Christmas starts early here. I mean REALLY early. Keep in mind that Halloween and Thanksgiving are not celebrated in the D.R., so aside from a a few Saint´s days, there really are no major holidays between August and the end of December. Which means....Dominicans go through a sort of holiday withdrawal...and to make up for it....they start preparing for Christmas mid October. No joke, that´s when they start breaking out the Christmas lights and ponche (a traditional creamy rum drink, kind of like egg nog). 

I, on the other hand, have found it a bit difficult to find my Christmas spirit in this 85 degree weather. 

So, in an attempt to make myself a little merrier, I decided to attend PUCMM´s free Christmas concert. Nothing like a few Spanish Christmas carols, known as "villancicos," to put me in the Christmas mood!

Entrance to PUCMM (my university) all lit up for the holidays.

This carol is about a little Christmas tree

This is a very traditional and popular Christmas carol called "Los Peces en el Río" 
I really love this song but the lyrics just plain baffle me, Here´s the main verse:
Pero mira como beben 
los peces en el río
Pero mira como beben
por ver a Dios nacido
Beben y beben 
y vuelven a beber,
Los peces en el río 
por ver a Dios nacer.

Which roughly translates too:
Look how the fish in the river drink
Look how they drink upon seeing God born
They drink and they drink
and the return to drink again
The fish in the river upon seeing the birth of God.

Hmmm? Say what? 
Maybe there´s a Spanish speaker out there that can give me some background info on this song?

You all should know this one! 

Plus the show came complete with a live nativity scene and free hot apple cider. Ok so it was still about 80 degrees outside when I was drinking the hot cider, but what the heck, that´s pretty much sweater weather here.

Alexis and I left feeling decidedly cheery. So when I passed by a tiny little kitten lost and mewing on the side of a dangerously busy street, there was no way I could just leave her there. 
I couldn´t! 
That would be decidedly not in the spirit of Christmas. 

So without further ado, please welcome our newest addition....Noel! 
Ok ok, so I might be a bit of a bleeding heart, but come on, just look at her!
 Could you have left her? Could you?!
I think not. 
And if your answer was yes...well then...just know that Santa is watching and you are getting a lump of coal for Christmas to match your black heart :-p

Poor little thing was starving.

Luckily, Lynne, who I live with, is just as much a sucker for little lost animals as I am and was completely understanding about adding a new member to the household (at least until we can find her a loving home). 
So who needs a kitten? 

So we are wrapping up the end of the semester, and with only a few classes left and most of the grading and planning out of the way, my friend Alexis and I were feeling a little bored. 
Now we had seen the ping pong tables on campus earlier and they have been calling to us all semester from way up on the 3rd floor of the student center. The hollow "ping, ping, ping" of the little white ball tapping out a rhythm in the back of my mind every time I walked by that building. If you know me at all, you know I LOVE ping pong (and generally, I think I´m pretty decent). So without a responsibility in the world on a Tuesday afternoon, it wasn´t hard for us to decide that a little table tennis might be just the cure for our nothing-to-do blues. 
When we arrived in the ping pong room (yes there is a whole room dedicated to ping pong!) we were surpised to find that there was a class going on. The room was filled with darting students and little white balls whirring by and not a single table was open to play. I stepped inside to inquire when the class would end so that Alexis and I could come back later.
However, in typical friendly Dominican fashion, instead of sending us away the professor invited us to play along with the class! This is why I love Dominicans! 
And once most of the rest of the class had finished and gone, he even stayed longer to give us extra lessons, as he apparently noticed that we could use a few pointers (dang it, and I thought I was doing pretty good!) It seems I have been holding the paddle incorrectly my entire life. And my backhand is all wrong. And my forehand needs improvement. And I need to learn to bend my knees more.  Ok, so it looks like I may need to go back for more practice next week, lol. But you can check out part of our training session below. 

Work that forehand Alexis!

Ok so maybe you can´t call me Forrest Gump just yet....but not a bad start :)
P.S. Start practicing up Dad, I plan on claiming the Gleason Household ping pong champion title this Christmas. 

