The hotel
is simply elegant to match the surrounding neighborhood, but
with modern interior designs and situated far enough from the
hubbub of the downtown area. It’s still convenient to many
amenities, however, such as the shopping mall across the street
and good restaurants nearby. And a cab ride to downtown takes
about twenty minutes and costs a whopping 60,000 Guaranies, or
roughly fifteen dollars.
Hotel
Sheraton Asuncion hosts a small restaurant and bar on the ground
floor (not to be confused with the first floor. I’ll explain
later). Breakfast, which is complimentary, and lunch are
buffet-style and both are delicious. Breakfast consists of hot
foods, such as scrambled eggs, bacon, sausages and pancakes. I
found it interesting that the restaurant does not offer syrup.
Pancakes are eaten with honey! It’s a unique blend of two
familiar and wonderful tastes. They also serve an amazing array
of fresh fruits, like mango and papaya, small pastries and an
assortment of cold cereals. (Tony the Tiger, Snap, Crackle and
Pop are not included.) The orange juice tasted like it came
straight from the tree, but the peach juice tasted like it came
straight from the can. The coffee is strong and powerful enough
to knock you into the middle of next week. Needless to say, I
loved it.
Lunch had a
number of salads, hot meats and sides, usually including a pasta
dish. The ceviche was awesome.
As I
mentioned earlier, registration and the restaurant are on the
ground floor. The first floor is up a wide open staircase to
the large ballrooms. The second and third floors house meeting
rooms.
The fourth
through ninth floors are the guest rooms and the tenth is the
crowning jewel. It features an open bar area with swimming pool
and hot tub and gives visitors a spectacular and breath-taking
panorama view of Asuncion. The open area had a modern Greek
style with columns, giving it an affluent feel. Although I
didn’t get a chance to try the wet and dry saunas, I was assured
by my colleague that they were luxurious.
Downtown Asuncion
Sunset over Asuncion
One
important fact that needs noting is that the elevators do not
ding, beep, buzz or otherwise indicate they have arrived on your
floor, with the exception of the ground floor. Several times, I
was caught admiring the view out of the ninth floor window,
unaware the elevator was standing open. I had to make a mad
dash to reach it before it was too late.
As with any
place catering to the traveler, the staff can make or break the
experience, no matter how luxurious and posh the hotel is. This
crew was one of the
most helpful, courteous and friendly staff I
have ever encountered. Some spoke English but many did not.
Still, the language barrier rarely caused inconvenience or
misunderstandings. However, there was the time I asked for
coffee and got espresso instead. It did help me stay awake for
the long, boring, afternoon meetings.
Ruben, the
bartender, makes the best Caipirinhas. He speaks excellent English since he lived and worked in
Montgomery, Alabama. Norma and Elaine were two of the lovely
young women who greeted me with a buenos dias, big smiles and
kept the coffee coming each morning.
Tall and handsome Diego
manned the registration desk and arranged for transportation to
and from the airport as well as a couple of city tours.
Bottom line, my room was always clean
and, for a week, I was happy to call it home.
Eating out
In the heart
of the market district in downtown Asuncion, the capitol of
Paraguay, the diner El Bolsi caters to the businessmen and women
needing a quick bite for lunch. A small electronic marquis
above the kitchen window boasted “We have the best food south of
the MASON-DIXON!!”. Noting just how far south of the famed
boundary we were, this is a tall order. El Bolsi didn’t fill
it, either. The quatro queso empanada was tasty but
nothing that outshone food I’ve had between Asuncion and the
Mason-Dixon Line. Considering that my colleague from Columbia,
who was a naturalized U.S. citizen, had no clue about the Civil
War reference, I wondered how many Paraguayans knew.
The rest of
the meals eaten away from the Hotel Sheraton were delicious and
satisfying. La Cabaña in the Del Sol Shopping Center and
Paulista Churrasqueria on Avenue San Martin served tasty meals
but the latter was clearly the superior. Much larger than La
Cabaña, Paulista had more of a cafeteria feel but with it came
the giant buffet with salads, pastas and other side dishes.
Here, the waiters scurried about toting skewers of meat hot from
the kitchen. At La Cabana, you had to ask for the next serving
of meat and then it was brought to the table on a plate. The
modest portions at La Cabana were a bit on the greasy side with
gristle left on, but Paulista had similar cuts, just larger and
more readily available. My favorite was the carne asada
with queso, simple but tasty.
In the
downtown area near the Paraguayan capitol building sits Le Flor
de la Carta, a Peruvian restaurant. Our driver for our tour of
Lago (Lake) Ypacarai suggested it when I asked for
recommendations for ceviche, or cebiche as Le Flor de la Carta
lists it on the menu. It comes with a choice of three different
fish: surubi, mero and lenguado. There wasn’t an English
translation for these but they were all types of white fish.
The waiter told me that each dish with a single meat was rather
small, so I chose the Cebiche Super Especial, which had all
three. I got stuffed on the generous portions, and couldn’t
finish it. My British-born friend ordered a grilled surubi
plate and it satisfied even his discriminating pallet.
Il Capo, an
Italian restaurant, is a few minutes walk from the Hotel
Sheraton, just past the Del Sol Shopping Center and the
McDonald’s. (Yes, the U.S. icon is ubiquitous, more so Burger
King but nearly as omnipresent as Coca-Cola). Its relaxed
atmosphere the night we visited could be attributed to the
Paraguay vs. Venezuela soccer game on TV. The décor and menu
were typically Italian and you could easily forget you were
sitting in a South American capitol. I ate a simple pizza that
was as good as any similar ones I’ve had in the states. The
Brit had a much larger pizza with more toppings and once again
satisfied his taste buds.
