Christmas time

Merry Christmas everyone!  ¡Feliz Navidad a todos!

Here’s a little bit about the Christmas traditions of the Dominican Republic.  I know I’ve mentioned the decorations before, and here are some pictures from my house.  Almost all available surfaces are decked on in one way or another.  Our tree is gorgeous, although you will note the peacock feathers on top in place of a star or angel.  This is true of the trees in every house I have been in (I think it’s the style this year…). 

We also have lots of Santa’s scattered around our house.  This is one display of three: skier Santa, Noel Santa and accordion Santa.  There are also some small stuffed ones hanging between our Christmas lights and orchid plants on our balcony.

Our coffee table is covered in Christmas treasures.  We have our advent wreath, a snowman that plays music, candles and ornaments, sparkly green flowers and a wrapped up orchid.  The last one is my gift to my host mom- her favorite flower.

Yesterday (Christmas eve) went something like this: my friend and I spent an hour trying to even out the worst haircut I’ve probably ever gotten (seriously, I don’t know how I left with it looking like that).  My host family and I went to mass at 6pm on Campus, then over to my brother-in-law’s parent’s house to have supper.  It was low key for the most part (with the exception of a Santa sighting by my 6 year old host nephew) and the food was really good!  There was turkey and ham (part of a pig that was roasted over a pit- soooo good), pasta salad, green salad, an eggplant dish, lasagna, bread and casabe (sort of like a rice cake but made out of yucca).  And fruit for dessert.  Yum, yum!

From what I gather, yesterday was the big day.  Eduardo opened his presents from Santa this morning, but other than that it’s been pretty low key.  Alba reported to me earlier that our neighbor, my host uncle’s sister-in-law (just in case you were wondering), got in from her family party at 5am.  So maybe, for most people, Christmas is the recovery day. 

I hope you all had/are having a wonderful day!  

Dominoes

So I think I’ve mentioned this before but- my host uncle owns a weekend home outside the city.  This is a super sweet spot- big kitchen (especially by Dominican standards), pool, pool table and sleep area for about 12.

Every weekend my host grandma spends Saturday to Sunday night there.  She has confessed to me that she doesn’t really like it (she’s quite the home body) but, she says, she does it for her only son.  I’ve been out there several times over the semester, but yesterday was special: I finally learn to play dominoes.  Sort of.

Your basic domino table, via google.

If baseball is the Dominican sport of choice, dominoes is the game of choice.  Once or twice a week my neighbors (about 15 feet from my bedroom window) will hold domino parties until 10-11 at night.  Many families and businesses have special tables build just for playing- they are square with a groove cut into each side to prop up you pieces and holes cut into the corners for your drink. 

Dominoes here is a four player game.  I tried looking up the rules, but there are dozens of varieties.  For what I’ve gathered from watching and my time playing yesterday this is how people play it here:

You are partners with the person sitting across from you.  You want to go out first and if you do, your team gets points.  Points are scored by the value of the dominoes left in everyone’s hand when you have gone out.  To start, the person with the double sixes plays- after this, who ever went out in the last round starts.  You can only play off the two ends of the starter piece.  If you can’t play, you pass to the next person. 

And there are TON of score points.  For instance- if you go out and the last number on the piece you played is the same number on the other end, you get a bonus 20 points.  If you play a piece and no one else at the table can play, you get a bonus 50 points.  There are also some rules with 25 (like if the end piece add up to 25 or something) that I don’t know well enough to explain…

In any case, yesterday I got to play.  My three playing mates were all over 60 and veterans at the game.  About an hour into it we broke for lunch and afterwards my brain was a bit fried for trying to figure out the rules/a good strategy.  So I took a break.  But the veterans- right back to it.  They pretty much played straight for another 2+ hours.  Like I said, Dominican game of choice.  

A morning well spent

Yesterday I called a friend of a friend who lives in a campo about an hour outside of Santiago.  My friend has encouraged me to visit and stay in this small town and get to know the people almost since I got here, and winter break is the time to do it. 

So with hopeful feelings and positive thoughts I called the number.  But here’s the thing about me and talking on the phone in Spanish: I’m very intimidated by it.  I usually can’t hear people when they’re talking, so communicating becomes very difficult.  I usually don’t even answer my phone if I don’t recognize the number (it is almost never for me, and more than once when it’s a guy on the other end, he’s asked me if I was married/had a boyfriend before I hung up.  Sigh.)

But all went well.  Nestor, the guy who lives in the campo, told me he’d be in a closer town the next day, if I wanted to meet him.  Well, of course!  The conversation only lasted about 4 minutes, but from what I got, I was totally welcome to come and he would meet me.

So this morning I got up, packed my backpack and headed out.  I had to take a bus out of town I never had before, so I was a little nervous.  I think it is a testament to my growing comfort level here that I was willing to do this alone, without almost any idea of where I was going or who I was meeting.  Taking it on faith. 

Yes I did find a map of the Caribbean with Tamboril
picked out.

I lucked out and sat next to a really nice woman on the bus who told me where to get off.  “You want us to drop you at the police station?  Why?”  I had a little trouble getting across that I was only meeting someone there, not that I needed the police. 

It took Nestor about 60 seconds to find me.  As pretty much the only gringa around I stood out.  We walked down the street a ways and sat in a park across from the church.  We chatted about his family, my family, the whether, our mutual friend.  Then he asked me when I thought I’d be able to come and stay at his house. 

“Well,” I responded, “I guess I thought, I mean, I can do it any time.  Today, if that works for you.”  I was a bit thrown.  Perhaps we had gotten our wires crossed somewhere. 

