Iguazu Falls

Once you pay your entrance fee and enter on the Brazilian side a bus runs from the welcome center around the park making stops at some of the attractions. We got off the bus at the cataracts walk and as we stepped off we could already hear the falls – a light background noise which only increases as you get closer and closer to the falls. By the time you reach the end of the trail and are right up by the waterfall the power of the water makes so much noise you can’t even speak above it. There is nothing to do but be overwhelmed by the sight and sound of Iguazu Falls.

The trail heads down away from the road. You turn the corner and the first view of the falls opens up. Falls with an s is the correct word. This section seems as if it is made up of about 20 to 30 different waterfalls scattered across two different levels. The view is so impressive it is hard to believe that this is not even the most amazing part of the falls. Stand and stare for a while, take more pictures than should be necessary, move on. Luckily for us there are not many people there during the Thanksgiving weekend and we don’t have to battle for a good view. After just a few minutes in front of the falls I can already feel my stress melting away, being washed down river by the incessant passage of the water. Continue down the path and we follow along the side of the waterfall. Enjoying the views from every angle I am occasionally distracted by the butterflies, worms, spiders and quati. As we venture down the trail a bit more, the view of the waterfalls is obstructed by all of the trees but the sound gets steadily louder. Suddenly the view opens up again and I realize what had amazed me before wasn’t even the main part of the falls. Here is the widest falls I’ve ever seen with an enormous amount of power (no wonder the equivalent has been enough to power all of Paraguay and 50% of Brazil running only 1/5 of the year at Itapu Dam). The best part is the realization that the path leads out over the water and we will be able to get remarkably close to the water – right in front of it in fact. A goofy grin is on my face and it is as if I am a little high on the power of nature. And I truly do mean power. It is a bit like intruding on a bit of mystical magic from early days – as it does not seem that much could make any sort of difference in the view. It is out of time and one of those reminders of just how forceful nature can be. The view from right beside the falls, and then later up on an observation deck above the falls, does nothing to dissuade me. This is truly one of the most amazing things I’ve seen in my life. Grand, impressive, powerful and overwhelming in an entirely new way.

Would you like a straw with that?

One of the things I’ve noticed here is that I am quite often asked if I would like a straw with a drink that I have purchased. I don’t mean when I’m at a restaurant or sitting down (although that is normal as well). No, when I stop at a little corner store to pick up a drink because it is so hot out, as I am handed my change I am also usually given a straw. The other day I was at the grocery store and had bought a small bottle of orange juice. When I went to be my school bag from the bag check the woman behind the counter saw me pull out the bottle of juice and was quick to bring over a straw for me. I guess in some ways it makes sense. When you’re walking down the street it is easier to sip through a straw then drink from the bottle. You are much less likely to spill on yourself. But it also seems to me that the way most soft drink or bottled juice containers are designed now they form a small enough opening that you don’t really have to worry about excess liquid pouring out. The only time I haven’t been offered a straw is when I buy a bottle of water. I don’t know what makes the difference. Perhaps, it wouldn’t stain my clothes if I did make a mess? I’m not going to say I exactly understand the obsession with straws (does it all go back to the bombillo with the terere?) but I will probably continue to make use of them when they are offered. Just one more little Paraguay habit that I can incorporate into my life here.

Indian Dance

Last week I received an invitation by email to a night of classical and folk Indian dance. This occurs once a year in Asuncion, when the Indian ambassador, who is stationed in Buenos Aires, makes his visit to Paraguay. The embassy and the Indian community here go all out for the visit and are an excuse for me to get a bit of culture into my week, as well as some good food (as they also bring an Indian chef to the Hilton to prepare a week of “Indian food fest”). Having gone last year I was positive that I would take the time to go watch the dance this year. It is an excuse to step a bit out of Paraguay for a few hours. The steps leading to the venue sported colored rice designs. Candles flickered in the foyer. Waiters circled with Indian treats and drinks. Soon we were herded into the auditorium where traditional music and dance awaited us. With a steady rhythm pounding and a flute floating above, the night’s entertainment began. I sat enthralled by the women’s ability to control their bodies. Isolating body parts, holding awkward poses without falling, telling a story in their movement. I was able to escape my existence for a few hours as I became immersed in the dance and music on offer, a change from the traditional Paraguayan folkdance to a polka.

Election Day

Sunday was election day all around Paraguay. Cities and town were voting for their new mayor. The past weeks and months have been full of heavy campaigning for the vote. After asking several people I have found out some interesting tidbits about election day, at least here in Asuncion. Typically schools function as the voting places, even ASA managed to host the neighborhood vote (which meant we were informed that we would not be allowed on campus after 2pm on Saturday). I head through various people that a lot of effort is put into minimizing the congregation of people during the weekend of the election – groups were not allowed to actively campaign after Thursday (which has made for much quieter streets this weekend as recently I have been passed by at least one large vehicle bearing election propaganda and blaring music and advertisements every time I have walked around). Bars and restaurants are supposed to close down earlier this weekend (was it just Saturday, just Sunday, or both days? I really don’t know – the more answers I got the more questions I had!). When I went into the grocery store on Sunday the entire alcohol section was closed off with a sign notifying patrons that by law the store was not allowed to sell alcohol on the day of the election. It seems that they have made several attempts to keep things from getting out of control or bloody (perhaps a reflection of how unsettling changes of power in the country have been in the past – usually accomplished by killing the person currently in the position of power). All I know for sure is that Asuncion, and the other towns in Paraguay, should have a new mayor soon and that there is plethora of advertising plastered along the streets.

Country Artists

Past all of the traffic of Asuncion and San Lorenzo, through the town of Ita, take a left turn onto a country road. In the middle of, well, pretty much nowhere, we pulled over in front of a house. The sign outside read Arte en Barro. We had arrived at the workshop and home of a mother daughter pair of sculptors, Juana Martha Rodas and Julia Isidrez. Here they work with just the most basic of tools – clay, their hands and a simple firing oven – to produce pieces of artwork which have been recognized internationally. They each have their own unique style (I must admit to being personally attracted to the work of the daughter, Julia Isidrez) really the first arts I’ve seen in Paraguay that I can truly say that I like. This trip was the result of admiring some of the ceramics in my principal’s office and asking repeatedly if we could take a trip out to visit the artist. I finally hit upon a day when his wife was visiting and a plan to go take us out was soon in place. An hour drive took us to this small house where we were warmly welcomed by Julia and apologetically informed that Juana was not feel well today (we did get to meet her, a small old woman with sparkles in her eyes, before we left). We were encouraged to wander through the house, picking up and touching anything we wanted. Julia proudly unveiled a few wet pieces that she was working on, informing us that some of them were an order placed by the French Ambassador’s wife. Out back we found an overhang which housed a display of their work. Among the different types of work I, of course, fell in love with a few. After much debate and effort to discern which were my truly favorite I picked out three pieces – a large bowling ball sized piece which makes me giggle each time I look at it, a bowl with two dinosaur heads as handles and a smaller round animal. I realized that I preferred a definite style of their work, but was thrilled to find that I did love it! I had no idea of how much I might spend on these three pieces and in the end walked away feeling like not only did I end up with some artwork I love but I got an amazing deal on it (as I spent less than $20 total). What a worthwhile afternoon out it turned out to be!

