Travels in Paraguay 2 – Peter’s Farm

My quest for the real world in Paraguay took me to Concepción, in the middle of the country. If you take the map of Paraguay, fold it in half horizontally, and then fold it in half again vertically, the intercepting point is where Concepción is. On a Sunday morning, you may find half of the population on the horse cart heading to the market to trade the next week’s grocery, and the other half on the roadside recovering from the previous night’s drinking. At the outskirt of town stood the Monumento Indio, it was meant to be a monument commemorating the Guaraní Indians, but its shape only bore resemblance to a very tall wedge of Swiss cheese. After two months in Paraguay, I had gone from bustling cities of millions of people to completely deserted countryside, from water-logged wetlands of the Pantanal to the arid green hell of the Gran Chaco. If I have to name one thing that is consistent this vastly diverse country, I would say it is the absurdly distasteful and ugly monuments.

A township of 50,000, Concepción has recently got a technology upgrade at the Bureau of Telecommunication. It is now manned by a dispatch lady who leisurely picks up an incoming call, inquires who the caller wants to speak to, and accurately plugs the line into the correct little hole on the console. Welcome to Paraguay’s twenty-first century information technology.

Walking on the “main street” of this rural town, I was approached by a stranger with a German accent in a rusty truck. Cigar in one hand and beer bottle between his legs, he solicited me to stay at his farm. “…I have over 140 species of birds on my farm, and you will have perfect food and the best juice you have ever drunk. Everything you eat there, except for the coffee and beer, is grown and raised by my own hands.” He was Peter, the owner of a small dairy farm, where he also runs a side business of ecotourism. When I closed the door of Peter’s truck and it did not fall off, and upon arrival I was greeted by Schatzi the white-lipped peccary and then by Mimi the capybara baby, I knew it was not a bad idea to have faith in a total stranger in a foreign country after all.

Like many other Germans I know, Peter is intensely serious and immensely funny. He is a brilliant story teller, self-learned historian and naturalist, in addition to professionally recognized as an organic farmer, aqua-culturist, and reforestation consultant. He smokes cigars and drinks beer all day long but never gets drunk… Well, this does not really fit into the description of a hardcore environmentalist but somehow goes along with a cool farmer.

From the first day I came to his farm, I was assigned the task of taming Mimi, the 6-month old capybara. She has been bottle-fed by Peter’s wife, Andresa, but is still very timid with anyone trying to get close. Derived from a Guaraní word, capybara means “master of the grasses”, which make up 90% of their diet. They are the largest rodents in the world, with an appearance and gentle temperament like a giant guinea pig. Still a baby, Mimi loves to suckle. If you slowly approach her and hold out a finger, she would reluctantly come to you, accept your finger, and start suckling passionately with her eyes closed.

Capybaras are social and vocal animals. Mimi communicates in series of clicks, squeals, chirps, whistles, and warning barks. Since my Spanish is very limited and my German is next to zero, after meals I would go into Mimi’s cage and have a meaningful conversation with her. She happily jumps on my lap as soon as I sit down on the log, suckles on my finger for as long as I let her. Then she curls up and tucks her face in my tummy, and lies down on my lap. I comfort her with low clicks, which she responds by repeating them until she falls asleep. This was the happiest Eva without a kitten you would see.

Mimi’s favorite activity in the cage is “turtle flipping”. Similar to “cow tipping” in the redneck country, she uses her big leathery nose to flip a turtle over, then she triumphantly lays down next to the belly-up turtle while the helpless reptile frantically wiggles its legs in the air. At this time Mimi strategically positions her back against the scratchy claws of the turtle to get a back rub. You don’t need to speak capybara to understand her evil little smirk.

A lot more interactive but received a lot less attention is Schatzi the white-lipped peccary. She is very cuddly and playful, like an overgrown puppy, but with hard bristle-like hair and a prolific scent gland that gives out a gluey secretion and an oppressive smell. Peter was overjoyed when he finally convinced a veterinarian to perform a surgery to remove the scent gland on her back. On the day of the surgery, Peter gave Schatzi his blessings, then assisted two young veterinarian technicians seduce her, while more than 20 people gathered around for the rare sight of a peccary under surgery, since veterinarian service here is only for farm animals. After shaving and sterilizing the incision area on Schatzi’s back, all on-lookers were hustled from the operation room. Looked as exotic and spoke as little Spanish as Schatzi, I was the only “family member” selected by the vet to stay in the operation room. Even with all the “unauthorized personnel” removed, there were still at least 10 vet techs or vet students in the room at any given time. Schatzi had to be the most cared for peccary in the world!

In his own little green haven, Peter and his family live off his land and in harmony with its natural inhabitants. Tree frogs are guaranteed right of way and giant land lizards may dine on his chickens and bunnies without any persecution. I shared my bathroom with Twinkle-winkle, the biggest tree frog I have ever seen, along with at least a dozen other little ones. Twinkle-winkle was no doubt a natural-born model, but the indoor lighting condition blemished her career. One sunny day, I decided to take Twinkle-winkle outside to the nature for a photo shoot. She soon found herself comfortable on a small tree, like normal tree frogs do. Her long muscular legs shone in the sun, her glassy round eyes beamed with wild desires. Without saying goodbye, Twinkle-winkle disappeared in a leap of lightning speed. I thought that was the end of our relationship, but two nights later, Twinkle-winkle was hanging outside of the bathroom window. In her tree frog sign language, she screamed, “Let me in! It’s scary out here!” I ran outside to reunite with my old friend. We exchanged the “let’s never fight again” look and she settled back at her old corner above the shower curtain. Everything seemed to be back to normal. Later that night when I rose to use the bathroom, poor Twinkle-winkle was paddling in the water of the toilet bowl, struggling to get out. Each time I reached down my hand, she was spooked and swam down the pipe, only to reappear after a minute or two. I thought that was too risky, so I lowered a tree branch into the toilet bowl and hoped that she would climb out. The next day she was still suspended in the water, too exhausted to struggle or move. I braved the cold and unsanitary water and scooped the limp frog out of the toilet bowl. She felt like the cookie dough you have put in the fridge for half an hour so that it drops easier from the spoon. I had to hold her in my hand to warm her up. That was a close call, I thought, so I kept the toilet seat cover closed from that moment. Satisfied with my own courageous rescue of the hypothermic tree frog (is that possible?) I thought we would now live happily ever after. Life is full of surprises. The following night, Twinkle-winkle sat, in all her beauty, on the toilet seat cover. She moved around to inspect this thin hollow piece of plastic that kept her from the great wilderness of the outside world. When she found a gap between the cover and the seat, she contemplated on the good times we shared for a minute. Then she decided to go for it. Her sticky fingers lifted the cover a little (it was hollow plastic, so very light weight). With the elegance of a supermodel, she gracefully wedged herself between the seat and the cover, and nimbly eased her body under the cover. When I lifted the cover, she swam down the pipe, along with the special friendship we shared.

The last time I heard, she became the most photographed tree frog in the country. This is not the real world. This is Paraguay.

See new pictures of Paraguay at:

Peter's Farm (76 images)

http://s302.photobucket.com/albums/nn90/evastonge/Paraguay/Peters%20Farm/?albumview=grid

Schatzi's surgery (13 images, for strong stomachs only)

http://s302.photobucket.com/albums/nn90/evastonge/Paraguay/Peters%20Farm/Surgery%20of%20Schatzi/?albumview=grid