Yep, we had.

“Ah, well,” he said, “It’s just that I have a lot of work in the next week.  It being Christmas and all.”

“Yes!  Yes, of course.  We can totally do it another time.  I have so much free time in the next 2 weeks.  Any time that will work for you!”  This had the potential to be pretty awkward, but only if we’d let it.  Which we didn’t.

So we made plans for after Christmas (a better time), he walked me across the street where I caught another bus and that was that.  Three hours of my morning and less than US$2 and I now know a little bit more of the area around Santiago and one more person’s name.  I call that a success.

On saying goodbye

Well the last week and a half has been tough in a lot of ways.  The vast majority of our group is returning to the US, some for good, other just for Christmas.

I have certainly had lots of mixed feelings.  On the one hand, I'm really and truly happy for those returning to the US.  They are so genuinely excited to see their families/have the comforts of home it's hard not to feel a little thrilled, just by osmosis.  On the other, I'm bummed I wont be packing up and going home too.

Don't get me wrong, I love my host family here and I am happy (most days) that I will be spending another semester in the DR.  Honestly it took me the better part of the last four months to get relatively comfortable with the language, the transportation system, the culture.  I feel like I'll better be able to enjoy myself in the next 5 months because I wont be constantly adjusting and readjusting to life here.

That being said- it's Christmas!  It was tough for many people to spend Thanksgiving away from home for the first time (something that doesn't bother me having done it twice already), but Christmas will be new.  Sigh.  I'll keep you posted on how that goes.

Back to the goodbyes though... I helped a friend pack up last night.  She actually only lives about 30 minutes from me in the US, so we'll almost certainly be seeing each other again, but not so for the rest of us.  Our group this semester consisted of people from Washington to New York to Florida.  We were all thrown together four months ago, friends by necessity, and now over half that group is leaving.  I really miss/am going to miss most of those people.  I did move to the DR to meet new people and experience something different, and I guess this is just another step in that process- saying goodbye.

So with that- goodbye and good luck to everyone returning to the States!  ¡Ojala que tengan un navidad fantastico y que vayan bien!  ¡Cuidate!

The last supper

Last night was our cena despedida, or goodbye dinner.  All the remaining students in our program (some have gone home already), our program directors and 3 visitors from the program office in the US met at a restaurant for one last hoorah. 

My first hamburger in 4 months and a yummy
passion fruit juice!

We walked over, so of course were sweaty by the time we arrived, but 10 minutes in a highly air-conditioned room cured that pretty quickly.  About half of us got dolled up for the event.  Dresses, hair done, the works.  I do love a good excuse to dress up. 

Talk, surprisingly, did not center around people’s going home.  (I think we’ve all hashed that topic out enough in the past month, sheesh).  Nor did we dwell on memories of our time here.  This was also nice- none of us really got sappy.  I think the people returning to the US are just too excited to be completely bummed, and those of us who are staying are already starting to look towards the arrival of the next bunch of students.  

The topics of dinner conversation included: how excited we were to eat, Lady Gaga (of course), picture taking (everyone wanted a group shot), mail (thanks mom and dad!), borrowing clothes from parents, and jokes.  Here’s one I read on FB: ‘Why does the ocean roar?’  ‘Well, if you had crabs crawling all over your bottom, you’d roar too!’  Hehe. 

Picture/shadow fun on the way home.

On the whole, good food and good company.  Am I bummed that many of these people are leaving?  Yes.  Am I excited for next semester?  Yes!  Especially getting to see my family in less than a month?  Heck yes! 

Goodbye and good luck to those who are returning to the States!  

Smokin' Dominicans

Last week we took a little trip to the oldest cigar factory in the DR.  I don’t remember exactly what I was expecting- maybe something along the lines of a huge warehouse and rows and rows machines- but this was not it. 

The factory itself is in a small, brightly painted building with two, room long rows of desks for the cigar makers to sit at.  At the front was an elevated platform with a desk.  I imagine this is where the boss sat 100+ years ago, keeping a watchful eye on all the employees.  The cigar maker’s desks were divided into about 10 parts each, giving the person who sat there a designated space to work. 

The day we went there were only four people rolling cigars, and one guy to give us a tour.  While we watched, our guide explained how the tobacco is aged for at least two years before being rolled (it’s aged longer for the higher end cigars).  This brings out the flavor.  There are also several different sizes of cigars: long and fat (for those who want to smoke one for hours), short and thin (almost like cigarettes), and everything in between.  There are different flavors too.  Not just the strong vs. mild cigar, but vanilla and honey as well. 

All I can say is the cigar making is truly and art.  As we watched, this guy rolled several perfectly equal, beautiful cigars.  Like any art, cigar rolling takes years of practice- I think the demonstrator has been working there for over twenty years. 

 

As for smoking them- I haven’t yet, but I want to.  Dominican cigars rival Cuban’s on the world market in terms of quality and I want to at least try one just to say I did.  

Thanksgiving

It’s Thanksgiving, and what better time of year than now to reflect on what I am thankful for.  Here’s a list of 10 things I am grateful for this season:

1. My family in the United States.

2. My family here in the Dominican Republic.

3. This opportunity to live and study in another country.

4. My health (knock on wood).

5. ISA- a great, supportive program.

6. The AMAZING Thanksgiving lunch we had today.

7. My computer, the Internet and my camera.

8. Spanish/English dictionaries. 

9. Cool nights (as opposed to scorching days).

10. Fresh sheets, like mine that just got changed this morning.

So that’s what comes to mind right now.  There’s more, believe it, but these are at the forefront.  Have a great weekend everyone!  

