Sub Primes...and Nebraska

Same corn field, same farmer, different dates.









Tom Terrific is jetting out to Mountain View, California tomorrow to see the kids for the weekend. He's especially interested in touring A's internship site, Google.

While watching the corn grow from the porch this evening, I asked Tom if he's comfortable leaving for the weekend. Well, he said, I'm a little worried about the market and sub primes. (Sub primes, I thought, what in the WORLD are sub primes???) Instead, I replied confidently to Tom, "Oh, yes, the sub primes...I've been worried sick about them!" Tom paused and finally said, "The market is as nervous as a hypochondriac without any symptoms."


I visited Marta in Nebraska. Nebraska is a great state. Agriculturally it's all about irrigation, hay, and grazing. Marta invited me to ride her brand new bike. I said, what will I do when I get to campus and have to leave it? Do you have a lock/chain I can use? She said, Oh no, we never chain our bikes in Nebraska. Marta's friend, who runs the local brewery, built her house out in the great plains of Nebraska. She is one happy camper with a new house and 5 acres.

My dad and mom would never believe it, but the wind doesn't seem to blow in July and August.








There still is nothing like a boy and his dog.

Hancock, NY - Dad's 80th Birthday

We had a ball celebrating my dad's 80th birthday. Both sides of the family were there, and we all stayed at the Hancock House Hotel.

The best lines of the party were as follows:

Funniest comment:

Aunt Harriet - "I will not give up control." (referring to her role as the matriarch of the Guild family. She's 81.)

Most thoughtful comment:

O'Brian - "Uncle George was like a father to me when I was a kid."

Most uncomfortable line:

Dan - "Mom, my prime rib looks strange."

Niagara Falls

Did you know that Canadians celebrate Canada Day, the creation of their federal government (1867), on July 1st? Neither did we, hence our surprise to the throngs of people at the falls that day. But crowds or not, Niagara Falls is a must see from both natural and cultural perspectives. Natural because of the sheer volume of water that pours over the falls. Cultural because of the diverse tourists. It's like social studies and science classes all in one.

On being a baseball mother...

Here's a swell photo (taken by my pal Ann) of Dan getting ready to make a play at first base.
I've never liked watching sports, and baseball was always the worst because it takes so long. Plus when the game is tied you never know when it will end. I'm usually just content for one of the teams to make the tie-breaking run.
Then it became apparent that baseball was going to be Dan's favorite sport. Ugh. To cope, I knew I had to do 2 things: not wear a wrist watch to his games and learn to keep a score book. Oh, and I also learned to eat sunflower seeds (discretely, of course).
On the up side, baseball has been great for my social life. As parents we all experience the boys' peaks and valleys together. At the risk of sounding like a sap, we are like a big family. Life is good.

Rooster Farm

Dan's baseball team travels to one community where the ball field is next to a cock farm. Amidst the umpires' calls of "safe" or "out," is constant the sound of "cock-a-doodle-do" by about 30 roosters.

They each live about 3 feet off the ground in a steel barrel and are tied to posts. Looks about fun as a calf being raised for veal. Of course, my mind goes straight to the gutter when wondering about the purpose of such enterprises (blood sports).

Can you imagine the guy who operates this farm? He probably prides himself on selling big, loud roosters. I'm sure farmers' wives are so glad when then their husband comes home with a new rooster. "Yup, he was the loudest one of the bunch, honey!"

Yellowish-colored Corn on the Hill

As a native New Yorker, I still find this grain farming gig somewhat puzzling.

Tom sat on the front porch the other day pondering his brother’s corn field. He said, “do you see the yellowish colored corn there on the hillside?” First of all, who has ever seen a hill in Illinois, much less in this section of his brother’s corn field? I did, however, finally see a slightly discolored bit of corn. He got out the farm notebook where he records when and what types of seeds he plants in each field.

This brings up another problem: seeds. In New York we call them corn seeds. Just like tomato seeds, green bean seeds, etc. In Illinois they are called seed corn. To further complicate matters, there are several kinds of seed corn in his brother’s field, and each type has a different number. His farm notebook indicated that the yellowish corn had been seed corn number 8920…funny, he remarked, he would have guessed that the yellow patch would have been 9107, not 8920!

Farmer out standing in his field

And now, the rest of the Paraguay story...

Here are some photos from my trip. I think you can click on individual pictures to get a closer view.
The horse and buggy photo is from Villarrica which is Karen's go-to city of about 25,000 people. To get to Villarrica she walks 1 hour and then takes a 2.5 hour bus ride on dirt and asphalt roads. Villarrica is a charming city. All the basic comforts are available - a grand supermarket, bus service, hotels, schools, hospital, post office, internet cafes, etc. Karen prefers this to Asuncion because it is closer and more laid back.

The day we rode on the bus to her community, Monte Rosario, we arrived 20 minutes early only to find the bus already full. This meant that we, too, had to stand. So we stood 20 minutes while the bus continued to fill up. Then the bus started rolling, we continued to stand for about the first hour or hour and a half of the ride. Usually the busses aren't so packed, but since it had rained 4 inches the busses were not able to run. So we stood until enough people got off and we could sit down.

