An Exciting Road Trip and More Asuncion

Recent chilly and rainy weather gave us time to stay in and figure out how to get around Paraguay. We needed to decide, should we play it safe and hire several costly and time-consuming tours with guides or drivers, or can we explore other parts of Paraguay independently.  We made a visit to a local rental car agency to confirm the requirements for hiring a car here.  Online investigations said we need an international driver’s license – easily obtained online for $70.  But in-person consults said, no, only a valid US driver’s license, credit card, and purchase of premium insurance package is all that is needed.  A week’s rental of a 4-wheel drive vehicle including all the fees and a loaded insurance package costs a bit over $700.  After checking it all out, we went home and found we could rent the same type 4-wheel drive vehicle from National Rental Car online for far less money for the week.  Since we like to travel at our own pace and not have to follow set agendas, the decision was easy; let’s do this! 

We plotted our route, studying maps, time and distance, and places we might stay.  Most roads to districts and provinces outside of the two largest cities are unpaved.  The going will be slow.  For example, the distance between Villarrica and Cerro Akati is only 39 miles but the estimated time to drive is a little over an hour.  We have been told by several people that it’s important to keep an eye on the weather.  Dangerous surprise downpours frequently sweep vehicles off the road causing injury or even death.  The weather forecast for all of Paraguay looks good throughout next week but in any case, we will watch the weather and be on alert. 

 We are excited!  While we won’t make it to the Chaco, that whole sparsely populated region to the north and east of Asunsion, we will travel south to Encarnacion and then all the way east to Cuidad del Estes which is on the border with Brazil and Argentina.  Near there is Iguazu Falls and the great hydroelectric dam, the Itaipu. 

We spent two entire days figuring out the best route and where we might stay along the way.  We have a dozen or more sites, villages, parks, and lakes we plan to see during the week.  Right or wrong, it is all planned.   

With that chore done, we set out to see what else we could find in Asuncion.   

Navy man Stan wanted to inspect the Asuncion River Port.  We hopped a bus toward downtown and were dropped off only a few blocks from the port on the Bahia of Rio Paraguay.  Surely there are days when this area is a hustling bustling place, but it was not that day.  It was like a ghost town.  We followed the port to the end of the facility seldom seeing another person and then explored nearby streets trying to find the point where the bay leads into the actual river.  After walking many streets we finally determined that none lead to the river bank.  

In our bumbling around town, we spent one afternoon in the Cementerio de la Recoleta.  This national cemetery originated in 1842. It was the first public cemetery in the city and is the burial site of presidents and people important in Paraguay’s history.   I’d never say Stan and I are morbid, but we do like to visit old cemeteries.  They give silent peeks into the lives and stories of many.  South American cemeteries are more than a field of graves and headstones. Typically, they are a collection of ornate mausoleums on narrow paved alleys that crisscross the area like a small city.  The architectural and antique aspects of the tombs can be quite fascinating.  Touching messages inscribed in marble and metal plates from grieving families to their lost loved ones are sometimes affixed to the building.  And sculptures decorating some family graves are as beautiful and fine as statues in an art museum.  One of the things that struck us about this old place is the change time has brought about.  Many elaborately decorated and quite large family grave houses are now crumbling, on some the glass windows on the door are broken, coffins on the inside are dusty, and in many, their plaster ceilings have fallen in. The expense and effort some families invested years ago to honor their loved ones and preserve their memory must have been tremendous.  Now though, younger generations simply don’t care or can no longer afford their upkeep.   The built-in vases that devoted grieving families intended to keep filled with flowers eternally are cracked and broken.  These are stories in themselves. 

As an indication of our less-than-busy schedule, we put in 6 six miles one day searching for a simple bottle of hydrogen peroxide.  We checked the stock at numerous pharmacies.  No hydrogen peroxide.  In one store both pharmacists on duty stopped their work and tried to help us.  One went online and excitedly showed us a photo of a product that translated to hydrogen peroxide,  Yes, Agua Oxigenada Desinfectante is what we need.  They suggested we try a supermarket.  That made sense.  That’s where the product is usually found but not in the supermarkets we had already checked.  A little online research pointed us to the Super Seis Hypermarket, another two miles from us.  Yep, the site showed it in stock.  We thought, hey maybe that’s the key . . . a bigger store might have it.  

The weather turned cold with a high of about 55 degrees and strong wind, but we were on a mission.  We put on our coats and marched ourselves to Super Seis.  Yes, we could have UBERed or taken a bus but as we often say, “What else have you got to do?”  We walked on.  Like a Super Kroger, this Super Seis had everything . . .  dishes, cookware, hardware, clothing, and foods galore, but no hydrogen peroxide.  They did, however, just as their website said, have Aqua Oxigenada Cremosa, but that is hair bleach!!!  That common disinfectant and stain remover we all know is just not here.   

On another day, with little left on our Asuncion exploration agenda, I talked Stan into returning to Mercado 4 – that crazy marketplace we passed a few days ago.  This time we went in the middle of the day expecting fewer and more sedate crowds.  That worked perfectly. 

This place is big.  I couldn’t guess the number of streets it covers.  On this trip, we did not feel threatened in the least, but we did secure our wallets and cell phones in our jacket zip-up pockets just to be sure.  Shoppers buy everything there, long alleyways have stalls that sell nothing but shoes.  Some offer nothing but paper products and cleaning supplies, others sell leather goods like belts and backpacks; while others sell clothing.  Of course, right next to bins of fruit and vegetables, fish, and meats, there were countless booths selling cell phone accessories.  We did not buy anything.   

Our presence in a place like that is obvious.  People take notice; clearly, we do not blend in. Several people asked where we were from and welcomed us.  They all want to shake our hands or at least greet us kindly.  Several asked how we like Paraguay, how long we will be here and if we like the food.  Some even told us how they dream of visiting the USA someday.  That always melts my heart . . . and reminds me we do have something they can only dream about.  But I also remind myself, while we work hard to maintain it, we did nothing to earn it.  When God created us, how fortunate we were that our souls popped out in squirmy, infant bodies in the USA.  I don’t think He makes a conscious decision as to where each soul might exist when he gives it human form.  Quite randomly, I think, some of us are born in a land of opportunity while others find themselves born in the neighborhood of Asuncion’s Mercado Number 4. 

Inside the maze of stalls, people were cooking and serving food here and there.  The fragrance was enticing but Stan and I thought, no. Why take a chance?   But as we were leaving the area, we found ourselves on a side street that seemed to specialize in street food like hot chorizos, pollo, and cerdo steaks cooked on hot grills.  People were lined up to partake.  We sat down to delicious plates of pork chops with steamed yuka and new friends.  The food was pretty dang good.  Between customers, the young lady doing the cooking talked with us.  She spoke no English but she spoke Spanish carefully and slowly to us to help us understand.  While we didn’t get 100% of the conversation, we muddled through and managed to communicate.  What a joy!  Soon everyone at the shop was watching, listening, smiling, and laughing with us as we found ways to connect. 

At the end of our visit to Mercado Numero 4, we bought nothing but that lunch and a beautiful melon.  We felt relieved that we still had our wallets, rings, and phones but dag-nabbit, I lost our prepaid bus card along the way.  Luckily, it had only about $5 credit remaining on it and a store across the street sold new ones.  It hurt my pride that I was in charge of the card and lost it. Honestly, though, only one minute elapsed between the time I had it in my hand until I realized it was gone.  We immediately retraced our steps.  It was gone.  I think the last young man we chatted with and then proceeded to request a bit of change probably spotted it and snatched it up.  That’s ok.  We hope the card gets him where he needs to be.