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!