So you want to learn more....fantastic....keep reading. And if you feel like being an extra-awesome citizen of the world, or you're just bored and don't mind reading about political news stories, be sure to visit the websites highlighted in pink for more info. 

"President Medina told the public that the reform was the necessary action to take for the country which is experiencing the worst financial crisis in its history. The government is hoping to collect over one billion dollars from the reform. The reform would raise sales tax from 16 to 18 percent and increase taxes on fuel, which is already extremely high [$5.75/gallon] in the island nation. It would also increase taxes on food staples that Dominican families buy regularly."
     Forcechange

"The World Economic Forum, a Swiss outfit, ranks the country last for “government waste”. The state hires too many people for non-essential jobs—it has more diplomats in the United States than Brazil and the seven Central American countries combined—and pays them generously. The country’s central-bank president earns 32% more than Ben Bernanke of the United States’ Federal Reserve. Meanwhile, the government fails to fulfil a constitutional mandate to spend 4% of GDP on the country’s ineffective education system"
     Holapolitica

"The Dominican government is expected to end 2012 with a deficit of $4.6 billion, an amount that represents roughly 6.8 percent of the country's GDP. This budget gap is two times larger than last year's deficit."
"Szterenfeld attributes the spike in the Dominican Republic's deficit to outgoing president Lionel Fernandez who spent millions in infrastructure projects, partially aimed at "securing" his legacy." 
    ABCnews

"the president [...] has stayed silent in recent days as protests have rocked the country."
    Bigstory

The following info comes from Change.org but since this site is in Spanish, I translated what I consider to be some of the most important parts into English for you. 

Canada, one of the largest countries in the world, has 25 vice-ministers, while the Dominican Republic, a tiny country situated on an island in the middle of the sea,  maintains 334 vice-ministers in its cabinet. (vice-ministers are designated by the President to be part of his cabinet and assist him in his functions).

Recently, the Minister of Education, Josefina Pimentel, confirmed that her monthly salary was increased from $4,625 to $7,500 while the monthly salary of a teacher at a public school remains on average $250. The salaries of other employees in the Ministry of Education were also increased. 

Despite paying excessively high taxes, Dominicans must additionally pay for basic services in private institutions because the public ones are not efficient or trustworthy: 
Most children attend private schools because public education is precarious, school breakfast is of questionable quality, and in the countryside students attend "improvised" schools which the townspeople themselves construct, and to attend classes the students have to carry their books on their backs and CHAIRS on their heads. 
Dominicans use private clinics because the public ones are ill-equipped, lack supplies, and their hygiene is questionable. 
They pay for an excessively high electric service but still must buy electric plants or inverters because permanent energy is not dependable.
They pay for water service, yet it isn't even drinkable and they must buy water in large bottles or purchase filters and other means of purification. 
They pay more than 15 different taxes to possess a vehicle and up to $11.25 for a toll, yet still the public streets and roads are not well-maintained. 
They must pay for  "couriers" to bring mail and internet purchases because the Dominican Postal Institute is a myth. 

So what's the end goal of all these protests? 
Well, for starters: To put a stop to the Fiscal Reform. To bring to justice the corrupt politicians (namely ex-president Leonel Fernandez) who abused Dominican tax money to create the deficit. To eliminate the use of the Dominican budget for political campaigns. To reduce excessive government jobs provided to relatives and supporters of the leading party. And to revise and supervise pensions and salaries of government employees.

A picture speaks a thousand words...find more here

Let me finish by saying I don't usually write on political topics, so I've tried really hard to do my research on this piece, to find out as much info as I can from Dominican newspapers, online journals and websites, along with informal chats and interviews with my Dominican friends. I have tried very hard to find out both sides of the story here, and if I am misrepresenting or misinterpreting any information, please accept my sincerest apologies and feel free to share your thoughts. 

1. Your alarm clock is a rooster. 
2. Your walk to school usually involves chickens (and maybe a goat).
3. Taking public transportation runs the risk of having to sit on the lap of a complete stranger.  
4. Air-conditioning is a rare luxury. 
5. You're not allowed to drink the water from the faucet.
6. You can't flush toilet paper down the toilet because that would plug the sewage system.
7. Selling puppies on the corner is a common way to make a living. 
8. Milk is primarily sold in powdered form.  And anything less than whole milk is practically unheard of. 
9. Street dogs abound. Shelters and pounds do not. 
10. Your neighbors hire their own personal security guards just to sit outside and watch their houses all day/night long. 
11 Recycling doesn't exist, litter is common. 
12. Everyone has a drying machine...its called the sun. 

