So the other day in class, we were talking about self-awareness. I had the students take the Jung personality test to help them get a better sense of their strengths and weaknesses, plus there were lots of good new vocab words on the test for us to discuss! So, win-win :)  In any case, I ended up taking the test myself, and woah, it was dead on. According to the Jung personality test there are 16 different personality types, each corresponding to a 4 letter combination. My combination was INFP.  But while I thought the test was really awesome and scarily accurate, I kind of just set it aside after class and didn´t think much more of it. 
However, I´ve been in a bit of a funk this week. Having lots of mixed emotions. I´ve loved my time here so far, but at the same time, a little thought in the back of my head keeps asking me what the hell am I doing here? I want this time to be a productive growing period, in which I can hopefully figure out what it is that I want/need out of life. But those things are still eluding me. I took a long time to reflect on things the other day and for some reason the personality test popped back up in my head. I decided to do a quick google search for careers that would be good for an INFP personality type. And then I stumbled onto this site, which relayed the following info: 

INFPs do not want just any job or career. They want to do something they love, something they are passionate about. They want to use their creative gifts and abilities in ways that bring personal fulfillment and contribute to the greater good; settling for a mediocre or mundane career seems unacceptable to this personality type. Money is rarely a strong motivator for INFPs, who generally care little about material comforts or possessions. They’d rather be doing what they love and living in a shack than get rich performing unsatisfying work.

The quest for a suitable career cannot be divorced from INFPs’ search for identity. Before settling on a career path, INFPs want to know who they are and where they fit into the fabric of the working world. They want a career that capitalizes on their unique abilities, coincides with their values, and ignites their drives and passions. Because most jobs fail to consistently inspire them, INFPs often end up feeling restless and dissatisfied. Even those with a college degree may struggle to find long-term career satisfaction.

What! So it´s not my fault I´m so messed up about all this stuff? Good, well that´s comforting. The article went on to say the following:

INFP career-seekers may feel stunted by any number of perceived barriers. They may be afraid of taking risks or feel they don’t themselves or their skills/interests well enough. Some may look at their track record of unfinished projects and wonder if they will ever find what they are seeking. It is important for INFPs to recognize that this is all very normal. The fact is that they need to experiment and experience life in order to find themselves. They differ from INJs in this respect, who feel they can know what they like or what they might be good at without needing to trial it first. INFPs need to realize that all their “dead-ends” are not in vain. All of their experiences and lessons learned can be internalized and integrated as part of their career development. Moreover, despite the apparent challenges of finding their career niche, INFPs typically have a reasonable number of good career options.

Ok, well it´s good to know that all this is normal. Still not that comforting that I need to run into a bunch of dead ends before I find my path in life, but I guess if it´s what I have to do, its what I have to do. Any prayers for my continued growth and a little enlightenment on finding my right path would be greatly appreciated. Abrazos fuertes, I miss you all.

On another note, I suppose it was appropriate that I had a teaching conference yesterday, and that the main quote discussed in the conference was this: "Life is not about waiting for the storm to pass, it's about learning to dance in the rain." And well, after feeling a little down all day that day, I tried to do just that. I dragged myself off my all-together too comfy, but slightly depressing bed, and headed out for the night in an attempt to get myself out of this funk. 
Lindsay, Sophia, and I all met up at the "Casa de Arte," a mini-cultural center here in Santiago. They were holding a "Fiesta de Palos" celebration, which is a traditional African celebration popular among the slaves brought to the Dominican Republic and which focuses mainly on the use of percussion. 
The night was all fluttering candle light, and swinging rhythms, set against a backdrop of vibrant Dominican artwork.  And somewhere between the driving beat of the drums and  the flowing rum and orange juice cocktails, I found myself being dragged out on the floor to dance. Nobody was safe from this and I guess I was no exception.  I can't say that I completely shook off all my blues, but it was a good start. 

Lindsay ran into her old dance professor, who tried to teach us a thing of two. 

Now shimmy!

