tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-75696108688260262462024-03-05T05:27:06.692-08:00Republica DomyTinaWe are two Peace Corps Volunteers spending the next two years of our lives in the Dominican Republic.Disclaimerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13258708402669531150noreply@blogger.comBlogger23125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7569610868826026246.post-84797390747010247142011-12-16T17:02:00.000-08:002011-12-16T17:02:12.381-08:00A day in my life….Awakening to loads of Dominicans <s>screeching</s> singing at 5 in the morning, I put my pillow over my head. The loud <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">predicar</i>ing starts, and I drift in and out of sleep, mixing reality with dreams about fiery hell, Christmas caroling, laughter, family, and loud music, with Dominic’s body next to mine, also breathing in and out, trying to sleep through this loud interruption. Alarm clock rings at 6:30 to go running, which we thankfully turn off, ignore, and go back to sleep. A little after, I reluctantly get out of bed to hang my clothes to dry, which we had washed the night before.<br />
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<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">For the first two weeks in December, the church on my street does its own version of Christmas caroling, which includes occasional screaming, occasional faints, songs with the theme of Cristo viene!, loud instruments, and pleasant chants and songs about the birth of Jesus Cristo. It is a joyous time for all Dominicans. This singing might seem mildly amusing, and at times, it is, but I should also note that this praising starts at <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">4 am</b> and stops a little after <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">6 am</b>. A little too early for my liking. Anyway, it is more of a cultural event than a religious event, as many people join in, including the <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">tigueres</i>/ gansters, who at 6 then go to their respective street corners in the barrio and start playing their music, which is where they will be and what they will be doing until it is time to turn in for the night. After hanging my laundry, I drink my morning tea (gracias a Uncle Dan), and get ready for class. </div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">Every morning, I go to one of the two schools in my barrio and work with the kids who are a little behind the learning curve of their peers. Literacy has become one of my main projects in my barrio. One school is a preschool, and while I am not sure how much I am actually doing to benefit these kids, they are the most adorable kids in the barrio, and I love them. They keep me grounded, which in a high- stress environment, is a godsend. The other school is K-3<sup>rd</sup> grade. The second school is where I will go today.</div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">I arrive at 8 and ask one of the teachers which kids I should pull out today. She timidly and politely asks if I would mind going with the youngest kids, as their teacher has not shown up. After peering in and all the smiling kids start chanting my name to enter, I oblige. We draw. We color. I read lots of stories about snow and other things that realistically, these children will never see. </div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">I have to bring my own books because there are no books in the school. I also have to break all the crayons into thirds because there are not enough crayons for each student to have one. I then draw things in their notebooks that they can color in because there are no funds to make photocopies or anything of the sort (stars, Christmas tress, snowmen). The lack of resources in the schools here will never cease to amaze me. They have nothing- no type of didactic materials, no games, no visual stimuli. They do not seem to realize the difference between visual, auditory learners, etc. and the schooling system insists that every child learn in the same manner: by copying verbatim whatever the teacher writes on the chalkboard. Because this method has clearly been a proven success. </div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">An aside: 174 years is what it would a child in the Dominican educational system to achieve the same level of average years of completed schooling for a person in the <st1:place w:st="on"><st1:country-region w:st="on">US</st1:country-region></st1:place>. 174 years. Average years of schooling completed in the DR=6. The average hours per day a child spends in school=2.76 hours.</div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">Working with literacy projects seems to be a major initiative with many volunteers from my group, and <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">para mi, vale la pena</i>. (Not pene, which I accidentally mixed up once, much to my chagrin and much to the comic relief of everyone else). </div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">After the kids leave, the director inquires about funds I might be able to obtain for a holiday party. After giving her my tried and true speech, I can give you my time, my heart, and my hands while I am here, but I cannot give nor do I have money to give, I leave the school to return to my casita to lunch with Dominic. Yuca y pollo guisado. Mmmmmm. We nap my obligatory afternoon nap followed by coffee. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Ya tu sabes</i>. I visit with some neighbors, a tiguere pastor, and finally my friend, which inevitably is followed by more coffee. I leave for my Chicas Brillantes group at 6 pm, wondering where my days go. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I arrive at the preschool where I have my afternoon groups and classes, and, surprisingly I encounter two of my Chicas Brillantes waiting for me. This never happens. We still start half an hour late because no one else was there, but two are on time. Miracles do happen!!! </div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">Tonight in our group, we talk about teenage pregnancy. One in four Dominicans between the ages of 15 and 19 has a child. Twenty-five percent. Wow wow wow. We have some lively discussions about machismo, the culture or sex, the life choices we make, and how we hold the power to our futures. While it is by candlelight that we discuss these themes, it feels almost surreal on nights like this, when I peer into the faces of 10 young, almost women, clutching candles in their hands, and inquiring about things that most children in the <st1:place w:st="on"><st1:country-region w:st="on">U.S.</st1:country-region></st1:place> know by kindergarten. They are the future, and for once, I feel not frightened but hopeful. </div>Disclaimerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13258708402669531150noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7569610868826026246.post-35906593630390061292011-12-16T16:59:00.000-08:002011-12-16T16:59:28.812-08:00Deep thoughts by Tina StavrosAs I wrote this title, I realized that many people might not get the SNL allusion. Being 30, I still feel young, youthful, etc. even though I am asked at least 5 times a day why I do not have children for being this old. One of my friends just had her 6<sup>th</sup> child and finally got her tubes tied (is that what it is called for women?). In any case, no more fertile eggs will be going down her fallopian tubes any time soon. Her age, you might ask. 30 years young, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">igual a mi</i>. The Peace Corps is filled with college-graduates who more than likely took the 3-4 year route, which means most of my friends, both Dominican and American, are in the early 20s, unless of course they are my age with 6+ children.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span> I brought up Thelma and Louise with some of my volunteer friends, and my twenty-six year old friend nudged me kindly and whispered in my ear that no one I was with had ever seen it. And in all my 30 years of life thought it was a classic. In any case, this blog entry (as opposed to others) is filled with random thoughts and notes. <br />
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<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; tab-stops: 315.0pt;">Round of illnesses: allergic reaction to wasp sting on right buttocks, numerous infected mosquito bites, pin worm, ring worm, scabies (4 times to date), constant heat rash, brutal ear infection, staph infection (on my face!, also twice), impetigo (from said staph infection), and an allergic reaction caused on my hands from lime enzymes coupled with sunlight (note to boozers and/or citrus lovers: careful with the limes you squeeze in your cervezas while sitting in sunlight). These are at least the things I can recall at this moment, but I am sure there are more. </div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; tab-stops: 315.0pt;">How do you make an eco-friendly and efficient oven: concrete walls and a tin topping. What is my house made of: concrete walls and a tin topping. </div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; tab-stops: 315.0pt;">The value of education: The other day I saw a woman walking down the street with her 10-year old son, and he was naked. Completely. He appeared to be somewhat embarrassed by his lack of clothing. She was walking behind him with a stick. I heard her tell a neighbor that people called her an abusadora. I asked her what happened to her son’s clothing. She replied that he was supposed to be at school (it is summer so I am not sure what type of school), and she found him playing in the street. So the woman straight up cut the clothes off her child and made him walk home naked. She apparently forgot that this will hurt her in the long run too when she realizes that she just ruined her son’s one and only school outfit. On the strengths-based side, she seems to realize the value of education, which makes me someone optimistic about the future of this boy, se llama Pollo. </div>Disclaimerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13258708402669531150noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7569610868826026246.post-918959032241491922011-12-16T16:55:00.000-08:002011-12-16T16:55:39.463-08:00Sometime in June….Round one of English classes: Almost complete.I am sitting under my <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">mosquitero</i>, listening to some women argue, which might legitimately turn into a machete fight, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">vamos a ver</i>. I am feeling the nice breeze of my fan, which is a welcomed relief because we now have <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">luz</i> for nearly 20 hours a day. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Gracias a Dios. </i>Also, I keep hearing riffs of an MGMT song. I think it must be on a commercial because I am not sure why else I would be hearing it multiple times throughout the day. Maybe it is being played for a political campaign, in which case I will be blessed with hearing it for the next year, similar to <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">llegó </i><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span lang="ES-DO" style="mso-ansi-language: ES-DO;">papá</span></i>. My first group of English students graduated Tuesday, and I had a mini fiesta filled with <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">refrescos</i>, crackers, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">mentas</i> (which are actually Halls cough drops that they sell like candy here), <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">certificados</i>, and <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">dinámicas</i>. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span lang="ES-DO" style="mso-ansi-language: ES-DO;">Mi fiesta fue bien</span></i><span lang="ES-DO" style="mso-ansi-language: ES-DO;">. </span>I took a lot of photos, and they are eager to start the next class. I had 22 <span lang="ES-DO" style="mso-ansi-language: ES-DO;">jóvenes</span> graduate. We will start again in a few weeks, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">si Dios quiere</i>…<br />
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<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; tab-stops: 315.0pt;">My life here, similar to winterless (and seemingly seasonless) <st1:place w:st="on"><st1:city w:st="on">Phoenix</st1:city></st1:place>, is not measured in terms of weather or seasons, but rather the activities of the children and the fruit bore on the trees. Also, as the time of mangos continues to grow, the time of chichiguas has ended, presumably because the stifling heat allows for no wind, which takes the fun out of much kite flying. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Por ejemplo</i>, the time of <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">chichiguas</i> was followed by the time of by <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>the time of tops, followed by marbles <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">ahora</i>. These toys or pastimes seem to ripple through our lives rapidly, but in the short shelf lives of these entertainments, bring enjoyment to all in their vicinity. The new rage is marbles, which remind me of the fishtanks I had as a child (RIP countless goldfish that I never could keep alive). Summer has arrived. Along with the stifling heat, my energy has dwindled. My projects have all but disappeared, and people seem lethargically content doing ABSOLUTELY NOTHING all summer long. One mother asked me if I could restart my English class in the fall because her son really preferred to have his vacations without doing anything. My guttural reaction of f*$% no! was replaced with an understanding nod, and gently said, no, my love, if he cannot come for two hours out of one hundred sixty-eight, I cannot help him this summer. I withheld the urge to throw in an “<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">oiste</i>?” One project that is doing well is my group of Chicas Brillantes. After having about 3 months of just hanging out, the direction of our group changed overnight. One meeting, we were all chatting. The girls were chatting about our summer plans, and the discussion went into the direction of helping the barrio. While I live in an extremely poor barrio, and the girls in my barrio are themselves extremely poor, they still realized that there are others less fortunate and they decided they wanted to help. So now, we are still Chicas Brillantes, but we are organizing a cleanup of the barrio, and are going to start going to the houses of people who cannot afford to “do their hair.” And we are going to wash and braid their hair<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>(apparently this is something fairly common here). It definitely still has a glittery, sparkly, “chicas” ring to it. They also want to help a particular family in my barrio that has a lot of problems. None of the kids are documented, and none are in school. The 13-year cannot write her name and the 5 younger kids do not go to school. Their mother is not documented and as of right now, their future seems rather dim. They want to start helping this family and others in the community. The discussion was so selfless and amazing. I get so frustrated with the “gimme, gimme, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span lang="ES-DO" style="mso-ansi-language: ES-DO;">regalome</span></i>” culture, that this was a breath of fresh air. I am constantly reminded that the children truly are our future, and their potential and limitless limitations is beautiful. To see the kids with nothing try to pool together their limited resources to help others is pretty rad. They promptly decided to make our club more official. They elected a secretary who started writing down our ideas, and also the president. We have made a couple of trips to the <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span lang="ES-DO" style="mso-ansi-language: ES-DO;">ayuntamiento</span></i> (city hall) to see if there are any funds or anyway they can help us. We have also been bringing letters to the local stores to see if they. <o:p> </o:p></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; tab-stops: 315.0pt;">There was a fire in our community. It sounded like a parade at first. I heard sirens for a short while as they approached our barrio and then our street. As soon as the first siren passed, it was as if the president had approached. Tons of <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">motors</i> scurried behind the truck, with people running behind it cheering. From what I saw, it seemed as though there were more people chasing the trucks than there are people who actually live in our barrio. It was like lifting up a rock and seeing a million bugs scuttle away from the rock. That is what it looked like. This same day, I had an intercambio with my <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Chicas Brillantes</i> group. Seven of us met up with 2 other volunteers and some of their girls. We had a lot of fun! I forget the little things I take for granted having grown up in a non 3<sup>rd</sup>-world country (I know this is not p.c. terminology, but you get the point). We went on a cultural/ educational excursion to some neat caves not too far from our site. Before entering the caves, we made a final pitstop in the bathrooms, which turned out to be an event in itself. I was leaving my stall, a couple of girls were waiting outside the stall door peering in, which I thought was odd. I asked them if everything was alright, and they asked me how I flushed the toilet. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">O Dios Mio</i>. These chicas had never used a toilet (outside of a latrine/ outhouse). I showed them how to flush the toilets. I also had to demonstrate how to lock and more importantly, unlock the doors, as I watched a girl shimmy under her locked stall to exit. They were excited by the soap dispensers, and loved the rolls of paper towels. After the bathrooms, the rest of the event went smoothly, and my girls had an amazing time. Everything is going well with the group, thankfully, as everything else is going really slow this summer. Really slow. </div>Disclaimerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13258708402669531150noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7569610868826026246.post-18263325178241665372011-07-25T05:33:00.000-07:002011-07-25T19:52:06.685-07:00Aqueduct Blog<div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">I got the chance to work with 50 American volunteers for 10 days in July. Every year, the same group comes to our barrio to work and build things such as churches, schools, etc. for the community. For about 5 years now this group has come to our barrio. This year the foundation that they work through decided to collaborate with us since we live here and are on the ground running with the community. Tina and I researched different projects that were wanted by the community and that could keep the group busy over the 10 days. If you divided our community into thirds, about one- third of the community’s water supply is very poor. There are 2 aqueducts in our community that feed water through pipes in the ground to the houses. The houses with water simply connect to the line of pipes for their water. We decided that building an aqueduct, putting mother tubes connecting with the new aqueduct in the streets of this one-third of the community, and putting pipes in 30 scattered houses that did not have running water would be sufficient and rewarding work for all. So our plan of action was to find a piece of land to build the aqueduct, walk around the community to find houses that did not have pipes for water, find a person in the community that had experience in building aqueducts, and get a budget for everything.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">I went searching with one of the pastors of the barrio looking for a person to donate a piece of land for this aqueduct. Living in poverty, people are looking to sell any and everything for money to live. I thought finding a person who wanted to donate a piece of land for water for hundreds of people, no matter how generous that sounds, would be difficult, but I guess having a pastor on my side helped. After 2 days of searching we found a woman of his church that was willing to donate a piece of her property for this aqueduct.</div><div class="MsoNormal">Another pastor and I walked around to find the houses that did not have any running water. Without running water, these people (or usually their children) have to walk to a neighbor or friend’s house, sometimes blocks away, to fill up small buckets to bathe, wash, clean, cook, you get the idea. It almost felt like a campaign tour since the pastors have so much power in our community. After an hour in the sun, the pastor and I decided to call it quits and have a “café”. Later, in order to get it done, I walked the whole barrio with my wife (she still has the sun burn), and we found the 30 houses that did not have any running water. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">We choose a technician for the project who is a neighbor and who has experience building aqueducts. He gave me a list of materials, and we later went to the hardware store to get a quote on them. About a week before the volunteers were to arrive, we were confronted with one pastor being upset because he was not the technician, another technician having a sudden hernia surgery a week before the project, and the owner of the land wanting to move the site to another smaller part of her property 2 days before the project; after we had already chopped down trees preparing the land. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">When the volunteers arrived, they all hit the ground running with shovels and picks, digging trenches for pipes. While we were working, another person who I had never seen decided to show up and say we were all wasting our time and money because the people already had water. I felt upset because we had spent so much time walking house to house obtaining information about the needs of the people, and the lack of water was a big concern for many people in our barrio. Now, after 7 months of research and planning, this guy decides to show up with papers in hand to distract. Well, we did not pay him any attention and kept working; he later left. After two days of digging through hard rock in the ground, a few volunteers decided that renting a jack hammer would save time and callused hands (too late for my hands). After me riding shotgun in a tractor through the city of San Pedro, a dead battery, and oil spilling through a hose of the tractor, the 4 holes for the base of the aqueduct were done, and the trenching was finally ready for the pipes. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">With all the translating (the volunteers did not speak Spanish), walking back and forth for materials, assigning work stations, and delegating responsibilities, I had never been so physically and mentally drained, on top of all that working in the Caribbean sun. My body has not endured soreness like this in a while. After the first day my hands were bleeding from calluses. A few Dominicans said that now I have experience, while one volunteer said I had fragile college kid hands. I told another person that I left the office to do this type of work. He looked at his wife and laughed. Despite all this, I felt good because I was assisting in giving water to a lot of people, getting a full body work out, and gaining the respect of the whole barrio. When I walk through the barrio now, kids chant my name and people say “Dominic, estas muy fuerte”. I think working on a project in which people can see tangible results help with your credibility here. We do a lot of classes with the community, which are also very important, but now we were literally bringing a life necessity to the lives of people. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">At the end of the ten days, everyone was sad to see the Americans leave for many reasons: all of the relationships that were formed, 1/3 of the community laid with pipes for water, an aqueduct elevated with 4 walls and water pumping out of the ground for it, a new church built, and a water purification plant in the community as well. Only about a week worth of finishing the aqueduct is left. Once this is done, if I were to leave I would feel like I did something in El Brisal, but I have a year and 3 months left and a lot more to do. The volunteers were pleased and want to come back next year. We have been talking about the possibility to build a public pharmacy in the community next year.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">So I guess teaching local Dominicans about health, grammar, English, how to run a business and how to make positive decision in life is our day job, and bringing infrastructure or solving basic needs is something we do on the side once a year. After writing this down on paper, I feel like I am very blessed to be here. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
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</o:p></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjq-RgNvPHlY7eAEetOkuoWyeHqDcaD_NDiH2L0NKpJU9Plm6UXYd0dV6xosmeYKYNElwVwgryGOkrBt_tJqVhdEKKsSPEbI8w8nKVv0ZmEsLlPDxjWEN1nWJmLUhDYI6uIvSaOwDM5OY3H/s1600/DSCF1772.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjq-RgNvPHlY7eAEetOkuoWyeHqDcaD_NDiH2L0NKpJU9Plm6UXYd0dV6xosmeYKYNElwVwgryGOkrBt_tJqVhdEKKsSPEbI8w8nKVv0ZmEsLlPDxjWEN1nWJmLUhDYI6uIvSaOwDM5OY3H/s320/DSCF1772.JPG" width="320" /></a><o:p><br />
</o:p></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Giving away free water at the drinkable water plant</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgt9b2jQq8CT0kgTHk-vSBRKnV8ddGYYck74OC5-loXVd6QaHsOj4z7yWJtTSxKrVuAgFDbE_pRAOTqhMeM7i91ghvO8HEBgb1Twx8B8nrtbNVhFBkeJH-1bNYL1fjx7dIRSfuuIiPzhWU6/s1600/DSCF1797.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgt9b2jQq8CT0kgTHk-vSBRKnV8ddGYYck74OC5-loXVd6QaHsOj4z7yWJtTSxKrVuAgFDbE_pRAOTqhMeM7i91ghvO8HEBgb1Twx8B8nrtbNVhFBkeJH-1bNYL1fjx7dIRSfuuIiPzhWU6/s320/DSCF1797.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Aqueduct site before</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhe7SUT3ThIeeFupwTTW2xq-h7A9foZGIpAb6kehQmeONufdsHac6EM5hYOQ4Y_n-rnOm6Z5bFoZ7YPiNPtwci_izUnxaouQZVpJ834CJnUmvTxu7p7dU2gjpZnAJuu6SiEiv3cN0mK_gLJ/s1600/DSCF1842.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhe7SUT3ThIeeFupwTTW2xq-h7A9foZGIpAb6kehQmeONufdsHac6EM5hYOQ4Y_n-rnOm6Z5bFoZ7YPiNPtwci_izUnxaouQZVpJ834CJnUmvTxu7p7dU2gjpZnAJuu6SiEiv3cN0mK_gLJ/s320/DSCF1842.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">A week later aqueduct almost complete</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjo1QHMTdU0mZcvmKiVRxhC0sVbXVcSLsm4qUmrdkNbYvham3WYTd0Q_76MUa7k80YMVHRxC6acsY7-54vH-Fv4wqrnplrkN7EEyaabI__zIx1Ha0H14dyYgXE7eDs1MhmUAbrN_QMJGkdv/s1600/DSCF1811.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjo1QHMTdU0mZcvmKiVRxhC0sVbXVcSLsm4qUmrdkNbYvham3WYTd0Q_76MUa7k80YMVHRxC6acsY7-54vH-Fv4wqrnplrkN7EEyaabI__zIx1Ha0H14dyYgXE7eDs1MhmUAbrN_QMJGkdv/s320/DSCF1811.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Laying the mother pipes through the streets.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
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</div>Disclaimerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13258708402669531150noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7569610868826026246.post-39681119509455825832011-07-25T05:19:00.001-07:002011-07-25T05:19:35.238-07:00Living in a fish bowl<div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">During my interview to become a Peace Corps Volunteer (PCV) I was asked: how do you feel about living in a fish bowl? (i.e. Nothing being private, everyone knows everything about your life, even things that you did not know about yourself, and everyone throughout the community talks about everything you do). I enthusiastically replied, without even thinking, “Oh, I love living as an example and love when people always look at me. I embrace it.” My answer at the time was so because I had worked with so many different types of kids and adults. In my previous jobs I was a leader or a role model so I constantly needed to be aware of my actions and what I said, and I enjoyed it. My reply to the question was not a lie or a rehearsed interview answer. I was answering the question with confidence, honesty, and experience. Little did I know how serious that question was to being a PCV, and how I had no idea how much of a fish bowl volunteers truly are in within their communities. Have you ever been starred at in public? Do nosy neighbors always gossip and know where you are, what you are doing, and who is visiting ALL THE TIME? I have had my fair share of being starred at in <st1:state w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Arizona</st1:place></st1:state>, but that is nothing compared to here. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Let me tell you about another experience being an “extranjero “in the <st1:place w:st="on"><st1:country-region w:st="on">Dominican Republic</st1:country-region></st1:place>. When we got to the DR, there were the usual “piropos” like whistling and “Americano give me 5 pesos” or “taxi, taxi, taxi”. All this is more annoying than anything. When we arrived in our barrio I slowly learned how important it was to express who you are in terms of telling people about yourself, in limited Spanish of course. Sharing our culture and who we are as individuals is very important, this gives our neighbors information about us and also beats them to the punch of making things up about the Americano as well. “These people” (Tina gets a kick out of that when I say it/so ironic) love to talk. Everyone calls themselves “hablador.” If a man screams out a “piropo” like “hola linda” and the women doesn’t respond she is called “fea”. In my opinion I can understand that; she doesn’t have to walk up to him and give him her number, but to just acknowledging his complement is enough. In the Dominican culture they also point out if you are fat, skinny, dark skinned, tall, or short, and they get your attention by calling you these names. Needless to say, no topic is off limits. Like when I took a cacoa (chocolate) tour, the guide expressed that this natural food gives you “potencia” (translation= baby making power). No wonder I love hot chocolate so much <span style="font-family: Wingdings;">J</span>. While using public transportation, you are likely to have a conversation with the person sitting next to you, or a conversation about religion may break out amongst everyone on the bus. Everything is openly talked about here, “sin <span lang="ES-DO">vergüenza</span>.”</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">So back on topic to being in a fish bowl, it is important to be your own marketing strategy. By this I mean being a “hablador”, letting people know about yourself and what you do before you give them a chance to talk randomly and make up things about the foreigner. Whenever I leave or return to our barrio it feels like the walk of shame because I should be living economically like my neighbors but instead I am traveling, visiting other volunteers, and experiencing the culture to the fullest. I can’t even count the times I have given excuses why I have to leave instead of saying going to recreate at the beach because all work and no play just is not healthy. Even when I have a legit excuse like going scuba diving to do a research dive for a natural museum, Spanish training in the capital, or presentation planning with other volunteers, all they hear is that I am going to the beach. When returning from a trip and you’re a few shades darker with a few more bags than when you left, how do you explain this? Well, you try to run into the house before anyone can see, though everyone usually sees everything. If I were not to stretch the truth then they would know for a fact that we are “rich” and they would expect things from us. Choices, choices, choices. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">When Tina leaves, and I am home alone it seems like everyone knows that Tina “dejarme solo”. One instance I do remember one of the youth came over and grabbed the dishes and washed them for me. This was such a friendly gesture. We ended up talking and sharing some hot chocolate that was freshly grown from the “cacao” trees just north of here. One day around noon I was walking and I was told by a neighbor that they had rice and I should come over. Later I walked over and he was taking a nap on the concrete floor without a shirt. He said, “enter, enter no problem.” He made a slow gesture to get up, but as he was getting up his girlfriend came in. He then sat back down and asked her to get me a plate of food (rice, beans and chicken). I then proceeded to indulge in the meal that I have grown so accustomed to; if it’s noon, my stomach feels like it’s going through withdrawal if I am not eating it. As they watched me eat, they asked how to I eat if Tina is not here. I told them that I can cook as well. I might not like it, but I will cook to eat. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">This proves that being a “hablador” is very important especially in trying to accomplish Peace Corps goal #2 “to share American culture with Dominicans”. A part of the American culture that I have learned and like is that couples work together and share responsibilities. If my partner is gone then I will pick up the slack. Because this county has so many welcoming, friendly people, being a “hablador” is easy, all we need to do is work up the courage to use the language and communicate. You don’t need to talk about anything too technical; just saying that the breeze is nice is a conversation starter. So now when walking the barrio and I see a smiling face, I will say, “y su family”, and continue my peace corps work of sharing and learning cultures. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiz6YX2VSn9nmZ0P9yBW9RWy_EFzy-nNaE3Mzj1JjHfNH1GxnMNr5pIcvwtAcbLc5AQt7bEEegsVEHfHzysS7EpvenAYZzlzC8utDgrG3i1VYtOYjJuvjaeZyT9nRJDDcjaVqDNbzkhYBh7/s1600/DSCF0879.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="179" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiz6YX2VSn9nmZ0P9yBW9RWy_EFzy-nNaE3Mzj1JjHfNH1GxnMNr5pIcvwtAcbLc5AQt7bEEegsVEHfHzysS7EpvenAYZzlzC8utDgrG3i1VYtOYjJuvjaeZyT9nRJDDcjaVqDNbzkhYBh7/s320/DSCF0879.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Graduation of my English class</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0EgUxDqg2mMYTEJu2ff82jotCrUIEATvvMybLpduZaCNVn4CkkBMTIL9Cu30VU0I9qiXHurojV4uI5U9WzYw6AavPVhhbWO92NlEDcL-upSfjmvU0Z7RJok8YcyGJ8U-zrvUZ04GqZ2mv/s1600/DSCF0922.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="179" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0EgUxDqg2mMYTEJu2ff82jotCrUIEATvvMybLpduZaCNVn4CkkBMTIL9Cu30VU0I9qiXHurojV4uI5U9WzYw6AavPVhhbWO92NlEDcL-upSfjmvU0Z7RJok8YcyGJ8U-zrvUZ04GqZ2mv/s320/DSCF0922.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Youth English class</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOjKlozNNfto6mqPJiYeZByE_yuAz93O3-oqXCdQkqtqbk8aGLELSsICLajnIRlcQVbcmkn534W2XKXYDdBbZPNyI23ws3w4_30rh058cvDg0RGqy2GfdRNRJ6391ibko1WREG-Ytjt8Ml/s1600/DSCF1422.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOjKlozNNfto6mqPJiYeZByE_yuAz93O3-oqXCdQkqtqbk8aGLELSsICLajnIRlcQVbcmkn534W2XKXYDdBbZPNyI23ws3w4_30rh058cvDg0RGqy2GfdRNRJ6391ibko1WREG-Ytjt8Ml/s320/DSCF1422.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Isla Saona July 4th</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
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</div>Disclaimerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13258708402669531150noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7569610868826026246.post-85516194037260231932011-07-08T19:21:00.000-07:002011-07-08T19:21:41.946-07:00Next on my wishlist of care package items: Spanish Bananagrams<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">The title was a hint as well as an introduction to this blog. This week, I am in the capital for a week of Spanish training. More specifically, I am in a barrio called Pantojo, which I am pretty sure is a synonym for hell on earth. There are five of us here, and for the next month or two, different volunteers will come to the capital for some mid-service Spanish training. My training has been great, and I am learning about the different tenses of verbs, as I typically prefer to speak only in the present tense. Drum roll please….. I can now say, “Have you ever…I had….I would have liked to… I shall….” And the nemesis of all English speakers (apologies for lumping us together, but I will assume you all hate it as much as I do): the subjunctive. The people in my barrio drop most of the ends of words anyways, so learning these tenses will be helpful if I ever want to speak non-Dominican Spanish. As a recap, with the Spanish spoken in my barrio, the “s” is dropped, the “d” is dropped, random syllables are dropped, and random letters are added occasionally for emphasis, without apparent rhyme or reason. Needless to say, I have encountered many challenges in my quest to learn Spanish. </div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">During and after every class, we have been playing (another tense I now know how to use) Spanish banagrams, which is conceptually similar to Scrabble except it is a race against the other players and each player can only play off his or her own <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">fichas</i>. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I love this game. I am sleeping in the <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">casa</i> of my original host family. They are all still as cute as ever, sitting on the front porch from sunup to sundown, gossiping and greeting any and every person crossing their street. I can now understand them, which is a pleasant surprise for them and for me as well. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Mi abuela</i> is still blind AND is still wearing glasses. The mosquitoes are still terrible. The heat is still unbearable, but things are good. Banagrams has gotten me through this week, and it is welcomed entertainment. Despite all the educational excited, I am looking forward to being back in my barrio. I feel like I have been gone a lot lately with camps, meetings, and trainings. Next week, I have a conference in the capital with numerous organizations throughout the country. It should be really cool (I am slow to post my blogs, and this event already happened without a glitch and I was on the news!). <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; tab-stops: 315.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Despite being somewhat <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span lang="ES-DO" style="mso-ansi-language: ES-DO;">flojo</span></i> due to other Peace Corps <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span lang="ES-DO" style="mso-ansi-language: ES-DO;">compromisos</span></i>, I am still really enjoying the work I am doing. I am a little apprehensive about summer as it is the advent of raining season and many youth in my barrio travel during the summer, or so I am told. Raining season presents challenges as well because typically, no one shows up to anything (school, meetings, classes, and even church) when there is a rain. This is understandable when you believe that you might actually die if you get wet. Though if we are going along the lines of Dominican myths, my favorite is that if you iron clothes and then open your freezer, your face will be permanently frozen in a paralytic state or you will die. Another good one is that pregnant women cannot swim because the baby brewing in their bellies will drown. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Bueno</i>. Because all of the schools, buildings, and houses in my community have tins roofs, rain is not a friend to the silence craved by teachers, facilitators, and anyone who wants to be heard above the pounding din. My goals this summer are to continue working on literacy so that many of the children who “miraculously passed” (aka there is no way in hell their same teachers would ever opt to teach them 2 years in a row) will be able to start school at the end of summer a little more prepared and literate, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">si Dios quiere</i>. Other things I have been doing lately include beating all the men in my barrio at their favorite card game, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">casino</i>, which happens to also be my favorite. I still get annihilated at dominos, but <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">poco a poco</i>, I am learning dominoes as well. Also, Many Dominicans cannot shuffle cards (bridge style) so whenever I shuffle, they get really impressed. One kid asked me if it was magic, and another old man murmured that I must be Italian, though I have never really heard a relation between shuffling skills and Italians. I still get <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">piropos</i> like crazy and propositions from these same church going, casino players who <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">saludar</i> Dominic and I together in their <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">iglesias</i>, but at least I have a little more street cred with them. So friends, that is it for now, and as always, I will try to keep you more updated on the wonderful and exciting news that is my life. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Hasta pronto</i>! </div>Disclaimerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13258708402669531150noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7569610868826026246.post-51416576772495035992011-06-05T18:18:00.001-07:002011-06-05T18:29:18.764-07:00Tina turns 30. Ya tú sabes. I thought about just writing the title and leaving it at that, but what fun is that? Also, before I begin this blog, I need to recognize some dearly beloved friends and coworkers from BBBS. My friend Marianne and I share a birthday, and we usually celebrate together in the form of a birthday lunch with all of our coworkers/ friends. I, for obvious reasons, was not able to attend, so they printed a large picture of me and took it/me out to lunch, chronicling the whole event with photos that are now posted on Facebook. It was really sweet and touching, and while I am not sure who exactly planned it, I think many thanks are needed to Athena and Andrea and all my other friends. Thank you, thank you, thank you for making this a special day for me. <br />
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<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">For the rest of you, I recently celebrated my 30<sup>th</sup> birthday, and decided to do it in an All American way, aka away from my barrio, with other Americans, at a beach, with American music. All the volunteers in the country had a mandatory meeting in the capital so we were all together. We had a “prom” the same week, which was appropriately called, “<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Tigueres</i> of the <st1:place w:st="on">Caribbean</st1:place>.” I found a fabulous outfit, complete with a hairnet, lots of cleavage, hot pink leggings, and hot pink nail polish. Also, to those of you who know how truly uncoordinated I am (aka Pamela), you will be pleased to know that I started painting my own nails, AND, I started doing designs, on a <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">very</i> amateur level. I am totally being serious and will post some of my nail work soon. Be ready to be jealous. Anyway, the <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">tiguere</i> party was unforgettable and fun, and I enjoyed celebrating with many other volunteers. The week was replete with meetings and trainings, and then we headed to the beach for a going away party for another volunteer, who is sadly leaving this week for the states to go to graduate school. Watching the interactions amongst friends made me realize how strong of friendships can be forged in the short time (seems long now, but short in the scheme of life) we are here. We need to <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">probachar</i> these opportunities. </div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">Wild nights were had at the beach and a local <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">colmado</i>. Dominic bought me a beautiful amber necklace and earrings, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">gracias mi esposo</i>. He also planned a delicious dinner (Thank you, Phoebe!) with some of my friends, including my friend Natalie, who was celebrating her birthday with me. While I celebrated more like I was 20 than 30 (dancing, beer pong, flippy cup, beached whale on the beach: you get the idea), I was glad to ring in this decade of my life with some newfound friends and loved ones. While home is where the heart is, our hearts can travel far and still feel at home, beating alongside other kindred spirits. (Can’t you just hear the Lifetime music playing in the background?!). While I rarely namedrop friends and loved ones in my blog, this one contained many names, and while I am not going to name everyone, to all my friends and family, I miss and love you. </div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>People in my site were disappointed that I was not there with them, but I thought I might be a little homesick if I were to spend my 30<sup>th</sup> birthday, alone in my barrio, with people chanting, “Happy baby ooo youuuuu” all day long. I did receive some nice notes, words, and one of my chicas (a 13-year old mind you), wrapped up a My Little Pony for me, which was super cute and a little disturbing at the same time, when considering both of our ages. I also scored a nice painting on the beach simply by asking, “<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span lang="ES-DO" style="mso-ansi-language: ES-DO;">Regalome</span>…</i><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span lang="ES-DO" style="mso-ansi-language: ES-DO;">es</span> mi </i><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span lang="ES-DO" style="mso-ansi-language: ES-DO;">cumpleaños</span></i>.”</div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>While I had not planned on celebrating in my barrio, some of the girls from my group, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Chicas Brillantes</i>, planned a surprise birthday party for me. It was really cute and special. They had a big theatrical scene planned out where one of them ran into our group, gasping for air and whimpering that Dominic needed me at home immediately because there was an emergency. As I walked to my house, I noticed about 15 pairs of shoes left outside my door, at which point I realized what was happening. The girls had decorated my house with streamers, birthday banners, and mucho confetti, most of which I am still finding scattered throughout my house and yard. They cooked spaghetti and dumplings and prepared juice. We played musical chairs, told jokes, read poems, took lots of pictures, and had a fabulous time. It was the highlight of my birthday festivities. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">One of the girls with whom I work has been struggling with reading. She made me a birthday card that had “<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">te kiero</i>” (kiero phonetically, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">quiero</i> correctly). The next day during our time together in my <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">sala de tarea</i> (similar to an afterschool program), we practiced “que.” Later in the evening, I received another lovely note, with the neatly written words, “<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">te quiero</i>.” I thought to myself at this moment, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">igualmente, mi amiga, igualmente</i>. </div>Disclaimerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13258708402669531150noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7569610868826026246.post-92078474513565083212011-05-26T09:50:00.000-07:002011-05-26T09:50:16.314-07:00In the time of MangosA few months ago, I noticed an influx of kite flying, which resulted in many a child missing school and neglecting all other obligations to fly their kites. These kites, called <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span lang="ES-DO" style="mso-ansi-language: ES-DO;">chichiguas</span></i>, are constructed by strings tied together around an old soup can, which are then fastened to 3 sticks tied together to form hexagon. These 3 sticks are covered with a black <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span lang="ES-DO" style="mso-ansi-language: ES-DO;">funda</span></i> (plastic bag). It takes a while to get the kite high in the sky, but once it is there, it is nearly impossible to fell (unless you are me, and a kid asks you to hold his kite one afternoon, which I took as a huge compliment, and it promptly fell. The velocity at which it fell was almost comical, if the kid would not have been so upset. Bygones, right?) The kites fly so high in the sky that sometimes it is hard to even see them. I have seen other fancy kites in the same skies, but they pale in comparison to the <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span lang="ES-DO" style="mso-ansi-language: ES-DO;">chichiguas</span></i><span lang="ES-DO"> </span><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span lang="ES-DO" style="mso-ansi-language: ES-DO;">dominicanas</span></i>. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Ingenuity and lack of resources can lead to great improvements at times. I asked my friend Adonis (an 11-year old who recently bailed out of our barrio to bigger and better things in another nearby town by way of a <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span lang="ES-DO" style="mso-ansi-language: ES-DO;">guagua</span></i>, alone and <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">sin</i> parental consent) why there were so many <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span lang="ES-DO" style="mso-ansi-language: ES-DO;">chichiguas</span></i>. He answered matter-of-factly that it was the time of <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">chichiguas</i>, just like the time of <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">bicicletas</i> in the past, and like the time of mangos, which was coming. <br />