Water

Water. What does it mean to you? How much do you take your water for granted. When you think of water, do you think of nature's bounty...streams, rivers, oceans, rainfall? Or do you think of the miracle you get out of the tap every time you turn the faucet? Do you realize just how lucky you are to have the miracle of plumbing? Can you even imagine what it would be like to live without running water? This past weekend I had my bathroom water shut off due to a pipe leak which lead to a substantial amount of water on the kitchen floor. Even though I all the other water in the house worked, and I just had to borrow another bathroom it seemed like such a major inconvenience. Which makes me question how in the world I ever dealt with having to haul my own water from a pump for two years while living in Guinea. My daily existence involved carrying 45 pounds of water on my head for 400 meters to about half a mile (I can honestly say that carrying on top of your head is the easiest way to carry that kind of weight that kind of distance), washing dishes in a bucket, taking a bath from a bucket, praying my water was clean as I didn't want to keep drinking bleached water, considering every possible way to conserve said water (it is amazing how little water you can use in a day if you try), hoping that really was the sound of thunder because it meant I could catch rainwater to use, all while trying to ensure I consumed 5-8 liters of clean water a day to balance out the heat.

I had it easy. I had a safe water source. I had a relatively close water source. I had closed container to carry my water in. Not everyone is that lucky. Did you know that every day in Africa women and children walk a combined total of 109 million hours to get water? Did you know that unsafe drinking water and lack of sanitation kills more people every year than all forms of violence, war included? Up to 42,000 each week? Did you know that the average American uses 159 gallons of water every day? Can you even think of all the times you are using that water? That makes the 2-4 gallons I used a day seem impossible How little do you think you could manage to use for just one day? Want more scary facts? Check this out.

It is blog action day. Start thinking about water, your access to it and others access to it. Consider what it would be like to be one of those others. Imagine how different your life would be. Consider action of some form.

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[Traveler’s Tale] A flag loving country

I have finally found a country which is as proud of its flag as Texas and flies it fondly. I find it a bit ironic that the flag is probably the most similar one possible to the Texas flag. Have you figured out what country I’m talking about yet? That’s right…Chile. I spent my short Spring Break (yes, remember I am in the Southern hemisphere…but too much talk of seasons just gets me confused so perhaps I should say my September Break) in Chile and honestly I have to say what caught my attention the most was the sheer number of flags that were flying. I’m not sure if this is usual or not. It could have been in solidarity with the miners stuck underground for way too long. It could have been due to them celebrating their bicentennial. All I know is that there were many a flag flying and it reminded me of home.

Honestly I didn’t see a whole lot of Chile. I decided to spend my time in the mountains outside of Santiago, in the Cajon de Maipo. I definitely picked a beautiful setting! The odd combination of snow capped mountains with cactus growing on the lower slopes (and occasionally odd views which didn’t seem like all the scenery should possibly be able to be seen from just one point). Two waterfalls hidden along a trail. Beautiful views of the water flowing through the bottom of the canyon. Bright orange wildflowers providing a splash of color. We even had our own cute little cabin, complete with fire burning stove (which by the end of four days I learned to light). It was almost exactly what I was looking for – an escape from the city, hiking, beautiful scenery and plenty of time to sleep and play cribbage. The four days was just enough to wet my appetite to explore Chile more in the future. I am sure I will be going back at some point.

An afternoon outing

One of my goals for this year is to get out and explore pieces of Asuncion and close by towns (those within city bus service range) more. I suspect it is going to be quite a bit of asking around for things worth checking out and just going places for the experience since even the Lonely Planet guidebook only dedicates about 1 page to things to see in Asuncion and maybe 2 pages to things around Asuncion. (shame of them, I know there is more here then that!)

My first outing in fulfilling this quest was an afternoon in the town of San Lorenzo. In some ways I would hesitate to call it a town, as it is solid city from where I live to where we got off the bus. However, I am sure that at some point in its history it was a separate town that nowadays has just been consumed by Asuncion’s urban sprawl. Why San Lorenzo? I was asked that several times when people were discussing how they were going to use their weekend. I prefer to think, “Why not San Lorenzo?” I have been by the area several times in a bus and have always noticed the large cathedral sitting in the central square. Despite it being city all the way there I also knew that for some reason driving through San Lorenzo just felt different. Different enough that I wanted to go and see if I could figure out what made it that way.

We got off the bus at the main square in San Lorenzo. Easily recognizable by the cathedral looming over every other building (and yes it is a cathedral, because it turns out that San Lorenzo, despite being only about 15-20 km from Asuncion, is a different dioceses). At first it didn’t look like we’d be able to get into the church, but experience has taught me that you can’t say something is closed until you have walked completely around it. Sure enough, there was one gate open leading into the rose garden surrounding the cathedral, and since they were cleaning the church we got to spend a few minutes inside the soaring simple space. We probably enjoyed the peacefulness and sweet smells of the rose garden the most, a completely unexpected treat.

A wander around a few blocks of the town let us appreciate some of the old architecture which is lamentably not kept up. With a few coats of paint the downtown area could be quite cute. Down a side street to a green gate and we enter the park. A fitness park much like those in Asuncion, except for the duck pond in the middle (with these odd ducks that had balls above their beaks). The park stretched far enough that you could sit between the trees without hearing the traffic and feel like you really had gotten away from the city. Walking back to find the bus, we managed to walk through the Universidad Nacional de Asuncion (when you see guards, if you keep walking and look like you know what you are doing, they usually won’t stop you). It is a university that is still being built onto and has some interesting architectural features especially around its main entrance. So in a nutshell that is what there is to see San Lorenzo. A worthy half day escape from the Asuncion I frequent.

