction and uplift of the new mountains shaping the countryside...typically not one of those huge composite eruptions that blows its top, but the slow, somewhat constant flow of lava spurting up from the hidden abyss of the past and carving a small trail across the outer crust of the present. Sometimes there big eruptions spurting large flows that cover the entire construction...but those too die down and cool in the surrounding atmosphere and just become another layer in the constantly changing terrain.

OK, I don't know if that analogy really means anything to anyone but me, but it's my attempt to communicate what culture shock and its accompanying cultural growth mean to me. So, here's to you--realities 1 and 2 (but really, both were made of the millions of previous realities so the numbers don't really make sense either...), may you rest in peace under the upcoming lava flows.

winding down...I think

So, welcome back... The past couple weeks haven't been all that photographable (besides the fact that I kept leaving my memory card in my computer and so every time I wanted to snap a picture, I found an unusable camera!!). I jambed my left-hand pointer finger playing basketball and so was kind of deabilitated from typing...though I got pretty good using must 3 fingers on my left hand and turning my wrist to reach everything. I had no idea how to describe a jambed finger so it became a "twisted" finger and they all thought I was crazy for thinking to tape it up. So, I had to improvise that night with some string and a Bic pen attached to my finger until I go find a farmacy with medical tape. Talking with older people, later, though, they talked about how soldiers in the war would wrap themselves up like that using 3 sticks and twine they would spin from caraguata plants...they said that is how they would heal broken bones and the soldiers even with broken legs would just get wrapped up tight and sent back to the field because there was no such thing as being discharged--alive or dead, the only options. I don't have my finger wrapped any more though and can bend it pretty much like normal again. I just finished playing another game which included teaching the locals how to play 'lightning' --an old elementary school favorite. I am finding, though, that Paraguayans in general and Paraguayan guys in particular are EXTREMELY competitive! That's right, you heard me, Kristine saying that. I know that I'm competitive but there were some moments I was sure that a fight was going to break out just because someone had made a basket or the other guy had not. I had to be the mother and tell them to all play nice or else I was going to take my ball and go home. Ridiculous. In the end, though, it's good exercise and since things aren't as hot these days, it's actually possible to go out in the morning sunshine and shoot some hoops without worrying that I'm going to pass out.

This weekend was filled with volunteer time with the Employment Resource Service folks. I taught a training workshop for teachers on how we can be better teachers on Friday in Asuncion. I was really excited because, I thought, the teachers would be excited to be there and learn. Well, that was mostly true, except for one highly cynical, older woman that glared me down and challenged every question, every instruction, and every point that I tried to make. She argued that we weren't "teachers" but that we were "instructors" and I said that it didn't really matter what we were called but that we take on the calling to teach...after I read several quotes from the manual that cited being a "teacher" she resorted to just making snide side comments to her neighbors aoubt me. Afterwords, the manager congratulated me and said she was incredibly impresed with how I had handled them--that the lady was just pretentious and obviously too prideful to learn from a young foreigner brought in by the center. Ah...the drama.

I spent some time with Sarita, another Fulbrighter in Asuncion who just happens to now be housemate with 3 volunteers from BYU's Marriott School come down to check out the Fundacion Paraguaya. They said they were disillusioned about the group and that seeing it on the ground was not what they were pitched, but hopefully that they could help advise the group and bring out some positive changes. They left to go to Iguazu Falls and Sarita and I stayed up till late watching the BBC News.