The weekend...

It was a busy weekend here.  Friday morning a group of us visited an art fair to buy gifts and see some cool crafts.  As I was heading out the door, Alba, my host mom, told me to ask for Lourdes at the fair.  "She's my goddaughter and she'll give you a good price."  So with that in mind I headed out to meet friends at the Shell station up the road.

The best picture I could find... this is the type of van used,
driving down the highway with the door open.

We planned to take a guagua (guagua means bus, but in this case they're more like vans) to this art fair.  It's about 15 minutes of out town and none of us were sure if the conchos (Toyota Corollas used as public transit) went that far.  So we wandered up the road/highway until one came by.  Usually they cruse by every 3 minutes but for some reason on Friday we had to wait.  It didn't help that there were 8 of us and the two we did see were already full.

Finally one pulls up next to us and a guy jumps out the side to help us in/take our fare.  I figured since it was already half full maybe a few would fit and the other half could take the next guagua.  Nope- he assured us we would all fit and of course, after some shuffling, we did.  I think I counted 16 people in a 9-10 passenger van.  It was actually more comfortable than a concho where my hips are usually smashed  between the door and a bulky 60 year old woman.

We got to the art fair, made our selections and headed up to the counter to pay.  There were three women behind the counter and when my turn came, I asked the one ringing up my stuff if she knew Lourdes.  She smiled and pointed to the woman next to her.  So I asked that woman if she knew Doña Alba who lives in Santiago and she was like, "Yeah!  She's my godmother."  And then she not only gave me a discount, she gave everyone in the group a discount.  She even called back one person who had already paid and gave her a refund.  So nice!

Memorial for the sisters and one of their husbands.

On Saturday we finally got to visit the Hermanas Mirabal museum.  We were supposed to go a few weeks ago but the trip got canceled because of rain.  The museum is in the house the sisters lived in their last 10 months and has everything from the clothes they wore and pots in the kitchen, to the hand bags and books they had with them when they were killed.  (For further info on these women I wrote a post a few weeks ago...)

And Sunday I went to another Aguilas game.  This one was with my program so there was a big section of gringos in the crowd.  The stadium was almost full, actually, which was really cool because everyone got really into the spirit of the game and was yelling and cheering and jumping up to look if something exciting was happening.  And we WON!  The whole thing was fun to watch because los Tigres were ahead in the first couple inning but then we took a 5-4 lead and held on to it the rest of the game.  But being that close kept the tension high.  And at one point a runner coming into home completely crashed into our catcher trying to score a run.  But our guy held onto the ball.

This week is busy too: final essay due this afternoon for a class, Thanksgiving lunch tomorrow and final project due for another class, service project on Friday and who knows about the weekend...

Take me out to the ball game

Last night I got my first taste of Dominican baseball.  Las Aguilas (the Eagles) are the team from Santiago, and from what I understand, they are doing terribly this season.  There are 6 national teams here, all with their own stadiums and loyal fan base. 

The ticket prices range from about 50 – 700 pesos (US$1.50-20), the 50 peso seats being bleachers in the outfield and 700 getting you behind the plate.  We went with the intention of sitting as cheaply as possible but ended up paying RD$400.  The woman at the ticket booth told us that or higher was all that was left.  LIES!  The stadium was less than half full.  Oh, well, they did end up being really good seats between home and first. 

A word on the crowd: LOUD.  Remember those vuvuzelas they sold at the World Cup.  Yep, they have them here too.  Oh, and snacks are great.  Pretty much anything you can think of gets carried around: popcorn (in the microwave popcorn bags- which, when you think about it is probably way easier than boxes), pizza, empanadas, peanuts and fruit.  Wait- fruit?  Yep, a guy walked up and down the isles selling apples, grapes, bananas and raisins.  Gotta love it!

As far as refreshments went, there were 3 women assigned to every section.  There were 3 small bins holding ice and beer, and stacked to the side were bottles of pop.  If you wanted something, you just flagged them down.  These women also danced the Macarena a couple times during the game.  A friend and I agreed the dancing would be a deal breaker for this job.  No way could you get me to do that in front of thousands of people- most of them leering men. 

Security, like in most places in this country, was everywhere.  I mean seriously everywhere.  And not only did you have people in black clothes, utility belt on and ‘Seguridad’ printed on their backs- there were several dozen people in army fatigues.  And I’m pretty sure they weren’t there as spectators.  And let’s just say the guns on their hips were not used to stun.  Does it make us feel safer?  Well, kinda yes, kinda no.  Mostly I think everyone just wishes it wasn’t necessary. 

The game itself was fun to watch.  The last game I went to was at the new Twins stadium, so it was fun to see a game played outdoors with a little less pomp.  When we left in the top of the ninth, Las Aguilas were ahead 3-1.  Yeah!  

Samana

This past weekend was spent in Samana on the northeastern peninsula of this lovely little island.  After getting up at 5:30 AM to be on the road by 6:15, munching on pineapple and a pb&j on the bus, and trying to snooze, we finally arrived.

First stop was an old neighborhood, settled over 150 years ago by former US slaves.  That's right, freed slaves from the US were promised land if they'd be willing to move to the DR.  We got to speak with Doña Leticia, a descendent of these settlers.  According to her, about 30 families moved to this part of the island, most of them part of an African Protestant denomination.  She spoke almost perfect English which she said was her first language.  It was all pretty interesting and at the end we got to snack on Jonny&Kate cakes and coconut biscuits so a success all around.

