beating the heat

How do you beat the heat (that is, manage to not just lie around like a useless slug) when it hits 102, 104, 108, day, after day, after day, NO AC?

To stay cool, we play with water. In any form: washing the car, watering the grass, jumping in the above ground WalMart special, drinking lots of cold beverages. Wearing your bathing suit all day long, splashing water on your extremities and forehead and standing in front of the fan, or dousing yourself with the hose just to hang some clothes out under the penetrating sun. This is how we manage. I'm sure there are other ways, like air conditioning - but we left those luxuries behind us in the First World. 

 

Little Chunkies making "birthday soup" for Bear, Bear, and Wow-wow - and using the container designated for watering our favorite street dog



Negrito - our favorite street dog



terere: South American loose green tea leaves steeped in cold pink grapefruit juice - I'm addicted to this

Or we homeschool, looking for any excuse to not go outside. 88 inside is better than 108 outside. Today we found my girl's computer math program. It got packed away almost six months ago. She was actually excited to see it and asked to do math on a Saturday.

Maybe one day we'll get AC here. For now, the four window units we brought are useless. We have bars on our windows - not conducive to popping in a window unit. AC is ridiculously expensive here. $1000 a unit and up. Sha! I don't think we'll be getting one soon.


the bars on our windows (on a very ashy day with, incidentally, a lot of desert dust plastered to the window)

Tonight, after hitting 102F again today, God had mercy and sent some rain. And an electrical storm. And another beautiful sunset. Times of refreshing, albeit brief.

He lays the beams of His upper chambers in the waters,

Who makes the clouds His chariot,

Who walks on the wings of the wind

~Psalm 104:3

the gift that keeps on giving

Sometimes, especially these days, as we wait for things to happen, I can feel frustrated. Frustrated because we can't leave town with our unregistered van. Frustrated because we could be doing so much more if we had plates for it. Frustrated because so much here seems to be a waiting game. Americans are not used to waiting. And it's been two whole months since we started the process to register the Mission Mobile.

Then, one day - as we drove out of our neighborhood, and through the one next door - I remembered the verse. The verse on the back of our van. The one everyone reads as we drive slowly by. And I was encouraged.

Revelation 3:20, "Behold, I stand at the door, and knock: if any man hear my voice, and open the door, I will come in to him, and will sup with him, and he with me."  

A strange verse, I thought. Why not John 3:16? Or something more.... gospel-y?

Tony shook his head No. You can not come straight at Argentinians, I know. Trust me. You can not bludgeon them over the head with religion or talk of God or even the Gospel. Slow.... This verse will get people to think. Everybody in Argentina loves to sit down with friends, family, and have a good meal.

This is the way... This verse.

Everyone reads it. We look after them in the rear view mirror and watch them stare. And then, mouth slightly parted, you can see them reflecting. Eyebrows raised. Some furrowed. Squinting. Some puzzled. All affected.

No rocks thrown yet.

Thank you, Alvin, for this gift, for kindly putting this on. A gift that keeps on giving.

When we are frustrated, feeling stagnant, waiting for things to happen over which we have no control, Gods Word continues to go out somewhere in Patagonia.

And a promise goes with it,

So shall my word be that goeth forth out of my mouth: it shall not return unto me void, but it shall accomplish that which I please, and it shall prosper in the thing whereto I sent it. ~Isaiah 55:10-12

random day, random night

Found this post in Drafts. lol This is a random day and peek into my Mommy life and brain, and attempt at stream of consciousness writing...? Bored with the way I write lately, so not creative. I was probably bumped off the internet signal mid-write or something, so forgot this was there. No days are typical here yet; this was just one. Follows is a random night, tonight.

