Americanos, mangos and rios

First let me say, it can feel really lonely being here because my american peeps only know my american life and my dominican peeps only know my dominican life. And both types of life are completely opposite. So I have to say the biggest blessing in my life right now is Lindsey Garber. If you haven´t read her blog yet, you should, cause it has a lot of what mine is missing. People here think we´ve been lifelong friends, but we only knew each other in the states for 2 days. Its amazing how shared experiences makes two people so close.

Thankfully, Lindsey was able to visit this weekend. And with two american girls, the dominicans step up the action. Past weekends were filled with movies (albeit halves of movies, lol) and reading and sleeping (aka very boring.) For the first time in a month, I actually felt semi-busy. Hooray!

Friday, Lindsey and I met up with a Hope Vision Trip that had come to the DR to see what Esperanza is doing here. I have never been so excited to get up before 6am. I caught a bus to Hato Mayor, met up with Lindsey and caught the next bus to San Pedro. From there the Americanos picked us up to visit a Bank of Hope meeting in La Romana. Besides the extra travel, not to different from a normal morning. The difference was the company. When I got home that night, I realized my throat hurt. It was the first time I had been able to talk all day long in a long time. It felt so good to be needed to translate and answer questions. And it was renewing to realize that I had been learning a lot here and speaking spanish well, when most of the time I feel somewhat useless and stupid.

After lunch at the office in San Pedro, we got to go to Milan´s school. Milan is the biggest success story of Esperanza who started with a loan to grow a business decorating furniture in her house. She noticed lots of kids fighting in the streets and with her extra income was able to provide them with food and lessons in her home. Pretty soon, parents from all over were sending kids to Milan for school and food. The group grew to over 200 kids, a 100 at a time seated on the floor of her house. So she prayed for help and got a new location. Growth continued. Prayed again and got a school building built. The cool part was that the community was able to get involved. They asked the parents to contribute labor, food, construction materials, whatever they could to help out. The building was literally built with the love and help of the community. Many of the kids at this school (boys and girls) have been sexually abused, as well as physically and mentally. This is the only place they can go and feel safe and loved and home. Milan told me she can see a marked difference in the children that enter and the children that are now in 5th grade. She likes to say she helped them trade in their weapons for pencils and pens.

That night when we got back to El Seibo, Lindsey and I got to go to a surprise bday party for my brother Fran (Francisco). The women took the opportunity to teach us how to dance merengue, which was a blast. The party, sadly, was much more fun and lively than the wedding. Go figure.

Saturday we went to the river with my family and the family of my sister-in-law Isabel. There are few things more wonderful that sitting in warm water on a cool day eating a mango. Afterwards we came back and went for a walk to get pizza and cake in the center of El Seibo. I can´t tell you how good it was to be independent. It was the first meal I had eaten out of the house in over 3 weeks. We only walked for about an hour total, but it was the most I had exercised so far here. And the pizza was delicious (although much sweeter, which I should have expected when considering the ridiculous amounts of sugar they put in everything here).

(Yes, its weird, people go in the river in regular clothes here.)

Church was even more bearable with Lindsey there. Though the sermon took foooorrrreeevvverrr, we laughed our way through it. Don´t ever try to demonstrate all the spiritual gifts/talents God gives us... 24 is way too many for one sermon (especially when each one takes over 3 minutes- and yes, I was timing it).

You´d think one amazing trip to the rio would be enough, but luckily it didn´t stop there. Sunday we went with a group of coworkers and their families from the office here to a house out in the country. Lindsey and I taught the dominicanos some American card games, we played baseball in the street, cooked/ate lunch, played dominoes and then headed down to the river. (Side note: the chickens running around in the yard kept eating the pieces of chicken bones that we tossed to the dog, which really freaked me out. If I come home with some weird unknown sickness, check for mad-chicken disease).

Once again, we had mangos in the river and just hung out. The Dominicans don´t ever seem to do an activity very long, at least not the really fun ones (I don´t count just sitting around as an activity) so an hour or two later we packed up to head home. I nearly cried when Lindsey left for Hato Mayor because it felt like the end of an era. I´m now waiting with great anticipation for my chance to visit her this weekend and go to the pool. We figure we have to get more tan or none of you will believe we were here for 2.5 months!

Beware of men bearing fruit

Its not so much that its a threat as it is an awkward situation. The fact that I´m an American girl makes me very attractive here. Already Ive had to deal with a little drama to point out that I just want to be friends with guys here. Which was kinda hard cause picking up on subtle hints in spanish is nearly impossible. Hard to tell the intentions behind gifts of fruit, offers to go get ice cream, etc. However trying to hold my hand makes it pretty clear. Just wish I could pick up on these things at the start.

