For such a small place, I met a lot of people in Paraguay—half of the country, maybe.

I bumped into gringos from Germany, Lithuania, the US, Australia, Belgium, and more. Paraguay is the new hiding place, apparently, residency is easy to get. A few gringos were digital nomads—but the quiet kind, not the influencer kind. Others were long-term travellers or seasonal residents, living off their savings and still traumatized by COVID restrictions or politics back home. We didn’t keep in touch—half of them don’t believe in cellphones or email, and I can’t be bothered to use encrypted messaging systems.

The number of gringos in this seemingly unlikely place reminded me of Panajachel, Guatemala, where Feng and I met an amazing number of paranoid gringos, ex-cons, ex-military, and more, living among the Mayas around Lake Atitlán in the early 2000s.

I also bumped into a very white American couple who shouted “Go away!” when I offered directions (in English!), even though I had heard them complaining they couldn’t find the Pantheon. I guess I scared them. Their guidebook must have warned them against “friendly strangers.” Still, good luck making it there…

I met Brazilian bikers from São Paulo, Rio de Janeiro, and Curitiba who came to check out Paraguay. They seemed to like it despite their limited Spanish.

I met a few twenty-somethings from Cuba who decided the “American Dream” up north had lost its shine, and that it was better to start a new life in Paraguay—or maybe Brazil, since they were still on the fence.

I was mostly interested in Paraguayans, and they were curious about me, because few people from outside South America come just to travel there. They all taught me something. Paraguayans are friendly and personable. They didn’t mind answering my questions or sharing slices of life—how much they make, where they live, and what they dream about.

Friendly Paraguayans taught me how to drink tereré, how to make sopa paraguaya and chipas—didn’t try the former because it was just too hot, bought the latter but I must admit I like pão de queijo best—how to make my chicken asado for one, how to find my way around Mercado 4, how to get from point A to point B, and just generally enjoy life there.

I loved it. I felt welcome.

I didn’t take any pictures on my first day in Asunción. On my second, I took one. Lovely city, but not exactly picturesque, I thought—all the streets looked the same, nothing stood out, and there were few people for people-watching, my favourite activity. Then I realized I hadn’t opened my eyes yet. Then it clicked, and I started to click.

Asunción would have been “just” a quiet, relaxing city without the many, many interactions I had daily with just about everyone.

Thank you, people of Asunción—I love you.