The drought leads me to Ayolas. The town’s fishermen speak of their long vigil from the banks of the Paraná, South America’s second-longest river. The great waters have sunk to the lowest point in living memory, leaving the fish stranded far away and a sediment of apparent silence over this edge of southern Paraguay.
However, a long evening walk along dark blocks, where riverside vegetation is dotted with houses, ends in an unexpected pool of light in a public green. A stage, food stalls, a popcorn cart, balloon sellers—a loud “122 years of Ayolas!” from the emcee and the mayor. The bustle of young people and families confirms the town’s spirit has not yet been drawn into the parched riverbed.
Amidst the crowds, I spot the surprising gleam of four beer taps mounted in an old, converted VW Kombi. Milciades Zárate, the one-person show behind La Canoa craft brewery, serves a steady line of customers, greeting almost all warmly by name in Guarani.
After first trying craft beer during a visit to Buenos Aires three years ago, Zárate tasked himself with finding a place for new flavors in a land where long, 110-degree summers push thirsts almost exclusively towards ice-cold macro Lagers. Following battles to source equipment, hops, and malts, La Canoa’s main challenge now is keeping up with the demand of its clientele.
I overshoot in trying Zárate’s selection and, after eating a portion of sopa—which, despite its name, is more bread than soup—head back into the darkness to find rest near the quietened waters of the Paraná.
Words + Photoby William Costa