RANDOM DAY

Woke up by barking dogs and sun streaming in windows, chatting over coffee about the previous night's fledgling Bible study we began in our living room, quick showers, reveling in the peace and quiet left in the wake of the holiday departure of the live-on-site construction guys next door (I can't go outside without having 8-10 eyes on me and without getting annoyed at having to talk over the fence every single time: does that make me very American? a bad Christian? a terrible missionary? I wonder), a repeat half-day long visit to Gendarmeria to register the van only to find out it's another week's wait to get it registered [UPDATE: make that a month, at least] and no we can't drive it yet after all surprise, surprise, half-hearted attempt to homeschool in rising heat before lunch, received some good news from Immigration Office: we don't have to go to Chile to renew tourist visas afterall yay (just can't leave the country until we begin residency papers), sent pre-adolescent out to water our dirt to coax random tufts of grass to root, ended up watering it myself since boy forgot and so did I, flooded dirt after 10 minutes due to compact desert sand, lunch, struggled as usual with intermittent internet reception, ignored laundry deciding it's too hot to hang clothes and it can wait until tomorrow, read board books to almost 3 year-old, scolded 3 year old for screaming and older kids for fighting, received response of "Okay, Ms. Tony", laugh instead of getting mad, checked email with the memory of it taking only 5 mintues once upon a time with high-speed internet as opposed to now when it takes one hour, sidetracked by the frustration of trying to read other things with a lousy connection, bagged it all and decided to distract cranky 3 year-old by making Christmas cookies, mildy noted to self that to do that in this heat means I must really love my kids and Jesus, Tony came home from Gendarmeria visit with milk before car goes into lock-down again, sat and discussed Christmas plans with husband while drinking terere, informed by son that I'm being "first class" (as in on the Titanic) by not wanting to turn on the oven to bake said cookies in 91 degree heat no air conditioning, further reminded by 11 year-old that "this is South America, you know", broke down and turned the oven on, almost 3 year-old burns herself on hot cookie sheet immediately after clear admonition to "Be careful, it's hot!", smoothed some antibiotic ointment on crying child and administered half shot of bubble gum flavored Ibuprofen, attempt to distract crying child again by frosting cookies, it works yay, it's now 8:00 and wondering what to make for dinner, momentarily annoyed upon remembering that we still hear from the natives, "You eat this early?" um yeah, 8, real early..., facing doubts about ability to handle Saturday's forcast of 99, youth group leaders pop in to pick Tony up to film skit for Christmas presentation, we drink more terere and hot mate, decide family will have to survive on hot dogs and left over pasta because it's just not right to cook in this heat, realize not for the first time that I suck at self control so let's just eat more cookies, bored and increasingly frustrated at the thought of being housebound one more day and not having our car ready to do anything mission-y for Christmas. Sigh.

Time for another cookie. The end.


RANDOM NIGHT

I pop some meat in the oven at 7, hoping to eat by 8. It was 100 today, and we lost electricity. Meaning we lost use of our fans, too. But light is back and it has cooled down to 90. Visitors drop in at 8 so dinner is postponed til whenever they leave. It is Marcelo and his wife and family. They walk over from the neighborhood next door. Some call it a slum. Some are nicer and call it a "needy neighborhood". We have to drive through it to get to our neighborhood. Tony says it's not a place you want to be at night. Argentines here have said to me, "You (looking at me), don't even show your face there after dark".

Marcelo works construction next door, they are building an apartment building there. Marcelo's wife, Yoli, stopped by last week wanting to talk to Tony. I had given Yoli some kitchen stuff weeks before, of which she was very appreciative since they have very little. She asked Tony, somewhat embarrased and not wanting to bother us, if I had any work for her: cleaning, ironing, taking caring of the kids. Tony said no, we didn't, why? She explains that they returned to Patagonia from their hometown to continue work, but his boss hadn't shown up. Now they are jobless until the site manager returns. He is a week late. A week Marcelo doesn't get paid. They had 50 pesos ($12)  in their pocket, no food, and no news about when Marcelo's boss would be coming back so he could begin work again and earn money an income. Tony said not to worry, we will help them in what we can.