A run with security

Getting picked up for a run before I usually wake up for school just seems wrong. Especially since Asuncion is not a city that rises early on the weekends. I know, I know, we had to start earlier than normal as this year, for the bicentennial, they decided to have a marathon in addition to the traditional half-marathon and 10km runs. Have to give those poor people enough time to run all the way out to the airport and back (making use of all of the paved roads in Asuncion). The early morning, tranquil feel makes it all the more surprising when we get to the start and see just how much security has been organized for the event. What? It is just a run. And there has never been this much security before. There is a helicopter flying circles overhead. On the top of every building around the square are armed guards who look ready to use their rifles. There are three buses of policemen checking in and being set up in places, although at least some of them end up along the course to help control traffic. Enough of the armed guards stay to line the last 50 meters of the course though. What is going on?
As we line up in our designated starting area (marathon in the front with their red shirts, 10km (that’s me) in the middle in white, the blue shirted half marathoners bringing up the rear…look…it’s the Paraguayan flag!) I’m reminded that everything that goes on this year has something to do with the bicentennial. This run included. They’ve managed to get President Lugo to come out to give a speech and blow the opening horn. The President of the Republic of Paraguay. Just 100 meters or so from where I wait to begin my run. No wonder there is so much security! It also reminds me of just how small this country is if the president is the guest of honor at an early morning race. The run definitely has a different feel this year.
Can you pick the president out?
He's in the middle , of course, wearing glasses.

There is a bigger turnout and I enjoy the mix of Paraguayan colors as we wind our way for 6km through the downtown area (I believe we used every single paved road…happily avoiding the cobblestone ones). I’m distracted enough by the sites and people that I am almost surprised when I hit the half way mark. Turn out to be my fastest run in over a year (thanks in part I think to running in South Africa which was a good 1,500 meters higher up than Asuncion) and a different experience than I had expected. You never know what to expect when you show up at event here.

Unexpected Opportunities

Almost a month ago I headed downtown to go pick up my race packet for a run I had registered for. I wasn’t exactly sure where I was going having just been told the cross streets of where the race expo was. Street names which meant nothing to me. Even if I had spent 10 minutes pouring over a map and finding the streets (the one map I have of Asuncion doesn’t have anything resembling a street guide, and you need to realize that quite often streets change names as they cross over another major road making it that much more difficult to find a location on a map) I still wouldn’t have known anything about where we were heading besides the physical location. Well, it turns out that the expo was happening at the old train station in the middle of downtown, the train station that I have never before seen open. The train station that housed perhaps four trains (at most) although I think it was closer to two that ran on the one track that cut through Paraguay. (Interesting history this…you can read more although it is all in Spanish)

I was more excited to get to explore the old station with its custom wood line barriers than I was to pick up my race information. The station is a simple, yellow building with the high partly open roof that you would expect of a station. There are only two lines which enter the station so you wouldn’t call it big anywhere but here. However, you can touch a little bit of Paraguayan history in the building. One of the old engines is at an end of the building with very little to keep you from clambering aboard to get a feel for the iron machine. On each of the tracks two cabins sit parked where you can get a feel for the style the rich travelled in. A bar room in each, leather covered seats, the ornateness still limited by the dimensions of any railway car. Down a narrow hallway you can poke your head into some of the sleeper compartments (how far did the train go anyways? From what I can remember they were just short round trip journeys…but perhaps short isn’t ever a good description for a train journey) and check out the light fixtures, the bed and the “facilities.” It definitely makes me feel like I’m being introduced to a piece of a very different past. Touching this piece of Paraguayan history is made all the more interesting because currently there are no trains running in the country (that is right, even the bimonthly steam train trip between Asuncion and Aregua is currently stopped) making one wonder how much business the train station ever saw.

There is something in the air

There is something in the air, and I’m talking literally here. I don’t know what it is exactly. I’d say it was smoke from people burning for heat if it were winter. Wait a minute. It is winter. But I still don’t think that is what it is as the past week has been up in the 90s every day. No need for extra heat with sun like that. Perhaps it is an excess of dust in the sky? We haven’t had any rain in quite a while. Or perhaps there is some sort of large scale fire or industry that I don’t know anything about. All I know is that the air hasn’t been the easiest to breathe, but it has made for a gorgeous red sun. Only problem is that the sun has been red the entire day. In the morning walking to school, bright red sun. When I go for lunch, still red overhead. Walking home from school in the early evening, a lower more vibrant red. It is a bit eerie really. While I enjoy the color I wish I knew what was causing it or that at least a good rain storm would come along and clear out the air a bit.

A trip to the ballet

Wandering around the mall our eyes were caught by a poster on one of the shop windows. Ballet this weekend. This is one of the first times we’ve managed to find out about a cultural event earlier than the day of the event. We decide we should try to go. A talk with a saleswoman in the store reveals she doesn’t have any idea where we can buy tickets. Back to the poster. It has a phone number, which during the three days we try calling no one answers. It says something about it being the ballet for Universidad del Norte, contains an address for a bookstore, and is being held at the Municipal Theater. Out running errands with Kim the next day I manage to find the bookstore on the map just two blocks before the street. (A success of its own type.) We stop by, talk to a few people, and they say yes you could have bought the tickets here…only the bookstore is closed. It is after 12 on a Saturday. We go a bit farther downtown and decide we might as well stop at the theater and see if tickets can be bought there. By the time we find the front door we are pretty sure it is not going to work. Even though they are setting up inside the doors are not open and you can’t get to the ticket office. There is a woman outside that asks us if we want a ticket for the special performance which begins in 20 minutes (really? But there is no one here!) Plans for the rest of the day prevent us from taking the opportunity. Apparently even knowing that an event is happening doesn’t make it any easier to actually get to it.

