February 27, 2012
Oh, The Places You’ll Go
I’ve talked to you before about what it’s like to ride a bus
around town in Paraguay, but taking a bus for long-distance rides has its own
set of rules. I recently spent 52 hours
on a big trip, figuring out all the do’s and don’ts for these special
circumstances. This is the most common
way to get from point A to point B here, even though at times, flights to the
same city are comparable with the long bus ride. The power of habit and the familiar, I guess.
So what do you need to know?
Well, before you start, don’t be alarmed at the behavior of those
waiting with you in the bus terminal.
Many of them may be partaking of alcoholic beverages in massive
quantities. Why? That was my question, too. “To help me sleep tonight.” Oh.
Poor wives who were stuck lugging the baggage or caring for the whiney
toddlers because Señor Drinks-a-Lot is assuring that he’ll sleep tonight.
Once you’re on board, there is a sort of unspoken rule that
you don’t speak to the fellow passengers.
I, of course, refuse to obey this rule, and find myself with a slew of new friends, facebook contacts, and cell phone numbers by the time we get to our
destination.
If you’re going to cross the border into another country,
the facilities (that tiny bathroom with the stinky blue chemical in the toilet)
will not be open for use until you cross said border. That’s no problem if the border is a couple
of hours from your beginning point, as usually happens to me. But this time, that border crossing happened
to be 15 hours later, and that 15 hours included a meal and several bottles of
water. Not pleasant. However, if you are handicapped (using
crutches is enough to qualify), folks tend to give you leeway, letting you get
away with things that others can’t. I
was so busy balancing myself in the narrow walkway and trying not to fall over
with the sudden jerks of the bus, that I didn’t even SEE the sign on the door
telling me it was not to be used yet.
Once I emerged, a string of women wanted to know if the sign was gone
and they could use the facilities now.
Oops. “What sign?”
Usually two men work each bus. One drives while the other loads and unloads
suitcases at stops, passes out refreshments, and changes the DVD’s at movie
time. Sometimes there are pit stops
along the way for the two men to trade jobs, and the worker man becomes the
chauffeur. During these stops, passengers are allowed to
get off the bus and buy the overpriced snacks in the little food stand, or use
the restrooms at the pit stop. One pit
stop had a sign for the ladies’ room in Spanish and in English, and the English
translation said, “Women Health”. I can
tell you that there was nothing in that restroom to contribute to the health of
any women I know. I don’t usually use
hand sanitizer, but this is one trip when I was glad I had a spare bottle
handy.
Should the pit stop
be quicker, say, to pick up a package or let the police board and check out the
paperwork, salespersons are allowed to get on the bus and make their way around
to the passengers. We had the regular
folks selling chipa and bread and soft drinks, but I also was offered stuffed
animals, toys, cell phones of questionable origin, DVD’s, hammocks, blankets,
underwear, electrical cords, towels, thermoses, and hats. I was tempted to buy a box of fake Barbies to
hand out to the unfortunate little children who were enduring this long trip,
but instead I got a pack of cookies to share, and a lot of grateful smiles from
the tiny travelers and their parents.
Hanging from the ceiling, as on airplanes, are tv
monitors. However, the rules that apply
to “apt for all audiences” where you live don’t apply here. We started off okay, watching a couple of
cartoons about fish and underwater adventures.
The toddlers were appeased. As it
got darker outside, though, the lights inside the bus dimmed and grown-up movie
time started. I was pretty excited,
thinking I’d get the latest date movie or maybe an action adventure spy film,
or the favorite of Latinos, martial arts.
Nope. This one was a sports
adventure. Okay, I can deal with
that. I didn’t catch the name, but a
group of guys run all over their city, jumping from building to building to be
the first to find a flag. Lots of
acrobatic stunts, flipping over moving cars and jumping dumpsters to scale a
fence, then racing the competition to jump off one building onto another, grab
the flag, karate-chop the guys who want to steal it from you, and make it to
the finish line. Then all of a sudden,
the guys are kidnapped, shock collars are fastened to their necks, and if they
make a wrong move, their heads blow up.
