Capturing Paraguayan Life: A Photographer's Journey Through Fernando de la Mora

Fernando de la Mora operates on its own distinct tempo – one that requires photographers to slow down and attune themselves to local patterns. Unlike tourist-heavy destinations where photogenic moments seem staged for your convenience, this Paraguayan city demands patience and observation.

My first two days were admittedly frustrating. Coming from the structured efficiency of Norfolk, I found myself constantly checking my watch, wondering when the 'action' would begin. It wasn't until my third morning, sitting with a steaming cup of cocido (a traditional Paraguayan yerba mate drink with burnt sugar) at a corner café, that I finally surrendered to the city's rhythm.

The key to photographing Fernando de la Mora lies in embracing what locals call tranquilo – a relaxed approach to time and activity. Once I adjusted my expectations, photographic opportunities revealed themselves organically: elderly men playing chess in Plaza Cerro Corá's dappled shade, children practicing traditional dance at the Cultural Center, vendors arranging their wares with artistic precision at the municipal market.

For the technically minded photographer, the challenging lighting conditions here require versatility. The harsh midday sun creates strong contrasts, while the golden hours offer magical but fleeting opportunities. My variable ND filter proved invaluable for managing the bright Paraguayan sunlight, especially when shooting the bustling street scenes where I couldn't always wait for ideal lighting conditions.

My veterinary background inevitably influences how I travel and what captures my photographic attention. While Fernando de la Mora isn't known for wildlife tourism, I discovered a fascinating urban ecosystem that provided unique photographic opportunities.

The city's parks and green spaces host surprising biodiversity. In Parque Ecológico, I spent hours photographing southern lapwings with their distinctive crests performing elaborate territorial displays. My professional knowledge of bird behavior helped me anticipate their movements, allowing me to capture intimate moments that casual observers might miss.

What truly fascinated me was documenting the relationship between Paraguayans and their animals. Unlike the rigid pet ownership structures I'm accustomed to in North America, here the boundaries are more fluid. Street dogs aren't necessarily homeless – many belong to neighborhoods rather than individuals, receiving care from multiple households. This communal approach to animal welfare creates touching scenes of intergenerational care that make for compelling photographic narratives.

One morning, I witnessed an elderly woman carefully setting out water bowls for local cats while a young boy distributed scraps to waiting dogs. The scene unfolded with such natural rhythm that I nearly missed its photographic potential. These subtle moments of human-animal connection offer insights into cultural values that grand landmarks never could.

For wildlife photography in urban settings, my telephoto zoom lens proved essential. Lightweight enough for all-day carrying yet offering the reach needed for skittish urban wildlife, it became my most-used lens throughout the week.

My Filipino-Canadian upbringing instilled in me a deep appreciation for street food cultures, and Fernando de la Mora's markets presented a feast for both my palate and my camera. The challenge? Capturing the sensory experience – the aromas, textures, and flavors – through purely visual means.

The municipal market transforms throughout the day, each hour offering distinct photographic opportunities. Before dawn, vendors arrange their goods with meticulous care, creating geometric patterns of produce that beg to be photographed in the soft early light. By mid-morning, the human element takes center stage as shoppers and vendors engage in the choreography of commerce, providing endless opportunities for candid portraits and interaction shots.

Street food presents particular photographic challenges. The mouthwatering chipa guasu (corn bread) and sopa paraguaya (cheese bread) emit steam that can create atmospheric images but requires technical skill to capture properly. I found myself constantly adjusting settings to balance steam visibility with food detail.

My approach to food photography here diverged from the polished, overhead shots popular on social media. Instead, I focused on the hands preparing the food – the weathered fingers of a grandmother shaping mbejú (starch and cheese flatbread) or the practiced movements of a vendor flipping tortillas paraguayas. These images tell more authentic stories than perfectly styled plates ever could.

For market photography in variable lighting conditions, my prime lens rarely left my camera. Its fast aperture handled the dim market interiors while delivering the sharp, intimate images I sought. The fixed focal length also forced me to move physically closer to my subjects, encouraging genuine interactions rather than shooting from a distance.

My spring visit to Fernando de la Mora coincided with several cultural celebrations that provided extraordinary photography opportunities. The timing was partly luck, partly research – a reminder that understanding a destination's cultural calendar is as important as knowing its geography.

The Festival de San Juan, though smaller than its counterparts in larger Paraguayan cities, offered intimate access to traditions that larger events often lose. The kamba ra'anga (blackened faces) ritual, where participants cover their faces with charcoal and dance through streets, creates striking visual contrasts that practically compose themselves. By developing rapport with participants before the festivities began, I gained permission to photograph moments that tourists with telephoto lenses could never access.

What surprised me most was how my veterinary background again opened unexpected doors. When locals learned of my profession, I was invited to document the blessing of animals at the Iglesia San Francisco. Families brought everything from beloved dogs to farm animals for the annual blessing, creating a fascinating juxtaposition of the sacred and mundane that yielded some of my favorite images from the entire trip.

School performances occur regularly during spring, with children performing traditional dances in colorful attire. The Cultural Center hosts these events most Friday afternoons – arrive early to speak with organizers about photography permissions. The genuine pride on the children's faces as they perform dances passed down through generations creates emotional portraits that capture Paraguayan cultural resilience.

For these dynamic cultural events, my camera bag proved its worth repeatedly. Its side-access design allowed me to change lenses quickly without missing fleeting moments, while the weatherproofing protected my gear during an unexpected afternoon downpour at an outdoor celebration.

Fernando de la Mora's architecture tells a story of contrasts – colonial influences alongside mid-century developments and contemporary structures. While lacking the postcard-perfect buildings of Asunción, this very authenticity offers photographers something more valuable: visual narratives of everyday Paraguayan life.

The city's residential architecture particularly captivated me. Homes here often feature vibrant exterior colors that pop beautifully in photographs, especially during the golden hour. Many families personalize their spaces with elaborate gardens, religious shrines, or unique decorative elements that reveal cultural values and personal histories.

I developed a mini-project documenting doorways throughout the city – each entrance telling its own story through color choices, security features, religious symbols, and signs of wear. This focus on architectural details rather than grand facades yielded a more intimate portrait of the community than I initially expected.

The municipal buildings around Plaza Cerro Corá demonstrate the city's evolution through architectural styles. The contrast between the ornate colonial-influenced town hall and the stark modernism of newer government buildings creates compelling compositional opportunities, particularly when framing one style against the other.

For architectural photography, I frequently switched to my wide angle lens to capture building facades while maintaining context. The fast aperture proved valuable for interior shots of the beautiful Iglesia San Francisco, where tripods weren't permitted but the dramatic light demanded documentation.

What makes Fernando de la Mora architecturally interesting isn't grand monuments but the authentic juxtapositions – satellite dishes mounted on colonial-style homes, ultra-modern internet cafés nestled between traditional markets, and religious iconography adorning otherwise contemporary structures. These contrasts tell the story of a place in transition far more effectively than any single landmark could.