Sophia, the dancing queen

Wow. It's hard to even express how much I love my job. 
Currently I'm teaching Advanced Conversation English and I couldn't even dream up a better job right now. The main goal of my teaching is to make my students feel more comfortable speaking in English. Ummm, so that's pretty vague right? Ya, that's what I thought! But turns out, its pretty awesome! It means I have a lot of freedom to be super creative. It's a lot of responsibility at the same time, since I have to fill 2 hours of class time and there isn't much guidance, but it's totally worth the trade off. Since its an advanced conversation class, they already have a pretty good grasp on the English language, they just need a little extra help with their pronunciation, extending their vocab, and being able to function in an English speaking society. Just the other day we did a cultural comparison between the different areas of the U.S. and the Dominican Republic. We listened to Katy Perry's California Gurls and then compared that to the youtube spoof of Minnesota Gurls. It was a pretty entertaining comparison. And come on, in what other job in the world could I get paid for watching Katy Perry music videos?! But we cover more serious topics too, like the documentary Miss.Representation about the objectification of women in the media. 
This week however, we started discussing their upcoming oral presentations. I modeled a presentation to give them an idea of what a good one should look like. Yoga was my topic, so mid-presentation I had them all try out a few poses. A good presentation should have audience interaction after all!
I was a sneaky little teacher though, and whipped out my camera to snap a picture of them in the act. I'm bad, I know!
And I totally ruined their zen because half of them just about fell over trying to get out of the picture. But we all were rolling with laughter afterwards. 
I said it before, but I'll say it again, I LOVE my job. 

So I've started attending a Sunday morning "church" service at the Hub, the hostel I stayed at the first week I came to Santiago. It's a very informal, open, non-denominational setting, usually with a cast of visiting peace-corp travelers and ex-pats from the U.S.  I LOVE it.  Plus being a part of a little community like that definitely has its perks. Take for example the conversation that followed the service yesterday. 
Jake: "So Joe and I are going to take our motorcycles to Sosua today, wanna join?"
Ummmm, is that even a question? Hell ya I want to go! You had me at motorcycle, but add a scenic tropical mountain highway and a day at the beach and you've pretty much just made all my wildest dreams come true. Actually, I'm pretty sure those three things have never been in my wildest dreams before, but they totally should have been, because come on, what could be more awesome than that combination?!
Me: "Right now?"
Jake: "Ya, right now."
With a face-splitting grin (I couldn´t hide it, I was so excited) I took off sprinting home to get my bathing suit right then and there and made it back in about 15 minutes just as they were pulling out there motorcycles and getting ready to leave. Talk about spontaneity. 
The day, much like the motorcycle ride, flew by, but here, you can take a look for yourself. 

To the beach!

Roadside fruit.

Those mountains will never get old. My picture-taking skills are not doing them justice. 

I wish I would have taken some more pictures at the actual beach, but sometimes, in the middle of fun and good conversation, snapping pictures just doesn´t occur to you. 
It did however, occur to me to take a pic of this guy trying to sell live crabs. Random, I know. 
Anyways, After splashing around in the water a bit, trying out the local cuisine, and catching a few rays, we hopped back on the bikes. Sun-kissed and wind-blown, we race the sunset back to Santiago. 

Ok so let me clarify: when friends ask me how I'm doing, I usually respond, "great, but kinda hot." 
"But Molly," they exclaim, "I thought you liked it hot. You are usually always complaining about how cold you are. Isn't this what you wanted?!" 
Yes people, and no. Sure I like it hot, and given the choice between being too toasty or too chilly, I'd take toasty any day. But there's a big difference between being a little toasty, and literally melting into your bed sheets1. Nobody would choose to die in a fire over freezing to death. NOBODY. And sometimes, that's how I feel, like I'm burning alive here. And burning alive can have some serious consequences on your daily routine. Examples:

• I once had the misguided idea to make brownies. All too soon however, I realized that the oven is pretty much a death trip. Don´t use it unless you are trying to kill yourself via heat stroke.  
• Yoga: every yoga session is a Bikram yoga session, whether you like it or not. 
  