Blood splattering everywhere. I
inhaled quite deeply, let out a squeal of shock, and looked around to see if
everyone else was as appalled as I was at the freaky turn this movie had
taken. Nope. All calm.
But, “Your kids are still awake and watching this violence!” which
turned quickly into nudity. No one
seemed to care. You should have seen the
look on the bus man’s face when I asked if he didn’t have something more
appropriate. So, yeah, be prepared. At least this time the volume wasn’t
blaring, so I could put in my headphones and close my eyes to tune it out.
Sometimes you sit by people you don’t know. Sometimes those people bring their own music,
but they don’t use headphones. Sometimes
that music is played really loudly, even louder than the television or the
conversation you try to have with anyone on the other side of the bus. Sometimes those people don’t even seem to
notice that their music bothers everyone else.
And sometimes people get frustrated at having to sit for 3 hours while
the border patrol checks documents, and they begin a half-hour speech about the
corruption of the Paraguayan government, standing in the middle of the bus,
directed at all of the rest of us who are already having to endure the same
wait. This speech may get violent, and
the bus man may ask the lady to sit down, and they might even almost come to
blows. This is all much more
entertaining than movies wherein someone’s head blows up.
Part the way through my return trip, the bus driver realized
he was running really behind schedule from the delay at the border, so he
decided to try to pawn us off on the bus behind us. “Any of you who want to get off this bus and
get on the one behind us can do so, and I’ll even help you move your luggage
over.” He made a deal with the other
driver, but none of the passengers was willing to move, so he drove at the most
ridiculously high rate of speed for the next five hours. I was pretty sure we’d hit one of the many
motorcycles and small cars that we literally ran off the road, but God’s hand
of protection was working overtime that day.
I’ve learned that God’s plans for my bus rides aren’t always
the same as my plans. This particular
trip was an unplanned, emergency one. I
accompanied a very sick friend to a rehab center, because she was too ill to
travel alone. This meant that despite
being the “handicapped” one, I was the least handicapped of the two of us and, therefore, in charge. By the time we got off of and
boarded several buses, went up and down stairs to buy tickets and get our
luggage, arrived, checked her in, and then started my solo trip back, I was
just plain worn out. I was ready to abide by that "Don't talk to anyone, don't smile at anyone, don't look at anyone" bus rule. I told the Lord how
much I was looking forward to recharging with Him, to just vegging out in my
seat with my slow worship music in the headphones, and talking to Him while I
fell asleep. I almost audibly heard him
giggle and thought, “Oh, no.”
I mustered up what physical and emotional strength I had
left to climb up the second story of the bus with my crutches and my luggage,
wobble my way through all the passengers to the very back of the bus, then
found out that Seat 53 on my ticket didn’t actually exist on the bus. The numbers ended at 47. So I wobbled back down to the driver (we were
already rolling at this point), and explained my dilemma. He promptly put me in the front seat
upstairs, where one can see the total view of where we’re going from those huge
windows, and stretch out one’s legs when they get stiff. “Thank you, God,” I sighed as I sank in my
seat. Then I noticed the young man on
one side, practically crying, and the two young people on my other side. “I’m still on duty, huh, Boss?” So I didn’t get to quietly meditate on the
Lord, but I did get to share about Him to a handful of people around me. And crash in the bed for a massive siesta as
soon as I got back home.
February 23, 2012
The VieW from our V W
Here are the long-awaited, promised pictures from our recent vision trip to the cities of Encarnacion and Pilar. First, the view from Encarnacion over to Formosa, Argentina. Encarnacion is a border town connected to Formosa by a bridge. As we were there, the winds picked up, the temperature dropped (YAY!), and the Parana River showed us her whitecaps. In the last year, Encarnacion built this lovely road alongside the river, and they added beaches and parks.
We've been in a drought here, and this picture shows what the wind did in the areas where construction is taking place. The red cloud of dust was swirling all over the city.
