Che Py’a Rasy (a.k.a. I’m Gonna Vom!

Today (April 20) is my first full day in site, it is 8pm, and I am about to vom. In Peace Corps Paraguay, we have a number of abbreviations to describe various GI issues. “Vom” of course, is short for “vomit,” while “chivivi” is the Guarani word that you use to refer to your massive, chronic diarrhea. When your “lombriz” wakes up, that’s just your way of explaining how hungry your tapeworm is today... And don’t be confused when someone asks “How’s your G?-” they are simply inquiring about your Giardia symptoms today, since this parasite’s symptoms tend to wax and wane.  

But Paraguayans have one phrase to describe all GI issues: “Che py’a rasy,” which, roughly translated, means “My belly feels sick.” 

In any case, my belly feels sick. Could it be the tereré that I drank this afternoon? (It had a large amount of strong herbal remedies added to it. And it wouldn’t be the first time that strong T-re upset my tummy.) Most likely though, it’s the 3 pieces of chipa that were handed to me in succession and dutifully eaten post-tereré. Chipa is THE traditional Paraguayan food, and is eaten in extreme excess during the week of Semana Santa (this week). It is a sort of dense corn bread held together by pig lard and whole milk- it may be super rica, but it is not the best food for a vegetarian who is moderately lactose intolerant (me). Never having consumed more than a few bites of chipa at a time, I feel relatively confident that this is the source of my stomach upset.

Of course, if you ask a Paraguayan, they immediately know the problem: “You ate the chipa while it was still warm, didn’t you?” Yes. “And then you drank water, right?” Yes again. To any Paraguayan from the campo, this is one of the most obvious sources of stomach upset: you can never eat warm chipa and then drink water afterwards. The contrast between the heat of the chipa and the coolness of the water “makes your stomach bad.”

The solution? Drink boldo tea, and jog around the yard 5 times. Duh. So, host-mom Yolanda made me some tea with boldo leaves from the backyard, a strong herbal remedy that Paraguayans believe cures any and all stomach ailments. Then she encouraged me to go walk if off for a while in the yard outside. I came back in from my walk feeling exactly the same as before: ready to vom. When host-Grandpa found out that I didn’t feel better yet, he told me that I needed to go jog around the yard at least 5 times to encourage my system to excrete any unwanted items out the other end. (At least that’s what I understood from his combination of Guarani and gestures.) Having taken enough Paraguayan medical advice for the evening, I passed on the jog and called it a night to retire to my bedroom.

But it appears to be passing a little bit. While at the beginning of this blog I was contemplating sticking my finger down my throat just to get the vomiting over-with, I now feel like I may actually be able to keep it all down after all. So I guess by Paraguayan logic, the true key to curing stomach ails is to sit down and write blogs. It worked this time… we’ll see if I can at least get some placebo effect from it next time! The only down-side to this remedy? That all y’all are gonna have to hear about it again the next time I have stomach upset. 

Much love.

A Paraguayan Birthday: Parties, Patience, and Pictures (March 2011)

On March 5^th, I went to my host-cousin Clariss’s birthday party. It was a huge bash, held outdoors, with gifts, a cake, asado (grilled cow), lots of beer, tons of picture-taking, and about 30 people, friends and family. She was turning 2. Although she won’t even remember the event, this is one of Clariss’s most important birthday parties. Here in Paraguay, birthdays at ages 1 and 2 require the same or a greater amount of preparation and enthusiasm as all the others. Older children often pull out the albums of their 1^st and 2^nd birthday parties to show us how much their parents love them and “introduce” us to all their family members. 

Paraguayan birthday parties in the Campo always take place after dark and are always outside. Cumbia and reggaeton music blast from a loud speaker system the entire night (this seems to be the preferred splurge of middle class families who have a bit of extra disposable income). In Paraguay, if it doesn’t last until sunrise, then it’s not a party. So we get together around 8pm, sit around talking and drinking beer for a couple hours, and depending on the family, the food will come out between 9pm-12am. At Clariss’s party for example, the asado came off the grill around 11pm, so we were all STARVING. The first round of eating is for the kids- because by this point they are pretty much dead from not eating for so long. Then, the women collect the dishes, wash them, and the second round of eating begins with the adults. As a vegetarian, I was able to eat the rice salad and mandioca that came on the side, then cut up my asado, pretend to be eating it, but was really slipping onto Herre’s plate next to me. 

Finally after midnight the cake came out. Everybody gets their picture taken with the birthday girl, and we load up with sugar from the cake and soda pop to keep us bouncing for the rest of the night. After the cake is when people will start leaving, little by little. Children and the elderly are usually the first ones to go, as those who remain continue to talk, drink beer, and dance. At Clariss’s party, my host-mom and I left around 2:30am to go to sleep, and there were still a handful of people sitting around, drinking, and dancing. 

When we got in the house, we realized there was an extremely loud cricket in the house and went on a mission to kill it, which turned out to be a nearly 10 minute endeavor. Needless to say, we were exhausted the next morning , but igual no mas, my host mom Laura was up and about early in the morning sweeping, feeding the animals, and cooking. Que guapa!