Loss/gain analysis: March 22, 2012

GAIN: Appreciation for abbreviations and shortening words. Oye, rubia cuidaoooo tú ‘ta loca. No’ va pa’ comer ya tú sabe’. Would have been indecipherable to me a few months ago. Still often indecipherable. Learning.

LOSS: Ability to communicate coherently in Spanish or English. Spanish words keep popping into my head and then I can’t find the English words to replace them. I almost just forgot how to spell the word “English”. It’s all a gran lío in my brain right now. Grammer fracaza.

GAIN: Coffee addiction. It’s so delicious, strong and dark, but always with lots of sugar. Mmm. I need to stop drinking it at night, but I can’t resist.

LOSS: My formerly flat(ish) stomach. Finally claiming my father’s inheritance, I have a boych for sure thanks to massive amounts of arroz, fried chicken and empandas on empanadas on empanadas. I wish I had more long empire waist shirts.

GAIN: Mango addiction. I have eaten at least 2 a day for the past week. Now having to remedy with lots of bananas (if you know what I mean). I pass at least 3 fruit carts on my 4 block walk to class, and now they all call me with “mango?”

LOSS: Any sense of personal space. It is a luxury that I had to let go of after a week of thrice daily gua gua rides with a stranger sitting on my lap or alternatively on top of the gear shift.

GAIN: A new appreciation for music in my life at all times. I love hearing the salsa, merengue and bachata blasting everywhere. I’ve even learned to sleep with it (hint: less coffee with dinner). I dread returning to the quiet public spaces of gringolandia.

LOSS: My sense of self-conciousness/pride. I’ve accepted the fact that living in a less-known culture will only aggravate my already present inability to be smooth. So if I make a mess (often), do the wrong thing (oftener) or say something stupid (every other sentence), I laugh it away and hope the other person isn’t too unhappy with me.

 

Well, that about sums it up. All in all I’d say this has been a good quarter.

Rain and sand

[Santo Domingo] is most beautiful in the rain.

–Woody Allen, Midnight in [Santo Domingo]

I wish this movie would get made. So much ripe ground for humor. Woody Allen would die walking the streets here, neurotic people do not survive unscathed in this country, as I’m being forced to learn.

It’s been raining a lot this week, and for some reason it’s changed the whole city. I don’t know how to explain it, but I love the difference. Love love love. I actually just want to write love over and over. It’s such a different mood. On the one hand, it calms everything down, there is less noise and pollution in the air and hot sticky humidity. One the other, everyone’s actually rushing to try to get in and out of the rain. Otherwise, people are holed up inside, where there is a nice cozy feeling in the air.

Anyway, this weekend I went to the most beautiful farm with a beach attached. A black sand, private beach, attached to a mango (and other irrelevant things) farm. Sometimes I get frustrated living here, but then there are other times when I know I made a great choice. It was a wonderful weekend where all I did was eat coconut rice with fish and fresh mangoes and sleep in the sun. Myself and my friends Sarah, Andrea and Deborah were invited by our friend Dany, who is close friends with Alex who owns the farm.

We also had some interesting conversations with some friends of the owner of the farm about race and gender relations. That was a pretty frustrating experience. I feel like a lot of my conversations with Dominicans about race and gender have left me feeling this way. On the one hand, there are so many things that people sometimes say that I just don’t agree with, but I also know that I am the outsider, and I may not understand why they are saying this thing I disagree with. The onus is on me to try to understand and listen, but it’s frustrating. This weekend I really felt that, in that many of the other guests, and the owner of the farm, were constantly saying really sexual, sexist things to me and my friends. In many conversations with men I am made completely aware that I am a women and either objectified completely or talked down to and treated as a child. There are numerous times when I and other female friends are told what to think or believe, even about ourselves. For example, “you don’t really like/want that thing you just said you liked/wanted”. Men often yell unsolicited advice to me on the street, such as “Blancita (white girl), walk in the shade!” Well, this side of the street has less open man-hole covers, thanks. This segues nicely into the other big elephant that is constantly in the room, here and in the US as well: race. I’ve been meaning to write about race and racism here for a while, but it is a pretty daunting task to try to represent accurately, and I’ve been getting a bit overwhelmed every time I try. Basically, I am constantly made aware of my whiteness here, which is different from living in the US where I am usually surrounded by predominantly white bodies. Along with whiteness comes privilege, which is another thing I’ve been made highly aware of: the privileges that come with my whiteness, but also my nationality and class status, which give me security, mobility, and basic comforts, along with a whole host of other things. So, keeping that in mind, it is really hard for me to conceptualize race here, the constructions are very different than in the US. I want to get into specifics later, but it makes it really hard to know if I should call people out for saying things I construe as highly offensive and racist, or whether that is a way of asserting my values and being ethnocentric, since I may not understand them. Anyway, these are things I’ve been thinking about for a while, and I’m sure they’ll come up again, but now I need to go to bed, good night blogging world! Here are pictures of the waves to lull me and you to sleep.