Every weekend in February, Encarnacion hosts Carnaval (similar to Mardi Gras in New Orleans). We came on a weekday but drove past where the parade takes place, right along the river. During Carnaval, these floats are filled with basically naked women in elaborate headdresses, dancing and waving as they parade through the crowds of people who have come from all over South America and beyond to see them. One of these women wins the honor of being the Queen of Carnaval.
We got in touch with Maria, who spent a few weeks as our next-door neighbor when she visited Hogar Ganar with her YWAM team. She met us at the beach to hang out a bit, give us a tour, and answer our questions about Encarnacion's youth, churches, and ministries.
The next morning, we headed out to Pilar. Once we turn off the main highway, it's a bit over 100 kilometers of straight asphalt road with swamp on both sides. The girls got a bit restless in the car. We're still waiting for the bus that hit our car a few weeks ago to make good on the repairs, so we're flitting about without a/c until then. This day was over 100* easily.
The two exciting spots were 1.) stopping to help a man who'd run over two pigs, successfully destroying the front of his little car, and 2.) seeing this beautiful pink water bird in the middle of all the white ones we'd been passing. He's a roseate spoonbill and the borders of his wings were deep fuchsia. He spooked easily, but Ken managed to get a photo of him before he headed to safer ground. I know, I know, he's far off, but squint and you can find him. By the way, Paraguay is famous for her birds, and birdwatchers come from all over the world to check out the rare species. This one doesn't happen to be rare, but we were impressed with it anyway.
We finally arrived in Pilar, which seemed so odd to find in the middle of nowhere. It's a lovely, quiet town with several universities and factories, where many of the residents ride bicycles.
This man flagged us down as we drove through his neighborhood. Beards are a rare sight in Paraguay, and he and his buddies wanted to see Ken's up close. The man decided that he and Ken were from the same "tribe," but Ken conceded that based on the length of his beard, this man must be the chief!
Paraguayans are so friendly. After we snapped a picture, they insisted that we sit around a few minutes, long enough to eat some of their barbeque. This happened to be carpincho, which is the name here for the largest rodent in the world, the capybara. It was a bit wild and greasy for my flavor, but we all smiled, complimented the chef, and thanked them for sharing.
The next morning, we wanted to take the ferry over the Paraguay River, but--wouldn't you know it?--it rained, for the first time in many weeks. The opposite side is dirt roads for about 40 km that are impassable in rain, so the ferry wasn't running. But we sure needed the rain, and the drop in temperature sure made the ride back much more tolerable. Not to mention, we were treated to this lovely rainbow. :) Aren't Paraguay and her people just beautiful?
February 11, 2012
Vision Trips
It would seem that our respite/rehab time of surgeries and
physical therapy and x-rays and the like is waning, and we are all hopeful that
I’ll be getting back to “normal” soon. There
are some things going on inside my leg that I’m not happy with, but I’m
trusting God and the doctor that I’ll be walking soon anyway, and man, I’m so
ready.
I’m thankful that God has given us this time. Well, I’m trying to be anyway. To be honest, I’m thankful, but I haven’t
exactly enjoyed this “slow down, smell the roses, take a breather” phase that
we were thrown into. It doesn’t fit well
with my type-A, go-get-‘em, high metabolism, keep busy, DO SOMETHING make-up. But I recognize
that God gives us what we need when we need it, and I appreciate this time of
drawing closer to Him and having more study and reflection opportunities. It’s been sad in a way, to spend less time
with Paraguayans, even though we have been able to keep up a little of that. But it’s been interesting and fulfilling to
have time with various short-term missionaries and work with them in a
supportive role. And it’s been
incredible to live at the peaceful Hogar Ganar and see the difference being
made in the lives of these rescued children.
It’s also been nice to get to know so many other missionaries living in
Paraguay, and to learn from them and enjoy their company.