As a result, we try to convince Son that he does not need his bureau. Son insists that he is saving it to take back to the United States to sell at a yard sale and make money. We have a very long discussion about why it is not worth shipping it back to the US only to sell it at a yard sale (not touching on the fact that we do not know if we even will be moving back). We try to convince son to give bureau to this family who had very very little, no luck. We buy bureau off son for $40. Son happy. We happy. We give bureau to family in need, stuffing with random pieces of clothing. A win, win. Tony also leaves them $50 for food. Yoli is interested in a Bible, but we don't have one at the moment. Maybe the Gideons can hook us up.

Still standing there outside while meat is cooking in oven, it is now 9 o'clock. I ask Yoli if the furniture we gave her came in handy and she is visibly pleased and says, "Oh, yes." She half smiles and says glancing up, "I thank God above for all of the help you have given us." She then explains that they didn't come to spend New Year's Eve with us because she felt bad that they couldn't afford even a cider to bring over. So they didn't come. It was a bare year for them.

Marcelo and Yoli and family leave. We sit down to juicy meat dinner, slicing into the most amazing beef I think I have ever had, and I think of Yoli and her family. Tony says, "We need to do something for them." We grab our cooler (they do not have a refrigerator) and fill it with yogurt and cans of tuna and juice and Christmas fruit bread, and a tract or two. We pile the kids in the car at 11pm, and slowly drive over dirt and pebble roads to the neighborhood next door.

As we drive, I roll up the windows. It is still almost 90 out, but the kids here are setting off fireworks, the kind that should be set off pointing up, but they point straight across the street. Bright flashes of green and red fly across the street, horizontal, and die in the dry grass beyond.

As we drive, Tony points and says, "See those guys over there? Sitting on the wall? Those are the kind you have to watch out for."

"When we get there, roll up the windows all the way, turn the air conditioning on, and turn off the cell phone. Anyone outside the van can see in and see you have a cell phone and might want to steal it from you."

I repeat the last part about the cell phone back to the kids, one of which is playing something on mine that makes the screen light up bright.

We get there, deliver the cooler stuffed with food. We feel good, not scared, God is with us.

It is more blessed to give than to receive. It is.

Tony says goodbye, I am bummed a little. I wanted to go inside and see where they live. It is very, very small, two kids sleep on a mattress in the kitchen. I remind Tony we have an extra box spring and a flimsy mattress we save for guests. I wonder if they can use it.

We drive slowly, slowly back through their neighborhood to ours. We see young kids running around at midnight alone. The youth gathered in a park void of grass, just dirt. On motorcycles, a four wheeler, walking. Lounging. Some drinking. Some on drugs. Tony beeps and waves and says hi. You need to be friendly here. You hit a child or kill a dog here, you're gone. They'll just lynch you. Residents of the neighborhood nod that, yes, this is true. Drive very slowly here, and smile. Make friends.

One street over and back in our neck of the woods, we take a detour down the diagonal that borders our neighborhood, looking for the dog-sized hares that come out at night to hop down the street that runs along a field. We don't see any. We talk about how it has quickly become completely normal for us to go out for a drive at midnight with our kids, who are, we notice, still wide awake.

These are the days of small beginnings.

the spider pictures you've all been waiting for

...or not.

Scroll down only if you want to see what an Argentinian Black Widow (Red Back) Spider looks like.

















Here are a few of the TEN Red Back Black Widows that were infesting a house just three blocks away.

you can see the red dot on the back of the one in the middle



the one they found behind the washer

Thanks, Dori, for sharing the pics. I think. At least now I know what to look for. Tony and the kids actually saw them live, well, mostly dead, twitching in the glass jars they had them in on top of their fridge. Ick.

So far we've found none here at our casita. Hope we never do. The good news is that Tony grabbed the fumigation guy when he came and talked him in to coming over and dousing our house, too.

Now, every night when I lay my little head down on my pillow, I think of black widows under my bed and flies that might crawl into... well, never mind. It's all just too gross to go on about.

I'll try not to post any more yucky spider pics. Promise.