The second picture is of Karen standing with 2 backpacks on the road to Monte Rosario. The pack on her back was the one I brought from home filled with everything from guitar strings, duct tape, 15 CDs from Betsy, 2 books from Dan, spice cookies from her mom, and a bottle of Cabernet Sauvignon 2003 from the Chandelle Winery in Sonoma, CA! It is a 5 km walk which takes about 1 hour. As you can see, the country side is lush green of trees, plots of crops, and open fields. The mountain in the background is the second highest in the country, and Karen's house is at the foot of that mountain.

The next picture is Karen's red house with her horse "mowing" her lawn. She put up a barbed wire fence (she hauled the barbed wire 5 km and it easily weighed more than 50 lbs). You can also see her little garden which needs additional reinforcements because the chickens like to get in it. The mountain is behind the trees. Inside the house is a gas stove (but she ran out of gas and the replacement tank is being hampered by rainy weather). She has electricity for lights (2 inside and 1 on the porch). She has a bureau for her clothes, several tables, 2 chairs, and a bed with a mosquito net (as you can see in the next photo).

She hauls and drinks her water straight from the family well. She lives about 50 yards from her host family of about 8-10 people depending on who is home. This wonderful family has woven Karen into their daily lives. You can see her host mom in the next picture. They run a subsistence farm of about 20 hectares which, I think is about 50 acres. Those 50 acres are used for their home and to graze their 20 head of cattle, couple of pigs, 40 some chickens, etc. They grow corn, beans, mandioca (a root vegetable which you'll see in another picture), and have several fruit trees. They have a nice vegetable garden, too. The dad lost an eye as a child shooting off firecrackers, so he has a glass eye and no longer works the fields. He does carpentry work. The boys (5) work the fields and go to school. One sister goes to school and the other has finished and lives at home. Both help with running the daily household which consists of cooking, laundry, and the like. The family and Karen share a "shitter" which is an outhouse about 30 yards away. It is a hole in the ground surrounded by a wooden structure. No light. It took about 3 visits to get used to it. Good thing I practiced my deep knee bends for 3 weeks before I left!

The next picture is of Karen's host mom. She is a strong, capable woman who cooked us food the entire time I was there. Food staples include noodle based meals with some protein like beans, beef, pork. Mandioca is the ubiquitous root which is boiled and then served cold almost like a bread, but with the consistency of a potato. Quite tasty. It's also common to serve meals which are mandioca with mandioca on the side...just prepared differently. Frying in oil is also common. While I enjoyed every dish she prepared us, my favorite was the noodles with 3 chunks of beef (you can see the picture, and the mandioca is on the side).
The next picture is of a family Karen works with. Her job is to promote sustainable agriculture through soil conservation. This involves planting green manures which are really seeds. The seeds are planted among the other crops (corn, beans, etc.). The green manures grow into plants, trees or bushes which infuse essential nutrients into the soil to help primary crops thrive. On our walks to visit families, you could see where they have planted these green manures as a result of her efforts. The challenge with her job is that the community of 250 is spread out over a large area. To "call a meeting" isn't really possible unless you dove tail on Sunday after church which has great potential. Instead, she visits individual families to do her work.
She doesn't use her horse because the only way he will go is if you hit him. Karen would just as soon walk than to have to switch the horse. So she walks and walks and walks. This family in the picture was probably 1.5 mile walk (one way) from her house, over a river (walk on a log) and over many hills and dales. When we arrived we were just in time for "terere" which is a form of yerba mate that is drunk out of a communal straw and cup. Both urbanites and rural families partake in this most defining Paraguayan ritual. Even the bus driver's helper will pour terere and pass it around to the driver and 1-2 people standing near the front (whomever they may be). It is a very refreshing drink and I will be sure to enjoy it when my luggage is found in South America.
The photo of the cell phone in the tree is how Karen communicates with other volunteers. She gets limited service but can occasionally receive text messages if she hangs it from the tree. This is a great support network among volunteers. They will type short little messages in any or all 3 languages to each other. Usually she only gets service when she is in Villarrica or on the bus to Asuncion. And the Paraguayans are no different. We caught a ride with a guy driving a tractor the other day and he, too, was text messaging while he skidded us through the mud.
The last picture is of us at the Lido Restaurant in Asuncion. The Lido is quite famous and I was thrilled that we could go there. The menu item I originally asked for was not available. The waitress then said to me, "Might I suggest the horse meat with onions dish? It is very tasty." I politely declined and opted for chicken and rice.
As I said before, Karen seems quite content with her work and life in Paraguay. She has embraced the opportunity completely. And she exudes a quiet confidence that serves her well in her community. Whenever Karen walks by a house or sees someone on the path, they will stop and chat a spell. Several women in particular talked about how she is like a daughter to them and they enjoy her so much. It was such a thrill to see it with my own eyes.
If you've stuck with this posting this far, congratulations! I apologize for its length, but to do Karen justice it has to be this long. And there are other stories I haven't told because there are too many! Even if all you did was look at the pictures and skip to the end, then I've accomplished my goal of trying to share Karen's experience. Thanks for taking a peek!