Image compliments of the Los Haitises website.

Next stop was Los Haitises National Park.  We took an hour boat ride off the southern end of the peninsula and ended up amid these amazing tree covered islands.  Our guide explained that the islands had been formed hundreds of thousands of years ago by coral that eventually was compacted together, and then through earthquakes got pushed up out of the ocean.  We were divided into two groups, one to go kayaking through mangroves and the other to explore a giant cave.

  

The kayaking was so cool!  There were little crabs everywhere, (which at first kind of freaked me out because I thought they were spiders) and giants trees with tangled roots.  Our guide had us all be quiet for a minute so we could just listen to the bird calls and ocean sounds.  

The cave was pretty impressive too.  There were stalactites and stalagmites, giant mangrove roots reaching down 30+ feet to find more soil and rock paintings/carvings done by the Tainos.  The cave was named San Gabriel by fishermen after the conquest because one of the stalagmites looks like the figure of a saint.

That night we went to a hotel on the other side of the peninsula.  After a yummy buffet supper, I went to my room and discovered I could see the ocean from just outside the door.  Awesome!  The next morning we explored and the beach.  It was one of the most impressive so far.  I've been to beaches on all sides of the island, and while this one would probably be the worst for swimming, it was also the best for wave watching.  There were tons of rocks under the water that the waves break on at various times on their ride into shore.  And the sound!  The waves are so loud, it was hard for me to wrap my head around the idea that this sound is never turned off.  Day and night, always these waves are coming in.

The return journey

This weekend we took our last overnight excursion to Samana, a peninsula on the northeastern coast.  The trip itself will get its own post, but the ride back was note worthy enough to be a story in itself. 

We left Samana about 2pm.  The peninsula its on is very mountainous and the roads are potholed at best, dirt roads with deep ruts at worst.  And STEEP!  So we’re driving up a very steep, very curvy, bumpy road in a stick shift bus.  And of course I had a cup of coffee at lunch right before we left so I really had to go to the bathroom. 

A view from the top.

Well we finally reached the summit and some of us got out to see the view.  By now I really, really had to go to the bathroom, but we were on the top of this mountain with nothing but the bushes.  Luckily one of the other women had to too, so out came the beach towel and we hiked up the road a ways.  Now I consider myself a pretty experienced bathroom-in-the-woods user, but here’s some advice: it’s better to have 2 people holding the towel (so you don’t have to choose between people coming up the road seeing you or people on your bus seeing you) and have your TP ready first (less juggling of your camera and TP role later on).  We were eventually joined by a third woman, and then headed back to the bus.

By this time I was feeling 100% better about the road trip in front of us.  And the ride down the mountain was smoother because we just needed to use the brakes, not surge-and-stop up.  Well we got about half a mile down the road when, uh-oh, we realized amid all the juggling during out restroom escapade, one woman had left her camera hanging on a fence post.  So we pulled over (this time with the view on the other side of the peninsula) and she and Jonathan, one of the ISA leaders, started running back up the road.  Have I mentioned that it was STEEP!  It was so funny watching them jog more and more slowly the further they got until they passed a bend in the road. 

It doesn't really do it justice but
this is the steep mountain road. 

A few minutes later, a motorcycle comes roaring down and off hops the woman with her camera.  Some very nice guy gave her a ride.  No such luck for Jonathan, he had to run back to applause and high-fives.  Honestly, we were so lucky we realized the camera was missing only half a mile down the road and not when we were back in the city.  It worked out nicely.

So back on the bus and smooth sailing almost the whole rest of the trip.  But then, about 10 miles outside Santiago, our tire blew out.  We’d all been feeling a funny pull from the side of the bus for a few miles, but POP, there it went.  Conveniently we were about 20 feet from a roadside colmado (they’re corner stores with snacks. Every neighborhood has one) so we all had the opportunity to buy something to munch on.  Bring on the chocolate cookies!

The tire got changed way faster than I expected and off we drove.  Probably the most amazing thing about all this is that we got back to the city earlier than expected.  We must have been in some sort of time warp because that almost never happens here.  I give lots of props to Wilson, our amazing bus driver who did an incredible job getting us home and keeping us safe!

'Tis the season

I'm always a little disappointed in the US about how short the Christmas season is.  Lucky for me, in the DR it starts a whole lot sooner.  Without the constraints of Thanksgiving, or even really Halloween, the preparations have hit the ground running.  Christmas lights have gone up in several balconies in my neighborhood.  Santa Claus door hangers and nativity images can be seen walking up the stairs.  Restaurants have artificial trees, fully decorated with lights, tinsel and ornaments by the door when you walk in.  

And the house cleaning has begun too.  My host mom has broken the house into sections and tackles one at a time.  First it was the floor- deep scrubbing the tile.  Next washing the curtains.  Our living room furniture is currently being reupholstered and the walls have been painted.  Our kitchen has been sterilized and now it is on to the bed rooms.  She even mentioned maybe rearranging my furniture, so I guess we'll see.

She explained this cleaning kick to me earlier this week.  Christmas is a time for renewal- emphasis on the new.  It's less about the presents on the actual day and more about family, so everyone makes sure their house is in tip-top shape for when the relatives arrive.  If nothing else it's one time a year where you know your whole house will get clean, clean, clean.

Also, these pictures where taken on October 29th.  Just saying.

Movie Review

Someone from back home recently pointed out to me that I haven’t talked much (read- at all) about my classes here.  So I thought: where better to start than the movies?