:)

life in car purgatory & Christmas in Patagonia

Our first Christmas in Patagonia didn't look like what we thought it would, or what we (okay, I ) wanted it to look like, but life and plans and many other things have come to an unbelievable screeching halt with our moved-to-the-third-world car issues.

Since our car has been released from Customs prison paperwork, it has entered Car Purgatory. It occupies this nebulous, undefinable place between Customs and not-actually-registered yet. Apparently, registration is not so quick and simple a task here. Nothing is, really. Silly me for thinking we were home free once we got through Customs. Ah-ha, not so fast there, gringita.

It may be another month before it's actually registered here in country. No one seems to know how long it may take. For now, we drive around town, we think legally {I mean, they did give us a paper that says the ban on driving it has been lifted... so, that means we can drive it, right? Even though it's doesn't have plates or registration yet... right?}.

Since we're not sure of the actual status of our vehicle (no one else seems to be either), we keep a look out for the police. Everytime we see one, we sound the alarm, "POLICIA!", and Tony takes a sharp left or right before we get too close to them. Sometimes there's no avoiding it, though. They've been doing a lot of check point stops over the holidays. In cases like that, we just pray, Corrie Ten Boom style - "Lord, make us invisible" - and drive right through the check point with our unregistered van, no license plates, waving and smiling as if all is as it should be. Christmas Eve, as we slowed through a checkpoint, the policeman looked after us as we passed him. We not sure if he was reading the verse on the back of the van, or wondering why we didn't have plates. Or he just thought our 99 Ford Econoline was the coolest thing he's seen since sliced bread. He didn't flag us down or do anything, though.

"Welcome to Argentina" Tony and I say to each other, smiling, as we speed away.

But this car paperwork business has seriously cramped our (okay, my - I'm impatient) style. We wanted to travel to Bariloche and do a Christmas outreach, but that, and most other mission-y plans we have, have been put on the back burner until the car is actually registered here in Argentina. We are still mostly stuck in town, treading water, waiting, waiting, waiting. It's frustrating. Very frustrating. Sometimes we make plans, but God has His own timetable.

(But, there are many other things we have been doing. Remember, I'm married to Mr. Social. More on that later, I'm kind of wiped out at the moment... over-socialized. must. be. alone...)

Christmas week I had a migraine, four days of a headache. I was in bed, out of bed, back in bed. In between nursing my head, we had a lot of people over. We are really enjoying getting to know the people (finally) at church. They are wonderful and awesome and we adore them already.

Tito and his family came over for dinner. Tito told me they are waiting for me to come to practice so that they can teach me the panflute. He and Tony have become friendly already (but no surprise, Tony's friendly with everybody). As we sat at the table eating tarta de humita and pascualina, our kids playing together nearby, Gladys, his wife, told me how her baby had Scarlet Fever a few months ago. These are normal converstation here these days. After Christmas we are going to get together to talk seriously about putting their music group and our projector together to do some evangelistic mission trips. I already have plans to drag Keren the Mime along with us, too.

Jorge and Monica, who do the Hora Feliz , came over, as well. They need help and a break from their every single Saturday outreach. They have been trained in some degree by Child Evangelism Fellowship, which is one of the ministries I've always wanted to get hooked up with. Our daughters have hit it off and are great friends already. They hold hands and run and giggle and ask when they can play again.

Keren and her sweet and adorable family also came over. Keren said the first time we came to church, she took one look at Tony and said, "There! There is our new Youth Leader!" She is a trip. No one seems to want to lead up the Young Adults for some reason. I don't know why, they're an amazing and talented and warm group of kids. We talked about taking her Mime act outside of just church performances and doing more evangelism. Friday we spent the afternoon at the river with her, her mime buddy in crime, and some of the youth. What a great group of kids, we had so much fun, drinking terere and listening to Tony cracking jokes. Tony and I agree that, even though we miss the States and our family and friends and life there, if we left here, we would miss the people here, too, and a lot. They have opened up their lives to us and welcomed us with such open arms, calling us friends.