On Saturday I taught the first session of one of the BEST workshops I've ever taught. It was really invigorating to have everyone' FULL attention, absolute participation, great progress, and really uplifting spirit. It was probably God's way of making up for the drama of the night before.
At the end of the workshop, Alba came down to meet me as I had invited her to go to her very first real movie in a movie theater. The choices were between 27 dresses (translated as 27 weddings) and Charlie Wilson's War (translated here as 'game of power'). She decided she didn't want a comedy so we ended up seeing Charlie Wilson's War. I think a lot of it went over her head, but I liked a lot of the political commentary and, even though my mom will kill me for thinking I'm a dirty liberal, I appreciated the ending comments. I hate to spoil this for anyone, but it talks about how Charlie Wilson led a covert operation against the Soviet Communists in Afghanistan. Well, after all the negotiations, arms dealings, etc. he secures a Billion (capital B) dollars of funding for the war and successfully drives the Afghans to victory against the Russians. But, as the furor of anti-communist sentiment dies down and the Cold War starts to unwind, he fails to be able to get the support for 1 million dollars to fund school construction in the country that they left ravaged by war. The story has been repeated so many times throughout history that it makes me sick and, while I hate to mention it, I'm glad that it made it to the screen. Throughout Central America, Southern Asia, and almost all satelite countries of the former USSR, the US has been 'eager' to jump in with military funding and fight the political bad guys, but then duck tail and leave without a cent left to help the survivors actually take hold of their country and make it run. Now, ironically enough, it's the democrats that are trying to bring about the same situation. Before the war has even ended and any sort of boundary, peace treaty, or solution can be brought about, they want to pack up and leave--the country war-torn, women violated by years of political represssion, rape, and assault, uneducated and insecure; men scarce and uneducated--the same thing they accuse the Republicans of doing after so many other skirmishes. Aren't we supposed to learn from history? It's not all about good-guys, bad-guys but actually lifting people up out of poverty and working with them to help them actively participate in the world of democracy that we are thrusting them into. We had more than 200 years of history to help us take ownership of our democracy and develop strategies to make it work within our culture...and all that in a NEW country determined to make it's own history. Yet we expect them to skip through all that and transform a centuries-old traditional hierarchy and generations of dictatorship, oppression, violence, and slaughter within a couple years! And, all the while refusing to admit that our very own country is very significantly responsible for putting them in the very position they are in. Ah, politics. It's amazing how blind we can become, looking at the 'political arena' as a cute little game of budgets, adendums, and meetings with 'important people.' How quickly we can forget that those decisions are making impacts on millions of individual lives throughout the world and not just today, but for the extended future.

Ok, to end on a good note, I went through the final draft of "the book." We made a bunch of minor revisions, tacked down the page sizing etc. and are now thumbs-up for the printing to begin. I met with Carol Pope--visiting once again and finding her beautiful Paraguayan getaway retirement home infested with termites!!--and she suggested that I just modify the book and sell it as an e-book under my name. Not a bad idea. Regardless, I'm very capable of putting somethign together in English and then I won't have to worry one little bit about my so-called 'co-authors' getting in the way. Pictures of final product forthcoming.

Hope everyone had a fantastic Mother's Day. Things don't jump into swing until Thursday here...and surprisingly more low-key than I had thought because most of Latin America celebrates Mother's Day more than it does Christmas. But, then again, in Paraguay...

a finished book, a famous fulbrighter, an historic election, what more could you ask for?

That's right! After the more than 6 1/2 months that I've spent tParaguayan heat, bugs, and horny unfaithful teenage Paraguayan boy population, I am actually seeing some concrete results for my troubles :)!! I will have to admit that my methodology went out the window a while ago when I found that fieldnotes just made me complain more and so when I found an outlet in working on this book project, I think it was a direct answer to prayer. Just this afternoon, I turned in "my life" as I called it, to the son of the printer so that we could actually look towards getting the thing printed.

So, I'm sorry to have stopped writing for a while--I personally apologize to all my faithful readers out there--Thanks Suzanne, Laura, and Bryn!! Truth is, things have really cooled down here and with the constant rain, the cooler temperatures, and the happier American surrounded by a sea of bundled-up Paraguayans, I've had a lot more time to stick inside and work on the text, formatting, and finishing touches of the book. Oh, that and another parasite but, minor detail really. Bottom line that means I have a lot to talk about!

