The last couple of weeks have been pretty intense; with only 12 weeks of fieldwork left (and successive house guests, first a trio of interns from head office of Fundación Paraguaya in Asunción, and then Lucia's partner and 8 year old kid), I was feeling pretty wiped out from long days of interviews and hectic weekends. So when Luz and Juan called on Thursday and asked if I wanted to go with them to see the Jesuit ruins, I have to say that I was a bit ambivalent. What I *really* wanted to do was collapse on my couch with a book, a mug of tea, the cat, and the blissful quiet of an empty apartment. Especially since I had a mountain of fieldnotes to catch up on from the intense week of interviews and field visits, a day or two to get organized seemed like a great idea. However, since much of the work of being an anthropologist is (1) being as friendly and social as possible, and (2) getting to know daily life in Paraguay...it seemed like I would regret turning down the opportunity. And I had hardly left Ciudad del Este and Asunción. And everybody told me that the Jesuit ruins were the main tourist attraction in Paraguay. All good reasons to go to the ruins, I told myself. So I called Luz and told her that I would be delighted to come with them. "Great! We'll pick you up at noonish on Saturday."
So...typical Paraguayan planning...I don't hear a peep from them until Juan calls at 1:00pm on Saturday and asks if I still want to go...tells me to be ready in an hour. So I pack a bag, bring a pillow and a blanket, and wait for them to fetch me. We finally hit the road around 2:15...and get to the ruins right as it is getting dark. A beautiful sunset, but it meant a rather abbreviated trip through the old Jesuit mission. Which is alright since there isn't actually *that* much to see (I think that they offer tour guides to walk you through the grounds, but there isn't much of the original buildings left). So we wandered around for about 20 minutes and remarked at how difficult it must have been to build these cathedrals back them (good thing the Jesuits had 3,000 indios who spent three days working in the fields each week to feed their families, and three days "working for God"...get's cathedrals built darn quickly!). So, 5:30 and on the road again. It turns out that the Jesuit ruins, instead of being the highlight of the trip, were really just on the way to Juan's natal town of San Ignacio, another two hours down the road. And since last weekend was Mothers Day in Paraguay, he had planned a shindig for his mom and the many female aunts that lived closeby. So on the way, we picked up the singer/guitarist that was supposed to serenade Doña Linda...a case of wine...(in 1.5L bottles...close enough to wine vinegar that most guests preferred to mix equal parts with Cola or Guarana soda, eek!)...and arrived with the party in-tow! Dancing and revelry ensued, of course. And I got a lesson on how to make Mbeju (yucca starch/lard/cheese grilled flatbreads) from Ña Linda...and began what was to be a very taxing few days for my poor stomach. The other speciality on the menu was "pig roll" (enrollado de cerdo), a paraguayan delicacy that I had been told about but wasn't too eager to try: viz., boiled pig skin wrapped around stuffed pig large intestine, filled with pig fat and boiled pig meat...the whole thing tied up and boiled until it was cooked, and then pressed and chilled, then sliced and eaten cold. I'm usually a trooper when it comes to weird foods, but just the smell alone turned my stomach. Managed to keep the gag reflex in check and keep down one slice...with a chaser of grilled grease/starch flatbread. Mmmm! The wine and coke mix started to sound pretty appealing to cleanse my palate! The best part is that Luz saw the "pig roll" and exclaimed, "oh great! My favorite!"...and proceeded to scarf nearly the whole thing. Which got me off the hook for most of it...I only had to eat one slice.
Exhausted, we made it to the farm where Juan's sister Gloria and her husband were caretakers/groundskeepers when the patrón wasn't in town. And collapsed on a bed (shared a room with Ña Linda, who came along for the weekend)...
...and awoke early to the sounds of a full brass band and crowd of people outside. "Buenos días" indeed! Turns out that it was the local saint's day, and there was a procession to take it from it's little sanctuary to the church. So they loaded the little wooden saint up on a cart, had a full gaucho escort, dancers, a band...so much excitement! And an interesting wakeup call to say the least! Grandma Linda drags me (and my camera) outside to take photos because several of her grandchildren were taking part in the festivities ("that one on the horse is my grandson!," she waves excitedly, "I don't remember his name, I've got so many, wait what was it, Nelson? Celso? But he's definitely my grandson, I know that!"...and he and I both look embarrassed and I snap a few photos and Ña Linda elbows me in the ribs and flashes a satisfied--and conspiratorial--smile). So after breakfast of leftover Mbeju and a sugary yerba mate and milk drink called cocido (definitely the sort of food that will keep you going all day in the fields!), it was off to work to prepare for party #2 (when the relatives come in from out of town, it's a BIG deal!). Luz and Juan commented that I'd prepared duck for them once at a dinner soiree...and claimed that I was an expert cook. And Gloria looked at them...and looked at me...and said, "well, we have ducks here on the farm..." So off we went to select our dinner from the chicken coup. And I did my level best to make the half-remembered recipe from Gourmet magazine translate to a pot, two ducks, a wood-burning fire-pit, and lots of mouths to feed. This was definitely not going to be the duck l'orange that I'd prepared (in my kitchen) for a dinner party of five guests! But there is something satisfying about seeing things all the way through from start to finish (starting with live poultry and firewood...and ending with a delicious pot of, well, something approximating duck stew). I've also never killed, plucked, and cleaned a duck before. But I guess there's a first time for everything! Oh, also got conscripted to make an apple pie for dessert (Luz wanted cake, but I told her that pie offered fewer variables that would spell pastry-disaster...chocolate ganache over a firepit sounded like too much!). The paraguayans were initially skeptical, but who can really say no to good 'olefashioned apple pie? :)
Speaking of a skill set for country girls...spent the next morning learning how to milk a cow (it'll take some practice to get the technique down, but I'm pleased with my first attempt--hey, at least I got something!--even if Gloria spent most of the time smirking at, what to her must have appeared to be a rather feeble effort). At first I couldn't tell what she wanted to show me, since the term for "milking" in Spanish is apparently ordeñar, which I had heard at ordenar (to order, organized)...and thought Gloria wanted me to organize the cows, herd them maybe? Sure! Where's my pony?! So when out she came with a bucket and a lasso, I was terribly confused. But heck, ordeñar, ordenar...either way I'll give it a try! Anyhow, so after breakfast (of cocido with *very* fresh cow milk) more running around between the pubic notary, the records office, the municipality, stop-off at the cemetery to pay respects to Juan's father, lunch of bori bori (maize-flower-dumpling-stew...more hearty food, my poor stomach!)...we finally got on the road for the looooong drive back to Ciudad del Este.
The local medicine woman (Juan's aunt Celsa) read my palm and told me that I would be back in San Ignacio to visit her [she also said that I was destined to have three kids...so I'm a bit skeptical of her prognostications...], but I suppose you never know! If so, I'll be sure to hone my cow-milking-skills!
In any event...here is a photo-documentary of my excursion to the countryside:
(but I sure am glad to be back in front of my heater, with the cat, and some down-time to catch my breath. Phew!)
No comments:
Post a Comment