My first glimpse of Asunción was La Recoleta, the neighbourhood I had picked more or less at random on the map when I was still unsure whether the capital was just a slum full of drug lords—an easy assumption to make thousands of kilometres away, in a country where Paraguay is rarely, if ever, mentioned.

In Buenos Aires, Argentina, La Recoleta is the posh neighbourhood. According to Google Maps, Asunción’s Recoleta had a mall and nice-looking apartments on Airbnb. Surely it had to be a safe spot.

The Uber driver went around the block, and then around once again, because he couldn’t find my building—and neither the Italian traveller nor I could help. Mind you, he wasn’t the least bit annoyed by it. Wasting time or not finding his way in his own city didn’t seem to bother him at all. Paraguayans aren’t easily bothered by anything.

I ended up spotting it. The apartment tower wasn’t as tall as I had been expecting—Asunción felt more like Foz do Iguaçu than São Paulo.

The neighbourhood looked peaceful, and by peaceful I mean it was mostly one- or two-storey buildings, half houses and half businesses, along haphazardly paved streets—by which I mean streets that look as if a bunch of kids threw rocks of all sizes on the ground and called it a day.

“Do you know where I can find a supermarket? And a bakery?” I asked the building’s front desk.

“There’s a bakery this way,” he replied, pointing to the left. “And a supermarket around the corner,” he added, pointing to the right.

A tough choice. I went for the bakery, didn’t find it, found coffee instead, and promptly got lost.

It wasn’t really my fault. It was getting dark, and all the streets—except De Gaulle, all named after perfect strangers like Hassler or Mariscal López—looked the same. No high-rises, no clear landmarks, and so many trees it all blurred together.

“It sounds like Central America, the way you describe it,” Feng laughed later that night.

“It feels like it. But cleaner, and without dogs barking or car alarms. It’s… quite nice, actually. Different. Very relaxing.”

I eventually found the supermarkets, plural. And the bakeries, also plural, as well as the giant malls—effectively plural, since there are two malls spread over three blocks around a park.

In La Recoleta, life revolves around Shopping Mariscal, Shopping Villa Morra, and La Cuadrita, a 350-metre-long pedestrian street full of restaurants. Next door—and posher—in Villa Morra, life revolves around Shopping del Sol and Paseo La Galería.

Malls are handy when it’s 40°C.

But I don’t care much about malls—except at night, when there was some cool live music in the outdoor food court at Plaza Mariscal—so as soon as I felt comfortable with my surroundings, I went to explore the rest of the city.

I started with Mercado 4, highly recommended by the Uber driver on my first night, who proudly stated it was “the real Asunción—nothing to do with shopping malls.”

I actually walked the four kilometres to Mercado 4. The first time I went, I didn’t get it. Sure, a couple of busy streets and clothing shops that reminded me of Shenyang’s Wu’ai—but nothing more. So I went back and asked where to find the food section.

“Turn here. Then here. Then go straight, turn again, and go deeper.”

Then I got it. I had barely scratched the surface that first time. Here I was, wandering between meat and football jerseys, the kind of market I love.

I went to Mercado 1 as well, just food stalls. That’s where I stopped counting mercados. I kept exploring into the centro after that.

There’s a list of must-sees in Asunción—the Panteón with the remains of national heroes, the cathedral, the Casa de la Independencia where Paraguay’s independence was declared, the Centro Cultural de la República El Cabildo, now dedicated to the country’s history and culture, plus the presidential palace and seat of government, the Palacio de López.

Except for the latter, you can simply push the door open and wander around—culture is free and accessible in Paraguay.

The Museo Nacional de Bellas Artes de Asunción failed to impress me—granted, it’s hard to top the MASP in São Paulo—but I loved the murals scattered all over Asunción, as well as the powerful Monument in Tribute to Fighters of the Dictatorship.

I learned a thing or two about Paraguay, finally free from a 35-year dictatorship. It’s quietly impressive, really.

I walked the five or six kilometres back and forth from Villa Morra to downtown several times. I grew used to the quiet side streets, busy main avenues, and funky sidewalks. These walks could have been boring, but I was too busy looking around—Paraguay isn’t a flashy country, it takes time and attention to notice the details in Asunción, from colonial houses to traces of Guaraní culture, and more.

And then I found the best spot for sunsets and socializing—La Costanera, the kilometre-long waterfront. The “beach” along the banks of the Río Paraguay—especially the stretch between the back of Palacio de López and the harp (no, I’m not drunk, it’s a local landmark!)—is where the whole city gathers on Sundays and in the evenings.

It’s lovely and peaceful, just like the rest of the city.

Spending nine days in Asunción, a city I knew nothing about, could have been a mistake. Instead, it became one of those places that stays with you—not because it shouts, but because it doesn’t.

Honestly, I can’t explain what Paraguay did to me. It wasn’t supposed to be my kind of place—few attractions, few people, and not a single ocean nearby.

It doesn’t have anything special… yet everything becomes special if you take time to appreciate it.

Paraguay is like tereré. It’s just ice, water, and herbs, but sipped slowly, it does the trick.