It’s about time I posted an entry

Well, Dear Reader, what could I ever write to explain what’s happened down here in Paraguay over the past five months?  I wish I could write many happy adjectives like "nice, fun, and adventurous," but no, life here has not been all that.  I have pretty much been down and out since I arrived here and haven’t been in much of a mood to correspond; hence, I haven’t posted any new entries on my blog since November.  As they say, if you cannot say something nice, don’t say anything at all.
Much has happened over the past few months, both good and bad.  I have turned a corner and will try to focus on the positive.  I am hoping that this will not be yet another failed attempt to start writing again.  I would prefer that I take the time to break from that which does not matter so much in the long run and focus more on what will give me peace of mind.  Writing is like that.  Writing can be cathartic.  Writing is a way to disgorge what is rattling upstairs in your brain and dispensing it to whomever takes the time and has the interest to read it.
As a peace offering to help make up for my long absence, I’ll refer you to something I wrote over several months earlier this year.  It’s an article in State Magazine’s May edition featuring Asuncion, Paraguay.  My personal sentiments of this place do not match the tenor of the article, but you can read it for yourself.  If it inspires you to try and work or visit here, by all means seek my counsel first.  I will give you my unvarnished opinion of life on the Island Surrounded by Dirt.
  1. Unknown

    Paraguay sucks, huh? Well that – sucks. What about that crazy lady with all those bottles on her head? You can’t tell me that wasn’t sweet. Thanks for the blog about A-100! It’s really interesting for all the armchair diplomats to follow you around.

  2. Bob

    Yes, the message I take away from your absence and this post is that Paraguay sucks.  I went through Asuncion airport once in 1991, had a six hour layover.  It was dirty and heavily militarized and female attendents watched you use the restroom, much like in Korea.  When I wasn’t running from ancient vendors forcefully hawking cheap ‘indigenous’ wares I was hoping that the 18 year old males with submachine dogs and german shepards wouldn’t have an accident. 
    Of course, it isn’t fair to extrapolate on a society just by having spent a few hours in its major airport… it, Mike?

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