University Life–this one goes out to Jennifer G Moran

Received the following email from my mother the other day:

Love to see an update, que sea posible.  Corazon de melon, mi hijita.  How are you publicly feeling and what is new in the jo world? a beautiful world.  XXOO

So that will provide sufficient motivation for a new post. Thanks mom! With these inspiring words, I will use my “corazon de melon” to write (Corazon de melon=melon-heart for those English speakers out there. What does that mean? I understand as much as you right now).

I realize I haven’t really been talking about school so I’ll try that? It is STUDY abroad after all.

UNIVERSITIES

For our program, we are able to chose classes from 4 different places. They are:

CIEE

This is our study center. I am taking 3 classes here: Dominican Haitian Relations (taught by a knight! Our professor was knighted by Queen Elizabeth for her work on human rights! (sidenote: are women called knights? Not sure and don’t feel like looking that up)), Language and Culture (a Spanish class where we eat fruit and write comedic sketches, don’t tell Tufts, I need credit for the semester) and Living and Learning (not a real class, more like a seminar about study abroad where we talk about learning styles, cultural differences and learn buzzwords like “mindfulness”–my only class in English).

UASD

Universidad Autonoma de Santo Domingo. This is the only public university in the DR. The first university in the Americas™. It was founded by Columbus’s son or some stupid colonizer like that. However, it is severely underfunded because the president spent last year’s education budget on the Metro. There is now a movement for a commitment of 4% of the country’s GDP to education. The current administration isn’t budging though from what I can tell (from my irregular perusals of El Diario). There are a lot of strikes at the UASD (pronounced la waz). There are also not many classes. The first week that classes officially start, the professors don’t go, so the students don’t go. The second week, the students don’t go, so the professors don’t go. Finally things get started the 4th week. However, at times you can show up for 4 weeks in a row. The fourth week, you leave after waiting an hour and a half only to be told the next day that the professor showed up 2 hours late. I am not taking any classes at la UASD. (see stingy with credit, tufts)

INTEC

This is more of a science/technical school, but I’m taking Contemporary Social Thought. Everyone else in my class is studying psychology. No one understands what American Studies is. This school is a private, predominantly upper or upper middle class university. Everyone is on their Blackberry all the time. I showed some classmates my phone that I bought for these 4 months, which cost about $15, and they laughed at it. Whatever, BBM isn’t even cool anymore ok? But INTEC is definitely the most similar to the universities I’ve accustomed to, with a campus with a bookstore and cafes and stuff.

BONO

The best! El Bono is a seminary training the next generation of Caribbean priests. The future priests are probably the nicest people you will meet in your life. Today we went to the beach with a few of them and we had a great time! They even gave us a ride in their Jesuit truck. I am taking Latin American Social History at Bono, which is taught by a Jesuit who speaks English and French (and Spanish but I hope you assumed that) and will sprinkle in references to the USA to help us out. And he gives good movie recommendations, like “Even the Rain” which I also recommend. The readings are pretty hard though.
So that’s that. Bye!