Can I tell you the truth, though? The type of work we’ve done this past year is
a different style of ministry than the high-paced, youth-focused stuff we’re
used to, and it’s felt a little bit like we’ve been on furlough or
something. And I am more than a little
hyped up to think of getting back into the thick of things. But how does one go about “diving in”?
Well, there’s this little thing called vision trips. That’s one of those buzz terms flying around
in mission circles, really meaning just what it says--a trip to a place that
may be a possibility for ministry work.
Vision trips usually involve talking to locals, visiting churches, finding
out what ministries are in operation already, reading statistics, and tons and
tons of prayer. That sort of thing. This week we ventured out again on vision
trips into the interior of Paraguay, always amazed at how beautiful this
country and her people are.
After visiting about
one million places, we’ve got it narrowed down to a short list. We’d appreciate all the prayers you’d like to
send up, as there are a few things we’d like to have settled before we move
again, and we want to move in God’s time, God’s way.
Later this week I’ll share pictures of some of the amazing
places we visited, and maybe God will inspire you to come on a vision trip of
your own!!! :)
February 2, 2012
Tour of Paraguay, Part 2
I promised you "the rest of the story" on our whirlwind tour of missions in Paraguay, but it's been a long time coming. Truth is that we were so hyped up about Ruth being here to visit with us, that getting on the computer just seemed like a waste of valuable face-to-face time. But I thought about blogging a lot, if that counts for something! By the way, she took MUCH more detailed notes and photos of our trip, so click on her name above to read about it in greater detail, AFTER you finish my version... hee hee
So where were we? Oh, yeah, we were at Justin and Allison's apartment in Obligado, heading to Ciudad del Este. Again, it was a lovely drive, but it sure didn't feel like Paraguay. I had to keep reminding myself that we weren't in Illinois on our way to Iowa to see that half of my family. Rolling hills of farmland. Unfortunately, lots of it's a crunchy brown right now instead of the lush green it should be, because of this lovely drought. But that's another post.
So we arrived at the home of the British couple, Jamie and Marion. You'll remember them from art board fame, as Jamie is the man behind those giant wall boards with Bible stories and scripture painted on them. They sent us a bunch of them which we donated to a few schools and public buildings. Their home is one big art studio, with Jamie's incredible work on every wall. In another life, I would have bought every piece. He really has talent, and it's super to see how he's letting God use that to reach people.
This British couple is just the cutest thing you've ever seen. They say, "Lovely," all the time, fly by the seat of their pants, and love working with youth in Paraguay. ;) After talking with them via email for a couple of years now, it was great to meet them in person for the first time.
And their hospitality!! WOW! They really know how to make folks feel at home. They even brought out a full tea set and served us girls the real stuff, with biscuits (cookies) and little flags. We felt like we'd stepped into some lush bed and breakfast.
I so enjoyed hearing their stories. Stories like how Marion died, made it to the big white gates, and came back. Of how they met. Of how one unnamed member of the pair participated in some really exciting, slightly shady activity to help a friend out of a life-and-death situation. Of how similar they are to us in ministry and mission philosophy, and how much we had in common. Of what countries are included in Great Britain. Of the Queen Mother. Did I mention that they "snuck" us over the Brazilian border in the middle of a pouring rainstorm just so we could have Subway sandwiches for dinner? I didn't realize how much I'd missed that little 6-in turkey and cheese that Papaw always bought me, with a side of chips. Pity the Brazilians haven't discovered root beer yet, but the sub sandwich was sure worth that drive over the bridge in the much-needed rain.
The next evening we had dinner with Rita and Clint Vernoy in their nearby home. I found out that Clint's a Beaufort boy, so we had some lowcountry chat before he shared that he was breaking out his can of imported Bush's baked beans for us. I think I cried. Missionaries are nice people. They just are. Rita writes one of the first blogs I ever read, back before I really even knew what a blog was. I was soaking up her online stories back in the day when I knew we were called but didn't know how or where we'd end up on the field. We enjoyed catching up with them and two of their girls, and meeting their giant dog.