• Minor tasks  and household chores will reduce you to a sopping wet puddle. Exhibit A: Last night the mere act of trying to open a wine bottle had me drenched (granted, this cork was being a little bit difficult). And then my hands got so sweaty I couldn´t hold onto the corkscrew. And then I almost gave up! But it´s wine we are talking about here, so I didn´t. But I wanted to! And that´s just crazy talk.  
  
• And let me point out that just yesterday, it drizzled a bit in the mid afternoon, as it so often does here, and I swear I saw steam coming off the pavement. You know, the same way steam comes off a hot frying pan when you run water over it. 
  

So ya, I know I asked for this, but cut me a little slack here, I didn't realize when I signed on to work in Santiago that I would be willingly throwing myself into a boiling inferno2. 
I just needed to clarify all of this for anyone who asks how I´m doing in the future. Now continue with your beautiful crisp fall day. 



1. This actually happened!  Once a friend visited me and we both were tired since we'd just walked several miles to get groceries. We took a little siesta on the bed. When we woke up, her shirt was so wet that the color of her bra had bled onto the back of her shirt and stained it pink. That's how hot it is here! Clothes melt onto each other!

2. I may be slightly over-reacting.  My writing often seems to have a penchant for the dramatic. And also, extreme heat can have a funny effect on one´s brain. Don't worry though, I will perspire! 
Wait I mean perseguir! I will perseguir!

Yoga! 
So I'm killing two birds with one stone on the boredom front here: mastering yoga and improving my photography skills. I think I'm getting pretty good with the ol' self-timer function. 

Still working on this one....luckily my camera skills are improving, and you can't see me falling and bonking my head directly after this shot was taken.  I'm going to rock this pose before I leave this island though!

So this story is just too funny not too share. Last night my friend Linsday and I decided to go get some groceries together and head back to my place to make dinner. We weren´t exactly sure of the concho routes that we needed, but we decided it would be an adventure and headed off. Well we made it safely to the grocery store, but accidentally grabbed the wrong concho (the M) on the way back, so we needed to make a quick change to a different route (the K) in order to get back home. Our driver let us off at the corner and we hopped out. However, it had showered pretty heavily earlier in the day and the corner of the sidewalk was slick with mud. Being the first out of the car, I was easily able to side step it, Lindsay though, who was following directly behind me, was not so fortunate. She leapt directly into the mud and her feet slipped right out behind her, sending her tumbling head first towards the ground. In slow motion I watched as she put out her hand to stop herself and break her fall, and horrified, I watched as her hand, then forearm, then shoulder, plunged not onto the ground, but directly into the MAN-HOLE in front of her. For one terrifying moment, I thought even her face might slide into the hole! Fortunately, her shoulder was as far as it went. Lindsay, now lying flat on the ground and covered in mud, looked up at me wide-eyed with astonishment, registering what had just happened. She then slowly pulled her arm out of the goopy sludge of god-knows-what that was in the man-hole and examined it: fear, shock, and disbelief in her eyes. Then almost immediately  we both began laughing hysterically and couldn´t stop for a good five minutes. The whole thing was just so ridiculous! There we were, in the dark, semi-lost, with Lindsay covered in mud and nearly swallowed alive by a man-hole. Adventure accomplished.
Ok so I know what you are thinking, "But wait! Aren´t there usually covers on man-holes to prevent such dangerous things from happening?" And yes, generally you would be correct. But you see, man-hole covers are made of iron, and you can sell iron for a decent price, so nearly every man-hole cover in the city has been stolen. This means you need to be paying serious attention when you are walking along on the sidewalk, especially when it´s dark, because you just might fall into a gaping hole of goop. I still laugh to myself every time I imagine the look on Lindsay´s face when she pulled her arm out of the sludge. Priceless. Only in the Dominican Republic people, only in the Dominican Republic. 