Later that day when we’re running more errands in the mall we pass the small stand that sells tickets for random events around town. I say random, because they don’t ever seem to have posters or a listing up, and it all seems to depend upon you happening to know that something is going on. We decide to ask about the ballet tickets. Turns out they aren’t selling them either, however there is going to be a different ballet in town next weekend if we’re interested in that. Yes! Tickets in hand we are pleased that we’ve managed to find out about an event over a week ahead of time and already bought tickets. The night of the ballet we’re not really sure what to expect. None of the four of us that are going have ever been to the Municipal Theater. We show up at 7:45 for an 8:00 performance only to find a long line of people waiting at the doors, all holding tickets. Turns out so far they are only letting in the people who have special invitations right now. One benefit of going places with embassy personal is that they know people, and so somehow we follow a group of people in the side door. We’re in, having never had to actually show our ticket. Not that that means that there are any seats left at all in the theater. Major confusion in my mind. How can they sell tickets for and then not even have any seats left for the people that bought them. I guess one of my mistakes was assuming that buying a ticket would get me a seat, or even get me in the door (as I am sure that some of the people outside didn’t make it in). Right before the lights go out a man comes out carrying a stack of plastic chairs and maybe a third of the people standing manage to grab one to put in the aisles. The rest of us sit on the stairs or find a handy wall to lean against. Luckily for us, we manage to get three seats when a special guest doesn’t show up (also an advantage to being with a pregnant lady) so we aren’t going to be standing the whole night. Once the show begins I forget about the craziness of getting into the theater and sit back to enjoy the first bit of culture that I’ve enjoyed since arriving in Paraguay. We watch pairs of dancers from all over Latin America take the stage for their individual dances – from Brazil and Chile to Mexico and Ecuador, a mix of classical ballet and modern dance. I thoroughly enjoyed the evening and my bit of culture…but I’m not sure the entire theater experience has made me all that likely to try it again anytime soon, assuming I could find tickets to anything else.

Paraguayan Flag Day

Today and tomorrow, August 14 and 15, is Paraguayan flag day. Or so several of my students have told me. Huh. Flag day? I don't really know what that means, and none of my students have been able to tell me anything. The only applicable thing anyone has been able to tell me is that there are a lot of holidays in this country, and so of them have been canceled by the current president. A quick web search has revealed nothing about the holiday. Presumably it is to celebrate the flag, but I can find any connection to today and the history of the flag. The flag was first adopted on November 27, 1842 (which makes it one of the older flags around). The coat of arms on the front represents the date of Paraguay's independence (May 14, 1811). So I still don't know why today. But in my digging around I have found out quite a few other little tidbits about the flag. Did you know that Paraguay is just one of three countries that has a different design on the front and back of their flag (along with Moldova and Saudi Arabia)? I've finally figured out what the colors are supposed to represent. Red for courage, equality and patriotism. White for unity, purity and peace. Blue for liberty, benevolence and truth. The circle on the front contains the coat of arms. The back side the treasury seal. On the back you'll also find the national motto: Paz y Justica (Peace and Justice). So I might not know why the holiday is today, but at least it explains why there is a flag hanging out in the courtyard of the school today. If you even run across anything that explains why August 14 and 15 is flag day here in Paraguay, please let me know!

Strawberry Festival

It is strawberry season here in Paraguay, obviously as there are people selling strawberries on all the major street corners. That also means that it is time for the Strawberry Festival in Aregua, about 30 minutes outside of the city. Saturday we decided to take a little trip out to celebrate the strawberry season and see where the berries are grown that end up in our kitchen. I have to admit I expected a bit more out of the festival, but I’m willing to mark it down to showing up so late – almost 4:00. Perhaps there would have been more going on if we had gotten there in the middle of the day. Perhaps not though, as the festival seems to go on until the end of strawberry season, so maybe that can’t really do much more than what I saw for a month. The Aregua strawberry festival consisted of approximately 20 tents lined up on the side of road. Each tent seemed to belong to one family or grower and contained baskets of strawberries, whatever strawberry products they produced (jams, jellies, liquor, juice) as well as a selection of sweets (strawberry shortcake, strawberry alphahores, strawberry frozen icicle pops, strawberries and cream in a cup…). I’m sure you get the picture. I’m not going to say that there was a whole lot of variety but if you like the chance to pick what you think are the prettiest looking strawberries then this was a great place to be. With the added benefit of them being cheaper where they are grown than they are once they make it to Asuncion.

We browsed for about three quarters of an hour to the music blaring over the loud speaker before deciding that we had bought all that we wanted (1 ½ kilos of strawberries to take home for me) and that we really wanted to see where the berries were grown before we left. Strawberry fields could be found less than a hundred meters from where the festival was set up, and after gaining permission from an old man sitting by the side of the road we wandered down the dirt path between two sets of fields. Talk about a field with a view! Behind the six or so fields lined up we could catch glimpses of the lake and the palm trees. Making this one of the most picturesque places I’ve been in Paraguay. I was more intrigued by seeing how this fruit grows than the festival itself. Rows of dirt piled up, covered in plastic, with holes for the strawberry plants to grow up through. Dark green leaves next to dark canvas made the ripe red strawberries stand out and cause my mouth to start watering. Barbed wire fences to protect the fields from…cows? People? Homemade sheds along the edges acted as storage for boxes. When I saw one field being harvested by hand I had to be glad that it wasn’t my job and that I could just buy a basket of strawberries that were ready to eat. My back is thankful for that as well. It was interesting to see another side of life in Paraguay and I will eat my fresh, ripe, sweet strawberries with much greater appreciation now.

[Traveling Tale] Going on Safari

After three trips to South Africa I decided that I really did need to go on safari if this was going to be my last summer/winter there (yes, it is true, I’ve finished my program and now have my Master’s degree in education). Safari. The word brings up images of wild animals and a wilder environment. But other than that I can’t say that I really had any true idea of what a safari really meant. Honestly, it turns out that it is a lot of time spent staring out of the car window hoping your eye will catch a color that doesn’t quite blend in or that a scrap of movement will grab your gaze and cause you to speak up that you see…something…perhaps a cape buffalo? But interspersed with the almost hypnotic driving are moments of sheer wonder. When you catch some movement and realize that there is a rhinoceros just over there, and then your guide/driver manages to move the vehicle so that you are positioned to watch it emerge from the bushes and cross the road just in front you. When you see a pile of cars stopped in the road ahead of you and know they must be looking at something good, waiting impatiently for your chance, and then catching the movement and seeing, yes, it is a leopard. A leopard that desperately wants to cross the road but is nervous from the noises of some of the cars. Topping a hill and realizing all those spots you see are actually zebra grazing along the plain, and indeed they are all black and white striped including their manes (which still seems like an extremely odd color scheme for an animal, if you ask me). It is sitting at a water hole and watching a couple of hippos play around in the water. Then moving on to another one and seeing a single hippopotamus get his nap in the sun disturbed by some elephants and reluctantly splashing into the water for safety. It is breakfast after 3 hours in the car at a rest camp where a hippo family makes its way across the river, and bright yellow masked weavers snack on your breakfast bowl whether you are finished or not. It is counting yourself lucky that you’ve managed to see 4 of the big 5 (leopard, elephant, rhinoceros, cape buffalo) without much effort and even managed multiple sightings of most of them. It is your guide lamenting that because you’re not from here you don’t realize how rare and amazing of a sighting that is…the inyala…when it just looks like another antelope to you, admittedly with funny white spots that almost look like its eyes. And it is going out the last time hoping that maybe this time you’ll see a lion to complete your big 5 sightings. Staring intently out the window and find you are carrying on a monologue in your head “cat! Wait a minute. Did I just say cat? Oh my gosh…maybe it is a lion. Oh, oh, need to get him to stop the car and back up.” “Stop!” “What?” “I think I saw a cat. Back up. Back up. Right there!” And then to be even more excited when you realize that there are three young lions sitting not 10 feet from the side of the road. Sitting and smiling at you as if to say “we’ve been waiting for you.” So it turns out that a safari can have plenty of magical moments in between the staring out of a car window. And if you’re lucky you’ll see all that you’ve imagined including the giraffes, warthogs and baboons, along with a few things you’ve probably never even heard of.

