Random Thoughts

Some random thoughts, not big enough to warrant a complete blog entry:

I was rudely woken up last night at hourly intervals by loud packs of barking dogs, and this morning when I left behind the protective innocence of my apartment I realized why: a bitch in heat was roaming through the neighborhood with a good half dozen hounds following her scent, and all the poor un-neutured dogs that were cruelly penned up inside fences just couldn’t bear the thought of being alone so they sang together in a great united chorus of sexual angst. I’ll never take the work of the SPCA and dog warden for granted again.

There’s nothing more beautiful or tasty than a freshly picked mandarin from the mandarin tree in your back yard. I ate two this morning after my morning run. I think I shall move to Florida some day.

I discovered recently there’s huge cheap avocadoes in Paraguay. Many people let the precious fruit fall to the ground to rot away without thinking about how special it is that they have avocadoes at all. Those who do eat avocadoes here eat them sweet, all mashed up with sugar. I’m convinced that if I continue much longer to take advantage of the bargain-priced oil-based fruits, I’m going to die by avocado.

For the first six months I was here, I heard huge flocks of what sounded to be seagulls flying overhead. How strange, I thought, that there should be seagulls in a completely landlocked, river-bound country. When I started to pay better attention, though, I realized that the flocks weren’t seagulls, but instead massive groups of very awkward parrots flalloping together in the wind. I’m pretty sure I heard one of them calling me a silly gringo, and I realized I was still in a very special tropical place.

Life is short, and so are Paraguayan funerals. The father and step-mother of my fellow English teacher at Adonai passed away in a terrible car accident this past week, and both were buried within about 24 hours of their respective deaths (while she died on-the-scene, he died the day after from wounds in the hospital). I was talking to another teacher—a firefighter/EMT who has visited the public morgue plenty of times—who told me they don’t use body-refrigerators here. The sad part of it all is that, because the funeral preparations and actual service went by so quickly, none of the teachers that I know of had the chance to go to the funeral or even offer their condolences. Oscar and Karen tried to go the morning of the internment, but found they were already an hour late. You might say a prayer for Prof. Monica and her family.

I saw a beautiful nun my age on the bus the other day. Although she was completely covered in a modest habit and big flowing dress, she wore very flattering sandal-like shoes. Appreciating her beauty and virginal innocence, I wondered if I had ever appreciated or even could appreciate the natural beauty of chastity and sanctity of a girl completely set apart for God without thinking sexual and lusty thoughts. I wasn’t lusting after her—after all, she was a nun-- but I wasn’t sure and I’m unsure now if I can unselfishly appreciate a girl’s natural beauty.

There are little red ants here about the size of a small matchtip that, like a match, pack quite a burn. There’s a pile of rocks in my backyard that sometimes I like to go digging into, and I always forget until it’s too late that this pile of rocks also has a pile of these pesky little ants. Before I know what’s happening, my bare hand or bare foot or perhaps both my bare hands and both my bare feet are covered in swarms of little stinging ants that, once they bite into you, can only be removed by squishing their tiny heads off. The poison in their peckers, though, leaves itchy pus-filled pocks all over, like the strange bastard children of a pimple who has had a continuing affair with a mosquito bite. Like the consequences of extra-marital affairs, too, the pocks last for way too long, refilling themselves as they do after being popped and itching to eternity.