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span lang="ES-DO" style="mso-ansi-language: ES-DO;">Ahora</span>, </i><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span lang="ES-DO" style="mso-ansi-language: ES-DO;">llegó</span> mango</i>! <br />
The time of mangos is here, and it is glorious. <br />
A camioneta comes through my barrio every day blaring on his soundsystem, “<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Mangos por un peso, mangos por un peso.</i>” Because people are always joking around here, I thought he was asking to trade mangos for a kiss (<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">peso=beso</i>). As I was daydreaming about mangos and contemplating this exchange, I heard a stampede of children and Doñas alike, and I realized that he was not trying to take advantage of our love for mangos, but he was wooing us with promises of cheap instant gratification in the form of a juicy, sweet, sun-ripened mango. With that distinction in mind, I bolted out my front (and only) door, stumbling through my barbed wire fence while cursing my broken flip flops. I plucked the mangos du jour from the back of his truck, and tossed the driver a shiny 10 peso coin. With the exchange rate at approximately 37 pesos to the dollar, that equals out to be 37 mangos for a dollar. Not a bad deal. We eat mangoes like apples, but instead of swallowing, we spit (insert vulgar joke here) out the skin. The mangos here are unbelievably delicious. Were my English language a little better, I might be able to properly describe the mangoes in a way that would evoke the taste, the smell, and everything to you, the reader; however, as both my Spanish and English skills continue to dwindle, this will not happen. Just know that the time of mangos was not overrated, and is a good time to be living in <em>la Republica Dominicana</em>. <br />
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DISCLAIMER: shortly after this blog was written, Tina developed an allergic reaction to the skin of mangos, and can no longer touch mangos. Curse of all curses! Silver lining= the allergy is only to the skin of the mango and not to the fruit. 10 days of prednisone later, all is good, and the allergic reaction on the face is barely noticeably now. <span lang="ES-DO" style="mso-ansi-language: ES-DO;">Barely. </span>Disclaimerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13258708402669531150noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7569610868826026246.post-9530550060372497352011-05-20T07:13:00.000-07:002011-05-20T07:13:36.777-07:00Successful beach day with Dominicans? Check.2 de mayo. Listening to the rain drop gently like a hurricane on my tin roof, which is drowning out the sounds of screaming neighbors, barking dogs, and church services. After delaying the inevitable, I broke down and finally did laundry today, which took 5, yes 5, hours to wash, only to have the rains come and wash all the hanging laundry again. Looking forward to hanging wet clothes yet again tomorrow, and hoping that no one notices that I have been wearing the same clothes for several days now, except for yesterday when I went to the beach. Some of our neighbors invited me to go to the beach with them, which turned out to be a wonderful day. While I am usually wary of Dominican invitations, which typically result in asking me to pay for everything for everyone in the near vicinity, this was a pleasant change. We had planned on renting a "<em>guagua</em>” that would take us for a nominal fee. This <em>guagua</em> turned out to be a neighbor who drives an old truck, like a Dotson or Mitsubishi, or some small type of truck that has seen better days….about 20 years ago. We fit 21 (TWENTY-ONE) people into this truck, including our food for the day and our bags of swim clothes. On the way there, I was sitting in the front with the driver and 4 little <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">muchachas</i> on my lap. Our first stop was a gas station, where the driver took the WHOLE gas canister out of the car. Everyone got out of the car, the driver filled the tank, put the tank back in the car, and everyone piled back in a few minutes later. We then continued on with our adventure, again. We neared the bridge out of town, which had a couple of police cars, as if they were doing random car checks. The bridge is the only way in and out of town, except for a bypass road that we had bypassed several miles before. The driver informed us that they would not let trucks through. I nod agreeingly to him as I observe several large, small, battered, clean, dirty, and other varieties of trucks cruise by, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">sin problema</i>. Hmm, I think to myself, they will not let trucks or they will not let you? He asks the people in the back to start walking, because he is going to try another way, and he will pick them up in a few minutes. Now it is the driver, me, and the 4 little <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">muchachas, </i>alone in the front of the car. There is another side road before the bridge, but this is also blocked. The driver then tells me that he is going to go through the bypass, alone. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Bueno</i>. The <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">muchachas</i> and I are start walking to meet everyone else. We meet them, and we start walking. And walking. We cross the bridge. We cross the large mango trees. We cross the crab shacks. We keep walking. A couple miles later, his car pulls up from the opposite direction. On the road again. We start driving. We stall a few times. Another car drives by and hollers something out his window regarding the condition of our hoopty ride. About 30 minutes later, we arrive to our destination, a beautiful beach normally 15 minutes away from our house. The passengers collectively breathe a sigh of relief. This beach is amazingly beautiful. All 21 of us start looking for shade, which is somewhat challenging as most of the trees are coconut trees, which typically provide little shade. We find some clusters of trees and set our stuff down. <br />
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<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">The kids and I all run toward the beach. Me in my swim suit, everyone else in their clothes. A couple of the teenagers take off their pants to swim in their boxers, but everyone else wears their clothes. One 18-year old had on cut-off jorts, a tank top, presumably bra and undies, as well as a sweater. She did not remove any article of clothing before crashing into the waves. We played in the water, ate and hung out all day at the beach. We had all cooked beforehand, so we dined on rice, beans, chicken, and spaghetti (sound familiar?). It was slightly drizzly. It was beautiful. My neighbors had brought a couple of inner tubes (possibly tires, but who cares?), which brought us endless entertainment. I loved experiencing the beach time with all of my neighbors, as my beach time usually consists of swarms of other volunteers, rum, and trashy beach novels. Don't get me wrong- without cavorting with other volunteers, I would surely go crazy; however, this was different, and I loved every minute of it. These beach experiences were diametrically different, neither one better than the other, and I cherish them both. </div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">We left the beach around 6 pm to wait for our ride. We waited. And waited. And waited. He finally arrived, and apparently, there were not enough of us the first time so this trip he brought another friend. A large male friend. Now there are 22 of us squeezed in the truck. I declined the front seat and hopped into the back. Some random items have been collected throughout the day, including but not limited to: 2 large roof shingles, a bucket with a lid (a golden find), and some empty broken bottles. While driving, the ominous clouds gave way into a glorious rainstorm. What would have made it more glorious, you might ask? If I were not in the back of said pickup with said amount of people with said objects. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Ya tu sabes</i>. Also, because of our driver’s somewhat sketchy character, we took the backroads into town, which was a bumpy, dirt/ mud road leading directly to the northern side of our community. Once the rain subsided <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">un chin</i>, I took a deep breath, figuratively and literally, and I was amazing by the beauty of this island. Not just the <st1:place w:st="on">Caribbean</st1:place> blue seas, white sand, etc.… but the island itself. The heart of this island has a beat that will surpass that of any bachata song (excluding my personal fav, Ramon Torres. Google him. You will not be disappointed if you like both bachata y mariachis and achy voices).With the stinging wind and rain drops slapping at my face, you would think I would have been able to tone down my joker like grin; alas, I was unable to. The only thing going through my head was, I am truly blessed to be here, in this moment, experiencing this moment. It was unforgettable, and times like these, I will never forget. </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">Side note: if you come to visit, I will also help to provide you with an unforgettable experience a la Dominicana. </div>Disclaimerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13258708402669531150noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7569610868826026246.post-62085032090635744152011-05-19T19:41:00.000-07:002011-05-20T05:30:18.003-07:00Bola Race 2011<div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Bola Race</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">In April all of the volunteer in country hitchhiked from one part of the country to another, getting free rides called “bolas” along the way until reaching the destination.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In the Dominican Republic hitchhiking is not considered dangerous.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Because gas is so expensive and the necessities of everyday living are so scarce people don’t mind helping one another along the way.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I always wonder if the Dominican Republic changed into a much prosperous, income generating country, would all the people be so happy and filled with joy over the littlest things and be willing to give a stranger a ride down the road, not for money but for their conversation?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Well anyway, all the volunteer met in Santiago. the north western part of the county to meet in a centralized location.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>All the teams dressed in costumes and had a story for why they were dressed like that and why they needed a “bola”.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Tina, our friend Libby, and I were dressed in our swim suits and our alibi was that we got robbed and needed to get back to our hotel. </div><div class="MsoNormal">We all met at a mutual place in the morning with costumes on.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We took photos and then were told by the event coordinators where we were going: Las Galeras Peninsula de Samana.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This is a peninsula on the north tip of the island to which we had never been.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As soon as we were told where to go we all ran around trying to figure out in what direction we would go. Our team decided to walk the way everyone else was. As we looked up there was a pickup truck filled with volunteers in the back with smiles screaming “adios”.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We flagged down an actual taxi to give us a free ride which he agreed to do.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Driving away, my ever so kind wife flagged down two other volunteers to get in as well.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Without even thinking about the actual competition of the race, she decided to share the fun experience with other volunteers, which is the real point and not the actual race.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We ended up doing the whole race together, the five of us.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal">Their story was that they were representatives of the Dominican beer company “Presidente”.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They wore “Presidente” shirts and hats, which made them seem like presidents or gods in this country. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>During our first bola we needed to open a bottle, but no one had a bottle opener.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Resourceful, like most people who don’t have many resources are, the “chofer” opened the bottle with his teeth, which I have only seen done once, by my friend Dale. Cheers to<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>starting the fun adventure.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He gave us a ride to the main “autopista” in the direction of our destination.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We then flagged down a Daihatsu pickup truck.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I will never forget the view standing up in the back of the truck looking out at all the agriculture in this beautiful country.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Even without the help of the strong wind, I would’ve still had a smile plastered on my face the entire ride.</div><div class="MsoNormal">After 11 different “bolas” (including 2 Mercedes), and 7 hours later, we reached the Samana Peninsula.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Fittingly, the last bola to drive up the mountain viewing the lush green mountains and crystal blue water was from the back of a pickup truck, just the five of us.