Luckily (or not) compliment-wise, guys here are anything but subtle. I don´t know if guys think that American girls are really big fans of cheesy romantic lines or if the guys here are just weird like that with native novias. Most of the time I just want to laugh at them, but I figure thats not a good plan. I met one of my coworkers friends this weekend and today he was messaging her to tell me he likes me, etc. Luckily, she gets it and just laughed with me. I need to use her as my buffer from here on out.

I could definitely come back to the states married. Or atleast with a serious boyfriend. I can only imagine the cultural miscommunication that would ensue. Yet they don´t seem to think its such a bad idea. You´d think the fact that they have to ask me ¿Entendiste? after every compliment would hinder the pursuit, but somehow its not working.

Its hard cause to get around, you ride on the back of a motorcyle, which fits two. People who are married drive their spouses. Only men have motorcycles. So to get anywhere or do anything, I have to rely on single men. So I have a choice- sit at home and be bored or allow the single guy to help me out. Really the first option isnt so bad, lol.

Maybe I just need to wear a sign saying I´m not interested. That or a wedding ring. Anyone wanna be my fake boyfriend in the states? hahaha

Its all about timing

In college (especially sophomore and junior years), I never stopped moving. I think I move and think at a faster pace than many Americans. For example, when I ¨walk¨ at top speed (which is really the only way to go) people (aka my sister Amy and shorter friends) have to run to keep up with me.

I think this past month has made up for all the rest I missed out on during college. And let me tell you, its not easy to slooooowww dooowwwnn. I really do prefer a faster paced, active life. Its just not like that here. Being able to finally walk from home to work was the most exercise I´ve gotten so far (and that takes all of 1-2 minutes). At home, I watch tv, read (which they think I´m studying all the time, since people dont seem to read for pleasure here) and play dominoes with the guys (they play for hours and hours on end, I can´t stand it!). TV here is interesting. There are a lot of American movies, but mostly ones that Americans no longer watch. Jackie Chan movies are popular here, go figure. The tv stations somehow struggle to show the whole movie. The screen will freeze, try to restart, freeze again. Sometimes it just skips ahead to another part in the movie. Sometimes it just cuts to a commercial break and then returns with the movie. Sometimes it just starts a new show altogether. There are already about half a dozen movies that I´ve only seen half of. And I could make a list and watch them when I get back to the US, but one, they are pretty bad movies and two, I don´t know the titles in english. The day that Miss Congeniality came on and lasted til the end was like heaven.

I don´t know if its fair to say people here are lazy. Maybe just more relaxed. Either way, they take longer to do work, since inefficiency is just part of life anyway. Simple chores, like washing clothes, take much longer here, so why rush it? You have to fill up the washing machine with buckets of water, put in the soap and clothes and then turn the dial so it turns the clothes around. Then rinse in a bucket, rinse again in another bucket, put into the ¨dryer,¨ which is more like a salad spinner. Then put the clothes on the line to dry. By the end of 3 or 4 loads, the water in the washing machine is nearly black. I can´t say my clothes get that much cleaner, but I´m sure its better than if I tried to do it by hand.

To cook lunch everyday, they start atleast 1.5 hours beforehand. Beef takes 2 hours. I think they´re relieved that I can serve myself cereal for breakfast or dinner. If I had to cook for myself, that´s all I would ever eat. O and fruit smoothies which they make here with juice, ice and carnation condensed milk. Mmmmm.

They think I sleep a lot. I go to bed between 10 and 11pm and wake up between 7 and 8am. My father here gets up at 5am every morning to go walking for an hour before he opens up the colmado (mini-market where our poor neighbors can buy just what they need) thats attached to our house. Maybe the fact that they only get between 5 and 7 hours of sleep each night is the reason for their slower pace during the day. And the reason for the 2 hour lunch (which permits a one hour siesta).

So, as you can tell, I´m learning to slow down.