We have to call the nearest "colmado" or corner store, to deliver 2 "botellones"  (giant bottles) of water about every 2 weeks so that we have something to drink. Also, I am pretty lucky in that where I live we have this fancy water dispenser that chills our water. Most of my friends don't have this and must continually fill up pitchers to put in the fridge so that they have cold water. 

Ummm, Yummm, Milk

Poor little guy was looking for breakfast

Very effective drying system...until it rains

On Sunday we went to "el play" (that´s Dominican for a baseball game). It was supposed to be a big game. The Santiago Aguilos were playing their most-hated rivals, Licey from Santo Domingo. Which meant that the stadium was going to be packed. 
Since a group of us were going together, we decided to try to purchase tickets on Saturday to be sure that we could get seats. Only, when we went to make our purchase, we were disappointed to learn that they had all been sold out already! Scalpers had bought most all of them to resell on the streets for a higher price, completely illegal of course but nobody cares. This meant we'd just have to get their early before the game on Sunday to scalp some tickets. 
I suppose I should have known then that this would be a foreshadowing of more bad luck to come. 

In any case, things started out pretty good on Sunday. I was fairly productive in the morning, heading to a local café to do some school work and enjoying a late breakfast consisting of coffee and a cinnamon roll. I came home, continued my productivity with some laundry, and then met up with my friends at 3:30 to head to the stadium. The sun was shining, the streets were humming with happy-go-lucky fans, and the enticing smell of fried empanadas was drifting through the air. Spirits were high all around.   
After a little bit of wheeling and dealing by Galvin, our master bargainer...we snatched up some tickets and picked out our seats in the bleachers.

Look how they spelled "blichers" lol. Classic example of stealing an American word and Spanish-izing it. 

And here is where things started getting tricky.
First of all, two friends from the nearby town of Puerto Plata were coming to visit me and watch the game as well. Let's call them C and R to make it less confusing. Since they were arriving a little later, I purchased their tickets for them with the idea that they could call me when they arrived and I would bring their tickets out to them.
Little did I know that once you enter the stadium, you aren't allowed to leave. Cue the bad luck. 
So when they called to meet up with me, we ran into some problems. I couldn't leave to go find them, and it was nearly impossible to hear them on the phone inside the stadium since it was filling up with rowdy fans and obnoxious coronets (loud horns that are sold to the fans). After about 30 minutes of miscommunication, I finally convinced the gate attendee to let me exit the stadium with the promise that I would return shortly. 
Once outside I found my friends and we squeezed our way back through the crowd to our seats. 
Just as we were sitting down and settling in, it began to sprinkle. Now a little bit of sprinkling doesn't bother most people, but I swear, Dominicans think they are going to melt in the rain. Soon the crowd began making its way back inside the shelter of the stadium to escape. And then the sprinkling turned into a steady drizzle and my friends and I decided that maybe we should seek shelter as well. 
Worst. Idea. Ever.
The steady drizzle turned into a torrential downpour just as we made our way to the passageway into the inner part of the stadium. The entire bleacher section made a mad scramble for shelter, with everyone trying to fit into one small passageway all at once. I may not have mentioned this before, but Dominicans have a hard time with concept of order and lines..its every man for themselves here. This, coupled with the fear of rain made for a terrifying situation.  I soon found myself being pushed into a riot of people in front of me and crushed by a press of people behind me. Since nobody was allowed to leave the stadium, there was nowhere to go and the frantic people in the back, still trying to escape the torrential downpour, continued to push against those in the front, not understanding why the crowd wasn't moving. It was the closest thing to a mass panic that I have ever experienced. I was squeezed so tight between people that I couldn't even move my arms. I felt terror start to rise up into my throat as I struggled against the press. Thank God those in front finally pushed their way past the gatekeepers and out of the stadium. Being stuck in that crush of people was far more dangerous than any amount of rain ever could be. 
Finally we stumble outside, disoriented, and dashed for the nearest shelter. Soaking wet we made our way under a ledge of the stadium to shake off the rain, catch our breathes, and wait out the downpour. 