There it is! The man-eating man-hole! Now once again, just imagine Lindsay falling face first towards that puppy and trying to stick her arm out to stop herself, and watching helplessly as her arm goes straight down into the hole. Your welcome for that wonderful visual image and for making you smile today. 
P.S. Also note the amount of sticks and debri coming out of this man-hole. I´m not sure how Lindsay managed to avoid impaling herself. Pretty much a miracle I´d say. 
P.P.S. Lindsay, I´m sorry for laughing at your expense, and I´m glad you are ok :D

So far my time spent here in the D.R. has been great. Every day is the possibility for a new adventure. But at the same time, every day also holds the promise of a great deal of boredom. Life simply moves slower here, and everyone seems to be ok with that. Except for me, maybe. I'm still adjusting. Transitioning from the U.S. work force where I was working 40 hours a week (and really putting in about 65), to now just working 18 hours a week (and really probably about 24), has been both a blessing and a curse. A blessing because, my God, I was killing myself as a teacher in the U.S. I had too many classes to prepare for, and too many kids, and never enough time. And because I genuinely cared about my students, and my work, (and maybe because I'm possibly a little OCD, thanks Mom, I blame you for that) I worked my tail off to plan detailed lessons that the kids actually learned from, spent hours brainstorming, researching, and assembling fun activities and new ideas, and spent my weekends grading countless worksheets and quizzes.  But I was definitely on the fast track to burn out and something had to give. And that give was my decision to move to the D.R., where the change of pace has been nothing if not drastic. Not only do I just have 18 hours a week, but I only have to prepare for one, yes count it, ONE class. I actually feel a little guilty about this, which is absurd, since there is absolutely nothing I can do about it. But my gringa mindset keeps telling me I should be doing more. 
So what have I been doing with my new-found free time? Well, part of it I spend moving more slowly. I don't mean this literally, I just mean that it takes more time to get things done here. If I want groceries, I need to walk 15 minutes to the nearest grocery store. If I need to get to and from school, its a 20 minute walk one way. If I want to do laundry, its a bit more of a hands-on method here, so I have to stick around for at least a half hour to get everything washed and hung to dry, instead of just pushing a button and walking away.  If I want to make lunch, I need to soak my vegetables in a bleach solution for 30 minutes to clean them before I eat them. But even with such things set aside, I still have a considerable amount of time leftover. Mostly I spend it exploring, just walking down different streets to see where they lead, or possibly taking a new concho route. Sometimes I update this blog, and sometimes, I even take a nap! My previous motto (you can sleep when you're dead), doesn't seem to apply here. Truly, sometimes its just too hot to be wandering around outside, and so like the rest of Dominican society, a have myself a little siesta. (I'm really trying not to form this habit though since my nagging American side won't let me stop feeling guilty about it.) I've also been trying to improve my Spanish skills with a little bit of Spanish tv every day and some online practice work. 
However, even if I manage to keep my days relatively full, the nights are killer. The sun goes down at 7:30, and if you are alone, that's when you should be back inside (so no late-night grocery runs and I have to make sure I leave the gym before 7 p.m.) Its just not safe enough to walk around alone after dark. Now if you are with a friend or two, no problem! But just meeting up with your friends can be a hassle. If you didn't plan ahead to hang out with them before sundown, then you are going to need to take a taxi to and from their place, which starts to get expensive after a fashion. But even if you are up for dropping a little cash on a taxi, sometimes there is just nowhere to go. Everyone seems to be ok with just staying in on the weekends. What?! That is complete culture shock for me, since I usually reserve my weekends and the occasional week night for getting together with friends, hanging out, and maybe having a couple drinks. But the culture here doesn't revolve around drinking, as is so often the case in America (getting drunk is highly frowned upon, and double that frowning for girls. I've even been told that is looks bad when a girl drinks beer straight from the bottle instead of pouring it into a plastic cup), and going out for dinner or drinks can get expensive as well. This was something I never really worried about too much in the U.S., but my budget is a bit tighter here. My English professor friends and I make a decent living compared to most Dominicans, but over 50% of the population is unemployed! So that's really not saying much.  In any case, that leads to sitting inside on a Saturday night and watching tv to be more of the norm here rather than the exception. 
So I'm going a little stir-crazy. I need to find a positive way to channel my energy because I just can't settle with being bored half the time.
Maybe master those crazy yoga poses I've always wanted to try? Become a salsa dancing expert (ok let's be honest, that will never happen, but I'd settle for being passable)? Take up painting? Write poetry? I'm open to suggestions here people!

