Fuerte en un Mundo Dificil

The Honda SUV was rocking back and forth as if we were living through Jurassic Park, except for that there were no raptors chasing after us. This rocking went on for 20 minutes of driving up the mountain to the lakehouse.

The lakehouse was beautiful, and situated comfortably in a rural area on top of a mountain. Looking out from the backyard I saw a canyon-esque scene with a river flowing in between our mountain and the opposing mountainside. Upon arriving there we met my group leader's girlfriend and friend who were to host and cook BBQ for us later on. The day was meant to be very tranquila. About an hour after relaxing and settling into our setting for the day, we were told that we could go tubing up the river through some rapids and have a relaxing ride while doing so. It sounded like a different river experience than we expected, but possibly even more exciting than anticipated! We left all of our belongings locked up in the kitchen, and trekked down the mountain to another home that had tubes for us to borrow. The home had no one there, but in the Dominican Republic when you know the person well you can usually just let yourself in (I'm not sure if that's the norm at home... usually not for me). We then hiked down the mountain for 20 minutes arriving at the river. The neighbor's dog, who we named Choco, followed us to the river and entered the water with  me. I am pretty sure he did not have fleas, because he looked cleaned and taken care of. The problem was that Choco had taken a liking to us... and so when I was situated in my tube he jumped on my lap, and shaking scared, situated his ass directly onto my chest. I was praying he wouldn't poop or pee on me. After about 10 minutes of floating along without the dog budging, I used my brazos (arms) to get to shore and I threw him off of me and into the water. I was afraid I was deserting him like some kind of Sea-Spot-Run or Homeward Bound type thing, but the dog ran away like he knew where he was going... so I didn't worry. It was a good thing that I left him too, because shortly thereafter we experienced some rapids, and I needed to move and kick and use a lot of muscles. Choco would have definitely pissed on me.

The river is called El Rio de Los Brazos, because when you are in the river tubing, you have to work your brazos to control where you're going. At least that was the explanation given to us from our group leader. He has certainly developed from the timid German, Dominican resident we met in New York. It's comforting to know that we can make jokes with one another and be open. Some of us have become kind of like a family in the way we are open with each other here. There's no choice when you're with the same five people every day, working and living.

I should have worn sunscreen. I knew it would wash off in the river, so there wasn't much of a point, but now my back is nearly maroon with a red and black tan.
I don't know how that happened either because I sat with my bum going through the donut hole of the tube, and my back hardly ever saw the sun.

Going through the rapids was exciting! I threw my hands in the air and shouted like a rollercoaster ride. Immediately after passing through the rapids there is a sharp turn in the river that the current makes you crash into, and get hurt on. It was my job to work my brazos and avoid the branches as best as possible. In front of me our leader's girlfriend had crashed and lost her tube, and I had no way to stop and help her because I had no control against the power of the current. Someone else was able to come to the rescue and everything worked out fine but sliding through the water passing her while she stood in the current holding onto a branch with a sad face was scary to see and I hoped that I wasn't next to crash. Thankfully I made it through fine. I would even pay to do it again. The ride was like a river rapids ride that I've seen in Disney World, except for my tube wasn't controlled by any kind of underwater track.

The day reminded me a lot of camp, and New Hampshire because we were in the middle of a rural forest, and adventuring into areas unknown. I felt like an explorer again! And, I don't know if anyone who is not from New England could relate, but there is always someone in the group who climbs to insane places and jumps in the water while everyone else watches and says "what the hell is he doing!" Our group leader's friend was that guy. He certainly made me feel at home, reminding me of adventures to Wolfeboro, New Hampshire climbing trees and bridges to jump off of them. On this particular day, unlike in New Hampshire, there was cow shit everywhere and it was old cow shit. It looked like piles of plastic poop that you might use to put in your friends bed to prank them... but it was definitely real poop we were tip toeing around.

