Tuesday, 29 January 2019
Asuncion, Paraguay
Drive through some basic living to arrive in the old historical centre of Asuncion. It’s clear that Paraguay is perhaps not as advanced as Uruguay, Argentina and Brasil. Whilst researching this trip, there was nothing really to entice me out into the countryside. A Jesuit mission a few hundred miles north of here didn’t appeal. There’s seemingly not much tourism here.
Dropped off at Plaza Democracia. There are, in effect, four treelined squares separated by roads. It’s already 33C and only 1000hrs. It’s going to get hotter. One of the squares has more trees than the others. Therefore more shade. Which explains why it’s the busiest. Plenty of shoe shine stalls but only one has a customer. Around the perimeter there are lots of people with tables full of green herbs and various roots. The herbs and roots are smashed up using pestle and mortar and added to a wide necked thermos flask which has a large block of ice in it and some water. Left to infuse for a few minutes then added to a cup of mate. Whereas in Argentina and Uruguay they drink mate with hot water, here it’s ice cold. Dubious about the quality of the water and ice that’s added. Will pass on that. Everyone is drinking it though.
In the adjoining square is the Pantheon of Heroes. A large church like structure with a domed roof. Two guards stand to attention at the entrance with their rifles. Inside is a chapel and a large diameter hole in the floor. Below, in the basement, are caskets of various heroes of Paraguay.
Walk towards the river and come across a building which is heavily protected by armed police. Ask policeman if I can take his photo to which he says yes. He then motions that I can go inside the building. The entrance a few metres away. Assume it’s a public building that is open to tourists to look at. Off I trot. Office left and office right. Office right’s door is open so go in there assuming this is the entrance. Can see there’s a courtyard and plants so probably worth a photo. Young girl policewoman walks up to from behind one of two desks. Assume this is security. There’s about half a dozen in the office. Another door leads to the courtyard. Because outside policeman has motioned that I can go in, I ask if it’s OK to look at the courtyard and take a photo. Well. They’re all a fluster. Young girl speaks no English so refers me to a slightly older policeman sitting at his desk. They speak in Spanish. She takes me across the entrance lobby to office left. She stands to attention as she speaks with another policeman. After a few minutes of conversation in Spanish with each other, cross back to office right. A plain clothes bod walks and is handed a gun from a drawer. Hmmm. Starting to realise this isn’t perhaps a public building where you can just walk in. This is a police station.
With that in mind I’ll play the stupid gringo tourist and see how far I can take this. Just for fun. Girl defers to policeman sitting at a desk. He speaks a little English. Explain that I would like to look at the courtyard and take a photo. He stands. Walks a few steps to an old bloke standing in the corner. Stands to attention and salutes. Ah. He’s the police chief. Looks like Jean Todt, former Ferrari F1 team manager and now FIA chairman. Policeman spouts off in Spanish. Returns to desk. I say. I only want a photo from the door. Nothing else. He asks for ID. Hand over passport. Details are entered in a register. As he’s doing this another policeman pours out some herbal water into a cup of mate and hands it to police chief, who takes a sip through the shared metal straw. Police chief has that bemused look. What on earth is this gringo doing?
Passport handed back. Policeman walks to police chief, stands to attention and salutes. Spanish spoken. Police chief nods agreement. Still looking bemused. Policeman motions for me to follow. Ask if older bloke is the chief. He is. Shake his hand. He’s smiling at the grateful gringo. Enter the rectangular courtyard. Plenty of green shrubs. A central walkway leads to a bust on a plinth at the other end. The Paraguayan flag and the Police flag fly either side. Take photo. Police chief appears. Policeman speaks a little English and asks why I’m here. Explain Antarctica to Alaska. He translates for police chief. Who nods. Policeman apologises profusely for his poor English, “Sorry my English is no good”. Well it’s miles better than my Spanish. Thank them both for their time and as I leave, police chief offers me a drink of his herbal tea. Thanks but no thanks. Make my excuses. What a friendly bunch.
The last time I was in a police station was in Amman, Jordan. That was rough. Having to walk past all the rapists, buggerers and murderers to get my passport stamped for immigration purposes. Oh yes. That’s another story to tell. Sometime.
Across the road are Plazas de Armas and Azacar. Ask yet another policeman why there are so many people living in tents and plywood shacks. Mentions the word indigenous but don’t know why they’re living in squalor here. Have a nosey about. One square is full of tents and tarpaulins, with fires burning to cook. The other side of the road is more structured and the accommodation is constructed of plywood sheets. Reminds me of the Soweto shanty towns in Jo’burg. People happy for me to take photos and a few even pose. A bloke with his family raises his cup of mate, in effect saying cheers, as I take photo. An elderly couple sit in an open fronted shack with a metal grille across watching TV. Ask if it’s OK to take photo and they both pose, smile and give the thumbs up. Feeling a bit more adventurous, I try and venture into the centre of the shack village, having been walking down a road. As I do so though, a couple of natives follow me and motion that I’m not allowed so have to step back.
Seek respite from the heat in the Cathedral next to the square. Because all churches are cold aren’t they? Not this one. It’s roasting hot. Have to find an air-conditioned café for a cold drink. It’s too hot to be walking about.
Search for the Casa de Independencia. Maps shows it on Palma Street between two streets. Can’t find it. Policeman standing at corner of one of those streets points me back to where I came, which fits with what the map shows. Still can’t find it. Enquire at tourist office. They say it’s back the way I came, to where policeman is standing then turn right. Do so and see it. It’s diagonally opposite from where policeman that gave directions is standing. Muppet. It’s right in front of him.
The house is a basic affair and is where Paraguay declared its independence from Argentina at the beginning of the 19th century. There’re a few artefacts but, quite frankly, with temperature hitting 37C I can do without the tourist thing today.
Return to nice air-conditioned café for lunch. I’m looked after by the old waitress who is like your dinner lady at school.
Walk to Plaza Uruguay and see more shelters housing people. Some teenage lads on swings meant for toddlers have worn down the ground below such that there are deep indentations beneath each swing so they can use it.
Too hot to be doing any more but see the railway station across the road so nip in for a look to discover that it’s now a museum. Quite a few artefacts on display are from England, Wolverhampton and Birmingham in particular. There are three staff members on parade but I’m the only visitor and get the impression it’s not exactly the busiest of museums. Very basic.
In need of cooler temperatures, head off to a shopping mall in the newer part of town. There’s a big difference as we leave the old town behind. Large houses and country type clubs can be seen. This is where the money is now. Brand new shopping centre with brands you would find in the UK. In need of batteries for my electric toothbrush. Google translates as ‘baterias’. Makes sense. Have been asking all day for baterias in various shops but no one sells baterias. Supermarket girl says they don’t sell. They must do. Surely? Go and investigate. Ask another girl in the hardware section if they sell baterias. Nope. Don’t sell. Walk a few steps and see torches for sale. They must sell batteries. And then. See a pack of batteries. Ah ha! Tell girl they sell baterias. Ah. She says. No. They’re not baterias. They’re ‘pilas’. Ah. I see. Been asking for the wrong thing. Batteries bought. And some gaffer tape. On the advice of a friend. To repair rucksack which is torn some more. Have three flights tomorrow on a small aircraft. Not convinced rucksack will be let on. Running repairs required.