We had really wanted to visit the McKissicks on the last leg of our trip, but Caroline wasn't feeling well when we got up that morning. By the time we drove the 5 hours home, her eyes were swollen shut, her throat was raw, her muscles ached, she had spiked a fever, and her glands were all swollen. I typed in those symptoms (gotta love google) and where we live, and came up with a long, ugly word that said that her swim in the river may have infected her with a dangerous and at times, fatal, infection, so we took a trip to the ER just to be safe. It turned out to be some sort of flu with pinkeye as the side effect, but one can never be too sure.
Thank you to all those wonderful missionary friends who hosted us, showed us around their towns, fed us, and bolstered our spirits. It's inspiring to find all the ways people are sharing God's love in Paraguay.
...continue reading
So where were we? Oh, yeah, we were at Justin and Allison's apartment in Obligado, heading to Ciudad del Este. Again, it was a lovely drive, but it sure didn't feel like Paraguay. I had to keep reminding myself that we weren't in Illinois on our way to Iowa to see that half of my family. Rolling hills of farmland. Unfortunately, lots of it's a crunchy brown right now instead of the lush green it should be, because of this lovely drought. But that's another post.
So we arrived at the home of the British couple, Jamie and Marion. You'll remember them from art board fame, as Jamie is the man behind those giant wall boards with Bible stories and scripture painted on them. They sent us a bunch of them which we donated to a few schools and public buildings. Their home is one big art studio, with Jamie's incredible work on every wall. In another life, I would have bought every piece. He really has talent, and it's super to see how he's letting God use that to reach people.
This British couple is just the cutest thing you've ever seen. They say, "Lovely," all the time, fly by the seat of their pants, and love working with youth in Paraguay. ;) After talking with them via email for a couple of years now, it was great to meet them in person for the first time.
And their hospitality!! WOW! They really know how to make folks feel at home. They even brought out a full tea set and served us girls the real stuff, with biscuits (cookies) and little flags. We felt like we'd stepped into some lush bed and breakfast.
I so enjoyed hearing their stories. Stories like how Marion died, made it to the big white gates, and came back. Of how they met. Of how one unnamed member of the pair participated in some really exciting, slightly shady activity to help a friend out of a life-and-death situation. Of how similar they are to us in ministry and mission philosophy, and how much we had in common. Of what countries are included in Great Britain. Of the Queen Mother. Did I mention that they "snuck" us over the Brazilian border in the middle of a pouring rainstorm just so we could have Subway sandwiches for dinner? I didn't realize how much I'd missed that little 6-in turkey and cheese that Papaw always bought me, with a side of chips. Pity the Brazilians haven't discovered root beer yet, but the sub sandwich was sure worth that drive over the bridge in the much-needed rain.
The next evening we had dinner with Rita and Clint Vernoy in their nearby home. I found out that Clint's a Beaufort boy, so we had some lowcountry chat before he shared that he was breaking out his can of imported Bush's baked beans for us. I think I cried. Missionaries are nice people. They just are. Rita writes one of the first blogs I ever read, back before I really even knew what a blog was. I was soaking up her online stories back in the day when I knew we were called but didn't know how or where we'd end up on the field. We enjoyed catching up with them and two of their girls, and meeting their giant dog.
We had really wanted to visit the McKissicks on the last leg of our trip, but Caroline wasn't feeling well when we got up that morning. By the time we drove the 5 hours home, her eyes were swollen shut, her throat was raw, her muscles ached, she had spiked a fever, and her glands were all swollen. I typed in those symptoms (gotta love google) and where we live, and came up with a long, ugly word that said that her swim in the river may have infected her with a dangerous and at times, fatal, infection, so we took a trip to the ER just to be safe. It turned out to be some sort of flu with pinkeye as the side effect, but one can never be too sure.
Thank you to all those wonderful missionary friends who hosted us, showed us around their towns, fed us, and bolstered our spirits. It's inspiring to find all the ways people are sharing God's love in Paraguay.
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