I’ve watched a LOT of movies since coming here.  I am taking a Cine y Sociedad (film and society of Latin America) class that is basically all movies with brief discussions before and after about their reflection on the culture they came from.  I am also taking Afro-Caribbean Culture and we’ve watched our fair share of films in that class as well.  So, with that in mind, here’s my review:

La Ley de Herodes (Herod’s Law): This is also a Mexican film, a dark comedy centering on the corruption of politics (a worthy mention considering the resent election in the US).   Following the rise to power of an idiot with good intentions, there is one very clear message: power corrupts.  Ridiculous and at times exasperating, this one is good for a laugh and to feel a little bit better about our own political situation.  8 Bells

Como Agua para Chocolate (Like Water from Chocolate): The story centers around a dysfunctional Mexican family of women.  The book it’s based off of (by Laura Esquivel) is written in a style called magical realism, meaning strange things happen but there aren’t seen as so strange.  The acting is fabulous and the plot unbelievable- but that’s why you want to keep watching, to see how it ends.  (And since all rating systems are arbitrary) I give it 10 Bells (out of 12, of course).

La Historia Oficial (The Official Story): An Argentinean film about one aspect of the after math of the Guerra suicia (the Dirty War in which tens of thousands of Argentines disappeared under the dictatorship of Juan Domingo Perón).  Many of the women who were taken to secret prisons and never seen again had been pregnant when arrested.  What happened to their children?  The story follows the political awakening of a high school history teacher who slowly learns that the winners write the facts.  She is put in an even more difficult position as the wife of a powerful businessman and as the adoptive mother of a five year old.  I highly recommend this film.  11 Bells

Estación Central (Central Station): A Brazil film about a bitter old woman and a spunky boy.  The two clearly consider themselves self sufficient while considering the other to be incapable of making it down to the street corner and back.  Beginning in the central train station in Rio de Janeiro, the two embark on a journey in search of family.  There are lots of moments when you just want so badly for everything to work out just right for the two, but they hit several roadblocks before the closing credits.  The characters grown on you throughout the film and the story is renewing in the end.  9 Bells 

Birthday weekend!

And what a great weekend it was!  On Friday night our program put on a Halloween party in which we were all supposed to dress up.  Well, most of us have zero costume worthy clothes with us- there is only so much room in a suit case- so we all got pretty creative.

There were two nerds, one swimmer, a greek goddess, an American (with her passport sticking out of her pocket), a dominican (carrying a flag and dressed in the colors same colors), and two of the Mirabal sisters.  One woman dressed up like one of the guys in our group.    She borrowed his clothes and acted like him the whole night.  It was perfect!

I went as a kite stuck in a tree.  I wore brown pants and a green shirt and made a kite out of cardboard and string.  I even made a paper bird and stuck it in my hair.

After stuffing ourselves with candy and chips and carmel apples (my contribution to the buffet) we held a costume competition.  We had to individually model walk in front of the group, explain our costume to the three Dominican judges and then show off our dance skills.  Oh, my!  After the first round there were five finalist: me, the two nerds, the swimmer and the girl/boy.

Round 2 consisted of a talent show.  Soooo was not expecting this.  We had ten minutes to think of something we could show to the group.  I ended up folding a paper crane and explaining that it was a bird that would live in my branches.  After this judging the winner was picket - the swimmer - and two of us had a dance off for second.  Me and a nerd.  Let's just say he won hands down.  Which I am totally happy about.  He got maracas, I won a Dominican flag pen holder.

Yesterday was beach day!  Yes!  This was my first trip to the beach not planned by our program and it was fun and relaxing.  I got up at 6:20 (yes- on my birthday, which was a Saturday, I got up earlier than I do for classes) to be at the bus station by 8.  A two hour trip later and we were spreading our towels out on the super fine sand of Sosua.  Wonderful!  I ate fried chicken and tostones (fried plantains) for lunch with a yummy (virgin) piña colada.  Yeah, super crazy with the alcohol, I know.

Back to the city and a pizza party and watching Hocus Pocus, that fantastic, cheesy, kids halloween movie about witches.  A good day all around.

Today's been very relaxing too.  Church in the morning, homework and skyping with family and friends.  Thanks to everyone for the birthday wishes.  It's been really wonderful!

Ps- Thanks mom and dad for the camera!  It takes amazing pictures!

The Butterflies

Patria, Minerva and Mate Mirabal

Today we watched the movie In the Time of the Butterflies, based on the book by Julia Alvarez by the same name.  I read the book before I left and so had a good idea about the lives of these four women, three of whom were murdered by the dictator Trujillo in 1960.  For those of you who have never heard of them, here is a brief overview:

The four Mirabal sisters grew up in the Ojo de Agua region of the Dominican Republic.  Patria, Minerva, Dede and Mate.  They were just children when Trujillo took power in 1930, and so grew up under his reign of fear and intimidation.  None were involved in the underground in their younger years.  I get the feeling that, along with the general fear of being murdered if they spoke up, the sisters and their family had not ever been directly affected by Trujillo’s system of domination and so it was easier to ignore it. 

Trujillo, for his part, was not only a mass murdering, racist dictator; he was also a serial rapist.  He essentially thought himself a Don Juan and many a pretty girl that crossed his path ended up in his bed. 

Now Trujillo had heard about the sisters Mirabal, especially of Minerva, the most beautiful.  Long story short, he invites them to a dinner/dance, tries to feel Minerva up, she slaps him (a very dangerous thing to do), their father is arrested, tortured and later dies at home from heart failure. 