Dominican gestures

So while this post contains much less exciting content than the last one, I spiced it up with some exciting GIFs! That’s right, you get to see really flattering animated images I made on photobooth in my poorly-lit bedroom. Only the most advanced technology happening here!

Living here, I have definitely been challenged by the language at times. However, beyond the spoken and written language of Dominican Spanish, there is also a whole other world of differences in body language. This has definitely been something I have been trying to pay attention to. Being unable to communicate as clearly in words, I feel that body language has definitely gained more importance in relating to the world. It is especially obvious when using gestures. There are some gestures that are extremely common and are used in completely different ways than you may think. Here are the essential gestures to get by in the DR.

THE WINK

Well, this one isn’t exactly the most different. However, men here wink at me all the time. At first, I was really put off by this as I’ve always had sort of sleazy associations with winks, and I felt like I was getting hit on in the most bizarre situations (when I’m buying band aids and antiseptic cream for a currently bleeding foot? Really?). After a while, I realized that these winks are mostly used as a way to end a conversation, a sort of different way to say “good bye” or “this interaction is finished, nice talking to you”. So, in conclusion, winks=sort of the same as in the US, but less creepy.

THE WAGGING FINGER

Different than the US, the wagging finger means “no, please stop bothering me”. This finger is useful for all kinds of situations–from someone trying to sell you sarongs on the beach, offering an unwanted massage or a taxi driver offering a ride. It’s a great way to get on with your day without too much fuss!

made on this website

The facial expression is key, especially the lips. Also important to note is that the rest of your hand does NOT move, only your finger.

“OFF WITH HIS HEAD!”

Used for situations such as the one above, but much more extreme. This sends the message loud and clear “LEAVE ME ALONE”. It was last in such widespread use during the French Revolution.

made on this website

Again, note the severe facial expression. While this is conveys a stronger sentiment than the finger wag, it is not always foolproof. I once watch a woman in a traffic jam do this for 2 minutes straight to avoid buying a newspaper.  The newspaper seller, however, did not stop pestering her until traffic finally moved.

THE HISS
This is extremely common in most situations. Not exactly a gesture, the hiss is just what it sounds like, a “tsssst” noise like a kettle boiling. While this is a very rude noise to make at someone in the US, here it is simply a convenient way to get someone’s attention, whether it is a friend, a waiter or a stranger. It has been taking me a while to get used to this one, I still get startled about 50% of the time.

So there you have it, the essential guide to Dominican body language! With these simple skills, soon you too will be able to survive the mean streets of Santo Domingo like a pro!

*wink*

Choque de gua gua

So I haven’t been the best about blogging, mostly due to laziness, but since I lost my journal yesterday I need to write a bit somewhere. I also have a big event that I want to talk about a little bit. IMPORTANT NOTE: I am totally fine so no need to worry!!
This weekend, my and 6 other friends from my program went on a trip to the mountain town of Jarabacoa. We really lucked out, getting to stay in an amazing “hostel”, Jarabacoa Mountain Hostel, that was really more like a private house! We cooked some great meals and went on a truly amazing and challenging hike. It was a really wonderful weekend.

On Monday, a group wanted to leave early so they went to buy bus tickets at around noon. Unfortunately, the buses we were planning on taking were sold out so we all ended up buying tickets for the 3 pm bus to Santo Domingo. The bus service is called Caribe Tours and is similar to the US’s Megabus or Greyhound. It is the most established company, in comparison with the more informal gua guas, and is a little more money and supposedly safer. After a delicious, huge Dominican lunch we got on and headed back home.

My friend Sarah and I were sitting next to each other, and spent the first half hour practicing our Spanish conversation. We were talking casually when suddenly it seemed like the bus was going way too fast. The driver was honking like crazy. I thought at first that he was just driving recklessly, but then bags started falling off the top compartments. I asked Sarah if she could see what was going on, and right after I asked we realized something awful was happening. It got incredibly bumpy, like a plane with really bad turbulence. It was dark all of the sudden and I realized that we had driven off the road and were now heading down the mountain through the forest. There were no seat belts (just like coach buses in the US) and so I was bracing myself against the front seat. I was incredibly lucky in that I wasn’t shook up very much, but in front of me a woman got thrown to the other side of the bus by the motion and that was terrifying to witness. The bus flipped to the side and stopped.