Unfortunately, the poop-covered steep mountain that we came down was also the same one that we had to hike up at the end. Going up was a lot more difficult, not just because going down is easier in almost all situations, but also because we were going up a different part of the mountain that had almost no path and was extremely steep. It would have been easier with mountain climbing equipment, dry cloths, and sneakers instead of wet and muddy flip flops. But... we deal with what we have.

After returning to the lakehouse I almost immediately fell asleep while laying out on the only lawn chair, facing the house. I looked like I was part of the conversation because my sunglasses were on, and I don't think I typically snore. Very subtle. When i woke up, dinner was ready and I was SO ready to eat! A huge tray of homemade potato salad mixed with peas and eggs sat in front of me. I had a quick vision of me as a little kid taking handfuls of it and stuffing it into my pockets for later... too bad that is a really gross thing to do in real life, because I would have been all over that. We ate homemade chicken on scewers, German sausage, ribs and burgers. They thought of everything! And when I asked our leader how many people he was planning on feeding he apologized for not getting more of a selection. What a guy.

We laughed all day! It was an extremely homey and enjoyable experience. At the end of the day I realized that, as this is my last week in this beautiful country, I have become far more grateful of my experience than I was originally and I feel differently about living here than I had two weeks ago. Living with the same people and not having many others to interact with was difficult at first, and it remains difficult. However, the longer I've stayed here the more people I have found opening up to me. On my way to classes every morning I pass the one-legged amputee in his wheelchair outside of the bank, rattling his cup. He has learned to stop asking me for money, and instead I greet him with an "Hola, como esta caballero?" and he responds with a "muy bien, linda. Buen dia." The other day I stopped and told him that he has been patiently waiting for me to give him money, and he smiled and laughed. Even without speaking we had made a connection and he agreed with me through his chuckles. I threw a dollar in and said, "Dios te bendiga" and as I walked away he blessed himself.

On my way back from school I pass my Haitian-shopowner friend and I listen to him tell me about his troubles paying rent this month and how he is worried about child support since his ex wont let him see his kids. Then I continue home and stop in a shop where the woman has never asked me to come in, because she sees my face every day and I usually politely greet her and continue on my way. Finally when I do stop to look in, she hops out of her chair in the road to show me her cool things. While looking around, I asked her if she had children "tienes hijos?", and she said no. She asked me why i wanted to know, and I told her that it was just because I was interested in her life and who she is "eres interesante y quiero conocerte." At that moment I saw a key turn and the door to her heart opened. I asked her if she was married and she said no, because her husband died two years ago of pancreatic cancer. I apologized deeply for her loss, and oddly, she reacted by thanking me and telling me how surprisingly nice and kind I am. I don't take compliments well, so I responded by telling her "Yo pienso que eres muy fuerte. Eres una persona fuerte en un mundo dificil" (I think that you are a strong person in a difficult world.) She began to tear up, thanked me and hugged me, and we moved on to other things.

This has become my life here. Sales people do not bother me anymore, no one hits on me anymore as of recently, since I have become a little snappy. I hear "hey baby what you want" and I turn around in anger and say "I'm not you're baby!" When there is that one guy who doesn't know me, and I react like that, all of the other men around laugh because they have already had their turn at me and I have shut them down just as hard. Soy una puta fuerte!

Leaving a town of people who know me and know what I'm doing and what I'm about, even though they may not be a good friend of mine, its an experience I've never had before and I don't want to leave. I have built tons of little connections with people and their children, simply because I pass them every day and have greeted them warmly. Those connections have grown to be far more meaningful than I originally realized.

The waitress in the restaurant greets me and calls me "amor" and we talk about what we did this past weekend. Going out at night has become a different experience since I don't hesitate to dance with people, just because they might be sankies or putas (male and female prostitutes) doesn't mean I should separate myself from them. They're people just working to make money and get a visa, and I'm a person just working and having fun doing it.

Sufficed to say, I will certainly miss this experience when it ends, and I am going to try my best to keep in touch with some of the friends I've made here.
We're going zip-lining tomorrow! I'm making the most of my last 3 days here!

-Interested in Dominican music then google Dembow (form of reggaetone) and Bachata artists.