As a result, Minerva joined the underground movement to topple Trujillo and was later joined by her sisters Patria and Mate.  Everyone in the underground had code names and the sisters were known as Las Mariposas (the Butterflies).  Minerva and Mate, their husbands and Patria’s husband were all arrested, put into prison and tortured.  The sisters were eventually released and returned home. 

Returning from a visit to see their jailed husbands, Minerva, Patria, Mate and their driver were stopped by the military on the side of a mountain road.  There, they were all beaten to death.  Their bodies were then put back in the car and driven off a cliff to make it look like an accident. 

The anniversary of their death, November 25, is celebrated in many Latin American Countries as the International Day for the Elimination of Violence Against Women.  This year will mark the 60^th anniversary of their assassinations. 

I highly recommend both the book and the movie.  The Mirabal sisters are an extremely important part of Dominican history.  I also recommend the movie Tropica de Sangre.  This is also the story of the sisters, in Spanish, and more graphic about the reality of Trujillo’s reign.

COOLEST DAY EVER!

Geared up and ready to go!

So on Friday our group went on a trip to 27 charcos (a ‘charco’ is a pool, as in a pool of water at the base of a water fall.  Before we left they told us to wear shorts over our swimsuits and sturdy sandals or tennis shoes.  When we got there, they gave each of us a life jacket and a helmet (this is to give you an idea of what we all looked like heading out). 

To get to the first charco, we hiked about fifteen minutes along this trail splashing across a river several times.  The first pool had a 10-foot waterfall flowing into in and just above that another 12-foot waterfall.  In we go.  It’s hard to describe but we swam and climbed and were heaved up this series of waterfalls and pools and canyons.  It was amazing and at times quite frightening.  Lets just say I was really, really happy I had a helmet on.  On one of them we were each literally hoisted up by our feet by one guide while the second grabbed our hands.  I’m sure I was air born for a least part of that and then landed in the middle of a waterfall and had to scramble and shimmy up the rest.   There were also places with wet ladders to climb and/or ropes we used to pull ourselves up cliff faces.  It was a GREAT work out. 

 

After over a mile of swimming, climbing and hiking up this chain of waterfalls and river, we finally got to number 27 where we promptly turned around and headed back.  But going back was oh so different than on our way up.  Instead of climbing, we got to jump!  We each took turns jumping and sliding down the waterfalls.  That’s right; in places the water had worn the rock smooth, creating a natural waterslide.  The highest place we all jumped from was about 25-30 feet.  From the top I would have sworn it was at least 50, but the guide was like, ‘no, it’s only 15.’  Yeah, right. 

This is me sliding down one of the natural water slides!  

Whenever one of us would get nervous about doing something we would invoke the words of one of our members: “One life yo!”  And we’d end up doing it. 

I feel like my description is just not capturing how amazing this way.  The water was so clear, and when you flipped over on your back floating down six feet wide canals with twenty-foot high walls, you could see the sun flittering through the ultra-green leaves.  It was so beautiful and so unique.  We all joked that there is no way this could exist in the US because everyone would all have to sign too many waivers.  That’s just one of the great things about being here. 

Things to do at night

This past week has been a bit of a busy one: jazz nights, prayer groups, Brazilian music and yaroa. 

There is a cultural/history/art center here called Centro Leon.  They’ve got stuff going on all the time, and the past two Fridays they’ve held live music events.  For the first, jazz night, it was raining and so everyone was crowded under an overhang trying to stay dry.  After about an hour though, it stopped raining and we got to see the remaining bands on the big stage that had been hidden under a tarp.  Now I don’t know much about jazz but am always a fan of live music so this was pretty cool.  There were several groups that preformed and each had a different flavor.  

This last Friday was Brazilian music night with not a cloud in the sky.  Another cool thing about going to these events is the dress up factor.  I just didn’t bring enough nice clothes to do it everyday for school like the majority of Dominicans (nor, lets be honest, am I will to put in that kind of effort) but every once in a while it’s nice to put on a dress and sandals and go out. 

In an effort to meet more Dominicans I went to a prayer group this past Wednesday.  There aren’t clubs here in the same way we have them in the US, so it’s been difficult to rustle up things to casually do with local students.  So to the prayer group I went.  Perhaps it wasn’t the best night to get a sense of the average prayer experience- it was the 21^st anniversary of the group and there was a stage and a slide show and cake (score!).  There was singing and several people got up and spoke about how important the group has been for them over the years.  Honestly I wasn’t even sure if I was in the Catholic group or not until the very end when we said the Our Father, a Hail Mary and three Glory Be’s.  It just didn’t have that vibe.  Lets just say this group probably doesn’t base their prayers in liberation theology.  Will I go back?  Yeah, probably.  I really do need to get out and meet people more, and this really isn’t such a bad way to do it. 

A picture of yaroa via google images.

And finally- supper out!  This past Thursday, which is of course the start to our weekend, I went out for a Dominican dinner with a couple of American friends.  Our taxi driver recommended this outdoor stand that sells yaroa, a very traditional Dominican specialty.  Yaroa consists of French fries (or plantain fries) topped with every kind of meat you can imagine (chicken, bacon, beef, pork and who knows what else) all mixed together with ketchup and melted cheese on the top.  It was actually really good. 

Also via google.

Two notable things occurred during our dinner out.  This first is that as we were sitting at out outdoor table, mice kept scurrying about our backpacks and feet.  This just added another element of suspense to our meal- cross your fingers we don’t get sick!  (Not only didn’t we, but other people from our group have eaten there before and been fine- but it’s the principle of the matter).  I am also not particularly freaked out by mice.  So long as they don’t have rabies and try and crawl on me or bite me, I maintain a live and let live kind of attitude.  Spiders?  Whole other story. 