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The bola let us off and we walked to our hotel with a warm greeting from the other volunteers who made it before us.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We then stripped down and jumped in the pool sharing what craziness happened along the way.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Refection de Dominic:</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Not all people can get someone to stop for them and receive a free ride.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It does help that you are female in this country and the biggest bonus of all is that you are “blanca tambien”.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There was a team of two, one African American girl who had dreadlocks and one Indian guy, (from India Indian) with dark skin.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They did not arrive till very late at night and had to end up paying normal public transport to reach the destination.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Why do you think they were the only ones that had a hard time?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>What I think happened was that they thought the AA girl was Haitian which this county has a deep resentment to Haitians “ya tu sabes”, and the Indian guy was a random Dominican looking for a free ride.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This county has an infatuation with Americans.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In my opinion it’s because American are always bringing things such as tourists with money to spend or <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>volunteers giving a helping hand with building houses or churches.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And there is always the infatuation of getting out of the D.R. and moving to a place with more opportunity.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Has all this help made Dominicans too dependent on others?</div><div class="MsoNormal">Regardless I had fun at the Bola Race 2011 and here are some photos along the way…<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOH8BcwfUmbSaQS_aGqWdeBq1T3oixLMRhyL1GxlhaK3RB8zcVr_0T8J40C0y2lFv5PIKawAfXhnki0K7xUY9Kq8cUrvmjjaq0xjkfoW4kGY9EpWJd6asUU1fX-1Vvcz_WrW5tAcsocG5C/s1600/218100_10100160401815439_16802628_48836344_2084149_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOH8BcwfUmbSaQS_aGqWdeBq1T3oixLMRhyL1GxlhaK3RB8zcVr_0T8J40C0y2lFv5PIKawAfXhnki0K7xUY9Kq8cUrvmjjaq0xjkfoW4kGY9EpWJd6asUU1fX-1Vvcz_WrW5tAcsocG5C/s320/218100_10100160401815439_16802628_48836344_2084149_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>Disclaimerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13258708402669531150noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7569610868826026246.post-73390409721231652222011-05-19T19:31:00.000-07:002011-05-19T19:31:34.684-07:00What type of peace corp work have I been doing?<div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="ES-DO" style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Inglés</span><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"> Basico<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">On my street corner there are more English words being spoken than I would like, since I am trying to learn the Spanish language. I guess I can consider this a success since I am teaching English three times a week. This week is the last week of my 12 week Basic English course. On average, I’ve had at least 15 people in each class. My classes have allowed me to make more friendships with my students. All the students who walk by our house or see us walking in the barrio gives us a “saludar” in English. I cannot walk by the “colmado” next to our house without the owners saying, “Dominic…come…here…please.” When I enter the “colmado” he proceeds by asking me what…is...this…pointing to everything in the “colmado” and waiting for my answer in English. Since they know the class is ending they keep asking when are we going to start another class. I don’t want to be known as just the English teacher, but I am here to do what the community wants, so I must listen to them. Well before I give in to them and continue another course, we are going to celebrate the completion of our 12 week course. I am giving diplomas to the students who showed up 9 out of the 12 weeks, and I will buy “refrescos” for them and play games. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Business class for youth<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">I am 6 weeks into my course that teaches youth how to write a business plan. We meet twice a week under candle light because someone cut the “luz” that we paid to put in from our Peace Corps salary. We learn about missions, visions, the 4 P’s of marketing, etc. In October there will be a national competition for these youth to win funds to start a business. I get the chance to simply listen to the creativity of Dominican kids in this class. They are so outspoken about anything- it’s totally different than lecturing English words to them. I went to one student’s house this week to see if I could answer any questions. She was not there, but I was invited in, and I talked with her mom for a bit. She said her daughter “encanta su clase”, documented success number 2. I enjoy listening to the ideas they give for selling things. Did I mention they love the homework that I give as well? </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"> <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">“Campamento” Superman<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">I took two “jovenes” to an all boys camp in April. I had a hard time being a counselor and not a “joven”. We went to another volunteer’s site about 30 minutes north of our city, and there was a river, where we “banarnos” everyday. We also went on a hike to a beautiful waterfall. We played games and gave “charlas” about gender roles and HIV/AIDS awareness. This volunteer’s job is to develop a women’s group to cook food for their eco-tourism site, and we got the chance to test out their services. I had the best hot chocolate to date in country. It was made from the “cacao” trees that grow in the community. One of the things I love most about this county is that food grows right in your backyard. By the way we have 2 corn stocks and 3 “guandules” plants growing in our yard. We will most likely eat corn in about 3 months and “guandules” in November. At the camp I saw the biggest frog ever and cows grazed around our camp site. Walking with the kids through the camp with cows grazing all around us, I had a moment of realization that I am doing the work I love, in a foreign country and speaking a different language.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Enjoy some pictures from the past few months… <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Business Class</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCLgYn3Orp2_jaOTS52Ys1TIcMe7ebQbFcYweeTiWeVAUE59G3jULSTScnHOp0bkDnpXL-EkLKRdrPtAo2LNoeZGwgSk9d2wLbojRpqinJMeV1YSOkhGADPB8lKFONDAAK0zzXxgkb-RXh/s1600/DSCF0598.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="179" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCLgYn3Orp2_jaOTS52Ys1TIcMe7ebQbFcYweeTiWeVAUE59G3jULSTScnHOp0bkDnpXL-EkLKRdrPtAo2LNoeZGwgSk9d2wLbojRpqinJMeV1YSOkhGADPB8lKFONDAAK0zzXxgkb-RXh/s320/DSCF0598.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><o:p>Camp Superman</o:p></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgioHXPUXtDJ9ZlBaAY6L0fEiz2bauKHSD5-z2BIRtZ_2Eni8PxMDbX3KB4_7l89O94pGwAk6qFBrmiExcGgm26o6RfVYLfWlsdaJSDzS4aULnXCi-cYIPvIH7SNgkweHuaQajDiRe3eTRi/s1600/DSCF0452.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="179" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgioHXPUXtDJ9ZlBaAY6L0fEiz2bauKHSD5-z2BIRtZ_2Eni8PxMDbX3KB4_7l89O94pGwAk6qFBrmiExcGgm26o6RfVYLfWlsdaJSDzS4aULnXCi-cYIPvIH7SNgkweHuaQajDiRe3eTRi/s320/DSCF0452.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Vestido como Tigueres</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0qgc8BCx4hDlB8xoUenZGXuim-fzUuhmkTQ-3ofK0gY7i0nk04j-buRHA0cJfwXMj_RGj4nlpYhZz7okkMn6Db0SdMhf5NoS-zZawAXn6Kae2Hbcyc5pLH05TLnkh2nQoBG7WcACPGOxw/s1600/DSCF0604.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0qgc8BCx4hDlB8xoUenZGXuim-fzUuhmkTQ-3ofK0gY7i0nk04j-buRHA0cJfwXMj_RGj4nlpYhZz7okkMn6Db0SdMhf5NoS-zZawAXn6Kae2Hbcyc5pLH05TLnkh2nQoBG7WcACPGOxw/s320/DSCF0604.JPG" width="179" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Tina's 30th Bday weekend</div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhW7jvfNGA2zYiXv28dI1TfdJpWKcSVulLIiFB2-7Q1nhBMD8vmLdoMkj_NQAGKchr16GSK9q-2do8At2QvqMx4NQz_2YODyfnk0W3upzSao1Ohg_4qb2iIxWnSeKaBb8W4yGbww7uXP1PK/s1600/DSCF0655.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="179" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhW7jvfNGA2zYiXv28dI1TfdJpWKcSVulLIiFB2-7Q1nhBMD8vmLdoMkj_NQAGKchr16GSK9q-2do8At2QvqMx4NQz_2YODyfnk0W3upzSao1Ohg_4qb2iIxWnSeKaBb8W4yGbww7uXP1PK/s320/DSCF0655.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Peep the amber she is wearing. There are amber mines in this country I got her matching earrings and a neckless for her bday</div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGN5w9YlC3uqKC-YwKE5dQpSh1GdpvdQxzJPrSdGdfdNQNExqQo_NC1cKLjUDoON9wdIX1AAZioomaZDzTfkkAccjFQjUCcI6U7mMhdSRsTU_pahEqX4dj9IVyZb_gYZzmQ2thFicBU8t1/s1600/DSCF0703.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="179" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGN5w9YlC3uqKC-YwKE5dQpSh1GdpvdQxzJPrSdGdfdNQNExqQo_NC1cKLjUDoON9wdIX1AAZioomaZDzTfkkAccjFQjUCcI6U7mMhdSRsTU_pahEqX4dj9IVyZb_gYZzmQ2thFicBU8t1/s320/DSCF0703.JPG" width="320" /></a></div> I swear when we leave this little girl is going to loose it. I will introduce you if you come visit.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMtytOX_q8kic2skdIRt1LYOfQiQcxoLLYYWxsctGR4l40jhRjX3yKWTgNlQZQdiGYXKXRsflpcSoaz_7mj8WQykLi2XLQdapA8yApNUrYy5nx4ks3pD1yvMReWNyPNkWohTLjhVwdDpG7/s1600/DSCF0386.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="179" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMtytOX_q8kic2skdIRt1LYOfQiQcxoLLYYWxsctGR4l40jhRjX3yKWTgNlQZQdiGYXKXRsflpcSoaz_7mj8WQykLi2XLQdapA8yApNUrYy5nx4ks3pD1yvMReWNyPNkWohTLjhVwdDpG7/s320/DSCF0386.JPG" width="320" /></a></div> I got scuba certified.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcPlIe2EpyOwZ7US4GqbeONV3wxhTklMgBPUviceS1P0IRaj1igmZJMKenLyhS-eTRb0s2RpLwNYfpgTKSFjTwJfd47ON8iWYVpr6VuWoIhPuUhcruF2VZYcQGZHkY7whBlrs1qcwHg8fH/s1600/207308_10150138107922600_616712599_6591231_861358_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcPlIe2EpyOwZ7US4GqbeONV3wxhTklMgBPUviceS1P0IRaj1igmZJMKenLyhS-eTRb0s2RpLwNYfpgTKSFjTwJfd47ON8iWYVpr6VuWoIhPuUhcruF2VZYcQGZHkY7whBlrs1qcwHg8fH/s320/207308_10150138107922600_616712599_6591231_861358_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
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</div>Disclaimerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13258708402669531150noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7569610868826026246.post-27100948615893196342011-03-05T10:42:00.000-08:002011-03-05T10:42:33.158-08:00The past 4 months...<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Moving locations</b> <div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">Since I left you we have moved twice.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Things didn’t work out so nicely with our host family.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We had numerous arguments about how we don’t clean anything and leave our room a mess.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Now, the job of a host family is to teach you how to do things and if you are paying them, which we did, their job is to feed you and make sure your minimum needs are met.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In the situation of a Peace Corps volunteer they should also help you integrate in the community.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Now spreading rumors in the community such as we don’t pay them enough and we are paying other people to cook for us defeats the purpose of helping with integration.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Luckily we have some very sweet people in our community that loved to <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">compartir</i> with us and <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">brindar</i> <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">un chin de comida.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></i>So after the arguing, hearing about the gossip and having relatives of our host family come over and ignore us while we sit on the porch like redheaded step- children, we decided to move out.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>After expressing our decision to our host family they told us we owed them more money.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We brought up this absurd statement to our volunteer leader who then explained to our host family when someone pays up until the 15<sup>th</sup> of the month and moves out on the 14<sup>th</sup> there is nothing to pay extra for.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span lang="ES-DO" style="mso-ansi-language: ES-DO;">Adios host family see you <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">sin vergüenza</i> en la calle. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Somos Orfanatos </b></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">Luckily Tina’s orphanage, which is the organization that she works with, let us move in until we found a house.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Our time there was a lot more comfortable than our previous place.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We had a king size bed and internet in our room, ahhh the “normal” life.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We spent many nights laughing with the 80 year old director of the organization.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He made the funniest facial expressions; now he had a stroke a few years ago so I think that helped with making the faces so funny (Lord forgive me), but it was all in all clean fun.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Living here also opened my eyes to realize that there is so much division and gossip in this country.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I think people have so little that when others come around they feel the need to protect what little they have by any means necessary.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Prime example, the director had an adult daughter who lived there with her teenage son.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They did not get along with a young man who grew up in the orphanage who is like a son to the 80 year old director.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Entonces, there is family involved in the business and an adult who grew up there who is <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">like </i>family all under the same roof.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Working on bettering the organization is so difficult when you have no structure with the living situation and family being involved and other people who actually were orphans who <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">crecered</i> in the building.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The training on conflict resolution will go a long way during our 2 years here.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Our house</b></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">Our first night in our home was 02/07/11.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I had the bed, tank of gas, fan and washing machine delivered to the house the day before.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>When the stuff was delivered 3 women came walking in and decided to say a welcome prayer for our house.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Now I don’t have a real connection with these 3 women so I was a bit suspicious because everyone told us beware of people coming in your home looking around at what you have and coming back to rob you.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Here in the D.R. I don’t put anything past anyone, including 3 bible tooting women.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>All of our belongings were packed and ready to go on moving day for when Tina came back from her in-service training so we could pack the truck and go.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Well, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">fue bien, </i>now that we actually live here, things are a little different, but we are enjoying are our own space and freedom.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Now that we have a home, one of the <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">jovenes</i> must think we are even richer Americans because all of a sudden she is thirsty, hungry and needs tape for a picture in her binder.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>After a few “No’s” this will all die down.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This week we made an outdoor broom (i.e. a broom to sweep the dirt outside).<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The handle was macheted down very smoothly from a piece of wood I found.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Then I went searching for this certain kind of weed that grows here that they tie around the bottom of the broom handle to sweep the dirt outside of the house.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Yes, we sweep dirt. No matter what shack you live in at least you gotta keep it clean…right.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Well we are starting English classes in March and other programs for youth.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Are <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">club de madres</i> had there official J<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">uramentacion</i> and now we are looking to build a community center for all the groups to have meetings in.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In less than 2 weeks we will take a break and live it up with Tina’s parents in an adult only all inclusive and then it’s back to the barrio.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><br />