So here´s a visual. No, that is not the actual crowd I was stuck in....remember I couldn´t move my arms to take a picture...but this is almost exactly what it would have looked like if I could have!  (picture credits)

Passing storms are pretty common here and usually don't last too long so I tried to keep a positive attitude, afterall I was pretty thankful to be alive at this point, and since I had suffered nothing more than some wet clothes, I was still feeling pretty good. 
After a half hour of waiting though, it became apparent that this storm was staying put. Over the speaker system we heard the announcement that the game was being postponed, that was our cue to leave. 
If only it were that easy. 
It was still pouring out so C volunteered to run for the car and bring it back. 
But remember earlier how I said that there are no rules when driving in the Dominican Republic, and neither does their exist the concepts of order or creating a line? Well, now imagine you have a mountain of people trying to all drive away at the same time. Maybe you can see where I'm going with this....traffic jam.
We waited and waited for our friend to return, an hour passed by and we were still waiting.... I was starting to get hungry now...it was pushing 7:00 p.m. and I hadn't eaten anything since that cinnamon roll for breakfast. I was also starting to get cold in my soggy clothes as darkness fell. We continued waiting. I took pictures. I counted the people running through the rain. I tried to think of a happy place. We continued waiting. I remembered my laundry was on the line and was soaking wet now. Dammit. We continued waiting. 

Discarded ticket floating on the sidewalk

Some niñas playing in the rain and making the best of the situation. You have to admire their spunk. 

Waiting out the rain with friends

Finally, 8:00 p.m. rolled around and we saw our ride. We sprinted through the sheets of rain still pouring down and hopped into the car...wet and frustrated and hungry. 
C, who was driving,  was so upset with having to try to fight his way through all the traffic that he decided he didn't want anything else to do with Santiago and he was driving back to Puerto Plata that night. He dropped R and I off at R's cousin's place, since R was staying the night there. We dried off a little and called a taxi to come pick us up so we could find a place to eat. It was 9:00 p.m. when we called. 
At 9:15 we called the taxi service again. We were starving after all and wondering what was taking so long. 2 minutes said the taxi service. 
At 9:30 it was apparent that our taxi was not coming to get us so I called another taxi. 
15 minutes later he called back to say that he was lost. 
Really?
Really?!
For the love of pete!
We spent another 5 minutes directing him to our location and finally, at 9:50, we were in the taxi and on our way to food. 
I was ready to gnaw off my arm by this time. 
When I explained this to R I think I may have frightened him a little. He tucked his arms a little closer to himself. 
We decided just to head to the food court at the mall thinking that would be the easiest option. 
I was relieved once we finally arrived at the food court and even a little excited once I realized this particular food court had sushi! which isn't very common here. 
I ordered my spicy tuna roll and R headed over to Kentucky Fried Chicken for some popcorn chicken. We met back at a table in the middle to wait for our food. Mine came out in 5 minutes. It was beautiful, the most beautiful thing I have ever seen. I can't remember being sooo happy to see food. 
But R's food wasn't out yet and I couldn't start eating without him. 
We chatted a little while we waited, but I have to admit I wasn't a very good conversation partner, I was too distracted by the mouth watering sushi sitting right in front of me. So close...but so very far away. 
Finally, after another 10 minutes,  R went back to KFC to check on his order and I was left alone with my sushi, staring at me, calling to me, tempting me. 
I looked around and everybody in the food court was smiling and laughing and eating. The smell of roasting chicken and french fries was wafting through the air. My stomach grumbled unhappily.  I clenched me hands together under my chair and closed my eyes, nauseas sweeping through me: hungry, tired, wet and cold. 
I opened my eyes and there was R, smiling with his popcorn chicken. I mustered up my best smile in return, stabbed my fork into my sushi, and stuffed a way too huge piece in my mouth all at once. 
Finally....at 10:30 at night...relief. 
So what can I take away from this whole experience?
Stay away from large crowds of people when it rains, and always pack a snack. Lesson learned :)

So what´s Kompa? We´ll I´d explain it to you but it would be much easier to just check out my friend Madeleine´s blog instead, since she´s an excellent writer and photographer and I don´t think I could do a better job documenting the night than she did. So I´ll just throw up a few of my own pictures here and let you go on. 