The bus was basically on its side, at a little more than a 45 degree angle. It was hard to tell if it was actually on the ground or if it was in the trees still, so at first some people were saying to stay still. However, soon everyone began scrambling to get out of the bus as soon as possible. Despite the confusion, all in all it was incredible how calm and orderly people were. People were patient and let others go ahead of them, and helped guide others out of the bus. We had to climb out of the top (well really the side) window and climb up the mountain back to the road. I wasn’t really able to process any thoughts besides “up” and was holding on to vines to pull myself out. My flip flops were the worst form of footwear so I ended up taking them off and climbing barefoot, which led to some scratches. One of my friends lost a shoe so she was climbing in one flip flop and one bare foot. When we got to the top of the road there were already a lot of people there–I’m not sure how many were from the crash and how many had arrived after hearing the commotion. Lots of people were screaming and crying, and many had broken limbs. Once we gathered all 7 of us and ascertained that we were all okay, we were trying to figure out how to help others but there wasn’t much any of us could do. I think that was a difficult position to be in for some of the other students, but I was mostly too overwhelmed to do anything but observe what was happening. Soon ambulances started arriving, and those who were most seriously injured were taken to the hospital. I was glad to see that all of the children who were on the bus seemed okay as I didn’t see any of them injured. I was worried about an old woman who had been sitting across the aisle from us–she got off with help but was extremely pale, and was taken away in a stretcher. I think she was in shock but didn’t seem to be seriously injured.

After a few minutes we learned that all of the passengers had gotten off of the bus with the exception of the driver, who was stuck in front but alive. There were a ton of rescue groups trying to get him out and there were also many, many interested bystanders. It started to rain but luckily there was this random ranchito right on the side of the road (like a big gazebo) so a lot of the passengers took shelter there. Reporters also started showing up and some of my friends got interviewed on Dominican TV, with various levels of success (none of us really had the vocabulary to describe a crash). There were also a lot of Politur, the tourist police, who took down our names, ages and the hotel we stayed in, and seemed really concerned about us because we’re Americans. It was nice of them, but also still pretty blatant display of the privileges we get from being Americans. In contrast another passenger, a Haitian man, was concerned about the fact that his documents were still on the bus. The consequences for him were much higher than for my friends who also left their passport copies, driver’s licenses etc on the bus as well. I was lucky that the purse I had brought with me had all my important possessions, as I had to leave my backpack behind (containing the aforementioned journal but otherwise nothing I can’t live without).

So everyone was kind of milling around, processing everything. We called the program and they were concerned, but glad to hear we were all fine. They sent a mini van to come pick us up, but it was coming from Santo Domingo so it was going to take a while. This was fine because I don’t think any of us were in a hurry to get out of there. We all wanted to see what would happen to the driver and also to our bags. It was hard to know what was happening because the only info we got was from people around us.

It was pretty scary to look at the path the bus had taken. It had gone directly between two giant trees, which would have been awful to hit. It also avoided a river. After talking to many people, we learned that the brakes had gone out and the driver had realized about a kilometer before the crash. He must have been waiting to ditch out in that specific spot because if he had gone over any earlier, the bus would have gone down a much steeper drop and possibly into the river. It was very sobering to realize how much worse things could have been, and on a certain level I am still kind of in awe that I am here writing these words.

Everyone around us was incredibly nice and helpful. My friend and I had to use the bathroom, and there was a house across the street that seemed to be the only option. There were a ton of people standing around watching the goings-on. We went up to the house and there were a bunch of kids and a cake on the table! It seemed that they were having a birthday party that got interrupted by the crash. The kids were really funny and cute so they brought up everyone’s spirits, and the woman of the house was generous with her bathroom.

One moment that I found the most surreal was seeing the 4:30 bus, the one I was supposed to be on, drive by the scene and perfectly make the turn that we could not. It was strange to think that in some alternate universe, I would be on the bus watching from the window, not knowing what was going on.