Our safari was well organized by Wildlife Safaris and we were quite pleased with the tour we got out of it.

Blow that vuvuzela

On our way to the Ghana-Uruguay game Cairen decided that she wanted a vuvuzela so that she could fully participate in this South African World Cup. Quick bargaining occurred through the van window as we were stopped at a light and they soon came to an agreement that the yellow horn could be hers for 30 Rand (approximately $4). She quickly borrowed money to thrust it through the window as the car began to pull away with the green light. The street vendor was jogging alongside to make sure that he was able to finish the transaction. This was the first hint as to just what our experience might involve. Cairen began practicing her blows on the vuvuzela, sounding a bit like a dying elephant in the process. There is more skill involved than you would think! She continued to practice all the way to the game so that she could be read to join in the noise making.

Before the game I was struggling to decide whether I would be supporting Ghana or Uruguay. After all I’ve been to both countries and been pleased with visits to them both. I was not sure that I could choose between them (which at least has an advantage of not being upset no matter the final result). As we entered the train station I began to realize that there really wasn’t much of a choice to be had. If I didn’t want to stand out to badly I was going to be supporting the Black Stars of Ghana, the team that carried the “last hope for Africa” this World Cup. The train station held a steady stream of fans that were clearly headed…well…I assume to a train. We got caught up in the stream and followed the flow down the stairs, along a platform to await a train that would soon be stuffed headed directly towards Soccer City Stadium. The train was filled with energetic supporters of Ghana excited to be heading to a game. At times spontaneous chants broke out quickly involving the entire car. One man added rhythm with his drums while another was making sure everyone was ready to show their support with Ghanaian inspired face paint. We were off to the game!

Reaching the stadium a sense of anticipation was in the air. People (the three of us included) were so excited to be there, ready to support a team and see a great game of football being played. Despite having nosebleed seats (3rd row from the top of the stadium) gained just two days before the match, I found my seat to provide an excellent overview of the field…and the fans. Sure enough I could pick out just two pockets of Uruguayan supporters, proudly delineated in their blue and white, while all the rest of the stadium were displaying the red, yellow and green for Ghana. There were numerous people waving flags, a girl sporting the best flag topped head gear, and even a group dressed up in Ghanaian colored caps and gowns escorting a full body painted fan. Elvis was even there!

I have to admit that I was quite often distracted from the game by the fans. Particularly when a free kick came up. Without fail this would bring about a steady, rhythmic blowing on the vuvuzelas by large amounts of people. And if you think the noise sounded steady and large on the television you have no idea what it was like in person. I just had to thank my lucky stars that there was no one directly behind me adding to the noise. What’s that? Ghana just scored! With seconds left in the half the crowd goes completely wild and I am pressed to consider the last time I’ve seen or heard such a celebration for a single goal in a game. Frantic waving of flags. Jumping up and down. Loud blows of the vuvuzela. The African supporters are happy. Unfortunately the joy didn’t last until the end of the game, but despite the disappointment the crowd flowed out of the stadium pleased with how Ghana had represented themselves – marking their exclamations with quick toots of the vuvuzela. And you know what, by the end of the game Cairen was actually sounding just like all the others. All you have to do is keep on blowing that vuvuzela.

World Cup Excitement

The first of several posts on my World Cup experience around the globe.
When traffic came to a standstill with no signs of it starting to move again we paid our driver and jumped out of the car to finish walking to Ellis Park Stadium. It didn’t take long before the trickle of people turned into a steady stream which converged into a mass patiently waiting in line to go through security and have their tickets taken. You need not worry about finding the stadium the day of a game here in South Africa. You really can just follow all of the people. During the walk I found myself getting a big disgusted, all of the street vendors were selling Spain things! But worse, despite clearly wearing the red and white stripes of the Paraguayan jersey they were trying to sell me Spain gear! I don’t think so! I had already assumed that I would be one of the rare Paraguayan supporters at the match, the sales going on did nothing to dissuade me. Even once we entered into the park things were clearly unequal. The official fan shop was selling 7 different Spain shirts and just 2 for Paraguay. The other goodies…either Spain or South Africa. I guess it means that I’ll just have to cheer all that much harder for Paraguay once the game starts.

After exploring the grounds outside the stadium my friend and I parted ways to find out seats. When you buy last minute tickets you’re lucky enough to get tickets, don’t even think about them being together. We were on completely opposite sides of the stadium, but that’s okay. It just means we spread out the Paraguayan support a little bit more. Sure enough after I crawled over people to my seat I was the only Paraguayan supporter in my section. My friend had it a bit worse as he was surrounded by well decorated and enthusiastic Espana supporters. I think we may have been outnumbered by 1 to 1,000 around the stadium. My amusement came when people questioned me as to why I was cheering for Paraguay. The response of “I live there,” always brought a flat “oh.” They could never give me a good reason why they were cheering for Spain except for the claim that they were supposed to be the best in the world. One man told me it was the only jersey he could find, which after my observations on the way to the park I had to give some credit to. He was excited to help me wave my flag on occasion when I got especially enthusiastic.