Funny observations

• Bigger is NOT always better: especially when it comes to cockroaches and flies. And therefore, everything is not bigger in Texas cause some of the flies here are 3 times the size of what I consider a fly.
• Dominican children´s creed: Frogs are slimy, throw rocks at them! (and then show them to the foreigner).
• Tarantulas do exist outside of cages. Luckily my host brother was kind enough to kill it before showing it to me.
• I am very thankful that I sleep under a mosquito net because it keeps out more than just mosquitos.
• Dominican women fear rain and wear shower caps in public.
• You get a certain sense of pride when the toilet flushes on the first attempt with a bucket of water.
• No body parts are private here. Lots of poor women don´t wear bras and there are tons of naked little kids running around in Haitian bateys. One woman even lifted up her shirt to show us that she wasnt hiding money (luckily she did have a bra on).
• Don´t assume anything is common knowledge. One meeting location in the country had a hand-made poster about how babies are made. Also, there is nothing that is inappropriate to talk about at those meetings.
• If they offer you something made from corn, always hesitate. It could turn out to be a corn starchy gelatin disaster or a pie of what looks like sweet potatoes but tastes like soggy, corn pudding. Gross!
• They have as many types of fruit here as types of insects. (and they make for really great smoothies, the fruit that is)
• Shampoo is versatile. Afterall, we have hair all over our bodies.
• You stop remembering what warm showers are like after weeks with a bucket.
• Lizards come in all colors and sizes. And they like to run up your chair and onto your skirt.
• Don´t put on bug spray right after shaving your legs. It stings like the devil.

La iglesia

Church here is very different. For one, they call the church service a ¨culto,¨ which seems like cult to me, but is exactly the opposite. Let me walk you through two of my church experiences here:

1) Sunday church: Started at 6pm, or so they say, but people come in late. (They also have a service on Saturday night and Sunday morning). The first few minutes are spent in prayer either kneeling at your seat or at the front. A lot of people start crying and repeating out loud certain phrases like ¨santo¨(holy), ¨bendito sea tu nombre¨ (blessed be your name), etc. From there is only escalates. The churches are very humble but all of them have HUGE stereo speakers, drums and a keyboard. (Oddly enough, I still have yet to see a guitarist). All are used to maximum capacity for worship, along with everyones individual voices, who all yell and cry out in rapid succession. When they switch between songs, the voices make up for the lack of sound. It´s as if God is deaf or won´t listen unless your own ears hurt.

The music is very lively. They sing some American songs in Spanish, but they sing them so slowly and loudly that I can´t remember the English words to sing along. When the drums aren´t being used, the keyboardist makes up for it with one of the pre-programed electronic beats, which I find hysterical.

Sermons are different too because they don´t analyze scripture like we do. The pastor just talks about a passage, repeats certain truths and then breaks into song when he feels like it. Like church is a musical extravaganza. The best is what I like to call ¨prayer rapping,¨ when people start praying (more like yelling) and the keyboardist is playing his electronic beat and you can feel the energy in the church. During this time, I usually sit down, ignore what´s going on around me, pray by myself or sing a song in English. Being a generally quiet and introverted at American churches, it´s so overwhelming; I just can´t get comfortable. I pray that as the summer goes on, my heart would stay open to their types of worship instead of retreating.

The service is supposed to only be 2 hours, but last time it went an extra half hour. I´ve found that once you reach the hour and a half mark, you really don´t notice the rest of the time. Plus I´ve gone deaf by that point, so it´s rather peaceful. It also helps to have two little ten year old girls sitting next to you that like to examine your white skin and touch your hair.

2) Last friday a coworker invited me to ¨una vigilia¨ to pray for the cyclone season here. We got there at 8pm, but it didn´t start til 8:30 (typical Latin American timing). They prayed and sang and talked (then rinse and repeat). I wasn´t keeping track of the time, but we left early and I realized it was already 11:30pm! Three hours of worship, and I only understand about half of it at best. wow.

Church is just one more aspect of life where I feel very much alone, foreign, slightly uncomfortable and clueless. But I have to say that I really enjoy going cause it´s amazing to see how people react to God differently. The Dominicanos are lively and passionate. Church isn´t about intellectualizing the Bible and getting personal alone with God. It´s about community praise of the powerful Creator of the universe who really does have the power to change our lives. We use different approaches to understanding a multi-faceted, complex God who just doesn´t fit in our brains all at once. When they pray, they do so with authority, believing that God is listening and powerful enough to make a change. We tend to simply submit requests meekly before God. Maybe this just reflects a difference in needs. Maybe we ought to thank Him more.

Part of me wonders how much of it is authentic and how much is just culturally expected, especially when my little two year-old ¨nephew¨ starts ¨preaching¨ (talking nonsense loudly and becoming animated with his arms). Yet I can´t help but think it´s the same in the US. It´s just that we´re all taught to worship silently to ourselves.

I wonder if we took a group of kids, raised them outside of the church and then told them about Jesus, if they would all worship the same way. I doubt it. And that´s what´s amazing: you can worship God is so many ways. Everyone reacts differently because everyone is different and God works differently in each person. The importand thing is: He´s working in us.