By Saturday, Christmas Eve day, my headache was finally gone, and we took off to spend Christmas with Edgardo and his family. His sister has a chacra [farm] in a town an hour away. We prayed our way through several police check points, and spent a nice afternoon and evening with their extended family. They were so kind to think of us, with no family here, and to invite us to spend Christmas with their extended family. We drank mate, the kids played in the little pool, they played soccer and badminton and volleyball, we had dinner (again, at 10pm - ack! I was out back by the grill stealing food in an attempt to avoid another four day long hunger-induced migraine. I hate that, always scrounging food before anyone else has eaten, it looks bad and maybe rude - but I can't help it!). They even gave us gifts. So sweet. We made the hour-long drive back at 1:30am, praying for safety as other cars sped past us at 80 miles and hour, no shoulder, no lighting on the two-lane highway, sharing it with big trucks speeding by the other way with no lights on. Crazy.

It wasn't the way I wanted to spend Christmas, but we were thankful for the blessings of God's kindness and goodness to us, even if it didn't look like what we had planned. I told Tony today what I wanted was to... and he finished the sentence for me, "Be with the kids at the children's home." We're tired of the same old same old. Then he reminded me this is not a game, some of these kids could pull a knife on you. Keren, who has been visiting the home for two years now, was telling us about each one when they were over for dinner. Some are jealous of little Dani, the youngest in the home. One of the 9 year old boys said he's going to kill her. He has such hate and anger inside from abuse and the life he has endured, that it comes out in hatred towards others. These kids need a lot of prayer, and so do we, she reminded us, if we want to go in there. Tony reminded me that we do have to be careful and think twice about where we take our own kids. It's okay to put the brakes on and take this slow. Without properly registered wheels, we are are in a holding pattern anyway. *sigh*

So, yes, even though we wanted to do something different perhaps, like last year, we are thankful for friends and family, near and far. But more and more, with each passing year, we think of all the people that don't have anyone to spend Christmas with, all the kids that won't even get one gift. But next year, I imagine, we'll probably be so busy, busier than we want to be, and begging for mercy and actually hoping to just sit around with nothing to do.

:)

More Church Building, Patagonia style

Church building (as in the construction aspect) looks very different here in Patagonia than it does in the States. I posted some pictures a few weeks ago.

The church we attend here is small by American standards, but a good size by Argentinian standards. Maybe 120-150 people or so. The little one-room sanctuary they meet in is getting too small. So they've been constructing a bigger meeting place right next door. The pastor's wife here tells us how they cooked and sold chickens to raise the money to build the smaller, original building. Several churches in Europe helped them with the funds for the new building. It is because of churches in the first world that they were even able to build their Christian school (at least I think, if I got the story right...). That just warms my heart, the generosity of God's people in other parts of the world. Plus, the hard-working example of the believers here contantly blesses us. We are so humbled and blessed to know them, they are such an example in so many ways.

So, the Christmas service this past Sunday was in the new building. Many people from the church scrambled to finish construction, electrical installation, and cleaning to get it ready on Saturday for Sunday's service. All last minute, it seemed. But many things are last minute here in Latin America.

Tony was there all day helping. I stayed home because construction sites here are a little sketchy. The Patagonian winds often blow brick walls over or send tin roofs flying. I would have been no help anyway, and surely would have spent the whole scorcher of a day chasing my adventurous three year-old to keep her from stepping on nails and grabbing loose-hanging electrical wires. Besides, I was busy cleaning my house top to bottom, a little freaked out by our black-widows-in-the-neighborhood news.

Here are some pictures of construction.

putting up tin sheeting on the front of the new building



cleaning the inside - the floor was covered with resident pigeon droppings

 

the back of the church




getting ready to raise the covering for the back windows that don't have glass in them yet



window covering hung - they were about 30 feet off the ground here

  

I don't know what they're doing, but it looks dangerous



decorating



the worship band practicing {they played this kind of music;
people came in off the street during the service because they heard the music!}



working on the electrical wiring



they needed somebody light, so up went the pastor's wife



almost finished



The new church building was up and running just hours before the Christmas service. It was truly one of the most beautiful services I've had the pleasure and privelege to be a part of.