Oh, I don't know if I really described the book but I've been working with a very well-known local weaver who has been winning prizes in UNESCO competitions and getting her picture taken for any number of international publications and then another woman from the community that is a professor of literature to help with the poetic and grammatical part of the work. But, as neither of them have touched a computer in their life, it's been a completely different group dynamic than I have ever encountered before. I would work up a storm and then not find a way to share with them because we couldn't afford the outrageous 20 cents a page to print things out just to have to change them and work it all over again. And, on their side, they would work up a storm--all written by hand--and then complain that they would have to pay for someone to type it up for them. Fortunately, things leaned toward the necessity to have things digitally done so they shelled out every once in a while to get things to me typed up so that we could use it in the book. That's another thing I hadn't seen before--the amount of signs for "work done by computer" which basically means that you pay someone to type, research, design, or correct anything that you need printed up. Most people that are looking for jobs and have to have a resume don't know how to type let alone use a computer so they just pay for one to be drafted for them. that is most understandable...but then you find the advertisement for "thesis" and you realize that you're not in Kansas anymore. yes, people that are graduating from accredited universities actually attain a university education without ever learning how to type their name and have their senior thesis projects typed up (and in many cases designed and carried out) for them. So, knowing all this, it must not surprise you that the arrival of an academic demanding the citation of every source, the proper formatting of that citation etc. is a little out of the ordinary. As we were finishing today, I had included a section recognizing that I had taken all the photos but...and then listed the people that had contributed photos to my list. They asked me "is that really necessary?" I just said yes and tried to leave it be. Then, they wanted to take a picture of the three of us together to put on the inner cover as a sort of biography. So, Chiquita asked her live-in maid (another Paraguayan staple for anyone that has enough money to pay the $100 or so a month that they earn) to take the picture for us. As we finished, I heard Maria Angela mumble something about a name to Chiquita in Guarani, and as I thanked her maid for taking the picture, I asked her for her name so that i could credit her, and Maria Angela about broke a rib with her "I TOLD YOU SO!!" knowing that I would want to put her name there for the picture. I guess at least I'm consistent.

So, long story short we should be in print within 2 weeks!! It's nothing like in the States where you get a contract from the publisher and they pay you to write so that they get the profits from the sale of the books--mainly because Paraguayans don't really read so there's not a lot of profit in it but also because printing is disgustingly expensive since there isn't a lot of demand. So, instead, you basically just come up with the money that your printing will cost, hold a party with all your friends and community leaders to try and get them to buy it, and call it good. In doing so, it doesn't matter what you write or how you write it, just as long as you have the money to hand over to the printers. A lot easier than the whole academic rigor and professional critiquing system right?

In other news, Alba turned 16 and we had a fabulous time on her roof with a pizza and a peach tart cake with her family and two of her neighbors. As i started making mariachi screams at the end of the happy birthday song it soon turned into a let-see-how-much-attention-we-can-get-from-passersby game. It was fun as we tried to get people's attention without revealing our position in the darkness of her balcony. Good times.

I went to my first Paraguayan Quincenera (15th birthday party). I've seen about a million picture albums showing everyone's party but I finally got invited to one. It was an amazing cultural blend as the birthday girl was dressed in a fancy wedding-worthy gown as the entrance was dressed with draping clothes and the obligatory repository for gifts and then a gigantic 8-layer cake (I was half-expecting a groom to show up any minute!) and then the arrival of a Mariachi band that took the birthday girl swirling around the guests and taking pictures at each table adorned in a giant red-velvet sombrero, the singing of Happy Birthday first by all girls and then all boys, complete with a ribbon-pulling tradition to give the girls good luck (I pulled out the ring which is supposedly meant to signify the next person to get married and therefore the most coveted ribbon to pull...don't read too much into that Mom!!) and the final touch the "traditional" waltz with her father and then any other person at the party. After the waltz and the constant flow of champaign and beer (regardless of being severely underage, all the guests enjoyed a tall glass of bubbly or otherwise an up-scale beer with their barbecue and potato salad) the night ended with blaring Raggaeton (Spanish Rap basically) and Paraguayan Chachaca music while the crowds bounced the night away. It was a great party I must say, even if lacking good electronic or rock music to dance to. We grabbed a bus home as we tried not to call any attention to ourselves due to the fact that we were across the street from a whorehouse...conveniently located in front of the bus stop!

The next day was the famous Election Day, April 20...a date for the history books. I was super doubtful of just how the elections would turn out, and people as usual were completely negative in talking about the reality of getting any changes in the government that could root out the decades-old corruption and exploitation. But, after more than 60 years in power (inlcuding a 35-year dictatorship!), the Colorados finally lost a presidential election. The whole country is kind of holding its breath so see if "the change" as the campaign set itself up to be, will actually come to fruition. I can honeslty say that as I watched the election results roll in on the TV, I felt I was part of an important moment in Paraguayan history and hopefully the turning point to turning the country into a functional democracy and more than just a constitutional hypocrisy.