In the meantime....here are a few ways I kept myself busy this week. 

I went to Lunes de Jazz (Jazz monday at a trendy little rooftop bar called "Soho")

I put my cooking skills to the test and prepared a vegetarian meal with friends. 

(Roasted peppers stuffed with Dominican cheese and black beans cooked with beer, chipotle sauce, lime, and cilantro)

I perfected the piña colada in a pineapple recipe. Delicious? yes. Dangerous? absolutely.

I went to a fair! And we took pictures with the fake cow. 

Then I took some pictures of the real ones. 

We watched a "carnaval" dance performance
(Carnaval, for those who don´t know, is very similar to Mardi Gras. It´s one of the biggest celebrations in the D.R., and the traditional costumes here are quite unique)

Then we snapped a few pics of a Transformer walking through the crowd. 

And then (we couldn´t help ourselves) we watched a girl seductively spin around on a rotating motorcycle for a while. Completely typical Dominican advertising. 

Hope you all are keeping busy back home! Hasta pronto!

Since I had only one class from 8-10 this morning, Megan (who is visiting from the states) and I, decided to hit the beach. Best. Decision. Ever. From the moment our bus deposited us in the small town (so close to the beach in fact that we practically stumbled off the bus and onto the sand), I could tell it was going to be a good day. We quickly found a nice little patch of sand to call our own and were able to bargain down the price of renting two lounge chairs to 150 pesos (not quite 4 dollars total).  We spent the day soaking up the sun, sipping on pina coladas, and splashing into the sea whenever we got too warm. Now this is how life is supposed to be. 

Piña colada... in a piña! Words cannot describe how good a simple pineapple, coconut milk, rum, and ice can be. 

Once we had had enough of sun soaking, we clambered onto a charming (by which I mean rickety) little boat with a glass bottom and headed out into the wild blue yonder. 

When we´d made it out sufficiently far, our captain dropped anchor and we abandoned ship to do some snorkeling with the fishies. 

And then we feasted! Sea bass for Megan and Lambí  (conch) salad for me. There I go again, ordering the weirdest thing on the menu. Turns out it was a winner though :)

To say Sosua is beautiful, is an understatement. It takes almost 2 hours to get there by bus from Santiago, but it´s worth every minute. Especially since the ticket to get there is only 160 pesos (4 dollars) and you get to ride in style on a spacious, comfy, air-conditioned, charter bus. Definitely time and money well spent. We returned home sun kissed, sated, and sleepy. So sleepy in fact, that it´s hard to keep my eyes open while I write this. Good night world, I hope you dream of Sosua tonight. 

On Sunday, an eclectic mix of PUCMM English teachers, Belgium French teachers, a visiting American and a native Dominican all banded together to embark upon a dangerous mission: to conquer the 27 charcos. The terrain would be  treacherous, riddled with slippery jagged rocks, deep waters, cascading waterfalls, and steep cliffs.  The path would require every iota of balance, agility, and bravery. Boundaries would be set, limits pushed, fears tested.  
Ok so I might be a "tad" over-dramatic here. Really this was just an awesome adventure in which we got to climb, jump, dive, and slide our way down a gorgeous mountain stream studded with beautiful clear pools underneath lovely little waterfalls and awesome rock formations. It couldn't have been more fun! 

Maddy and Megan

From left top: Megan, Leticia, Ana, Pierre, Molly
From left bottom: Maddy, Galvin, Deborah

Over the river and through the.... tropical rainforest., to....27 charcos we go. 

Cow on the climb

Just a little rest. Smiling is hard to do when you are breathing hard from the hike!
Did I mention it was 45 minutes up the mountain?

Finally, our first pool!

Nature-made waterslide? Oh yeah!

Jump!

Don't look down!

Work it, ladies. 

Por fin, the helmets can come off!

We made it!

We worked up an appetite on the mountainside, so we decided to head to a nearby town famous for its seafood. 

Pierre and Ana, waiting to dig into their gambas guisadas (a shrimp dish).