Un dia al campo y una noche de baila

Driving up the rocky mountain to al campo de Senor (alternative name), we did not know what to expect. I looked out my window at blurred visions of sugar cane and pastures of farms with cows and horses roaming free. I knew that Senor's home would be a farm, but I still had never been on a farm and the experience is something that I cannot expect. The bright tall jungle of different greens, mixed with the dark maroon red earth reminded me of a kind of Christmas in July... or June. It was tranquil and peaceful, like how everyone sits around doing nothing after having a holiday meal.

Senor's home was open and friendly with no doors, and the windows allowed for a breeze to cool our necks as we greeted his wife, brother, and parents who all live there. In the small backyard was the kitchen, which was an open flamed stove cooking under a tin roof where pork was being prepared for us. The aroma smelt like Pascha, when the lamb is on the spit and the coal fills the air all the way up the block. The animals must have liked the smell too because on the floor was a cat and her two baby kittens feeding and sprawling out on the tar by the stove.

As we sat and had community time under a tree, we watched turkeys and chickens roaming free. Senor caught a chicken and taught me how to hold it and calm it by grabbing with two hands around the feathers so that the chicken cant fly away. It was very exciting! There was no ritual sacrifice of cutting off the chicken's head for lunch or anything like that, because la Senora was already cooking something delicious. I'm sort of relieved that I didn't have to watch any animals die... but it probably would have been a really cool experience.

Unfortunately the cows were not ready to be milked while we were there, which Senor apologized for. I'm pretty sure all of Sosua knew how excited I was to possibly milk a cow. Instead, however, Senor's brother and he set us up for some horseback riding on their neighbor's horse. When I mounted el caballo I channeled my 12 year-old-self after a week of horseback riding daycamp, and I told Senor's brother, "No, esta bien. se puedo montar." I grabbed the reigns and took off. haha It was a lot of fun, I felt like a little kid trotting out of sight. Unfortunately my turn on the horse lasted about 10 minutes, and I had to share. But maybe... just maybe, I've discovered my childhood dream. I even felt the urge to clean the hoofs after.

Our lunch was a perfect Dominican meal. There were two different kinds of rice, pork and chicken falling off the bone, platanas fritas, ensalata papa, and ensalata regular.  Definitely one of the most amazing home cooked meals I've eaten in a long time.

After lunch we walked to Senor's neighbors house, the same neighbor who's horse we borrowed. This man was known as kind of a local loco. He was painting his house bright green, while wearing bright sky blue crocks and revealing boxers. Though the man was loco, like most locos, he was also sweet and full of life and energy. He radiated happiness. Normally, his job was as a Bachata instructor and so Senor told him that he should teach us all a lesson in Bachata. (For those of you who don't know Bachata, it is a dance like Merengue or Salsa that originated in the DR.) Before we knew it, we were outside and all of a sudden music began blairing from inside the house and Senor told us to come in and dance. We were all pretty good at dancing already. El Loco even said, "Why did you give me these girls, they can already dance!" (in Spanish). A mini fiesta broke out for an hour and the neighborhood kids joined in the dancing with me! They were so cute with their braids and shy faces, as soon as we gave them attention their guards went down and they were partying up.

Unfortunately the day ended shortly thereafter and it was time to go home and sleep. We did a lot of activities in a short amount of time and everyone was tired because of it.

When the day ended I didn't mind that I didn't get to milk a cow. I played with chickens and turkeys, rode a horse, danced Bachata, and had a home cooked meal. I'd say thats a pretty full and wonderful day.

The dancing didn't end there though... two of my groupmates and I decided that there was far more dancing to be done. So we tore up Sosua's dancefloor from 12-5am.