Finally the van arrived for us after 3 hours. At this point we still didn’t know about the bags or driver, but everyone was really ready to get back so we climbed in to the van. Unfortunately, the driver was driving in classic Dominican style, AKA crazily, which was not the best way for 7 people who had just been in a traumatic accident to travel. Finally we asked him to go really slow and he went to a moderate level, so that helped. On the ride home we were all kind of loopy, everyone was laughing hysterically at everything. Then our driver told us “Now you know how Dominicans live. Something bad happens, but if it all turns out okay, we CELEBRATE!” It definitely felt like we were all in that sort of mood.

We got back to the central program office and all of our host moms were there waiting for us. We were so happy to see them and hug them. The funniest thing was that everyone wanted us to take pictures, which, after 3 hours in mud and rain, wearing a giant soaking wet men’s sweatshirt (thanks Ted!) was not exactly what I had in mind. But it felt amazing to get home, eat some tostones, shower and skype with my parents. We also got excused from classes today so it’s been great to rest.

It’s been weird to check the news today. The driver eventually got out, but he died on the way to the hospital which I am really sad about. The only info that I can find about him is his name: Julio Lugo. I wish I knew more. Also, some of the papers are saying that the 7 Americans were injured, which is wrong, and also just making a big deal about us being on board the bus because of our nationality. It is upsetting that American bodies seem so much more valued than Dominican, which I want to talk more about in a later post.

A last thing I want to say to everyone is that even though this happened, I felt like it was something that could have happened anywhere. I worry about feeding into the stereotypes of developing nations as unsafe and threatening. I feel that there are risks you take when you travel anywhere, and don’t want to paint a picture of the DR as especially unsafe. While it is undoubtedly true that mistakes were made, I still plan on traveling more. After this I will switch the focus to a much more positive view!

Sorry this post was the longest! If you are reading this I am sure I love you very much (even if you are a stranger? I hope all you readers know me). Hasta luego, besos y abrazos!

PS this article is in Spanish, but the video shows some of what happened in the aftermath if anyone is interested: http://www.noticiassin.com/2012/01/al-menos-7-heridos-en-accidente-de-autobus-de-caribe-tours-en-carretera-jarabacoa-la-vega/

Walkin’ Around (Part 1)

One of the biggest changes to get used to here is actually a very simple one: walking around the city. Even going a few blocks is an adventure, with the threat of danger at every intersection.

Just kidding, it is safe to walk around during the day, but you definitely have to be alert. Cars will NOT stop for pedestrians, so I usually run across the street as fast as I can. I don’t care if I look stupid. Stop signs? All that means is that a car will honk as it approaches and most likely will not slow down. Hey, fair warning! Another thing to watch out for are the motorcycles. They weave in between cars at high speeds and are very difficult to see coming. Also, they often go the wrong way down one way streets.

Ok, but if you just stay on the sidewalks, things will be fine, right? Actually no. “Sidewalk” actually means “mini-street-for-motorcycles-to-use-when-there-is-a-traffic-jam-or-even-if-the-street-is-empty-and-they-feel-like-terrorizing-innocent-pedrestrians”. And “sidewalk” itself is kind of a misnomer. There are sections of sidewalk, for sure, but there are also sections of dirt, sections of pebbles, and sections of large rocks that may have once been concrete. These are alternated with gaping holes that you have to watch out for. If not, you will end up lost in the sewers of Santo Domingo without a trace. People will look back in 10 years and be like, “Her? Oh yeah, whatever happened to her? Weird.” Meanwhile, you will be queen of the rats! (Oh, the rats).

I think that sidewalk upkeep is pretty sporadic and many times individuals have to take maintenance (and traffic laws) into their own hands rather than depend on the government. For example, the owner of the colmado (corner store) near my building was painting his own parking spots in front of his store today. I don’t really know that much about who maintains the infrastructure here right now, so I will definitely have to learn more about that.

