Wednesday, December 1, 2010

Travels with Laura

Laura arrived Thursday evening, the eleventh of November. Interacting with someone who knew my pre-Peace Corps self was like looking in a mirror for the first time in eight months…scary. I struggled to remember what was jarring for me when I first arrived in the country and what made me nervous. Now, eight months in, nothing seems too out of the ordinary. Why wouldn’t that 90 year old vieja rub Vick’s Vapo Rub all over my legs? Why wouldn’t Tang and hot dog buns be a nutritionally complete breakfast? Why would the guagua stay in the correct lane and not go up on the sidewalk? Why wouldn’t the taxi take advantage of the ambulance and ride its tail through heavy rush hour traffic? Why wouldn’t the Lord’s Day signify rum is an acceptable drink all day, starting in the pre-dawn hours? Why wouldn’t five people get on a motorcycle, especially when the baby fits so well on the handle bars? Why wouldn’t you pee in a plastic bucket inside the house instead of walking five feet to the latrine? Why would you walk across the street to buy something at the colmado when you can send the muchacho? Why would you lower the tv volume if you can just yell into your cellular?...all normal things, right?

Laura sure was a trooper. She had made it clear to me that she was not looking for a pristine beach vacay, the kind most people think of when they hear you are going to the Dominican Republic. To me, this vacation brings to mind the following: laughing under swaying coconut trees, drinking rum on the beach, and dancing the sultry nights away with non-threatening Dominican men who speak English with cute Latino accents. But no, Laura bravely said she wanted to see what my life was like as a United States Peace Corps Volunteer.

Seeing as Laura does not speak Spanish (I’m sorry Laura but knowing Hola, Adios, and Mucho Gusto does not mean that you are conversational), translating became a full time job during her visit. And try as I might to convince my friends and neighbors that Laura did not understand their language, every time I returned from the restroom women and children were crowded around Laura with a family photo or some local item of pride gesticulating wildly at Laura in the hopes that perhaps I was mistaken when I explained that Laura did not understand. My Dominican friends scoffed, “but you understand Clara! And she is white and blonde too, so why wouldn’t she understand?” Deep breaths are a requisite part of surviving here with a modicum of sanity.
So, in a crazed effort to showcase all that this magnificent island has to offer in terms of varied topography and microclimates, we spent a good deal of her eleven days on crowded buses and antiquated carro publicos. However, I think there is definitely something to be said for experiencing first-hand the frenzied chaotic order that is public transportation in the DR. I find myself questioning much of the trip if the bus or motorcycle or car I am in will actually be going where the driver said we would be going and low and behold, we always arrive! Maybe there is not always a seat, maybe the bus does not leave when the ticket said it would, and maybe you find yourself running personal errands with the driver, but you almost always arrive…eventually.

Because I have spent very little time at my new site, I felt strongly about showing Laura my original site. We arrived mid-day and were greeted with impressive Dominican hospitality in numerous different homes. We lunched at Judy’s house where she had cooked up an even-bigger than normal midday spread because they were entertaining their visiting relatives from New York. We then visited one of my all-time favorite Donas, Dulce, to pass the afternoon over my favorite coffee and fresh-squeezed grapefruit juice, WITHOUT sugar. Dulce (ironic because her name means Sweetness) might be the only Dominican woman who allows me to drink juice without sugar in it, not succumbing to the belief that unsweetened anything might cause real physical damage. After popping in to many neighbors’ homes and introducing my new shiny American friend, we finally settled at my best friend Lucias’ house, for the evening festivities. Lucia, in typical fashion, had taken it upon herself to throw a dinner party in our honor. Quite possible one of the poorest if not THE poorest family in Tres Palmas, Lucia always astounds me with her ability to entertain and share what little she and her family has. Lucia and her mother prepared a delicious dinner of pollo, casava bread, yucca, and a special dessert treat of whipped cream with “Cheetos” (and no, you don’t have to be under the influence of drugs to appreciate that that combination is culinary genius.) Also, it is, according to Lucia, very popular with the kids these days at Christmas parties. Because Lucia’s home is one of the few homes in town that is not connected to the power lines, Lucia insisted we finish off the party in style by painting Laura and I’s nails by flashlight. Lucia, aside from being innovative in the kitchen, could probably be hired by any nail salon in New York City that specializes in putting bling and rhinestones on toes. We wrapped up the evening by visiting with my host family until it was way past our campo bedtime.