While out, I truly experienced life here. A young man offered to us "whatever we need." He was about 17 and was very explicitly offering sex, drugs, and "whatever else we wanted." He was annoying, inappropriate, and invasive. He also took it upon himself to call me his girlfriend at which point I snapped, "nigga I aint your girlfriend. Pull up your pants and go home to your padres." As he continued to speak inappropriately I continued to call him names like joven, or hijo, or nino, because he wouldn't leave us alone and I wanted him to know that we thought he was a child. We continued to ask him what he wanted to be when he grows up and he said "a hustler" and when my group member asked him what he would hustle.. the boy hesitated to answer and I said, "drugos." The boy said yeah, he wants to be a hustler of everything, drugs, sex, everything. It was a very sad and realistic 20 minute conversation, and even more sadly, it's very normal and typical of nightlife here in Sosua.

Soon after our conversation we turned around from where the boy was leading us, and we went to a discoteca where, even though the place was flooded with sex workers, we were able to dance the night away. At one point my roommates and I were getting the attention of some other tourists, and a sex worker swooped in and started grinding on them. It's funny that she thought we could be a threat to her business. Puta got in the way of my groove. The night went on like that. We danced American, Bachata, Salsa, and it was perfect. The sex workers stared at us doing our thing and being in our own dance world. When the club closed at 4am we left to get some chimmi churries and then go to the next club. At the other club there was a cover charge that we didn't have the energy to pay or go into so we turned around and went back to bed. We'll do that another day.

Only one more weekend here! We've got to make it count!

El Loco, Senor, y La Senora... are obviously not their real names, but were used for the sake of privacy.

No me llamas "mami."

The first couple of weeks here have been extremely emotionally and physically burdening. The work has taken time to adapt to because it is a new environment, new schedule, new people I'm living with, and new goals I'm reaching towards. The physical burden mixed with exhaustion has made it rough. We walk a lot, sleep a little, work nonstop, and my lifestyle health-wise has made the experience all the more difficult.
This past week I've adapted VERY well, in my opinion. I've been creating prayers and mantras to help me get through days and stay positive instead of letting heat exhaustion and pain bring me down.
My roommates and I have squashed a lot of issues together and have been working well as a group. We were able to have a small amount of free time and spent a day in Santiago going to Centro Leon Museo de Santiago, and some other cool sites. Today we took the afternoon off, having worked really hard and handed in our midterms yesterday, and went to Puerto Plata as a reward.

Puerto Plata is only a 30 minute drive, and it's a REAL city! We went on a lift up a huuuuge mountain and saw some amazing sites. We toured the castle of Gregorio Luperon (a DR liberator) and we went to a Wal-Mart type store and bought in bulk. It was nice to not have to walk home carrying groceries. Oh the little pleasures.

We've had a much more tranquila week this time around. Three days where we dont have to walk around doing the mapping work we've been doing. After Spanish class at 12:30, I go home as fast as possible, have a quick lunch and do nothing! I have a lot of work that I've been avoiding, but doing nothing is almost necessary. We also have our first full Fr-Sunday weekend to ourselves! Hooray! Dancing and exploring, and hopefully milking a cow and riding horses :D (More to come on THAT)

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Allow me to take a moment to express my hatred for being called "mami" by anyone who is not my child or a close friend. I feel as though my experience in the Dominican Republic has given me numerous experiences for how a person can be hit on. There is the one who tries to get to know you before asking you to marry him. And by "get to know you" I mean, he's said "Hey beautiful!" and you've said "hi" in return. A lot of the shop owners here are Haitian so they speak English, Haitian, and Creol, which makes my life a whole lot easier. My favorite pick up lines have been, "You're a gift from an angel," "I have eyes for you," and the ever so common, "give me your time, baby." But I see a lot of these men everyday on my way too and from school, so I've created friends with some of the non-creepy shopowners and we joke and talk. It's hard to rudely turn down men that are obnoxious, because I know in this small town I will see them again on several occasions.

I figured out that Dominicans and Haitians really dont like girls as much when they smoke. So I've taken up smoking a couple times a week and only in very strategic ways. I went into my friends shop (a man who had asked me to marry him, and said that he would wait for me if I'm busy) and asked for a lighter for my cigarette and he gave me a gross look saying "ugh you smoke?" I said "yea all the time! I love it!" And he has not hit on me since! But we've become better friends, so that is nice.
I don't really smoke all the time, and I dont like it... but if that's the easiest way not get hit on while walking to and from class every morning and afternoon, than I will DO IT!
Not to mention I have to sneak past the security guard here who is LITERALLY in love with me and no matter how many times I tell him we're friends, it just does not get through!