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Enjoy the photos of our home...<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXnbyXWUcZT3qe8qtt8Ehj8vVgCtojqHMtMSmKvJVCprDY34LIEXPiOrXVFu3LxP4KwldOWHHdyPE2wU_i-EZiXZBrarjXSP2LqJBYFGbxKNQoZjM_eB5uJW7AUp4V2YLzoXzSdFekB9cX/s1600/DSCF0068.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="179" l6="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXnbyXWUcZT3qe8qtt8Ehj8vVgCtojqHMtMSmKvJVCprDY34LIEXPiOrXVFu3LxP4KwldOWHHdyPE2wU_i-EZiXZBrarjXSP2LqJBYFGbxKNQoZjM_eB5uJW7AUp4V2YLzoXzSdFekB9cX/s320/DSCF0068.JPG" width="320" /></a><br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUoM0B2Ky_AzXqMDWazowIhDEqGSPyZ51Ol7W0p7DKTYtcmlpKfbVNtJaXjECZGUlauh2VeufzDWbc0uJigaAABXJQUAfIwzegoYl8mygl0RbtBwpT9TO8OMskXDSq0PK_bkpdZtPVNSW8/s1600/DSCF0069.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="179" l6="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUoM0B2Ky_AzXqMDWazowIhDEqGSPyZ51Ol7W0p7DKTYtcmlpKfbVNtJaXjECZGUlauh2VeufzDWbc0uJigaAABXJQUAfIwzegoYl8mygl0RbtBwpT9TO8OMskXDSq0PK_bkpdZtPVNSW8/s320/DSCF0069.JPG" width="320" /></a><br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhf1Dt_scIRhWYK7Yx2B-Ub1wO1c9YSmtf8NbMDJAQ2ysFqfBih7Jxcr2wL3KgjPgqOrBenmp-CCS3X4pynzbUWg831xKrI57C4UT8tF3OscL8ULaMWWj0w2VU5QKQFH1enwGsamzVMlPs6/s1600/DSCF0071.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="179" l6="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhf1Dt_scIRhWYK7Yx2B-Ub1wO1c9YSmtf8NbMDJAQ2ysFqfBih7Jxcr2wL3KgjPgqOrBenmp-CCS3X4pynzbUWg831xKrI57C4UT8tF3OscL8ULaMWWj0w2VU5QKQFH1enwGsamzVMlPs6/s320/DSCF0071.JPG" width="320" /></a><br />
<img border="0" height="179" l6="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhA1R4OSi4W_Q6DHR_R7g4BtHFLOKbdp0-MSGpyPjm6bR9ApPnlSbeNcZYqzbNjSDWiekof6vlLPkbbhs1iFB1EbCfjEhMA2WoIWtNGZRVzfhSd1rWi0FF48_3g9C6HrsaLj23IRVS7_1yQ/s320/DSCF0073.JPG" width="320" /><br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqpfrdrolnjXqISQdvV0x46WnAsxD7LqeCS9RMB6JwBQe4ZFpIKyR2z6LySOYFl6jHpjaZ13rSD2MSrBfp6QU8KyRU66j1gmX4dcg7i8RdysNc9nEG7IeCzfncKtrV_YKIvRxxq4NfPkfO/s1600/DSCF0077.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" l6="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqpfrdrolnjXqISQdvV0x46WnAsxD7LqeCS9RMB6JwBQe4ZFpIKyR2z6LySOYFl6jHpjaZ13rSD2MSrBfp6QU8KyRU66j1gmX4dcg7i8RdysNc9nEG7IeCzfncKtrV_YKIvRxxq4NfPkfO/s320/DSCF0077.JPG" width="179" /></a></div>Disclaimerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13258708402669531150noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7569610868826026246.post-71272041276854339172011-03-05T09:20:00.000-08:002011-03-05T09:20:11.190-08:0011 de febrero, Tina<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; tab-stops: 2.5in;">Sweet- just found out that Monday is a national holiday. What is it? Valentine’s Day. Really, DR government?! A holiday?! Dominic was very <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">dominicano</i> tonight and killed a cochroach with his machete tonight. I heart my husband. Also, despite my laziness of uploading my blog from the past few months, when we had consistent internet access, we are back to not having internet, which apparently means you will be hearing a lot more from us. Riddle me that. Also, drum roll please…. We have a house!!!! It is a cute little block house that we share with a little mouse and a few other creatures. We have a 2-part blue front door that opens at the top and bottom, a fridge, a bathroom inside (no running water inside so back to bucket baths), and a cute patio/ mini garden. I went to a volunteer conference last week where I presented my diagnostic and learned a lot of invaluable information as well as some forgettable tidbits. I am feeling really good and motivated to actually start classes and groups since I feel like I have not really done much since I have been here. I was helping out with a preschool doing story time and some literacy projects. I want to continue with that, and I also plan on doing gender-focused groups, a sala de tarea, English classes, and a documentation project, which helps (hopefully) to legalize undocumented citizens in my community. Like many people are pressing for in the <country-region w:st="on"><place w:st="on">U.S.</place></country-region>, the DR recently changed a law that now states that people who are born here are not automatically citizens, but they have to prove their citizenship, including that of their mothers. This would all be fine, but many are of them are of Haitian descent, who came to this county generations and generations ago, amidst less than desirable circumstance, and are not legalized citizens. Other than simply having Haitian blood, many speak only Spanish, have never been to <country-region w:st="on"><place w:st="on">Haiti</place></country-region>, and consider themselves Dominican. Their culture and lifestyles are Dominican, yet they are getting deported to a country with whom they have no little to no connection, including not being able to speak the language. Without documentation, they are denied many privileges, such as going to school past 8<sup>th</sup> grade, working, healthcare….</div><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;">Anyway, for documentation projects, we work with local judges and the judicial system to retrieve and present documentation for them to become legal citizens. Lots of work, but it really can change the lives of those involved, or so I hope. I will try to keep you more posted, in real time, about our lives. As for now, things are great, life is great, and my house is great. </span>Disclaimerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13258708402669531150noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7569610868826026246.post-52413267827816021722011-03-05T09:18:00.000-08:002011-03-05T09:18:22.945-08:0026 de enero, Tina<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; tab-stops: 2.5in;">In my <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">mosquitero</i>, with my headlamp on, working on a paper, with 3 cornrows in my hair. I tried to play it off like I have three little French braids in the side of my head, but when my friend who had braided my hair greased the rest of my hair and put it in a side ponytail, there was no denying the three little corn rowed braids. The mental picture I am conjuring is not a letdown. They look that hideous. If I ever get more (<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">God</i> forbid a whole head) I’ll be sure to post a picture). We have a house! After over 5 months apart and living with other people, we found a cute block house in our community, and it even has a bathroom inside! It is tiny, i.e. a king-sized bed would not fit <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">inside</i> the house, but it is cute. If all goes as planned, which it never does, we should be in within a few weeks. Wish us luck.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; tab-stops: 2.5in;"><br />
</div><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;">Dominic and I are still in the midst of completing our 3 month diagnostic, which is what we have been working on for the past 3 months. It will be good to finally start some activities instead of just talking about it every day with people. In our 3 months, we started literacy projects with a local teacher, and we started our Club de Madres! This was a huge success, and the whole community, ourselves included, are quite proud. We held elections last week, and then the elected president and I went to the city hall to process the paperwork. By registering our club, we get some $$$$, which will go toward 15 chairs, a table, and a fan (these are the actual items predetermined by the government). Thirty- three Americans were in town last week doing a medical mission. They all stayed at the organization where we are living, which was pretty crazy. I was able to go with them on some of their daily missions and helped with the translating. We went to the local prison, to nursing home of sorts, and to a batey nearby. I present my diagnostic next week, and I am looking forward to presenting the fruit of my labor as well as to see all the volunteers. Wish me luck!</span>Disclaimerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13258708402669531150noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7569610868826026246.post-5179734993253393712011-03-05T09:17:00.000-08:002011-03-05T09:17:30.007-08:00Early in January, Tina<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">!Felice año nuevo! Backdrop: sitting in my King-sized bed, listening to bachata with the colmado’s reggaeton in the background, holding a bleach-soaked washcloth over the ringworm (disclaimer: not actually a worm, but a bacterial infection like athlete’s foot, if that sounds any nicer) that found itself on my arm after our New Year’s festivities (other remedies have failed thus far, and the internet swears this will work, so surely it must because like the news, the internet never lies), and giving the finger wag to a devil-child (I am still on the fence as to whether or not devil-child is a literal term for him. I am leaning toward yes) who keeps trying to come into my room.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">The New Year started off with a bang!, or rather, fireworks in Caberete, a touristy town in the north, where a lot of volunteers congregated for fireworks, lots of Presidente, rum, an Irish pub (with $20 pints of Guiness, which I sadly, on my Peace Corps salary, had to decline), rain, a beautiful beach, a fun hostel, and an overall good time. </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">Things have been a little hectic around here. After some turbulent times, Dominic and I ended up leaving our host family early, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Gracias a Dios</i> (my obligatory phrase that will surely weasel itself into every blog). We moved into the organization to which I was originally assigned. We have a King-sized bed, an industrial-sized kitchen, and friendly roommates. While we are still looking for our own place, I am pleasantly surprised how happy I am here. Our roommates include the founder (an 80-year old man who is amazing), his daughter and 18-year old grandson (Puerto Ricans who also speak English, which is sweet), 2 brothers who grew up in the orphanage and have lived here their whole lives (one sings constantly like an evangelical church, and the other is also an amazing man), and another 18-year old who grew up here. Despite the frat-house feel that sometimes ensues, it is good. </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">The founder/ our roommate has been in the hospital the past week. Visiting a Dominican hospital is a sight in itself. I went once when a neighbor was having a baby. She was lying in bed with 5 other cots also in her room. All the women were hooked up to iv’s. They all had to bring their own sheets and food, including the two 13-year olds (one might have been 12) who were also readying themselves as children to bring another child in the world. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Visiting the founder was a similar experience, and when he came home, we were all relieved. Tomorrow, 40 <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Americanos</i> are coming for a medical mission trip. I am going to help with translating, which should be interesting. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Vamos a ver</i>. I am still looking forward to when we have our own place and can have a little more <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">tranquilidad y paz en nuestra vida</i>. </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">I had a productive weekend. We are still working on our community diagnostics, which will be in early February. Our diagnostics include interviews, focus groups, and lots of meetings with community members to discuss the needs, priorities, and resources of our community, with the ultimate goal of guiding us into what our projects will be the next 2 years. True to form, Dominic’s is pretty much complete, and mine is pretty much not (i.e. I have not yet started writing it). We had a meeting with the youth of our barrio yesterday. While only teens were invited, midway through I had one baby on one hip, was holding the hand of a 4-year old with the other, and was instructing the kids, <span lang="ES-DO" style="mso-ansi-language: ES-DO;">“<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">por</i></span><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"> favor,</i><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span lang="ES-DO" style="mso-ansi-language: ES-DO;"> niños</span>,</i><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span lang="ES-DO" style="mso-ansi-language: ES-DO;"> su atención</span></i>.” My “<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">por favor</i>” was more like a whimpering plea of desperation. Some teens did show up, and we were able to assess some of their needs and wants (etiquette class, English classes, sports, charlas, y <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">yo no recuerdo que mas</i>). We also met with the pastors of our barrio (latest count of churches=thirteen evangelical, one 7<sup>th</sup> day Adventist, and one Catholic). After explaining for half the time that while we were <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Cristianos</i> and volunteers, we were not here solely to serve the churches, but to better the community as a whole, heathens included, we received some good suggestions from the pastors. They seem committed to working with us, and I think they are going to be a good resource. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">While I joke about the evangelical community at times, they (as an extremely grand overgeneralization) really are amazing people. I can really tell a difference, both in appearance and actions, between those who are Christians here versus those who are not. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Por ejemplo</i>, you are not an Evangelical if you wear pants, wear tank tops, drink beer, wear earrings, or use makeup. You are an Evangelical if you wear flowered, buttoned shirts (sometimes with extreme cleavage) as well as long, spandex skirts (sometimes that show every, EVERY curve). That being said, all of my friends and the people with whom I work are all Evangelical. </div>Disclaimerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13258708402669531150noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7569610868826026246.post-26789417432551249422011-03-05T09:16:00.000-08:002011-03-05T09:16:18.553-08:0029 de noviembre, Tina<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">Prelude. If my memory were a little better, every blog would commence with a “you know you are in the <place w:st="on"><country-region w:st="on">Dominican Republic</country-region></place> when” anecdote. My memory, however, is not what it used to be (now that I am approaching the ripe age of 30) so I cannot allow the luxury of that, except for tonight. </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Blog entry. You know you are in the <place w:st="on"><country-region w:st="on">Dominican Republic</country-region></place> when you walk outside your tin house and narrowly miss stepping into an opened jaw of a dead shark, with a Doña squatting beside it with her machete. Not the whole shark, just the jaw bone of a shark that had a jaw bigger than my head, which is saying a lot. No photo to show. Thanksgiving festivities were a little more fun than anticipated, which resulted in a forgotten/ left behind camera in the county club (how prestigious we were!) where we feasted. Thankfully, the camera was found and awaits us in the Peace Corps Office. This is the reason that my descriptive entry will have to suffice. However, the mental picture that I will forever have =priceless. I am a little worried as to where the shark was caught, as judging from its’ head, it was a biggie. My crazy Doña and her machete. She prunes trees, cuts up chicken, dices vegetables, and apparently does dental surgery on shark jaws as well. Pretty impressive. But I digress…So back to why there was a shark jaw in our back entryway (entryway makes the house sound larger than it actually is, we only have 2 doors in the whole house, and they are about 10 feet apart). Our host dad makes sharktooth necklaces and sells them on the beach to tourists. In case you are ever wondering, while admiring a cheesy souvenir on some picturesque beach, where do the vendors live? In my case, they host Peace Corps Volunteers. I should preface this with I have only seen my dad go to work selling these necklaces twice in the 5 weeks we have been with them, so I am not sure how lucrative a profession it is, in case you had not already surmised that.</div><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;">Living with a host family has been interesting, to say the least. I miss having my own home, and while I am eternally grateful for the host families I have had, I cannot wait to live with Dominic alone. While being in a new county, without speaking the language or understanding a thing about the culture (yes, but WHY is there no garbage system nationwide. Yes, but WHY can I not have cold water with soup. Yes, but WHY are child abuse and animal abuse socially and culturally accepted. Yes, but WHY…), having the comfort of a host family has been a saving grace. From being corrected on my Spanish by 4-year olds to learning how to flush a toilet without running water (which, by the way, I have mastered the bucket flush), host families provide a good and humbling gateway into <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">la vida dominicana, mas o menos</i>. I am not surprised that I am treated like a child at times. I must seem extraordinarily comical to them most of the time. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Por ejemplo, </i>hanging on my wall, next to my photos and headlamp, is a posterboard with a glorified stick figure labeled with body parts. Much like a 5<sup>th</sup> grader would create for bones of the body, except mine is for adults learning Spanish. </span><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span lang="ES-DO" style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; mso-ansi-language: ES-DO; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;">El pecho</span></i><span lang="ES-DO" style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; mso-ansi-language: ES-DO; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;">=chest/ <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">El ombligo</i>= belly button. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">La cara</i>= face…). </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;">I also have one for the bathroom and kitchen, all handmade by yours truly. You would think I would be fluent by now with all of these helpful visual aides. And I really did have to ask my Doña how to flush a toilet. This was when we were in Constanza. Vitamin B apparently helps to ward off mosquitoes. Judging from my insane amounts of bites, I am not sure how helpful it is, but I keep reminding myself that it can always get worse with these bites, so I take vitamin B religiously, even if I doubt the efficacy of it. Anyway, vitamin B makes urine look neon yellow, as if Mountain Dew and yellow food coloring had a baby in the toilet. Anyway, I had urinated and was trying to ask my Doña if I needed to flush the toilet when I peed (you know, if it’s yellow, let it mellow…. ). I had only been in county 3 weeks, and my Spanish was terrible. Needless to say, when I attempted to ask this question, she gave me a puzzled look, looked at the toilet, looked at my urine, looked back at me, and flushed the toilet with the handle. Voila. Ahhhh, la vida dominicana. </span>Disclaimerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13258708402669531150noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7569610868826026246.post-25267656288874266242010-11-26T05:01:00.001-08:002010-11-26T05:01:59.567-08:00Making Change<div class="MsoNormal">In the <st1:place w:st="on"><st1:country-region w:st="on">US</st1:country-region></st1:place> we go to church on average once per week.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Now there are not many opportunities for extra curricular activities here in the barrio, so faith is the backbone of our community.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In our barrio we get invited to church every night.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We should actually accept since there are 14 different churches in our very small barrio, but our sane minds can only handle about 2 nights per week of the endless chanting of, “Gloria a Dios!” and “a su nombre…GLORIA!!! A su nombre…GLORIA!!!!”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Now I appreciate the Christian faith, which is why I want to talk about this one church in particular.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We decided to accept an offer to accompany this nice couple to church one night.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We did our normal walk through the unlit dirt roads of the barrio, trying to avoid the mud and pools of water with only the flashlight from my Dominican cell phone.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>When we arrived, the church was one of the nicer buildings I have seen in our neck of the woods, with a grassy area outlined by a vegetable garden. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="tab-stops: 387.0pt;">We were told that church started at 7:30pm and we arrived at that time, but when we entered the church, members were greeting one another for roughly another 30 minutes. There really is no actually notice when the service starts, or maybe I just didn’t pick up on it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>All of a sudden the bands slowly starts tuning their instruments and people make their way to the front to form a circle, where I was invited to join.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>On the way up, I tried to grab Tina, but she declined. I was on my own.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>For literally the next 30 minutes I mumbled Spanish words to a song I didn’t know and mostly swayed back and forth while holding hands in a circle to start the service.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">After that somewhat decent experience I got a good laugh from what I witnessed next.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>While clapping and swaying side to side from my seat, the collection plate was being passed around.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>One older woman decided that her peso bill was too large to give to the church so she decided to make change from the collection plate right there on the spot.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I was so in shock that I just stood there and watched.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I didn’t even get Tina’s attention to look.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I felt like I was the only person observing this.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Every day I am more in awe of how bold this country is, or maybe in the States we are overly sensitive.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>So if you have heard comedians talk about making change from the collection plate like I have, it really does happen, right here in my barrio.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-size: 10.0pt;">I know you will get a kick out of this Jason<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>Disclaimerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13258708402669531150noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7569610868826026246.post-72273175255396038482010-11-24T11:42:00.000-08:002010-11-24T11:42:08.252-08:00Gracias a Dios<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>57= Number of active (i.e. not yet scars) mosquito bites covering my body. 2= Number of current semi- infections from mosquito bites. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">O Dios Mio. Hay mucho. </i><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>However, the odds seem to be in my favor, obviously not regarding the plethora of mosquitoes, but given the relatively few infections from these mosquitoes in light of my crazy skin sensitivities. I did wake up one day this week and fear I had a staph infection. Some doñas insisted it was a centipede bite or a spider bite, but alas, it was only an infected mosquito bite. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Gracias a Dios</i>. I have also been battling a cold/ cough duo this week. I showered in the evening (I use the word “shower” loosely. I actually poured a bucket over my head and washed my hair). My hair was wet when I went to bed, similar to how it is every time I wash my hair (I’m a night washer). When I woke up, I had a cold, that later turned into whooping cough-esque symptoms. My doña insisted it was because I went to bed with wet hair, and continued to tell the whole town why I was sick, muttering under breath how she told me not to, how I need to wash my hair in the day, how I can’t wash my hair at night, how she knew I was going to get sick…So now I get scolding looks from her every time I cough or sneeze. On top of being sick, I feel like I am about 4 years old, but without the coddling that a sick 4 year-old would typically receive. She made me some <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">limonada </i>to help me feel better, so I think I am back in her graces. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Gracias a Dios. </i>In light of the aforementioned ailments, I feel pretty good today, and hope to feel even better tomorrow, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">si Dios quiere</i>.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; tab-stops: .25in;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>To set the mood, I am writing this blog with a headlamp on (<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">la luz se fue</i>), sitting on my bed in the dark, tucked into my <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">mosquitero</i>, bobbing my head to the Pentacostal/ Evangelical church <s>screaming</s> singing. Also, I wanted to include some of my daily vernacular in the paragraph above, clearly influenced from my Evangelical community. </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt 0.25in; tab-stops: .25in;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">O Dios Mio</i>= O My God, You don’t say, What the h*ll (ironically enough), and a bunch of other meanings. It is used as in English but is more common here. The preachers use it; the Evangelicals use it; the children use it. </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt 0.25in; tab-stops: .25in;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Gracias a Dios</i> =“Thank God,” but it is used after nearly every sentence. I had a super Dominican moment the other day when someone asked my how I was doing, and my automatic response was, “Bien, gracias a Dios,” all in one breath. </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt 0.25in; tab-stops: .25in;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Si Dios Quiere</i>= if God wants/ God willing. This is also used commonly here, and after plans are made, this is thrown in, signifying uncertainty or blatant doubt about the plans that have been made. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span lang="ES-DO" style="mso-ansi-language: ES-DO;">Por ejemplo</span></i><span lang="ES-DO" style="mso-ansi-language: ES-DO;">, a conversation might go like this. Person 1, “Quires ir a la iglesia mañana?” </span>(Want to go to church tomorrow). Person 2 responds, “Sí, claro, si Dios quiere.” The actual translation is more like “God-willing,” but the implied message is “Probably not.” It is a pretty good noncommittal response to any obligation presented. Who can argue with God?</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; tab-stops: .25in;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; tab-stops: .25in;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>I went to visit my first batey today, and visited with three other volunteers. It was my friend’s birthday so we went to surprise her in her batey. We brought her a piece of bizcocho, 2 packages of Cracker Barrel sharp and extra sharp cheese, a wheat baguette, 3 <city w:st="on"><place w:st="on">Fuji</place></city> apples, and Hershey Kisses. Pretty sweet birthday package <span style="font-family: Wingdings; mso-ascii-font-family: 'Times New Roman'; mso-char-type: symbol; mso-hansi-font-family: 'Times New Roman'; mso-symbol-font-family: Wingdings;"><span style="mso-char-type: symbol; mso-symbol-font-family: Wingdings;">J</span></span> We went into the sugar canes, and the men (our husbands and a boy from the batey) hacked us some sugar cane, which we happily ate. The cane fields were amazingly beautiful. They kind of looked like corn fields in the <place w:st="on">Midwest</place>, and the grasses looked like “amber waves of grain.” All this breadbasket nostalgia, and I was born and bred in <place w:st="on"><state w:st="on">Arizona</state></place>. There was a slight breeze, some clouds, and all in all, it was a pretty amazing sight and experience. I will try to post a picture of me holding a machete in my teeth, and of Dominic and I on a motorcycle together, with our helmets on (like good Peace Corps volunteers), cuddling with our<span lang="ES-DO" style="mso-ansi-language: ES-DO;"> motoconchista</span>. </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; tab-stops: .25in;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>This week is Thanksgiving, so we are going to go to the Capital, and Peace Corps is having a dinner and festivities all for a pretty penny. I am excited, though I will be jealously thinking of all of you in the states, more for the fact of the leftovers rather than of the actual meal. I love Thanksgiving. What a great holiday. A day dedicated to expressing thanks. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Me gusta</i>. I love it- a day just for being thankful and recognizing it as such. Regardless of religion or anything- simply just being thankful. On that note, I am thankful to be here in the D.R. I am thankful to have such wonderful friends and family, both back in the States and also my new family and friends here. I am thankful that Claire and Georgi called me tonight to chat for the first time in over 3 months. I am thankful to have such a fabulous husband. I am blessed and thankful in many ways, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Gracias a Dios</i>. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"></i></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; tab-stops: .25in;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span></div>Disclaimerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13258708402669531150noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7569610868826026246.post-90369964856202375752010-11-13T13:23:00.000-08:002010-11-13T13:31:04.780-08:00Photos<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTYns4iUWVdn9khodav7m6IYYsVRktw_2vdA9fZBnaTLJNb2EOs440Ub4Zcank0rOqbGv51mI_LfKueYPcrtzeEJiNmZUqScu2V7gzLRIuBjtiNE6uH81LlyMwxqRspLlJJC_d1Kjau_6L/s1600/PA170273.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTYns4iUWVdn9khodav7m6IYYsVRktw_2vdA9fZBnaTLJNb2EOs440Ub4Zcank0rOqbGv51mI_LfKueYPcrtzeEJiNmZUqScu2V7gzLRIuBjtiNE6uH81LlyMwxqRspLlJJC_d1Kjau_6L/s320/PA170273.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br />