PS-Check out the blogs of the other DR interns. Between the three of us, you´ll get a better understanding of life here. (see right column for links)

El Seibo and beyond

I´m living in a city called El Seibo and until yesterday, I hadn´t really had a chance to travel around it. It seems the Christians here only go to work and to church (more on that later). But then a coworker of mine, named Nouel, offered to take me on a tour. So we went yesterday.

To sum it all up, I live in a mix of Jurassic Park, The Land Before Time and the farm. It´s so beautiful here, so simple, so organic, so humble. I can´t describe it; you´ll just have to look at the pictures. We rode around all the different barrios here, ate dulce de leche (which is like cheesecake in a bar), tried some famous drink that they only make here (which I doubt you could get anyone to buy elsewhere, cause it was rather gross) and then headed for Pedro Sanchez.

Pedro Sanchez is a small rural town outside of El Seibo surrounded by hills (like California hills, not tiny Texas ones- not everything is bigger in TX). Along the way, we stopped at just about every new type of fruit tree so that Nouel could show me and pick some for me to eat. I ate tomato, mango and something called tamarindo, which I have no idea what it is. It looks like a pea and tastes like a sour prune. Go figure. We rode up the mountain to the top, where I took some incredible pictures. From the top, you can see the ocean and a town called Miches that´s right on the beach. The view was incredible, however it was cloudy so the pictures really can´t do it justice.

Note: They make the fences here with branches, which then begin to grow, so the hillside is covered with lines of trees which are actually fences. Sooo pretty.

The whole ride was about 3 hours. Three hours on a motorbike, which I really think should be a called a mechanical horse here, cause you feel so sore afterwards. =) When I got home, I was covered in sticky fruit juice which had become a kind of brown paste after mixing with the rain and the dust that had surrounded us each time we passed a car. My hair was all knotted, my face was a new color brown, and I couldn´t stop smiling. God is so good.

Being a gringa

First, a little history lesson: the word ¨gringo¨ (or ¨gringa¨ in my case) can about when US troops were in Latin America, dressed in green, and very unwelcome here. Hence, ¨green-go¨or ¨gringo.¨ Times have changed, however, and the term is now one of endearment (or so they tell me). It must be an term of endearment, cause the guys all say it while making kissy faces and staring at me.

There have been other white people to explore these parts before. And the Dominicanos all think that the white people are all the same person. There was a girl here before me named Marlon (atleast that´s the best I know how to spell it based on their accents). She was very fair, wore glasses and had blonde hair. We look nothing alike. But people keep thinking that she came back, when really its me. My family keeps explaining that I´m another person.

A little girl in church last night had fun examining my skin. She said its so smooth and was fascinated by the fact that you can see the veins through my skin. She also asked me how many kids I have. I had to explain to her that I didn´t have any and wasn´t married yet.

A little boy in the street asked me if I was from Spain, which I absolutely loved since that would imply that I´m a native Spanish speaker. Keep dreaming!

Another kid yelled out to my brother David saying ¨¿Es la tuya? David, es la tuya?¨ (meaning ¨is she yours?¨).

Needless to say, I get a lot of attention here. It´s amazing that by traveling, I suddenly become attractive to an entire country. I´ve been asked if I´m a model, lol. If you need an ego boost, just come visit. =)

Rice, of all kinds

So the most asked questions of friends and family has been: How´s the food?

My response: Excellent (except for raw milk of course). I´ve always thought that I had the appetite of a pregnant woman cause I eat such weird combinations of food. However, I have since found people who eat weirder combinations that me. The Dominicans.

Major staple: rice. Now this could sound boring, since I´ve had white rice every since I´ve been here. But the possibilities are endless. Think of all the things Americans eat with carbs. Now substitute carbs with rice, and you´re in the DR. Mostly they eat rice with beans and some form of meat, like chicken, tuna, beef or some other form of fish that tastes like concentrated fishy flavor, maybe like what cat treats taste like (i nearly lost it on that one). However, they can get really creative and to be honest I´ve loved just about every combination. Some recent favorites include: rice with avocado, rice with banana, rice with what i think was okra (not really sure and since my Spanish classes never covered vegetable vocabulary, it´s not really worth asking) and my personal favorite, rice with beets.

Yes, rice with beets. I eat beets almost every day. Americans underestimate the beet. If I were to write an ode to a vegetable, it would be the beet. One, they´re colorful. Two, they´re juicy. Three, they´re sweet but not too sweet. Four, they go really well with rice. =) Betcha never thought you´d hear that!

