In days to come it will be my pleasure to take the last bus in Bolivia to shining city on the hill, Villemonte, Bolivia somewhere to the east of Tarija, a fine city I had not known of a week ago. And from the city of Villemonte I will alight form my bus sometime in the early hours of the day to make my way to the frontier of Paraguay; and there, taking my chances with local transportation, I will go yet farther south through the lowlands of el Chaco to the city of Filadelfia,, onward south again to Asunción, and to the lost jungle utopia of Elizabeth Nietzsche-Forster's proto-Nazi communal failure, Neuvo Germania, temporary home of Dr. Mengele, dark paradise of the blind Aryan descendants of the perfect race, sightless from birth, bequeathed a life of lack of vision by visionary fore-bearers. Nor will my road end at the end of the Naziesque retreat from Modernity: I will continue to the farthest reaches of civil sanity to the jihadi refuge of Ciudad del Este, the tri-borders area of Paraguay where Muslims have taken themselves to hatch plots against humanity, their post-Nazi schemes fitting in perfectly with the past lost to blindness in the jungles, as drowned and unmourned as Mengele himself. I'm off to Paraguay, the land once described in a 1970s Rolling Stone magazine headline as “'The Last Place on Earth for the Worst People in the World.”
Far from expecting a brutal autarkic dictatorship of the Stroessner regime of old, of peasants toiling for latifundista fascist land barons it is my uninformed guess that I will arrive in a land rural and benign, populated by quiet people in the countryside, lively and pleasant in the city, but perhaps not ground down by the the weight of post-Modernity's demands for public moralistic purity and the deluge of self-destruction in the pursuit of personal excellence at the cost of life itself. In Paraguay I do not expect the German fascist fist to crush me and all others in the nation as of old, nor do I expect the vicious assaults on man's nature that are the norm today in the Modern world, in Canada, for example, the nation of my choice for the mantle of Paraguay's past designation.
Time will tell me if my guess is correct, that Paraguay is a green and pleasant land of rural living, a city by the river sometimes swollen and sometimes quiet and languid, peaceful and perhaps charming. Time will tell me, and I will tell these pages. I will tell if I come to the Latin version of North Korea or if I have left it in leaving the living of Livin' Ca-Nada Loco.