Sitting a mere 14 rows away from the field I felt like I was in the middle of things. Watching them walk on and line up for the national anthem I could identify some of the players I've learned to recognize over the past month. After a team huddle the players took their position and the game began. I could easily read the numbers on the jerseys of the players and even felt like I could read their facial expressions at times. Before I knew it the whistle for half time blew, and I was left to consider the scoreless half while the dancer/cheerleaders came out to perform and Zakumi, the mascot for the World Cup, wandered around. With the start of the second half I was drawn back into the battle taking place on the field. I was caught up in the game most of the time but was occasionally distracted by the massive wave working its way around the stadium or a particularly coordinated blowing of vuvuzelas by the crowd. The stadium had such a great atmosphere that I could only think of how incredibly lucky I was to be there. Even though my evening’s story ended sadly with Paraguay’s 1-0 loss to Spain (impressing many people with their level of play along the way) I know that this will be one experience I will not soon forget.

playback

Living overseas I often head off to events not knowing what to expect or what exactly I’m getting myself into. Tuesday night was no exception. For a week my 10th grade students have been pestering me, “Ms C are you going to playback?” Playback? What in the world is that? I know part of their interest is the need for each of them to sell their tickets, after all this is a fundraiser for the sophomore class. But still, what is it? Words here and there tell me it is something about dance, or remaking a music video…in any case it should be a nice change from another fashion show or asado.

My friends and I show up at 7:30 for a show whose ticket said 7:00. We only have to wait another 15 minutes before the show starts (am I starting to adjust to Paraguayan time?). Soon enough the lights go down and the curtain rises at the Centro Paraguayo Japones. On stage is a group of black clad, teased hair girls. Above them on the screen is a video showing the same start. What continues on stage is their recreation of the dance video playing overhead. Ahh…that is what they mean by calling it “playback.” A group of five students from my school emerge next and proceed to dance to a hip hop mix. Perhaps what has occurred is a mix of playback and dance competition (although how you compare the two I’m not really sure). Next was my favorite, and the eventual winner, a playback which began with a conductor orchestrating three groups of dances around the stage. Add to the night a group of girls dressed in satin flight attendant costumes, another group which danced with barrels, a large group of women at work and a somewhat fireman inspired theme and you have an evening’s entertainment which is difficult to describe. I had to take some video to be able to fully convey the experience. In any case it was not my typical evening. I went to see what it was all about and ended up with quite the show! I’m left only be able to say so that is an ASA playback.

bus strike

There was a two day bus strike this week, and while all reports say that it ended up with some violence and many people upset I have to admit that I didn’t see much of a an effect, unless you count friends saying that the streets were much more crowded. Accounts say that 100 buses were seriously damaged and numerous people hurt. From what I can figure out this is not because people were upset the buses weren’t running, but because not all of the buses were on strike. Apparently the city buses around Asuncion are run by several companies and at least one of these companies did not participate in the strike. That would explain why I still saw some buses in the streets, and perhaps why I didn’t really notice there was a strike. From what I can figure out the bus drivers went on strike Thursday demanding a 15% wage increase and also requesting that the bus fair go up to 2,100Gs. That is approximately 50¢. What has been my biggest surprise is how little the strike seemed to affect my life. All of the workers made it to school and we didn’t even think about our maid not being able to get here until after she had come and gone for the day. There have perhaps been a few less people standing on the side of the street waiting for buses, and I have to wonder how much of an effect it had on businesses that depend on people who use public transportation here. I am also waiting to hear if there has been any change in the bus system thanks to this strike.

The Classico

A lot has been happening recently, I just haven't been able to find the time to write about it. Hopefully I'll be able to catch up on some of it this month.

A few weeks back I took the opportunity to have a “typical” Asuncion experience. Friends that are leaving at the end of the year wanted to go to the Classico – the biggest football rivalry in Asuncion, and the game that they say everyone needs to go to at least once. I figured I would take the opportunity to go with them and see what this Olimpia vs. Cerro rivalry is all about. It turns out that you can’t actually buy tickets at the stadium on game day. No worry, there are plenty of people trying to sell them on the streets. It took two men to come up with the 9 tickets we needed but there wasn’t too much of a mark up and we did have tickets in hand.

We entered the stadium a full hour before game time, to find that the stands were already almost full. We finally found seats close to the line of riot police that separated the Cerro and Olimpia fans. (Two lines of police with an empty section of seating between them). I did mention this is the biggest rivalry in the Paraguayan league, didn’t I? To the left of us there was a sea of black and white – the Olimpia fans – and to the right it was all red and blue – the Cerro fans. We were technically sitting in the Cerro section so I guess that means we were cheering for them if we wanted to cheer for anyone. (Never mind that we had all carefully chosen to wear colors not associated with either team.) The junior teams were playing but you could tell that everyone was just waiting for the real game. In the meantime I could take the time to appreciate the view out of the stadium, as we were up high enough to see the river beyond it, and shake my head at the amount of fan support each team had.

Soon enough it was game time. The officials walked out on the field and things got quiet. The announcer introduced the Olimpia team and as they stepped an entire half of the stadium erupted. Cheering, chanting, unfurling huge flags that cover an entire section of bleachers, and throwing white streamers onto the field. At one point it seemed as if the sky was a solid snake of white. And now the Cerro enter the field. The opposite side of the stadium is suddenly going crazy. Red and blue smoke pour forth, balloons are being waved, and I watch an enormous flag get unrolled over the heads of almost one fourth the stadium (How do they do that? I still don’t understand.). I began to realize that we had come as much to watch the fans as to watch the game. Perhaps that was a good thing, as it ended up as a zero – zero tie, with very few exciting moments. Although I might have missed some of the better moments when I was distracted by the crowd. We slipped out a few minutes before the end of the game to avoid the crowd and the possible craziness, however the scoreless result seemed to have kept things fairly calm. There is a part of me that wishes one of the teams would have scored just so I could have seen how their fans would react. (At least I’m not like one of my friends who has now been to three games in that stadium and not seen a single score.) In any event, it was definitely an experience.

For more about the history of this rivalry check out this FIFA article.

Time Change [a little late]

One of the things I find confusing about living in the southern hemisphere is keeping track of the time difference between here and home. I had it figured out for a while - it was a three hour time difference between here and Austin. Then, Austin went forward and we were only two hours apart. A few weeks late Asuncion fell back and then we were only one hour apart. Over the span of a month I had a three, two, and one hour difference in times. Huh? Some of this is because Asuncion and the US didn't change their clocks at the same time. I'm used to time changes being just a few days apart, figuring it was some archaic reason that didn't have every country changing their time the same day. (Of course this only holds up when I don't think about that fact that there are some states and countries that never change their clocks). This year it seemed a bit different. I couldn't help but realize that the government of a country plays a definite roll in this.


