A Nice Visit

A typical Paraguayan visit:

Sunday, 10:30 am: Invitation received. The Señora: “Why don’t you come over to our house sometime this week?” Me: “Sounds Great. How about lunch on Tuesday? How does 11:30 sound?” The Señora: “11:30? Way too late. Let’s make it 10:00.” Me: “OK.”

Tuesday, 10:40 am: Having completely forgotten my lunch appointment, I realize I’m now over 40 minutes late. I make a quick call to the Señor. Me: “Senor, I’m really sorry I completely forgot about lunch today. Is it ok if I come over now?” The Señor: “Sure, no problem. Our schedule is completely open. Come on over.”

4:15-4:30: The Señora insists I have some of her pudding, which is still two hours from being chilled enough to eat properly. I eat it warm anyways, and it’s very delicious anyways, too. I say many thank-yous and then begin to leave. The Señor and Señora invite me back again another time to spend an entire day visiting with them—a day when, as they kindly say, I won’t have to worry about putting any of the tools away.

11:10-12:45: Approaching the house, I ask permission to enter and am welcomed inside. The Señor, after realizing that I’d be late, has begun to repair the refrigerator door on the kitchen table. After 16 years (as long as they’ve been married), the refrigerator is coming apart. I am offered an egg and vegetable tart to eat so that I’m plenty full before we start to share terreré together. You’re never supposed to take terreré on an empty stomach. We pass time together making small talk as the Señor, shirtless, fixes the refrigerator. The Señora starts preparing lunch only after I arrive.

12:45-1:00pm: Lunch is ready. We have a typical Paraguayan meal: noodles with a hamburger-tomato-vegetable-potato sauce, cabbage salad with cut up potatoes and canned corn and mayonnaise and vinegar, and bread. We wash it all down with pineapple juice, made in the blender with one pineapple, some water, and a ton of sugar. No one talks during the meal. Paraguayans know how to eat, and when they do, there isn’t much chatter. The food is good. As usual, I ask for seconds, even though I’m full, to show how much I appreciate the meal.

1:00-1:15: The Señora asks me if I’m tired. I say not really, we fail at communication, and she offers me her son’s bed to take a nap while she does the dishes. Content always to accept the offer of a nap, I oblige and lay down. Since it’s so hot, the nap is short but good.

1:15-1:45: I wake up and go back to the kitchen, where the Señora questions how long my nap was. I tell her I feel great and refreshed, and then I go watch her sons play soccer on the family computer in the Señor and Señora’s bedroom. The Señor, trying to take a nap, is woken up by my entrance. Feeling like it’s the polite thing to do, he sits up and starts to chat with me. The soccer on the screen is in terrible slow-motion. The computer is too outdated for the fast-paced program.

1:45-3:00: The Señor leaves the room, off to take a nap somewhere else. The sons show me pictures on the computer of the church and camps and other special events from their life. We sip terreré. The Señora comes in sometimes from the kitchen, where she is preparing pudding, to chat.

3:00-4:15: I leave the bedroom and go out on the back porch to sit down. By this time, the Señor’s nap has ended and the Señora’s pudding is all cooked. We sit under the shade of a mango tree and sip terreré again, passing time together and talking. Feeling like the afternoon lunch has been a long and good one, thinking I’d like to check my email back at home, and not wanting to take up any more time of my gracious hosts, I politely tell them I’ve got to put away the tools I was using before I came and must return to the school before the room that holds the tools is locked for the day. The excuse to leave is not a lie, but it’s pretty lame.

4:15-4:30: The Señora insists I have some of her pudding, which is still two hours from being chilled enough to eat properly. I eat it warm anyways, and it’s very delicious anyways, too. I say many thank-yous and then begin to leave. The Señor and Señora invite me back again another time to spend an entire day visiting with them—a day when, as they kindly say, I won’t have to worry about putting any of the tools away.