The next day, Saturday, we set off to visit my new community. We made a stop just long enough for me to unpack and repack my bag for the next week and to explain to my neighbors that I would be back to begin working within the next ten days. We decided to spend the day at the local beach of El Morro in Monte Christi. Unfortunately, because of the recent storms, there was nothing left of the sandy beach and the giant waves had left rocks and boulders on shore. The formidable waves prevented us from swimming (even on a calm day, this area is known for its riptides) but we enjoyed the sunshine over our frosty beer nonetheless. In the afternoon my friend Andrea met us at the beach with two Dominican male friends in tow. We went out dancing and drinking at a “discoteca” in Monte Christi and I was happy to give Laura a taste of the local music, always deafeningly loud. Our new male friends insisted that I allow them to come and meet my host family when they dropped me off in my community. I said they could use the latrine, but I really did not feel comfortable having my new friends over when I had only been at the house for three full nights. I did not want to send the wrong message to my host family: that I was a late-night partier who brings Dominican men home on Saturday nights, at least I did not want to send that message in my first week.

The next morning Laura and I set off on the long journey to reach the beautiful mountain site of Jarabacoa. This required taking about 6 different forms of public transportation, from taxis, to guaguas, to pick-up trucks. When we arrived at Jen’s site in Manaboa, up the mountain from the outdoorsy, adventure city of Jarabacoa, it was mid-afternoon. I was immediately struck by the change in temperature. It seemed impossible that we were still in the Dominican Republic as the temperature had dropped a good twenty degrees. Not only that, the mountainous scenery and rushing rivers seemed more like Colorado than a tropical island.

We spent the next two days hiking around Jen’s beautiful site, cooking, and relaxing. After our mountain adventure we set off for the beautiful Samana peninsula in the northeast of the country. Arriving at my friend Sarah’s site in the late afternoon we relaxed and took in her gorgeous view while Sarah attended a meeting. I was flabbergasted to discover that not one local colmado could sell us beer because they were all owned by Evangelical families. It felt like a bad joke. We spent the next four days traveling around the peninsula. We went to the epic El Limon waterfall, a resort beach in Samana, and three different secluded, white-sand-swaying-palm-tree-beaches, in the area. All-in-all it was a relaxing change from my normal scramble to survive in the DR.
Laura and I returned to Santiago on Sunday. We ended the trip in epic fashion by watching Jersey Shore in our hostel. I feel that Laura was able to get a small taste of the many indescribable things that make the Dominican Republic so familiar, so special, and so jarring all at the same time.

Perhaps our adventure vacation would have gone a bit more smoothly if we had simply checked into an all-inclusive hotel, but that would not have been nearly as fun. Showing Laura what it is like to be a Peace Corps volunteer was stressful at times, uncomfortable, and trying, but those emotions are so much a part of my daily life in the DR that I had to remind myself to take care of Laura and reassure her that we would in fact survive the vacation. For me, the DR has brought out more tears and more laughs than any other time in my life, and I think I was able to show Laura just a glimpse of why that is.


HITCHING A RIDE




BEAUTIFUL BEACH IN SAMANA


LUCIA WITH CHEETO SURPRISE


AT EL MORRO (the beach by my house)


DULCE TUMBARING GRAPEFRUIT


TOE BLING



CONTEMPLATING THE NEW WORLD WITH COLOMBUS

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