I just don't want anyone calling me mami. NO me llamas "mami." No me digas como eso... tu no eres mi hijo. I understand if it's loving and respectful between friends... but if you're not my friend and you don't know me, than I just find it rude.

Sufficed to say, my experience here is definitely progressing and I am feeling like I live here, and Sosua is my town. Even though Sosua is a little bit sucio because of las putas y sanky pankies, y drugos... its not secret, and it makes it less hard to deal with than if it were a secret. Sometimes its hard when we want to walk to a bar or discotec that is close, and there's no way to avoid the sucio. I've just been getting used to it, it's a way of life here. It's adaptable, but I don't think I judge it less the more that I see it.

Inspirational quote that I have leaned on, "The more you lose yourself in something bigger than yourself, the more energy you will have." - Norman Vincent Peale

Ain't Nothing but a Mapping Thing

Many people have been asking me what it is we are doing here, and the short answer is that we are gathering information about institutes, putting them on GIS mapping system, and using the new information in accordance with other more social information that has been gathered by my professors and others who have been involved in this project for years. The long answer is... I have no idea. A lot of the work we are doing has been pieced together day by day and it feels as if a final plan will not be solidified until we leave.

An important purpose of mapping, anywhere in the world, is to have the ability to compare information on graphs such as; in New York, I can look at a map of all of the homeless shelters and places that offer services to homeless people. I can also have a map locating all of the homeless people in New York by talking to them and finding out where they go and what they do and how it is that they live. I can then take the two maps and put them together to show the relationship between the homeless care facilities and the actual homeless people... what services are offered, versus what services are needed. And that is exactly what we are doing here... however, we're not working with homelessness. A part of what we are doing is taking the information about the institutes and understanding life in Sosua with that information and the information will go towards an ongoing project here.

We have started exploring sections of the town one area at a time, and it requires a lot of walking and a lot of water. The weather has been raining here for a couple of weeks, and although I am not afraid of mosquitos, I am afraid of the possible diseases they carry. Mosquitos tend to go a little nuts in the rain.

Other than mapping, and the many components that are attached to that, we have also begun our Spanish classes. Myself, and two other more advanced students learn in one classroom while my roommates are a much more beginners type class. Our first class was long, but not very boring. We went over 100 verbos that I mostly do not remember or use enough, and then we talked the rest of the class about Sosua; los pervertos, prostitutas, vida de la noche, and one of my classmates even educated my professor about what a "cougar" is. The professor came in saying "ay me duele en la cabeza por que bailé anoche" ("oh my head hurts because I was out dancing late last night"). She's was a hot ticket, and was not shy or hesitant to talk about all of these topics in Spanish, and did not think it odd whenever we asked what simple words meant. Not to mention, she is trying to learn English, so we have been tending to help one another. "Ay necesito escribir esto" ("oh i need to write this") when we explained what a cougar is in Spanish. We had an entire discussion on what it means to be a cougar.

I now have an idea of what the daily activity will be on most days, Mon-Sat. With classes running 4 hours Mon-Fri, and the mapping not really having any kind of set schedule like classes. Tonight we're going to have our first night excursion, hopefully going to dinner and dancing (weather depending) and tomorrow we're going to look into some good ol'Sosua horseback riding! Yay!

Also, one of the project workers is Dominican, and does not speak English. I have heard that we may some time go to his home where I will be able to check off milking a cow on my list of goals! Wahoooo. Pictures will come soon on facebook. Lots of landscape and beauty.

Gracias por leer.

¿Qué hace un turista a un turista?

