Smoke rings

Arabs are everywhere in Ciudad del Este. Lebanese and Syria merchants control most of the major commercial businesses (import/export)...well, those that aren't owned by Koreans and Taiwanese. So it is a great city to get excellent falafel. And buy a hookah, of course!

This morning I went downtown (accompanied by Christine) to buy a new radio for my car at one of the big shopping gallerias. The credit adjusters for Fundación Paraguaya had been heckling me for awhile about my car radio not working (very sad! especially for the long trips out to Km 8 Acaray for meetings). I was skeptical that anything could be heard over the un-muffled roar of the "fusca's" air-cooled engine, but was game to try, especially since I'd checked prices and a radio with CD player/MP3 player/removable face/&c came out to between $40-60. So not a terribly big investment, and Zayda was desperate for some car tunes, so what the heck.

So we went to "Jebai Center" in the heart of downtown. The sidewalks are a maze of tarp-covered precarious tables with street vendors hawking everything from clothes to watches to power saws to pirated DVDs to stolen cell phones to knock-off handbags. Pushing our way through the throng, we finally found the entrance to Jebai Center, down a narrow passageway clogged with boxes full of electronics and people pushing their way in or out through a cramped corridor. Once inside, the maze of little booths and shops was overwhelming, especially since here and there would be groups of men pulling a stack of Sony PlayStation consoles out of their boxes and stacking the units in plastic garbage bags, or dollies piled high with Yamaha electronic keyboards. And of course food vendors wending in and out of the crowd with steaming pots of paraguayan stew and plates stacked with yucca. We wandered for a bit, looking in vain for the place where I'd found the radios on a previous recon mission. Upstairs the building was even shabbier, with gaping holes in the floor that exposed the steel struts and gave you a disconcerting view of the tops of people's heads in the floor below. And the businesses got shadier and shadier too...with the top floor comprised mostly of little stands that will unlock (and/or fence) a coded cell phone--probably stolen--for a few bucks.

So we went back downstairs and the businesses seemed a lot cleaner, with gleaming white tile floors and more Brazilian compratouristas (buyer-tourists) there to make purchases in the electronics stores. And I found a place that exclusively sold radios, and had the same brand that I'd priced before. So I made my purchase and paid at the teller, who handed me my receipt (and was happy to take US$), and showed me where to go pick up my purchase...a short ways away at a place with the name "electro-mundo" or something like that. Went to get my radio and noticed that the shop next door had "refurbished" (i.e. euphemism for quasi-legal) cell phones...and a glass case full of hookahs: yes! What a combination! So, thinking that 'when in Rome, do as the Romans,' as it were, I acquired a hookah, classic "two apples" tobacco, and charcoal. And went home to practice blowing smoke rings--exciting! Maybe I'll order kafta and hummus from the little Lebanese restaurant down the street to snack on while I smoke my hookah!