Merry Christmas, everyone! 

10 Tips to Remember When Washing Clothes in Patagonia

If you ever come to our house... which, I suppose, no one wants to do after reading our blog... BUT, in case you do, and you need to wash clothes here, it is good to remember the following:


10 Tips to Remember When Washing Clothes in Patagonia

1. Be sure to add 2-4 extra gallons of water to your small, front-loader washing machine, which has a phobia with water, and only uses a trickle to wash all your desert dust and sand-encrusted clothes.
2. Get over your addiction to your dryer. There aren't any here. Your clothes will never again be soft and fluffy, and your jeans will come off the line hard as cardboard. One day you will cease to notice this.
3. Check to make sure it's not too windy outside. Wind kicks up dust. Dust will coat all your whites with dirt.
4. When hanging clothes, make sure you shove those clothespins on as hard and as far down as you can. It will keep your nice, clean clothies from being whipped off the line and into the dirt. The dirt will not come out and you will have to rewash.
5. Hang all your thin synthetics and light fabrics first. By the time you get to the end of the line, they may already very likely be dry.
6. When you go out to hang clothes, be prepared to have long converstations with the neighbors and/or construction workers next door who love to yell "Good day!" over the fence/wall at you. Remember to smile and be nice. This is not, in fact, an invasion of your privacy.
7. Watch where you step, especially if you are wearing flip flops. Those red ants really get mad if you step in their nests and will swarm your feet and have them for lunch. And believe me, it hurts.
8. If you leave your residence or are headed to bed, make sure you take your clothes off the line first and bring them inside. That is, if you want to be absolutely sure they will still be there when you get home or get up.
9. Give all clothes a good shake for good measure. Black widows and ginormous wolf spiders live here.
10. Wash, hang, fold, repeat.

how to indentify volcanic ash in the sky

The volcanic ash has been pretty good lately - meaning there hasn't been much for weeks.

But yesterday it blew in rather quickly. The skies here are bright blue, so when it gets hazy, it's usually ash. I could tell it was blowing in because there are a few telltale signs.

ONE: Gray, Hazy Skies

This is what the sky looked like when I went out to hang up some clothes...

sky still mostly blue, but telltale hazy gray circle around the sun (some ash)

This was the sky a half hour later when I went back out to take them off the line (yes, sometimes they dry that fast here in the blustery desert)...

obviously hazy gray sky (ashy)

TWO: Blustery Winds

When the clothes go horizontal on the line, this may be an indicator that ash is blowing in...

THREE: Gray Horizon

sky may be blue, but gets noticably grayer towards the horizon

FOUR: Completely Gray Skies

Within hours, the sky can turn almost completely gray - no blue left to be seen. This is ash.

And when the sun becomes one big, hazy gray orb....

...it's time to bring the kids in, shut the windows, and have some mate while remarking to one other, "Wow, did you see the ash today?"

First Day of Summer

Our pool's not quite ready for summer yet. Tony began to fill it, only to realize the pump is for 120V and needs to be converted to 220V. We gave it to the electrician weeks ago... he recently texted us to say that the specialist he passed it on to is on vacation; he's very sorry, but it'll be a while longer until it's ready.

Mkay.

No worries, we're getting used to this waiting thing.

Christmas, kids, and Karina

Sunday was the Christmas service at church. Christmas in Latin America is celebrated on December 24th at midnight, so since the 24th falls on a Saturday this year, the church did their Christmas service, live Nativity, and various Gospel Presentations (plays, video productions, and songs), plus a traditional service at church this past Sunday. It lasted 4 hours and it was about 90 degrees inside. No fans, no a/c.

The kids from the children's home came, so it was great to get to meet them - so sad, and yet so adorable.