I have landed, and settled quite comfortably into my new home for the next month. I expect that this blog will be a mixture of personal reflections on surroundings and experiences, as well as about the actual work and things that I am doing. I also, do not expect to be writing as often as I have. However, as of right now, I am alone in a two-floor three-bedroom apartment, it is raining outside, and I have already thoroughly explored Sosúa after an hour of walking along two streets from one end of the town to the other.

Our condos are a lap of luxury compared to any place I have ever lived. The reasons for living in such a place are due to safety, security, and I'm guessing the school wants to close all possible doors to any legal issues. Well, thanks to those things, I have a bedroom, bathroom, and balcony all to myself, along with a private beach and two pools. It's comfortable, but it's probably more uncomfortable because it IS so comfortable. We are not here to be comfortable. We are here to do work merging into the culture and do trabajo social. It doesn't feel right to be so spoiled and so modern, when that is not the purpose of the trip. But its also not something I have much of a decision about.

Driving from the airport took around 10 minutes, and our lovely DR resident working with the program gave me a quick tour driving around the town. Just as I had expected, and seen before, among the jungle-like atmosphere were dilapidated houses, shacks, and sometimes just couches outside around a fire. Some houses were nice compared to the standards of their surroundings, and part of me couldn't wait to get out of the car to explore los Charamicos. The most gruesome looking part of the drive is where my tour-guide said we would be doing most of our work. I can't wait to dig my hands into it! There are going to be so many people with so many stories of their lives that are burning to be told, and I am going to be the one who gets to hear them.
Just on the flight in, I met a lovely Haitian woman who was returning home to visit her parents. We had lunch together and discussed our lives while we waited during the layover. For me it was just a small taste of how Haitians and Dominicans are alike in that they both want everyone to know and understand their culture and their lives. Many of the cultures I've visited over the years are extremely appreciative of anyone willing to listen to their cultural views, problems, and lifestyles.
Even after a conversation in English, when I say "thank you" or "nice to meet you" in the other persons language, an enormous smile almost always peels across his/her face.

While driving through I became extremely self-conscious. Not only am I American, but I am also seemingly white, which makes me doubly naive and triply ignorant... according to many cultures. The American thing I can hide, easy. Maybe by the end of this trip I wont be white anymore, but the sooner the better. I feel like an insect waiting to be swatted, because some people look at los gringos like they are a disease. I managed to get to the supermercado and buy some groceries so that I could have dinner. I think the only reason that the woman checking me out did not assume I was a tourist was because all I bought was toilet paper, beans, peanutbutter, and bread... and tequila of course. It's also a good thing that I understand Spanish a lot better than I can speak it, because si and no are very important answers and can go horribly wrong when not understanding the question.

On my walk back with groceries in hand, is when I witnessed a little bit of indecency. The locals who feel like los gringos are diseases, are sometimes obvious because even when being polite they are being complete ass holes. It's the same in New York. Someone hollers at you and even though they may say something nice or flattering... they are hollering at you, and that is not flattering at all. It's just rude and dog-like. I experienced that a couple times within hours of being in the DR, and when flattery turned to insults after my rejecting men and salespeople, there were words said in all kinds of languages. I think at one point I even mixed together Greek and Spanish. But the reaction of the salespeople after cursing in a language other than English was usually shock and I realized that I was earning respect just by saying even the simplest curse words like cabron, mierda, or tono del culo.

Sufficed to say, I am greatly looking forward to getting in on the DR action and proving myself worthy to be above tourist status by the end of the month. I know that I am a tourist. But those people are responsible for barging in and taking over countries like the DR, and disrupting the culture, and economy. Thats why tourists suck, and thats why getting past the negative judgments of being one is so difficult. It is very difficult to be understood as a tourist with good intentions, and it requires an extra effort that I am more than willing and ready to put forth. It's just all about respect, and that takes time. Not to mention, I have a lot to learn about the DR. Just because I remember every word of the two books I've read so far, doesn't make me a knowledgeable and respectful visitor... just like going to church doesn't make me a Christian, or going to Wendy's doesn't make me a hamburger.

I wonder what it would be like to be a hamburger.