See that beautiful girl in the middle there? That´s Maddy. This is her blog. Go check it out and find out why she is so excited. 

Often when meeting someone knew, the standard questions go something like this:
"So where are you from?"
"Illinois"
"Oh, Illinois, where is that?"
"Chicago"
"Ooooh, Chicago! Ok. And how long have you been here?"
"2 and half months"
"O really, and what have you liked most and least so far?"

And here is where I draw a blank. I stutter, stumble and splutter, my mind racing a thousand miles a minute while my tongue ties itself in knots. 
"Ummm...I like....ummm....plaintains?" I eventually stammer out, drawing strange looks from my new acquaintance, as my cheeks turn a nice rosy shade and I pathetically try to change the topic. 
The truth is, that question makes me uncomfortable. Not because I don't want to discuss my personal opinions or feelings (although I've never been the mushy, gushy, let's-talk-about-how-this-makes-us-feel type), but simply because I don't want to judge. I would like to understand the culture, and hopefully, learn from it, and that can be nearly impossible to do if I am constantly comparing it to my own ideas about how a culture should think/behave/believe. So I've made a pretty concentrated effort to simply experience the culture, and haven't taken much time to analyze it (hence the stammering and loss of words). But since it seems that most Dominicans are curious what a young American girl who uprooted herself and plopped down on their island has to think (as I get asked this question all.the.time.), and since I would like to spare myself further mortifying embarrassment, its probably time to start pinning down and organizing my thoughts on the topic. 

So, without further ado, my personal observations on Dominican culture thus far: The good, the bad, and the ugly. 
(please note that I do not wish to generalize or stereotype any aspect of Dominican culture. These are my personal observations and none holds true all the time. There are always exceptions.)

The Good
1. First of all, its a very a loving culture. People are super friendly. Everyone (your waitress, the cashier, the random person you ask for directions on the street) calls you "my love", "precious", "beautiful," "my queen," "princess." These are just not names we use with strangers in the U.S.  In fact, I would probably laugh at any man or woman who called me "princess" in the States.  But here I find it endearing. Who doesn't want to hear themselves be called beautiful every day after all? And I can't walk to school without being greeted by at least 10 different people. I've even started getting to know a few of the regulars along my path. Not to mention, everyone is always blessing me. Literally. Its apparently common to say "Qué Dios le bendiga" (May God bless you) as you are passing by someone on the street, which I find to be an especially nice sentiment. 

2. Dominican culture is also big on "touch."  When you meet someone, male or female, you greet them with a warm embrace and a kiss on the cheek. And if there is a group of people, you greet each and every one in this manner. So much more heartwarming than our "spacious" (sometimes even "indifferent") American culture where a simple wave and hello is sufficient. One Dominican friend even described this aspect of American culture as being "fría" or "cold."  It makes you feel kind of special when someone takes the time to greet you personally. And in conversations, the other speaker is consistently touching you: your arm, your shoulder, your hand, just to see that you are still with them and still understanding. It can be nice, kind of like a little check-in, just to say "hey, am I getting through to you", or  "hey, you still doing ok?"  

3. Its a very open culture. In general, people are not shy about sharing their emotions or telling it like it is. Not to mention they are a pretty chatty people. I haven't met a Dominican yet who couldn't talk my ear off about nothing, s(I'm pretty sure all Dominicans were born with both the innate ability to dance like salsa experts and the gift to gab). Nobody worries about "political correctness" here. If you are thin, you are going to be called "flaca," if you are fat, "gordita", if you are black "negrita" if you are white "blanquita", and these terms are not deemed offensive, they are just the truth. Its also open in the sense that people you just met often have no qualms about revealing personal details about their lives. Dominicans, it seems, simply feel the need to express their emotions. And often, that expression can be very animated. Take for instance a Dominican baseball game, you would think that a base hit was a home run. But this doesn't just happen on base hits, this happens nearly every single play. The amount of yelling and jumping is insane and the atmosphere is electric. Can Dominicans be a little over-dramatic? yes. But sometimes life is more entertaining that way.

