Machucando el Micro ::: Crushing the Bus

Friday began with great excitement – our tech classes had finally begun. Building a fence out of bamboo, creating a demo vegetable garden, and meeting the baby chicks that we will use for training are just a few of the activities that we ag (agriculture) folks completed over Friday and Saturday. Our training manuals are finally in our hands and we all perused the golden pages with delight and curiosity. I'm most elated for the chapters on beekeeping, agroforestry, and small animal husbandry. AHH! My heart rate has exponentially increased just thinking about the amazing future that awaits.

With the fluttering of my eyes and removal of my earplugs I realize it is Sunday. My arch-nemesis disturbs my attempts to fall back into my dreams. Ur-oo-ur-oo-RUUUU! Part of me – the evil part – wishes that our dog, Osama, will eat him tonight, like he murdered a poor hen a few nights passed. I immediately get up and begin washing clothes. The clothes washing station is undesirable so I choose to complete the task in our bathroom sink. Soak two t-shirts, lather with a bar of detergent, and scrub, scrub, scrub. Remove as much of the soap as I can and spot a free space on the clothes line. Repeat with three pairs of dirty socks.

After lunch it is time to face my fear – riding the bus. The experience has been discussed at length in our group and last week we were shown photos of people piled into the door and hanging off. Apparently Chicago rush hour has nothing on Paraguay. We are meeting other trainees for a game of soccer and two micros stand in my way. Jason and I follow a Paraguayan onto the first bus and are quickly at the half way point. Now to transfer to the second bus, or micro as they are called here. The first bus passes and Jason and I stand there with flies in our mouths. Damn. Alright, I decide I will not let the second bus get the best of me. When we see it coming we both stick our arm out and do the three finger wave. No luck, the bus zooms passed us with no regard. After an hour of bus riding and walking 2 miles we arrive at the field. Vole! I love volleyball! A bunch of trainees have started a game while the vast majority play soccer. At one point about 25 trainees are huddled together, drinking beer, talking, and most notably drinking water from Nalgene bottles. A line of community members stand against the fence and watch us as though we are in the American exhibit at the zoo. I can't stop looking at them looking at us. After a few hours of chatting and playing in the north sun, we found ourselves awaiting the bus. We are able to catch the first one, barely. Jason is hanging halfway out the door. Immediately after getting on Jason is asked by the driver to move to the back door. I find myself alone standing in the front entrance of the bus, only a few steps away from the asphalt. I look out and watch small tiendas, cows, and trees flash passed in ephemeral images. The warm air collides with my face and my hair dances in the wind. It's absolute contentment – except for the residual amounts of diesel exhaust that assault my nose.

We arrive home and I immediately assist my sister with dinner. Tonight we make empanadas. The task is arduous and time consuming. Cook the veggies, add the meat, spoon them out into a flattened circle of dough, fold over, and smoosh, smoosh, smoosh the edges with a fork. Deep fry 25 empanadas one at a time to conserve oil. Now I know how to make this tasty meal and Jason is a happy man. I help clean the dishes after cooking. “How hardworking!” My mom tells me. I respond, “Sometimes.” I don't think I'm deserving of that adjective...not yet anyways. Maybe tomorrow.

Tech training with our leader Brian and PCV Bryce. In this photo we're learning how to make a tablon, or raised bed.

Taking the skills we learned and applying them. The soil here is mostly comprised of red clay and sand. It's very hard to dig.

Walking from the school to the garden.

Our first view of the chicken pen!

Baby Chicks! We're going to learn how to raise them, and I believe slaughter and clean them as well. 

My first time ever holding a chick. Soon I'll learn how to handle them as chickens!

The "school" -- it's really just a very nice house that PC is renting-- where we practice language and tech skills at our satellite site.