CONSEQUENCES OF NOT WATCHING YOUR STEP:

• Almost getting hit by a bus*
• Almost getting hit by a motorcycle**
• Almost getting hit by a coconut cart*
• Stepping in dog caca*
• Stepping on a crushed baby chick*
• Stepping in fresh concrete*
• Stepping on a sleeping stray dog
• Stepping in a random gigantic pile of trash
• Walking into an exposed electrical wire
• Tripping*

Definitely having to work on my tendency to slowly meander around, lost in thought and oblivious to the world.

And that’s just the beginning! Stay tuned for part 2 of my series on “Walkin’ Around”: Unwanted Male Attention! If it doesn’t appear for a while, check the sewers.

 

*denotes something that I have done.

**denotes something that happens to me multiple times a day.

The wonders of globalization

Just bought a new brush and what do I see?

Skokie IL is where my grandparents live. It is located west of Evanston.

Even here in the DR, the greater Chicagoland area still feels close!

(Even if it was technically made in China)

¡Things get real!: FOOD

Hey Nacion Gringiana! I’m supposed to be doing this intense reading on the Catholic monarchs but it is super boring (I mean honestly not a huuuge fan of fifteenth century tactics to unify Spain) so I will talk (complain) about the food instead. NOTE: this is a really bratty post so please don’t read if it is going to annoy you!

Main foods:
-potato

Fun fact about potatoes coming up...keeping reading to find out more!

-yuca

Like a potato, but stickier

-platano

Underripe or overripe, either way is delicious! (seriously, I love these so much)

You may be noticing a theme. Or maybe not. Well, don’t worry about it if you aren’t getting it.

The theme is that these are basically all the same food, especially when they are boiled. Which is how I eat them. And I’d say these three foods make up 2/3 of my diet right now. The rest is fried eggs and water. Honestly, I am severely worried about the lack of variety up in here. There is a legitimate danger of rickets [note: this danger is not legitimate].

I’ve been trying to hint to Dona Belkis that maybe some veggies would really hit the spot, but so far no luck. I hope mango season comes soon or something, this is killer. I could be in Italy right now eating bruscetta everyday. Although platanos are actually the shit.

Anyway, back to Isabel and Ferdinand!

PS here is the potato fun fact: They were originally brought from the Americas to Europe during the time of Colombus. Want to know from where? Santo Domingo, duh!

The Beginning (kind of…)

Hey all!

I’ve been here in the Dominican Republic for about a week, and decided it was time to bite the blogging bullet. Hopefully I will be able to maintain it and not just let it die away. There is great danger of this happening so it is up to you readers to keep me going!

I have seen so much in the time I’ve been here already, and don’t know where to begin! I guess I’ll start with the living sitch.

I live with a Doña named Belkis, who lives alone. Her daughter got married about a month ago, and now lives across Santo Domingo. Doña Belkis is great, today she took me jeans shopping and we went to “el barrio de chinos” (Chinatown) for some fried chicken and tostones (fried green plantain chips). So it was basically a typical Dominican meal. Chinatown does not seem very different to my American eyes than normal Santo Domingo, it’s like 2 blocks that have a couple of Chinese restaurants.

We live in Gazcue, a nice middle class neighborhood in southern Santo Domingo that is really close to the water. The neighborhood is a mixture of tall buildings and smaller houses, and there are tons of schools around which makes for a nice ambiance.

Main impression of the DR so far: it’s LOUD! Everywhere you go there is music blasting (merengue, bachata or reggaeton), people talking, and cars honking. Pretty great to fall asleep to…not. But I’m so tired it really doesn’t matter one way or the other. Speaking in Spanish for most or part of the day is exhausting, but I feel like I’m starting to get used to the Dominican accent and dominicanisms. No one here says their S’s, which took some time getting used to. For example, when our program leader said “No vamos a la playa mañana” (we aren’t going to the beach tomorrow) I was sad, until I realized that she was saying “Nos vamos a la playa mañana” (we are going to the beach tomorrow). Crisis averted.
That’s all for now but I promise to update soon. Bye!