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After about 2 weeks at our site, it feels good to be making progress on what I will be doing. The first week was great just hanging out with our host family. Our family consist of a Don who is about 54 and a Dona who‘s about 38. I can not count with two hands the times that Tina and I laugh during the day. There relationship is like this…he acts like a 16 year old joking around and playing around all day, she gets annoyed at him and tells him to stop talking so much. He responds by sitting in the chair not talking at all acting like a big baby. My Don also calls me a tiguere and a ladron roughly 20 times a day in good humor. Por ejemplo, now when I arrive home the first thing I do is take off my shirt and hang it on the outside line. I also cut down branches from a tree with a machete sin camisa, which was a highlight so far in country. Tina will not like this, but it has not taken me long to be sin vergüenza. <br />
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Our host parent’s relationship makes spending hours on the porch quit comical. This came into play our second week in site when it rained 4 days straight because of the hurricane. We did not have to be evacuated like some volunteers in rural areas. The thought of a comfortable hotel with bed, hot water and television did sound like a great idea. Our reality was not setting foot outside our property for 3 days. Our roads were flooded and some houses as well. The people are resilient though; they just sweep the water from the concrete floor and get on with life as they know. From talking with our vecinos the roads are definitely a priority and a major concern of this community. It doesn’t rain much in our area but when it does our calles cannot handle it…<br />
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Su hombre,<br />
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DominicDisclaimerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13258708402669531150noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7569610868826026246.post-56249894129334852612010-11-13T12:46:00.000-08:002010-11-13T12:47:40.471-08:00Dominic´s land of aguacatesFor five weeks each program sector separated and went to different campo communities. My sector went to the northwest part of the country to Altamira. My first day there I realized that my Doña was “la jefe” in charge of the entire campo. Campos are small rural communities scattered throughout the country. She had her “stuff” together. I would benefit from her owning a “colmado” by receiving numerous snacks during the day. When it was time for dinner she would ask me what I would prefer. I would reply by saying eggs. She would then grab two eggs out of her “colmado” to cook for her American “hijo”. I felt bad that she was taking money out of her business, but she had the biggest house in the campo so I figured she knew what she was doing. <br />
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I lived in an agricultural community. This meant that there was arboles de orange, grapefruit, coconuts, cocao (the stuff chocolate is made from), bananas, guava and my favorite, drum roll please…avocados. I was in heaven once I saw a tree with giant avocados hanging from them. The entire campo knew of my love for avocados, so every meal for breakfast, lunch and dinner I had a giant piece of avocado. Sometimes on a lucky day I would have chopped pieces of avocado mixed with onion and vinegar. Now in the States avocados are small, black and expensive. Here in Altamira they are giant, green, and free.<br />
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In the morning we had Spanish class for four hours, then went home for lunch for an hour and a half, then off to technical training for another four hours. It was like drinking water out of a fire hydrant; so much information and not enough time. But, now I know I have two years to refer back to all that information I took notes on.<br />
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After our brains were spun in the dryer, which we called Spanish class, one of my class mates and I would go to our happy place of playing catch with his football. It was almost like a bonding therapy; thank God for that football. His Doña definitely gets the hospitable award for our campo. People would walk by and yell, “MILAGRO” she would reply by grunting a lazy “entre”. She would then shove a plastic chair and a cafecito in your face. <br />
While living in different towns hours apart from each other during technical training, Tina and I supported our relationship by buying expensive phone cards to call in-country with cell service of one-bar that frequently (i.e. always) dropped calls. In sum, we spoke 3 times for a grand total of 5 minutes during the 5 separated weeks. <br />
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I would pass what down time I had with my Dona in a plastic chair on the opposite side of the street of her “colmado”, because that is were the shade was. One day I was attempting to put together four questions in Spanish which, no lie, took me three hours. To my defense I had some distractions; she was loofahing her feet with actual sand paper, LOL. As well as every day at 5 pm when the older kids got out of “escuela” the street would be filled with the noise of “motors” racing down it. And yes, it was the “estudiantes” driving; no certain age here needed to be handed the keys to a vehicle or motoconcho.<br />
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Our last night in our campo our community totally threw us a block party “despedida” (going away party). We had a giant outdoor flame where they cooked a giant pot of asopoa (a mix of rice, broth, chicken parts). My Dona sold beer out of here “colmado” to keep the party going and gave me a few for free as well:). During dinner we shared tears when all the families and volunteers spoke about the experience of the past five weeks.<br />
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¡Neli, voy a volver en el futuro con mi esposa!Disclaimerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13258708402669531150noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7569610868826026246.post-9200897094536934832010-11-13T12:43:00.000-08:002010-11-13T12:43:44.302-08:00Tina’s Technical Training y un poca masTina speaking: I loved my training in Constanza! I lived with this amazing family, a dog (se llama Doggy), and a cat (se llama Pinky). The family was unbelievably warm, friendly, hospitable, and it was fun having a little sister and brother. I loved hanging out and playing cards with my Doña and my little sister. I got along really well with them and cannot wait to go back to visit. I’ll probably reference Luisanna (my little sister), Anyelina (my Doña), and Doggy as I think fondly of them. Side note: in the past, I have had terrible allergies and a genuine loathing of cats, but that has slowly diminished. The reasoning: I abhor rats, mice, cockroaches, centipedes and other tropical insects significantly more than flu-like symptoms from a cat. Cats here eat or at least kill, nearly every annoying creature (excluding mosquitoes), which is a pretty miraculous feat. That being noted, we will probably get a cat while we are here, as the alternative is not pleasant. Back to Constanza. <br />
Constanza was a farming valley surrounded by rolling hills. It was cold, a sensation pretty foreign in this country, and beautiful, not very uncommon in this county. There were 25 trainees in Constanza, and we were all volunteers in the youth sector. We had Spanish and youth technical training in Spanish every day. I am considered an “Extreme Needs Youth Volunteer.” Extreme Need Volunteers usually work with more at-risk youth in organizational settings. The nature of the title is unimportant, except it lent itself to a good joke for our Spanish class. There were 4 of us in our Spanish class, and we all came to the country speaking little to no Spanish. We also burned through a total of 4 Spanish teachers during our training, which coined our class the name, “Extreme Needs Spanish Class.” Sad, but true. However, despite the challenges, we all learned (some) Spanish. Despite being separated from Dom, Constanza was perfect. It was very conducive to learning Spanish, studying, team building, learning meringue y bachata, developing a genuine love of Dominican food, mastering the bucket shower. Also, my neighbor had a nail salon so I got manicures and pedicures with wicked Dominican designs for 100 pesos total, which is about $2.50. We all survived our training and made it back to the capital to finish training. Successfully completing the training, we were sworn in as official Peace Corps Volunteers on October 27, 2010. <br />
Now we are living in San Pedro de Marcoris, in a barrio on the northern outskirts of town. We love it. We live with a neat couple, and the man, Juan, is hilarious. While writing, I just got a mosquito bite on top of another mosquito bite. I did not know that could even happen. More impressive, they are both on my backside, so two mosquitoes got through my underwear and pants to get to my booty. We live in an Evangelical community so we hear praises to G*d all throughout the day, afternoons, evenings, wee hours of the night…There are 13 or 14 churches in our community, which is a lot considering we do not have paved roads, an elementary school or high school, concrete houses (the houses are constructed from scraps of tin), regular toilets (we use latrines i.e. outhouses), supermercado, or anything more than small colmados. <br />
We are still trying to learn Spanish. You will inevitably hear subsequent blogs and complaints about the Dominican Spanish, so I will keep it minimal at this point: Dominican Spanish is painstakingly difficult to learn and/or understand because they drop the r, the s, and the occasional d from nearly all words. It is equivalent to learning English in the Deep South, and is sure to bring humor to our friends who actually speak Spanish. Our accents will make your ears bleed, but we can speak it! <br />
I also bought my first pair of semi- Dominican jeans. Dominican jeans have crazy designs, glitter, gold, and are tighter than the tightest leggings. This is applicable to jeans for both men and women. Admittedly, I love the gold and glitter but have not yet mustered the courage to get a fantastically Dominican pair yet. I managed to find some jeans that are a little more subdued (except for the pockets that zipper up with leather tassles), and they allow me to breathe, even after eating rice, beans, yucca, platanos. Ahh, Dominican food. More to write in the future about that, but as for now, I miss you all, and would gladly welcome any phone calls, texts, emails, facebu messages, or care packages:) Saludos, Tania (as my family here calls me, as Tina is apparently harder to pronounce).Disclaimerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13258708402669531150noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7569610868826026246.post-29689995137264772402010-11-13T12:41:00.000-08:002010-11-13T12:41:02.869-08:00Not in Kansas Anymore<link href="file:///C:%5CDOCUME%7E1%5CADMINI%7E1%5CCONFIG%7E1%5CTemp%5Cmsohtml1%5C03%5Cclip_filelist.xml" rel="File-List"></link><o:smarttagtype name="place" namespaceuri="urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:smarttags"></o:smarttagtype><o:smarttagtype name="City" namespaceuri="urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:smarttags"></o:smarttagtype><style>
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<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 36pt;"><span lang="EN-US">After months of talking about it, we finally started our blog. It took 4 days of being rained in without leaving the house, our street, or our mud-filled dirt road, but here it is. Also, after over a year of preparation, endless medical exams, phone calls, and interviews, we are finally official Peace Corps Volunteers. Ya. We arrived in the República Dominicana in August as 2 of 59 trainees, one of the largest groups of volunteers to enter the D.R. Our training consisted of rapid Spanish language (te ta= <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">como</st1:place></st1:city> tu estas in Dominican Spanish), technical (based on sector- youth for Tina and business for Dominic), and medical components (how to avoid and/or deal with dengue fever, amoebas, cholera, and other bowel issues). </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 36pt;"><span lang="EN-US">We lived with separate host families for the 10 weeks of training. We were in <st1:city w:st="on">Santo Domingo</st1:city>, for 3 weeks, and then for 5 weeks, Tina went to Constanza and Dominic to <st1:place w:st="on">Altamira</st1:place> for technical training. We then had training back in <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Santo Domingo</st1:place></st1:city> for another 2 weeks. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 36pt;"><span lang="EN-US">Our marital bliss in <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Santo Domingo</st1:place></st1:city> consisted of lots of hand holding, and, always the gentleman, Dominic walked Tina to her home every afternoon. How elementary-school romantic it was! Luckily, our host families were very supportive of our relationship, so we were allowed occasional conjugal visitations. Tina lived with a rad Doña, and the Doña’s blind mother, who occasionally wore glasses (we were never able to quite figure this out). Tina’s blind abuela was insanely difficult to understand, but through the weeks, she became easier to understand, once we realized that she repeated everything she said about 4-5 times within the hour. As long as we understood the first time, we were good to go. She would always ask for the “<st1:place w:st="on"><st1:city w:st="on">Americana</st1:city></st1:place>,” while holding Tina’s hand, to which Tina dutifully replied, “Pero, estoy aqui, abuela.” When Dominic would leave to go to his respective host family, he would say his goodbyes, inevitably followed by the abuela saying, “Mas temprano, por que?” Our blind and usually incomprehensible grandmother took a liking to us. <st1:place w:st="on"><st1:city w:st="on">Santo Domingo</st1:city></st1:place> was hot, humid, and infested with mosquitoes. Despite that, we enjoyed it and will forever have smile-inducing memories from the town. </span></div>Disclaimerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13258708402669531150noreply@blogger.com0