Tony's and his buddies



Dani, 5, the youngest at the children's home, with Keren the Mime, who did an
excellent mime presentation of the gospel



First Dani smiled, then she got shy and wouldn't look at the camera
(with Keren and her mime partner in crime - they were so good I thought they were professional thespians)



one of the youth from church; Tony as one of the Three Wise Men; a girl who was abandoned at the
children's home (I didn't catch her name), and Keren



Keren (pre-mime make-up) with her guitar, and the kids presenting the Christmas songs they had been practicing 



the little kids didn't get up on stage, just the bigger ones



Karina in the white, and her brother, holding the sign with Rafa, the Youth Leader, in the background



An entirely different group of kids from a difficult neighborhood where a couple from church has been evangelizing every Saturday; their outreach is called "Hora Feliz" (Happy Hour). Here they are preforming the songs about Jesus and Christmas they learned. I could have taken them all home with me.



After the three-hour service was over, they served dinner. At 10 o'clock (which is typical dinner time here in Argentina). Just sandwiches and sodas and sweets. By 11:00, kids were still running around, ours included, so we ended up talking to the people that head up both outreaches, the Hora Feliz and the children's home.

Here, the church takes a break in summer, which starts tomorrow. Sunday School classes end, outreach programs take a break, active evangelism programs slow down. Everyone takes vacation pretty seriously here. Plus, the 100 degree temps and blazing desert sun with no air conditioning (I know, I've mentioned the no air conditioning thing more than a few times...) make going outside just plain difficult between the hours of 12 and 6 or 7.

It makes us sad to think the kids will get no visitors this summer. Tony and I are seeing if we can do something with the kids at the children's home while everyone is on vacation. We would love to be able to visit them once a week, have them come over to play in our above ground pool we brought from the U.S., and Tony is working on getting permission to take them on a tour of the local TV station he freelances for. I don't know if we will be allowed to do any of this, though, so please pray God would open the doors and guide us into just the right thing.

:)

photos... just life

Uploading these on snail-speed internet will probably drive me to the edge, but I'm a gluton for punishment. So here are some random pictures from missions and church and life here in Argentina...

Side note: When the neighbor heard of our internet troubles (we still don't have it installed at home), he said he waited three months for his. Then he had pity on us, since we've only been waiting a month, and gave us his Wifi password. Nice, nice, niiiice neighbor. He's not around during the week, so I guess he doesn't mind us using up his broadband. Thank you, Jesus. I can't say the connection is hugely better, I still sit by the window and am constantly moving the laptop at strange angles, being bumped off randomly for no explicable reason. But here I sit because everyone wants pictures. And we love you. So we suffer with this insanity provoking connection out of love for friends and family, and random internet stalkers. And blogging is still fun, even though not as much without hi-speed. Somedays I'd rather have a root canal.


Tony doing a Bible study with Pedro in his plywood house (you can see our pool in the upper left)

  

Baptism in the Limay River (it was cooold from spring, mountain run-off)

 

Sr. Velazquez who repairs our bike flats - we have invited them to our Wednesday night Bible Study,
and his wife has expressed interest - hopefully they will come soon.



Puma and fox skins at Sr. Velazquez's bike shop
(I believe Pumas are endangered and you're not allowed to hunt them.)



armadillos

 

deer head and bobcat skin



water balloon volleyball at Youth Camp for the 9-11 year-olds; most of these kids are neighborhood kids that aren't from Christian homes, but are being reached through the presence of the church or its Christian school

 

rinsing the potatoes for youth camp with water stored in gas containers -
there was no running water on site except in the bathrooms



pebbles on the River Limay

Patricia, who lives in this house across from Tony's sister's, is a Christian who would come across the street and encourage us and pray for us during our time in Buenos Aires

our living room/dining room 5 weeks ago

my almost 3 year-old begged me to start school: "I do hometool, too? I do hometool, you and me?"

spring flower, Buenos Aires

more early spring flowers (mums?), Buenos Aires



a playground at at the edge of our neighborhood



:)