The other notable occurrence was the near constant sexual harassment by boy as young as 5 years old.  As we sat there, this boy was sitting about five feet away and for fifteen minutes straight hissed and catcalled us.  UNBELIEVABLE.  We sat there and tried to ignore him (I’m of the mind that if people are going to act live uneducated children you need to treat them that way- just as I would ignore a tantrum by a child his age, so to I ignore this behavior.  Plus, if you acknowledge it in any way it just encourages them.)  It just goes to show how young boy here learn to sexually harass women.  And once that kid finally gave up and wandered off, about ten minutes later another one the same age started doing the same thing. 

So now I figure I’ve been sexually harassed by men (boys) ranging in age from 5 to about 75.  It happens so frequently and from literally every type of male, are there any good ones left?  Don’t worry; I’ve got an invitation to you fellas coming real soon… 

Salon Style

I may have mentioned earlier that people here, especially the students at my school, are very preoccupied with appearance.  People do not wear sweats and t-shirts; they barely wear jeans and t-shirts.  And absolutely no tennis shoes for women: flats or heels, those are your options.  To say my Choco’s stick out is an understatement- if they weren’t so darn comfy I would maybe considered not wearing them. 

In any case, hair, nails and make-up are a big part of looking good.  Straight, glossy hair, bedazzled nails and heavy eyeliner are not uncommon to see.  So yesterday I took a little field trip with a friends to a beauty salon up the street so she could get a pedicure. 

Observation #1: The small building was air-conditioned!  We went at about 2:30p, the hottest part of the day and it felt GREAT to get out of the heat.  This was quickly followed by observation #2: the overwhelming smell of chemicals.  As we agreed, “¡El olor es muy fuerte!”  After about an hour I got used to it, but I could not work it that environment everyday.  No way Jose. 

A word about hair salons in general: I find them fascinating.  I grew up with a mom who didn’t put a lot of stock in the beauty industry and I never have either.  So growing up I was always enchanted visiting my cousins and aunts and watching them do their hair and makeup.  Of course, not enough to make it a part of my daily routine, but fun once in a while.  So for me, salons are kind of this mystical place where women get together and beautify. 

While my friend got her nails done, I watched a woman sit for over 25 minutes getting her hair blow-dried.  The woman next to her was getting her hair relaxed (for the male readers among you that means a chemical straightener).  The woman sitting in front of me getting a manicure was half way done when she noticed a chip/crack/imperfection on one of her fingers and had the woman redo it. 

The walls were lined with hair products, sample nail styles and purses for sale.  Women, and a few men, were coming in and out, chatting with friends and stylists, and getting ready for the weekend.  Oh, and when we walked in we were treated to a cup of ice-tea, on the house.  How can you beat that for customer service?  

Interesting statistics

Here are some interesting statistics gleaned from my Gender and Society in the Hispanic Caribbean class:

-  In 2009, in the DR, 36% of pregnant females were adolescents.  (This is why I can't say 'pregnant women').
-  Abortion is illegal in the DR and, as of 2003, it is estimated that about 550 illegal abortions are preformed every day.  My Professor did say that there are a few medical reasons under which an abortion may be performed legally, but it is not very common.
-  For women and men between 15-25 years old, HIV/AIDS is the leading cause of death on the island of Hispañola.
-  After Africa, the island of Hispañola has the highest per capita HIV positive rate in the world.  (Sorry I can't be more specific, it's hard to compare a continent to two countries, but that's what my teacher knew.)

These are of course bare bones numbers and don't tell a whole lot without some context.  Like what is the connection between sex ed, birth control use, machismo culture and the horrendously high rate of teen pregnancy.  Yesterday I was talking with a student who is volunteering in a clinic, and she told me an 18 year old woman came in to get her tubes tied because she had already had 3 kids.  This seems a little like locking the barn after the horses have fled.  Not that I am dealing out any blame whatsoever, at least not upon the mother.  All I am asking is what the cultural and social situation of this young woman is that she has already had so many children?  What else needs to be changed in her life, what other opportunities can she be given to change her circumstances?  Why might she feel this is the best option?  How many other young women are in her same situation and how can we (the general, systemic 'we') change our behavior to offer her different opportunities and resources?

As for the high, high HIV/AIDS rates, this eerily echos the leading cause of death for black women between 15 and 25 in the US.  Something is seriously wrong with  both  sex education and access to birth control and condoms for this to be the number one reason for young people to die.

I'll try and keep you posted about anything else interesting on this front.  However, gender issues are not really openly talked about here.  We've had to do a couple interviews for class about the Dominican education and health care systems and the information has not been forth coming.

Jarabacoa

Not quite ripe coffee beans.

Our program took a trip to Jarabacoa Friday to visit a coffee making farm/factory and ride horses.  It all went swimmingly at first.  We had a smooth bus ride and got to sample some goodies along the way (torta- which is a sort of under cooked sweet corn bread and jonnykaykay- like a big round flat funnel cake, fried of course).

The coffee farm was interesting although not exactly what I expected.  No wonderful smell of freshly brewed coffee here.  Mostly just manure.  But I had never see a coffee plant before so that was pretty awesome.  Did you know that the beans are green and then red while they grow?

Yaddy-yadda, we went back to the hotel that was our base camp, ate lunch and prepared to take our riding adventure.  Here’s where everything went astray. 