Yes, it seems that the president decided to delay moving the clocks back in order to save daylight and cut down on electricity needs in the country, due to the energy crisis. The energy crisis? There is one of those here? I mean, I remember one day when all of the electricity across the entire city went out - but that only happened once that I can recall. I haven't really seen a crisis, at least not like the rolling blackouts that are common in other places. So I had to do a bit of research to find out what was going on.

It turns out that originally Paraguay was due to change time on March 14th. Due to problems with energy transmission it was pushed back to April 11th. And yes, this was official – as declared by presidential decree 3958. It doesn’t seem that the problem which lead to this change is the available energy, more that the mechanics which transport the energy are old and breaking down. In fact, from what I’ve been able to understand Paraguay doesn’t particularly worry about available energy. After all 90% of its power is supplied by Itaipu Dam, the hydroelectric dam on the Parana River between Paraguay, Brazil and Argentina.

A different kind of run

As I bent down to tie my shoe and then collected my timing chip it started to sink in that this was going to be a different kind of run. Everyone around me was wearing the black tank of the race, most of them paired with dark shorts - all designed to have them blend in more. Yes, blend in - because this is not an ordinary race, it's the Asuncion Night Run. As I crack my glow stick to make it shine and wrap it around my wrist, I see that I can get sprayed by Off - probably a good idea as we're running around the botanical garden. Oh - and there I can get a longer glow stick - fun! Perhaps it will work as an arm band as I'm not sure I can handle having it flap around my neck.

As the countdown gets close to the start I test my headlamp (part of our entrance package) and make sure it is well positioned on my forehead (although it turns out it doesn't stay up very well when you're sweating and running). 5 -4-3-2-1...the runners count down to the clock and then a flurry of fireworks explode overhead signaling the start of the race. And we're off. Its packed pretty tightly to begin with, but I'm surprised at how quickly the runners get stretched out. And by just how necessary the headlamp is for lighting a circle of ground ahead of me so I can jump over tree roots and avoid the holes. When I feel confident enough to look up briefly its an eerie sight to see a long line of bobbing lights in the dark. If I didn't know better I might suspect a gathering of extraterrestrials in the woods. Instead I turn my head down again and focus on a patch of ground just a few steps ahead catching a glimpse of a couple of other circles of light ahead of me and think about what an experience this has turned out to be. A much more solitary, glowing experience than I ever expected.

[Traveling Tale] Colonia del Sacramento, Uruguay

You could be forgiven being surprised when I tell you I've actually spent the last week in Uruguay. It just seems that the only time I actually have to write about a vacation is when I'm on another one. The week of Semana Santa, the holy week before Easter, sees me with a week vacation from school. And of course, a week off means another opportunity to travel.

This time I decided to focus on two cities/towns - two days in Montevideo (which has been fairly uninspiring so you probably won't hear anything else about it) and the rest of the time in Colonia del Sacramento. A UNESCO world heritage site set along the banks of the Rio Plata, across from Buenos Aires, about all I knew before arriving was that it was an old colonial town. A part of me worried that it would be similar to Cartegena but except for sections of overflowing flowers that ended up not being true at all. Think cobblestone streets, an area of about six square blocks, every street running down to the white balustrade around the water. An old lighthouse, still functioning, where it only requires 118 stairs to get to the top. The oldest church in Uruguay (1680) surprisingly simple sitting next to a small square. Colorful sunsets over the water and harbor. Old stone buildings set next to taller tile and stucco houses. A wooden, golden spiral sculpture that called to my math teacher soul. Combine all that together with some pleasant green spaces and a population that doesn't hassle and you get a very pleasant place to unwind and relax for a few days.

[Traveling Tale]Cartegena, Colombia

You drive in with a strong surf pounding the rocks on your right and the old walls of the city rising on your left. Within moments I'm sure this is going to be a lovely place to explore. We got dropped off at Lucy's, a woman who runs a B&B out of her home without any advertising, accepting guests only on recommendation from previous guests. Instant enchantment when we walk through the heavy wooden doors. Behind them lies a flower filled courtyard complete with fish pond, turtles and parakeets. The doors to the rooms opening in from there. As soon as we can drop our stuff and finish our lemonade we are itching to leave and explore. Where to start? At the fort outside the walls jutting above the city? Along the top of the old walls beside the ocean? Past the convention center with its giant statues of Pegasus? The streets of the old city are to much of a draw and its there we spend most of our time wandering. Who wouldn't be captivated by the brightly colored houses, the tumbling flowers which cascade over balconies and make the streets seem enclosed? Or the fancy doorknockers and smooth lines of the taller buildings. Arched gates lead out of the old city but we're content to roam past churches, small squares and the clock tower. Really, who wouldn't be enchanted by Cartegena?

[Traveling Tale] Ciudad Perdida

Some people were curious, why are you making Colombia your first destination from Paraguay? Lets face it, Colombia doesn´t have the best reputation (although I felt perfectly safe there). One of my friends who lived there for five years lured me to visit with her with the idea of hiking up to Ciudad Perdida (the lost city). A quick search for some pictures convinced me that I could get into this 6 day hike and that the view at the end would be entirely worth it.

Ciudad Perdida is located high up on land that is controlled by the Kogi, one of Colombia´s four main indegenous groups. They strongly believe in protecting the environment and being stewards for their region (living a simple, quiet mostly agricultural life). Access to the area is limited and you can only go up through oneof the five tour companies that operates trips.

We lucked out with our chosen Turcol tour - only six people hiking, four from our group and one other couple. Add in the guide and a cook and we had a total of eight. The trip up was to take three days, and while some days really did require a lot of up, I don´t think we ever hiked more than five hours in one day. Making the whole trip a pretty pleasant experience, especially for a multi-day hike. The three days down went a bit faster, even if it was harder on my joints.

