Time flies when you're trying to time travel back a year

1 month: the time it took me to fall in love with Paraguay.

2 months: the time it took for me to call Paraguay home.

3 months: the time it took it me to know that Paraguay would be a part of me forever.

4 months: the time it took me to learn Paraguayan Spanish.

5 months: the time it took me to realize that I couldn't imagine my life any other way that it was.

6 months: the amount of time I spent in my second home.

1 year. That's exactly how long it's been since the day I first arrived in Paraguay.















(Paraguay)

A lot can change in a year.

(Arizona)

I started this blog back when I first dreamed of going to France. I had studied French for 3 years and I envisioned myself sitting on top of the eiffel drinking cafe with friends discussing French imperialist art and ogling over French boys. And now over a year later, I've gone to what you could consider the polar opposite of France.
And I wouldn't change it for anything.

As you've probably noticed as proof by my lack of updates since 2 days before I came back to the U.S., I haven't been very keen to write on here. I'm not sure if anyone out there in cyber space will ever see this blog entry, or if anyone even cares. But this blog entry is for me.

I have but one theory as to why I haven't updated in 6 months. This blog is the only thing left that still ties me to Paraguay. Which may sound a bit strange, what is this but a URL with some fancy gifs on it? But to me, it's my life story, or at least a chapter of it. And officially ending it would be like pulling me off live support. A bit extreme maybe, but without Paraguay, I feel as if a part of me is missing. And this blog, is my only lifeline left to my life in Paraguay, and it may be the thing that is keeping me from moving on.

But sometimes you need to let things go, even when it's painful.

Speak of painful things, like I said earlier, this blog entry is to help me get some closure, which means I am going to pour my heart out all over your bandwidth.

*flashback*
When I left Tucson, yes, I was sad, tearful even, but I knew that in 6 months, that I would be coming back and I would have my life again.

When I said goodbye to Paraguay, to my life there, the only certainty was that it was a place that would always be in my heart. But that came with no promise of returning, and I knew that when I said goodbye to my host family and friends at the airport terminal, that I was saying goodbye to that part of my life as well.

I've never been very good at goodbye's, and people kept on telling me "it's not goodbye, it's see you later". But I don't know when 'later' is, and that's the scary part.

Paraguay became a part of me, and I, a part of it. I had my family, my friends, my house, my school, and my city. It was all mine and even though I'm not there anymore, I still like to think of it that way. And when people ask me about Paraguay, I don't always know what to say. And sometimes I don't want to say anything. But I'll pause and think, a million pictures, memories and stories pop into my head, yet I have nothing to say.

How can you describe to someone a place so foreign to them, so different to what they are accustomed, things that they could never imagine unless they go there themselves? The simple answer is that you can't. And after discovering that people just couldn't grasp the concept of Paraguay and why it meant so much to me, I stopped trying to make them understand. 

Paraguay is a secret gem, it's buried deep in the heart of South America, just waiting to be discovered. But the truth is, I don't want it to be discovered. It's my place, my home, my memories, and I don't want anyone else to have them. They're my secrets, those memories, those places and those people. They're my cure for when I'm sad or having a bad day. All I need is to think about those things, about what I went through, about what I accomplished and that if I can survive going 8,000 miles away from home to a place where I don't know anything or anyone. I can do anything (including completing this blog!)

I was at a summer camp 3 years ago. It was the last night of the session and there was a big campfire and everyone had gathered to hear speeches and to eat s'mores. Right before we sang taps, our camp director stood up. Next to him were a table and a large glass jar.

He looked out at us and but said nothing, reaching under the table and pulling out a bowl of large rocks, he proceed to fill the glass jar to the top.

He looked back to us and asked "Is this jar full?"
We all shouted "Yes!"

He nodded slowly before reaching back under the table and pulling out another bowl, he dumped it's contents  into the jar. Smaller rocks fell through the nooks and crannies that the larger rocks had left behind, he contented pouring until the container appeared to be full. Again he asked us, "Is this jar full?"
This time the 'yes' was hesitant and said in a hushed tone.

He nodded slowly reaching under the table again and pouring a bowl of pebbles into the glass jar until it was full.

He turned back to us and asked one last time, "Is this jar full?" Most people nodded hesitantly while a few shouted "yes!"

He nodded his head slowly and spoke, "These past two weeks at camp have been filled with wonderful memories, day hikes, gold rush, catch the bandit and the session dance...but those aren't the only memories you've made here. Sure those are the big ones, the ones you'll go home and tell your friends about. But this experience was so much more than just those things. This was skill classes, polar bear club, mess hall dance parties. It was that cute boy who smiled at you, the heart shaped rock you found in the stream, the feel of the grass in between your toes. Because without all those small rocks and tiny pebbles, all you have is jar with big rocks in it and lots of empty spaces. Everything you did, all the people you met, that is what makes up this experience, every single one of those 'insignificant details' of summer camp, are what make it so memorable and are why you come back every year.

This story has stayed with me over the years and I try to put it into practice as often as I can, "Enjoy the little things in life, for one day you may look back and realize they were the big things." And like most things, it's easier done than said. When I first got to Paraguay I tried to keep a list of the little things that happened to me that made me happy, but it was too hard to keep track because not a single thing I did didn't make me happy or make me realize how lucky I was to be there.

Sometimes when I'm laying in bed at night I'll get a random memory flash of my host sister and I recording our selves lip syncing, Ozzy attacking my feet, or the first time I rode the bus and ended up in the wrong city.



Paraguay is a wonderful memory, but what makes it so amazing is all the little pebbles that made me smile on a day to day basis, not just those memories that make good stories.

This blog entry will be my last. It's the final page of the chapter: My Exchange to Paraguay. And while that part of me will shine through in all the chapters of my life. This one is completed, it's ready to be sent off to the printers and read again and again to reminisce over the good old days, but this is the end. I am ready to start a new chapter of my life. I need to move forward. I am ready to move forward.

This is Erin Leader, 17 year old world traveler, signing off for the last time. xx