Next...I went to a 'forum' with a good friend Laura--in reality she's Alba's cousin. It was the most academic thing I've found access to in all my time in Paraguay, but still incredibly disappointing. It was held at a 'terciarcy school' (because it's not officially a university but more of a technical training school) for bilingual and multilingual teachers. dripping with formalities, the students had hardly no idea what the point of it was other than that they were taking roll. They talked about the proposition of a new Language Law that would recognize more than just the Spanish and Guarani languages but reach some sort of compromise with the 17 indigenous groups (not to mention the non-recognized Mennonite, German, Korean, Japanese, and Australian populations) that are supposedly to start receiving linguistic recognition. I hate to be a cynic, but the country is barely starting to recognize them as people and I think there is some other land and human rights legislation that should take priority over the language issues, but hopefully it's a step in the right direction. There were a couple other interesting presentations talking about the difficulties of translating music lyrics between Guarani and Spanish, and a famous television personality talking about how he was the first to try and run a Guarani-speaking professional television program that wasn't purely dedicated to just folklore stuff but actually run news stories. After 15 years, he's still not on prime air-time and is constantly fighting with the linguistic academics that tell him he is wrong to speak the colloquial Guarani and should work to integrate the neologisms and 'pure' Guarani into his show even though the majority of Paraguay refuses to use it in their homes.

OK, I should end this long-windedness. I'll end on a high note. Both of the local magazines--well one claims to be a "newspaper" but it only comes out once a month or every other month and is printed in color in a magazine-size format and full of advertisements--anyway both of them featured me in their magazines! And, after a few drafts I was actually successful in getting them to not only spell MY name right, but also that of Fulbright and Brigham Young University--a huge achievement if you have any idea what is like trying to get those into Spanish....even in writing it out for them it just doesn't make sense in Spanish so things eventually get Spanish-ified. But, I really like both sets of groups working on these magazines and it was a real honor that they would take time and effort to include me in their issues. the Folklore magazine didn't even edit what i turned into him but did a full-page spread complete with pictgures of me in his office posingly reading his magazine and then hunched over working on my nanduti. One had asked me a while ago to do a write-up on what the socio-cultural atmosphere of Itaugua was, according to an anthropologist. I wrote up a pretty open commentary based on quotes from the residents and left the end saying I would leave it up to the itauguenos analyze their community. The other "newspaper" did an informal interview with me and asked about why I was here and what I was doing. I had to laugh in a way because I've known the guys since January and they never asked me to do anything until now and just as I am finishing my time they are highlighting me as "person of the month." But, at least it was a good chance to put a plug in for the book!

so, there you have the full circle. I hope everyone is enjoying the last snow of the season and the strenghtening of the spring weather. Lots of love to everyone!!

back from buenos aires

OK so as not to confuse you, I had forgotten to upload some of these photos from Aregua last time I logged on, so I'm tacking them on the beginnning here...but they happened a while ago. I then went to Argentina on the 6th for the regional conference and that is where the rest of the pictures come from...if you're confused, just enjoy the pictures but think too much about where they come from.






looking out my bedroom window at a really beautiful sunset...sorry about the fence and buildings in the way, but hey, cool sunset right?

















these are from a weekend side trip to Aregua with some local friends...they told me to look "cute" and you can decide if I succeeded...















this is one of the Fransiscan churches in the area...really impressive















Suzanne this one's for you!!






























me posing with a really creative shirt adorned with cheap nanduti, but innovative enough to merit a picture
















Amazing ceramic designs fill the road across Aregua--i bought the missing flower pots in the foreground...
















taking time to get to know each other while we were visiting an Argentine 'estancia' or private ranch. the girl in the middle, Maya, is working in Chile, while i had just finished some real bonding conversations with Jaein on the other side--of Korean descent but grew up in Paraguay and is now working in Buenos Aires














me riding horses....how I miss that!! but they wouldn't let us do more than a slow walk. :(














Me and my new best friend Sarita Role--studying with me in paraguay but working at an agricultural school up in the Chaco region.















meeting back up with old friends at a pizza joint














this is one of my many new boyfriends--a muchacho I like to call Mario the pizza guy, guardian of the corner shop La Americana or "the American" restaurant that only serves empanadas and pizza.


















we went on a visit to the American embassy and got a short visit with the current ambassador, Wayne. Amazingly diplomatic and talented in talking for half an hour without saying anything, but interesting nonetheless


















if you've never seen a tango show, it's almost worth the $1500 plane ticket to go to Argentina to see one! Unfortunately this particular show wasn't my favorite, but still a good night out.










