I also eat rice every morning, that is, rice crispies (fyi- here they call all cereal ¨corn flakes¨). It all started when I was sick and they gave me rice crispies without milk (which, surprisingly, is as hard to eat as peanut butter). When I felt better, they gave me rice crispies with milk (from the carton of course, it´s ultra pasteurized and I think its like whole milk, so I use as little as possible). And since it´s easy and I love it, I now eat rice crispies at least once a day, if not for dinner too.

So that´s rice up to 3 times a day.

Los Dominicanos

I think it´s easier for an American to adjust here than for a Dominican to adjust there for one simple reason: the people. People in the US are cold and unwelcoming compared with people in Latin American countries. My family has been so thoughtful and protective, going out of their way to serve me and make me feel comfortable. The accommodations and amenities of life here may be humble, but the people more than make up for the adjustment. The more I travel outside the US, the more I realize how much we are lacking, even though we are highly envied. Money really isn´t everything. In fact, I would argue that it´s very little (if not none) of what makes life good. =)

People live with a greater sense of peace here, even though it´s more dangerous. People enjoy food more here, even though (or maybe because) they have to spend hours preparing it. Life moves a lot slower (there is time built into the lunch break for a nap, my kind of living!). There is greater appreciation for all the little things because every little thing has a much greater impact on their lives. People here say Gracia a Dios for every aspect of the day. They pray and sing a lot (and I mean every day constantly). They are so humble, so grateful, so passionate and so genuine.

They also have different relational norms. I live with a family that has 4 children, all but one of which is already married. The parents, Marina and Cristobal, come from even bigger families. The youngest of the children, the only daughter, is not yet 19 and already married and 5 months pregnant. She, Cristobalina, and her husband Roberto, live very close and are over at my house every day, helping clean and cook. Another of their sons, Cristobal David, and his family live about 10 steps from our house (imagine the backyard of a townhouse and put a house there for your son, lol). They have two sons: Carlos (almost 4) and Ismael (about 2, more commonly called Mimi). The boys might as well live in my house cause they are over every afternoon (after spending the morning at their other grandmothers). It´s great cause they are entertaining and not to mention adorable. They shower me with kisses and hugs and every moment is a performance for me.

In the office, everyone seems to be under thirty (probably closer to 25) and they are all either married with kids, newlyweds or engaged, except two (there are 8 total). Two of the three that are engaged are getting married while I´m here, so I´ll get to go to their weddings (how cool!). The first word they asked for in english was ¨soltero,¨ aka single, to tease the two guys that aren´t married. Talk about a totally different culture, lol.

Got milk? Got Sick

Yeah, so I was dumb. Somehow I thought my mother´s obsession with organic and my forced training in eating like a Californian health extremist with raw organic milk would have transferred here. NOT SO. If any of you are ever in the DR and are offered cows milk that´s not from a carton, don´t drink it. Save yourself.

Needless to say, I didn´t feel so hot this weekend. Feeling sick soon combined with homesickness and my normally high emotional state make for a rough time in total. I think I really scared my family too, cause the poor things kept offering to take me to the hospital. I don´t think they know fully what diahrreah is or how it affects someone, cause they kept offering me fruit, vegetables, etc. They thought I was weird for eating only bananas, rice crispies and rice.

Lesson learned: milk here is like tap water here: bad!

Frustrations

Life here isn´t hard but it´s also not easy. I´m used to being independent, busy and comfortable. Here life is sloooow, foreign and very much interdependent (mostly me depending on them for EVERYTHING). Just about the only thing I can do here without help is get ready in the morning and use the internet. And since the internet is inconsistent, I´m even more dependent.

I feel like a little kid here and it´s frustrating. They feed me, clear my plate, wash my dishes, take me to work, take me to the country for their meetings and take me home. I don´t know how to make their food or how to speak their language perfectly. Most questions, most conversations and just about every joke has to be repeated for me to understand. What´s more, the people here talk faster than I have ever heard spanish spoken and they drop syllables so ¨esta¨ becomes ¨ta.¨ (now imagine whole conversations like that!")

The Hope interns are reading a book called Compassion, Justice and the Christian Life, by Lupton, which I highly recommend. In one part, it talks about how hard it is to be the recipient and not the giver (especially when it´s more blessed to give than receive - Acts 20:35). I think right now I´m learning to be a receiver, which is ironic considering the poverty here. God´s forcing me to be dependent entirely on Him and on other people. Which is hard, but a big blessing to. I just have to keep reminding myself that ¨For Christ's sake, I delight in weaknesses, in insults, in hardships, in persecutions, in difficulties. For when I am weak, then I am strong.¨ (2 Corinth 12:10)