The Winter Solstice Season visits with family and friends in San Diego brought home to me sensations and thoughts that seemed almost dreamlike in real time. Back in Paraguay for almost two weeks, a can opener emerged repeatedly as a reflective emblem.

A person blessed with a resilient, robust body unlike mine might not be so concerned with diet. A benefit of the body that I have is the motivation to prepare meals that are nutritious and pleasurable, if only to maintain health. Towards this end began a search for a can opener so that sardines and tuna could be part of my diet.

Ten months in a foreign culture with a maximum language competency that ranges from 1^st grade through 9^th has included a balance of help-seeking versus independent-learning. There has been occasional self-esteem strain, especially given my substantial English abilities. Soon upon my initial arrival in my barrio, it became a matter of pride to solve the little riddle: “Where is there a can opener for sale?”

The open market of “Zona Baja” is jam-packed with a hodgepodge of stores that sell to Argentinean tourists and locals. Everything from herbal remedies to electronics is available in a buyer beware, floating-price environment. The sidewalks extend the display area of every shop and the streets are often a semi-free-for-all mixture of buses, taxis, push-carts, horse-drawn carts, cars, motorcycles and pedestrians. My route to the street-children’s lunch program takes me through this commercial district that’s being slowly dismantled as part of a World Bank redevelopment project. The first can opener was bought from a side-walk vendor. Sometimes it could be forced to break through and tuna juice would spritz out. My pocket knife worked better. The second one was purchased at a “Zona Alta” supermarket. It worked only a little better. Canned goods are on the shelf. I had yet to see a Paraguayan use one. I yearned for a can opener from home as I thought: “What don’t I know?”

Rather than culture shock, back home was a culture-breather. It was fun to get in Mom’s car and zip around. The freeways and paved roads, the well-stocked stores regulated by consumer rights laws, and the ability to communicate with ease culminated in thoughts such as: “No wonder this country wants to maintain its position in the world.” Back in the Third World as a volunteer that doesn’t drive and knows only superficially the lay of the land, imagine the pleasure as the first-rate can opener from home opened the can like it had a zipper.

The children’s song that ends in the refrain “life is but a dream” is haiku poetry. Everything humans produce can be symbolic with deepening layers of meaning: conduct, discourse, art, etc. Life in a foreign land includes a web of unstated meaning that is unknown to the visitor. Getting inside a very different culture requires curiosity about the unknown and not obvious. It is a challenge to go “gently down the stream” within a two-year timeframe provided by the volunteer program. And yet, forcefulness makes a mess.

Recently, there was a gathering of volunteers. I was on the team of facilitators. Stories were shared with the common theme of a roadblock to getting things done. Each story placed Paraguayan conduct as a barrier, such as lack of attendance at a scheduled meeting or socializing during planned work-time. Unlike the can opener riddle, the topic seemed perfect for consultation with Paraguayans upon my return to the barrio. Some of their responses:

• Physician: “If we like it, we’ll use it. If not, we might do it while you’re around, but when you leave we’ll go back to what we like.”
• Nurse: “These are My People. When you leave, we remain. When the benefit isn’t obvious, we aren’t going to do it.”
• Art Teacher: “The traditions are very old. New things are not necessarily better.”
• Guarani Teacher: “You live to work, we work to live.”
• Development Coordinator: “Our history hasn’t prepared us for Yankee methods, and the structure of our lives doesn’t permit us to use them – even when it’s necessary.”

The volunteers’ stories implied that Paraguayans need to change so that volunteers can help do good things. The professionals’ responses reminded me of an ongoing self-reflection: “How can I change my behavior?”