An artisan market in one of the only colonial remnants of urban Buenos Aires--San Telmo. Visiting San Telmo comes complete with plenty of English-speaking gringos, cheap trickets and fine art, pickpockets, and tango street dancers all rushing around in an otherwise traffic-ridden thoroughfare. I had a hilarious incident watching a fat linen-donning, sunburnt American lean over the merchandise and ask, in English "How much?" and when the vendor didn't under the question, begin to wave her arms around the objects and saying much louder and much slower, again in English "HOW MUCH??" and then when the vendor guessed she was asking about prices told her "ocho" or "eight" which she then repeated loudly and slowly to the vendor "eight pesos?? EIGHT pesos??" When the body signals and the price inquiries apparently didn't conform to her budget expenses, she started walking away saying "this really shouldn't be that difficult--doesn't anyone speak English around here??" Ah sometimes i hate tourists. Wait, let me change that, most of the time I hate tourists...














then, low and behold, in the middle of the San Telmo artisan market, i ran across some very interesting...nanduti!! I asked the guy where he had learned to make it and after correctly identifying it as nanduti, he told me that he had learned in a local high school where they were teaching various weaving techniques. a great find to show the versatility and growing "web" of influence of this artform. I thought I was going to Buenos Aires to get away from work, but found some great new information!















These are some fun candid pictures taken in Recoleta Cementery when one of the other students was going through "camera withdrawal" and so I lent him my camera. I have no idea what we were looking at, but apparently it must have been quite perplexing as the tour guide and one of the advisors scratch their heads in contemplation...




















Meeting with some of my good friends from the Juncal ward in Buenos Aires...and a surprise visit from Elder Salazar. He is from the same home stake as my companion's then-boyfriend now husband from Bahia Blanca. Long story, but just an interesting connection. He had been serving in Bs. As. while i was there, but I can't honestly remember what we had talked about when I had met him before, he is going home in 2 months and was really excited to see me again after a year. Ah, young missionaries. What are you to do with them?















Hey everyone!! I am just getting back into Paraguay after a whirlwind Fulbrighter-filled tour of Buenos Aires. It was a great conference and, in getting to know the rest of the Fulbrighters in the area, I really gained an appreciation for what this program is all about. students from Argentina, Chile, Brazil, and Uruguay joined with our small cohort of 3 students in Paraguay for a rocking week full of presentations, sight-seeing, project discussions, partying out, and networking. I got to meet some other great researchers and it was amazing to see how diverse their topics and expertises were--from Marine Biology in Chile to public health projects in the slums of Brazil to measuring distances to nearby galaxies. Interesting people, lots of good food, pampering in a hotel, and more English than I've spoken in the past 6 months. I also made fantastic friends especially with another girl Sarita who has been here in Paraguay but because of distance and schedules we never met up but ended up having some incredibly thought-provoking, humbling, and life-changing conversations on the various bus rides and airpline rides throughout the trip. I also connected with an adorably energetic girl of Korean descent who grew up in Paraguay but then went to the States and is now studying Korean populations in Buenos Aires Argentina. I felt so at home with the group and it was an emotional, spiritual, and cultural retreat from months of frustration and isolation and really helped me to kick back into the larger picture and working to integrate my experiences into the overall macrocosmos rather than getting sucked into only seeing my local experiences as reality. It was fun to talk about nanduti too and actually see that i had worthwhile observations to contribute and find out that most of them had never heard of, let alone learned about this artform. It really energizes me to keep going with my work and get something more concrete and published for others to enjoy.

i also took advantage of my stay to reconnect with old friends from Buenos Aires and thoroughly enjoyed going out to lunch and dinner with old buddies. I got to B.A. on Sunday just in time for the second day of Conference, and dared myself to actually attend the meetings at the Stake Center, knowing without a doubt that Fernando would be there and afraid of how I migh react in seeing him after breaking up last year. But, I managed to let him see me without actually having a single conversation with him and I'm sure the gossip will fly in the next couple weeks about how I came back to Argentina and didn't even say hi to the twerp. ah, the drama.

Otherwise, things are great. I am excited to finish up my last month and a half here in Paraguay if i can get all the logistics worked out for graduate school and all. enjoy the pics!! Love you all tons!!

Kristine