My biggest
joy over the week was the Paraguayan beer Brahma. It had a mile
taste but was very refreshing. The dark version actually had a
sweet aftertaste that made it delicious. I wish I had found it
earlier. Two other Paraguayan brews I tried were light and
nearly as weak as many domestic beers. A search for Paraguayan
wines proved futile, since most people there prefer the Chilean
and Argentinean vintages.
An
interesting departure from an otherwise routine food service was
leaving a tip. In the U.S., we usually put the tip on the
credit card instead of leaving cash on the table. However, in
Paraguay, we were told many places that the tip could not be put
on the credit card. This could make for awkward situations
unless you are carrying several thousand Guaranies!
Overall, the
food was delicious and I never had a bad meal. In fact, I felt
that I may have gained a few pounds while enjoying the
Paraguayan cuisine. Maybe the reason I tended to overindulge
was the reasonable prices at even the fancier restaurants. For
the amount of food served at La Cabaña, two of us ate for just
under forty dollars. The regional delicacies were flavorful and
tasty but not too spicy. And not exactly a place for anyone
watching their cholesterol levels or their waist lines.
Traffic in Asuncion.
Unless you
have nerves of steel, can let anything roll off your back or are
suicidal, don’t drive in Paraguay. Walk or take a cab. The few
traffic controls in place, such as stop lights or lane markings
in the capitol city of Asuncion, seemed to be regarded as
suggestions only rather than law. As a result however, some of
the vehicular infractions I witnessed, including cutting someone
off, passing in a no-passing zone and running a red light hardly
registered even a horn blow. The small of these gaffes in the
U.S. would’ve provoked the worst case of road rage imaginable.
During the
cab ride from the airport to the hotel the first night, the
driver straddled the middle line for most of the journey. At
least this road had one. For many of the streets, any type of
markings for lanes or the shoulder simply does not exist. At
intersections where a stoplight stands, drivers fill in the
street curb to curb in a random fashion like irregular shaped
rocks clogging the bottom of a chute. If a vehicle fits into an
empty space, one will be there.
Where no
stoplight or sign stands, cars venture into the intersections
with trepidation, looking for an opening in the cross-traffic.
What designates an ‘opening’ is up to the discretion of the
driver. Minor traffic jams appear as motorists on the side
streets mingle with the main thoroughfare and then disappear
with a minimum of horn-honking.
In fact,
everyone appears to take such things in stride. The most
egregious faux pas of one driver against the next, passing in a
no-passing zone on a hill, did not result in any horn-blowing or
flipping the finger which are guaranteed among U.S. drivers in
such cases. In our cross-country trek to Brazil, I was reminded
of my years in Texas as a Mercedes-Benz passed our vehicle on a
hilltop in a no-passing zone as if he were too prosperous to be
bothered with obeying traffic laws. But buses and trucks are
not at all above taking advantage of this opportunity to move up
in the queue of cars. Our driver also made his move to pass two
cars on a rise, but made it past only one before a vehicle came
over the crest heading toward us. Although there was no room
between the two cars, the driver of the rear vehicle eased off
and let us in front of him, without any visible reaction.
Imagine a motorist in the U.S. not taking this as a personal
insult and affront!
Zipping in
and out traffic between cars, trucks and vans are the motor
bikes which by nature of its economic advantages are a
widely-used mode of transportation. The riders exhibit even
less regard for themselves or other motorists as they squeeze
into small spaces between cars, whether traffic is moving or
not. When the light turns green and everyone moves through the
intersection, cars fan out taking as much of the road as they
can without getting into on-coming traffic. Remember that lanes
may or may not be indicated. The motorcyclists take advantage
of the larger gaps, pressing their advantage to move forward.
Among our fellow commuters one day was a young man with his wife
sitting behind him and a toddler sandwiched between them.
Despite the noise and commotion, the kid appeared to be sound
asleep.
In the
border town of Ciudad del Este, they’re even more aggressive and
suicidal. Here, many of them run taxi services, carting people
back and forth between Paraguay and Brazil, even if it means
using the sidewalks when traffic stalls.
In the rural
Paraguayan countryside, the motorcyclists are more prevalent but
less intrusive. The morning shift mobilized in one small
community as we passed through, buzzing around us like bees
protecting the hive and making sure we weren’t a threat. The
country folk stick mainly to the shoulder of the highway, using
it as opposed the lanes which are clearly marked.
Young women
are as likely to be operating motorcycles as the men. People
traveled in twos and even threes, clutching tightly to each
other. Since this is their only mode of transportation, the
motor bikes are used to haul cargo as well as passengers. One
such fellow had three large boxes strapped to the back of his
bike, to the point that he could not be seen from behind. I
glanced at him as we passed and saw his lap was filled with
cargo as well. In the Lago Ypicarai area, one cyclist’s buddy
held a large harp, while riding on the back of the bike. It was
a sight to give any harpist’s heart to skip a beat.
As I
mentioned earlier, the city bus is not an attractive
alternative, either. My colleague was strongly advised to
remove her watch if she opted for the bus. Whether this was
only a stern warning or a dose of reality, we decided to take a
cab.
Walking is
the best alternative, especially for short distances since you
can enjoy the sites and sounds of the city. While riding in a
vehicle, it’s extremely difficult to take pictures while holding
on for dear life.