As we were walking down to the stable I noticed the sun peaking out of the clouds and was struck by the sudden urge to reapply my sunscreen.  I certainly didn’t want a repeat of that awful burn two weeks ago (FYI there’s a spot on my foot that is still red!)  So I and a couple other students headed back to the bus, did a quick application and ran to catch up.  By the time we arrived almost everyone else was sitting on their horses.

So, how to pick ours.  There were a dozen or so small boys (between 6 and 14) running around who were helping and would sit behind those of us who were less experienced while we rode.  I was motioned over to a horse, helped up and then handed the reins.  And then I waited for some little guy to hop on behind me because no way was I going to attempt this by myself.  The only other time in my life I have ridden a horse I was 7 and we all walked in straight line. 

So, waiting, waiting.  Everyone else who wanted a helper had one but me.  There seemed to be some disagreement between the horsemen who would be riding with me.  This should have been a red flag, but no, I was just obliviously exciting to be underway. 

Finally I got my guide and off we all went.  Clop, clop, clop down the trail which was muddy from earlier rain.  ‘Okay,’ I was thinking, ‘This is kinda fun!’  And then my horse started to trot.  ‘Okay,’ I thought, ‘This is kinda bumpy.’  And then my horse started to gallop!  (Well, according to the horse people in our group it was a canter but I don’t care.  It was fast!)  By this time I was no longer having totally coherent thoughts.  I kept saying things like ‘Oh my God!  Oh my God!’ and I may have uttered what, from a less graceful person, might be classified as a shriek. 

This was no smooth road people!  There were ups and downs and river crossings and while we didn’t canter the whole time, it was enough to keep my heart rate up.  Oh, and the saddle I was in did not have much to hold on to.  So I was flopping around, holding on for dear life, with a 12 year old pretty much the only thing keeping me on the horse. 

Turns out I got a ‘bad horse that likes to run all the time’ as explained to me by my riding partner.  Wonderful.  By the time we got to our destination, this incredible waterfall, my legs were jelly.  All I could hope was that I got a different horse on the return journey.  I did, thank goodness. 

This experience has also given me a new respect for cowboy boots.  I can see their purpose now that I, and several others in the group, have scrapes and bruises from the stirrups.  

A very modest proposal

There was a woman, there was a man.  There were flowers, and speeches and a ring.  There was a question and an answer and hugs and kisses.  Aaaaaannnnnnd there were 500 people watching it all unfold on stage.

Thursday night marked my first participation in an on campus event not organized by my program.  Not that I have been antisocial, more like Student Acts is just different here.  So anyway, Thursday night was a dance showcase put on by what I guess is the dance team here.  Here's about how the evening went:

We got out of class at 7 pm and headed over to the theater for the 8 o'clock show.  It was raining (which has been happening quite a lot here lately) so I was disappointed to find the doors locked and about 20 other students huddled under a small over hang near the door.  After about 15 minutes of shooting the breeze and shivering, the doors were opened and a small rush for seating began.

Now, where to sit.  We were one of the first groups into the auditorium (which would eventually be filled to capacity) so we had our pick of the place.  My bias of course is front and center: you can see and hear everything and there is less between you and the performance to be distracting.  So we ended up in the center about 4 rows from the stage.  Sweet.  And then we played the waiting game.  We had about 40 minutes until the show was supposed to start, but because we are in the DR it is better to estimate and hour.  As people file in around us the noise level goes up.  Soon there's music blasting top 40 club songs, base turned up to full.  Half the time I wanted to get up and dance, the other half was the beginning of a headache.  With about 200 cameras going off the flashes didn't much help matters.

Finally it was time.  The lights were dimmed, the fog machine turned on, and the music transformed.  Stage lights up and there appear 15 women in long skirts and begin the folclorico dancing.  That first dance made all the waiting worth it!  So cool, fast paced, can't tear your eyes away.

About three groups dances later, things slow down with a duo and a slower song.  As there dance came to a close you could tell that not only had they worked really hard on it, but they were also really happy about their performance.  Just as they were about to exit stage left, a voice burst forth from the loud speaker reciting a poem (I think).  Following this, a guy dressed in shirt and slacks carrying flowers and a mic walks up the stage stairs.

The crowd go nuts!  We can all pretty much guess what's coming as the woman's dance partner glides silently off stage and her boyfriend comes over.  After a few lines of proposal (all I really could catch amongst all the yelling was "You don't only dance on this stage...") he got down on one knee and out comes a box.  She has her hands over her mouth and, as we reflected later, may not have even said yes, just hugged and kissed and ran off stage.  Did I mention the crowd was going nuts?

I certainly will admit that that was the first proposal I have ever seen live (unless you count on the mega screen at a Twins game) and my jaw hit the floor.  It was exhilarating just being a part of it.

And it was all down hill from there.  After a rendition of 'Single Ladies' and another mash-up American hip hop dance, the spot lights quit working and after twenty minutes of waiting for them to get fixed I was ready to head out.  But how?  We were sitting front and center, by my own devising no less, and I had my backpack with me.  If I was to attempt it, my escape would not be graceful.

But it must be done!  I had not eaten supper and I still had to walk home (in the rain) and who knew how much longer it may be?  So I bit the bullet, picked up my bag and thought skinny.  Cultural difference #127 (or wherever number we're at) Dominicans do not move there legs when you want to slip by.  I 'perdoname' and 'desculpame' my way across the legs of about 10 people before reaching the haven of the aisle.  I'm sure I stepped on people's toes, but you know what, they brought that upon themselves.  I couldn't help it with only 2 inches to maneuver through.

But I did it!  I got through, I got home, I ate supper.  Yum!