My dish: Cangrejo a la vinagreta (crab in vinaigrette sauce), along with a side of tostones...smashed, fried plantains. (Don´t be deceived by their appearance, plantains do NOT taste like bananas....more like thick potato chips than anything)

I´m not sure you have enough food Maddy! Pescado Frito (fried fish), ensalada (salad), and moro (a typical rice and beans dish). 

Megan with her pescado frito, tostones, and of course, el presidente.

Somebody´s hungry! Galvín earned a much deserved pescado frito and moro for negotiating down the price of our guagua (bus). 

I think Deborah made a good selection with her pescado al vapor (steamed fish). 

So let's start off with a little glimpse of my walk to school...

I don't want to mislead you, most of my walk is along a fairly nice paved street and sidewalk, there is just this one small section of dirt road. 

I'm not going to lie, I was a little hesitant about crossing that bridge at first, because it looked like I was walking into a pretty sketchy neighborhood, but honestly most of the people just smile and wave as I walk by.  In fact, I've actually started getting to know a few of the people on my typical routes (to school and around the street I live), which is pretty awesome. Dominicans are possibly the friendliest group of people you will ever encounter, plus they all seem to have this natural ability to talk your ear off. It's a very home-y atmosphere once you start getting settled in. 

On Saturday night I met up with a few friends at a street concert sponsored by "El Presidente," the most popular and widely available beer here. I couldn't tell you who was singing, but I do know that the opener was a chica singing merengue, and the closers were a rap group that apparently was doing some kind of "8 mile" style rap-off. It was free and fun. The music was electric and everyone was dancing and singing with an ice cold beer in their hand, including ourselves. But as the night wore on and our small group of very white American girls started attracting more male attention than we are generally used to getting, we decided to head home early. We wandered happily back to our cozy beds, humming the merengue tunes still stuck in our heads. 

Menicia (also a PUCMM teacher) and her "Dominican little brother" Jose

Annie, Pelumi, Menicia, Hannah, José, Jacky

Sunday rolled around promising to be a lazy day. I headed to the Hub (the hostel I stayed at when I first arrived) for an informal church service at 10:00 a.m. I met some new peace corps friends and saw some old ones. We sang and ate donuts and marveled at how lucky we were to be living in this moment. It was all quite lovely. Afterwards I strolled to the market to peruse the isles for my produce this week. I had just returned home and was settling in to do some lesson planning when the phone rang:

Alexis: Hey, we're going swimming in Jarabacoa, want to join....?
Me: I'm not sure, I kind of already had plans....
Alexis: It will be fun!
Me: Ok I'm in!

So at least you know I didn't shirk my responsibilities right off the bat and that I put up a good fight for my lesson plans....kind of....:)

One hour later we were cruising down a zippy little highway tucked in between the mountains, jamming to some lazy carribbean music with the windows rolled down, and sipping on a shared liter of Presidente (and another bottle of straight rum...but shhhh...don't mention that to my mom.)  Soon our cruise turned into a climb and our compact blue car chugged its way up through little mountain towns until we arrived at our destination: a calm pool of water at the base of breath taking waterfall.  The pictures speak for themselves. 

Rum in a cup. And no, there are no drinking and driving laws here. this is perfectly legal...that may be one way that you can tell you are in a developing country....

The lovely Alexis. She teaches English at PUCMM as well, but she's actually from Canada. 

Once we'd waded into the chilly waters and drunk enough rum (I'm told this is the real Dominican water) to make us brave, we dared crossing the pond to get closer to the cavern beside the falls. The water is deep and surprisingly swift, so you can only make it to the other side if you come in from the right angle and  swim well. I ended up accidentally swallowing a lot of river water on my swim over, but don't worry, I promptly washed it down with some rum...that should kill all the bacteria right?

When the sun finally sank too low, we towled off and hopped back into the car to hit up a popular rib joint down the side of the mountain. I didn't take any pictures because I was too busy eating! We stuffed ourselves full of ribs, and yuca, and fried plaintains, fully deserved after a day of sun and swimming. By the time I made it home it was late, and I was full and happy. I would have gladly ambled off into a dreamy sleep, but there were still lessons to plan. But what's a couple hours staying up late compared to missing out on such an adventure. I think I made the right decision :)