The challenge comes the third day when, after eight river crossings, you leave the river bed and begin climbing up the ancient stone steps laid into the mountain side. They claim its just 1200 of these up to the terraces. What they fail to mention is that those will only take you to the first lower terrace, and there is at least another 500 ahead of you to get to the main terraces. But it is worth it when you step up and see the main terrace ahead of you with a chain of about four more cut into the mountain side beyound. If you can ignore the presence of the military (there to protect the tourists) is seems magical. Calling you to explore and experience a small piece of this ancient communmity that laid stone pathways throughout the Sierra Nevadas. The site is a beautiful location set in the mountains where the mists roll in every evening to enclose you in a smaller world. But no matter what you might get distracted by you will always turn back to the terraces as if to assure yourself they are real and not something you imagined. Even as we started down, wandering past what they think was the quarry and additional smaller terraces, I know that I´ll leave here feeling as if I´ve had contact with a previous civilization. While I might enjoy being back down by the river and the peacefulness there, there is no doubt that the sight of the terraces on the mountaintop will be a lasting one in my memories.

[Traveling Tale] 24 hours in BA

What do you do when you have a 24 hour layover in Buenos Aires? Well, when that means you have to go through immigration, pay the $130 entrance visa and collect your luggage you might as well go into the city. Knowing this was coming (due to flights changing after booking my ticket) I had booked a bed in a hostel and proceeded to lug my two as-heavy-as-allowed suitcases carrying my goodies from the US up two flights of stairs. Happily relinquishing them to the luggage room I ask the front desk for a mapy of the city, mark the location of the hostel and set off to find the closest "sites of interest" marked on the map. This led me to a plaza with the Metropotian Cathedral (a very boxy church) on one side adn to la Casa Rosada, the pink house, at the far end. Now if you´ve seen the movie Evita you´ll recognize this building as being the place where speeches and presentation were made. You can see that it really is a dramatic backdrop. A circular loop takes me past the national congress, some other old buildings and the obelisk. That is enough for round one. Travelling has made me tired and I need a nap!

Awakening refreshed I decide to head a little father afield to one of the places everyone who visits mentions and make my way to Recoleta, the famous cemetery. Oh my. It is about one block large and it absolutely draws me in. I find myself happily taking pictures over the next hour and a half before closing time, drawn by the mix of regular and irregular lines on the above ground masoleums. Fascinated by decorative touches and all the statues of angles and women. A line around one corner tells me I´ve found the burial place of Eva Peron - covered n plaques but not located in a place of prime importance. I still feel as if I´ve encountered a piece of history. With a last lingering glance at this place that has let me escape the city amidst a mix of trnaquility and beauty, I head back to my bed knowing that if I had to have a long layover at least I´ve used it well. Perhaps next time I´ll manage to get more thatn 24 hours in BA.

My Thermos

I figured I needed to post an update about my terere thermos. When I got back from Christmas break it was waiting for me with a friend and I have to say that it turned out to be remarkably close to what I had imagined while putting together my order. The dark brown leather with a purple and a teal butterfly embroided on it (my only complaint is that the two butterflies are so far apart you can’t see them both at the same time). The stitching is a mix of teal and purple. I can delight over the little details that always have to be a part of a thermos with all the extras – a sleeve for my bombillo (straw/strainer) and for the wampa (the cup). Perhaps my favorite though is the wampa itself. Smaller, the design show up well with the butterfly standing out, and yes – it is made out of cow horn. Now I feel like I own my own little part of Paraguayan tradition.

Hinchada

Bam, bam. Rat at at a. The banging on the drums signal the start of another game at Intercolegial. I find the fans to be more fascinating than the games themselves. Never before have I seen this kind of fan support for high school teams just playing in a city tournament. At some games a school manages to fill over half of the bleachers with jumping, screaming students. Have I mentioned they have drums? Chants pour forth out of the group and at times it is hard to think much less hear anything that is going on on the floor. And the referee whistle? Forget it. Even if you could hear it you would still have difficulty distinguishing it from the whistles coming out of the stands. The hinchadas will all be color coordinated (school colors of course), most likely with some sort of face paint. Where I started to get overwhelmed was when they unfurled a flag that took every person to hold up and flutter, a flag that takes more than 10 people to just carry into the stands. These people have it together! Coordinated enough to get the flag over all of the students and often to have matching shirts, this level of planning is impressive. I’m not so amused by the fireworks going off (some even in the gym the final day of play), but it still amazes me the level of commitment they have to cheering. It doesn’t surprise me that it is part of every professional football game here, but for high school sports? It is so hard to describe you probably aren’t getting an accurate picture, so please, just take a look at the videos.

Intercollegial

All my students have been thinking about this past week is Intercollegial – a large sports tournament that occurs across Asuncion. Many of the private schools in the city host their own tournament, all called Intercollegial, ASA just happens to always host the first one. I’m not sure if they are all as big as this one, I doubt that they could be as I don’t think many other schools have the facilities that we have. This particular tournament is over two weekends (oh the joy, that means my students won’t be worth much this week either), has 20 schools competing, and includes 5 different sports (football, volleyball, basketball, futsal and handball). It is no wonder that all of our fields and courts have been pressed into use over the weekend. The tournament itself is not such a surprise to me, particularly when you take into account the Paraguayan love of sports. What has been a surprise is the number of people who turn up to watch the games (the guards estimated about 5,000 per day), the crazy cheering sections schools bring (more on that next week), and the amount of advertising that is on campus. There are booths covering our courtyard area and half of the parking lot, places where you can buy crocs, compete at dance revolution with a blue mascot, play air hockey at the cell phone provider tent, or buy food to snack on. When I was told it was big I never imagined it was going to take over the campus! My goal for the next week is to just try to keep my students somewhat focused until Friday, and then to enjoy watching sports again.

First Impressions (or second)

It seems funny to think about first impressions 6 months after first arriving but I felt as if that was exactly what I was getting when I flew into Asuncion in January. Perhaps a bit of time back at home and in Buenos Aires was enough to open my eyes. Flying in all I could think was green. There sure are a lot of trees in Asuncion. It really is quite a green city. My taxi driver was complaining about the traffic at 1:30 in the afternoon and while I have to admit there was some it still only took 30 minutes to get me home. I know its worse around 5:00 but you have to realize that nowhere in the city has more than two lanes in one direction. So the amount of traffic can’t begin to compare with the eight lanes of congestion you get in other cities. Asuncion really is a sleepy sort of capital city.

Houses are set close to the road; the idea of a front yard is not very practices. Houses jut up just past the sidewalk and the space is left for green in the more private backyards. I’m not sure if I would say there are individual lots, space is well used here and it seems that one building grows out of the walls of its neighbors – only wall color giving an indication as to where one ends and the next begins. What other differences will I notice as I continue to look around the city with my eyes actually opened now, instead of just focusing on my survival?