Here´s a photo from an Aguilas baseball game. The Aguilas are Santiago´s home team and fans are called "Aguiluchos."  Its probably safe to say I´m now an Aguilucha since I´ll be headed to my 3rd game this week! And for all you baseball fans back home, Manny Ramirez is playing with the Aguilas this season, which is kind of a big deal. 

The Bad
4.  It can be a very superficial culture. Money and appearance count for a lot here.  When you walk out your door in the morning, you should be looking your best. Sweat pants to school? Unheard of. When you go out at night, its to see and be seen. If you've got money, flaunt it. That seems to be the name of the game here. And if you don´t appear affluent (wear the right clothes, drive the right car), well, you will be judged. Just the other night I went to a bar wearing flip flips and quickly realized that there was no way they were going to let me in since I wasn´t dressed to impress (this wasn´t a night club, mind you, it was just a bar.) One of my guy friends who drives a motorcycle commented that he had trouble with Dominican women because he didn´t own a car (even though he was perfectly capable of purchasing one). Here in the D.R., a motorcycle is a form of transportation for those of a lower class who can´t afford to buy an automobile. This also explains why a rich older man can have a 20-something girl on his arm and nobody thinks anything of it.  Money= Desire and Money= Power. I suppose this aspect of Dominican culture probably is not that much different from certain parts of the U.S., but maybe I'm just more aware of the way money is treated here because I don't have any! 

The Ugly
5. On the downside, the culture can be very critical. There may come a point when you realize that all of the niceties are a mere formality; a point when you understand that sometimes, there is no meaning behind the words, no love behind the gestures. That really, you are constantly being evaluated- the way you look, the way you dress, the way you behave. True acceptance is hard to come by. And those things you thought were signs of caring earlier, may really just be a front, an easy way to disguise one's true feelings. It can make for a society that, at times, feels very two-faced. Making it much easier to be deceiving, and all that much harder to differentiate who truly cares about you, and who is just pretending.  You have to be careful. 


"Test all things; hold fast that which is good" one of my favorite quotes and one that I certainly try to apply while living here. Dominican culture, like all cultures throughout the world, has its good and bad aspects. I just want to find the good and hold onto it.  
So don't be surprised when you see me back in the States and I greet you with two kisses on the cheek ;)

So we were talking about humor in class the other day, and one of the students' assignments was to think about what the English language would be like if we had genderized nouns (male and female nouns, as in Spanish.) They were supposed to choose an English noun and tell us whether it should be male or female, and why. You might imagine that they came up with some good stuff:

Window seat: male, because all the good ones are taken. 
Public telephone: male, there´s a lot of them around, but they aren´t very useful anymore. 
Hour glass: female, because over time all the weight shifts to the bottom.

Pretty good, right?

But one girl's comment so accurately encapsulated one aspect of Dominican culture between males and females, that I have to share it with you. The noun is "gum", and according to the student, "gum should be male, because the more you step on it, the more it sticks to you." 
Hmmmm? You don´t understand? That´s ok, your American, it´s not your fault. Let me explain. 
Dominican culture, for better or worse, is very macho. It´s a male dominated society and that plays a huge role in the way that men and women think and behave. For example,  In most parts its completely acceptable  for men to compliment and/or cat-call a woman walking down the street. It may also be acceptable for a 50-something man to hit on a 20-something girl at a bar, and if he´s rich, its even likely that he may succeed! And just the other day I discovered its also the norm for a college age males to date a high-school girl under the age of 18.  What? That´s statuatory rape in the U.S. All I know is that if I had a high-school-age daughter, no way in hell would she date a boy in college. Not sure where this maternal instinct for an imaginary daughter is all the sudden coming from.
But anyways, back to the joke: once a man sets his sights on you, it becomes his mission to make you his. He becomes extremely persistent, whether you want his attention or not.  This is perhaps why Dominican males are so "romantic", doing or saying anything to woo you. They are extremely open with their emotions and if they are interested in you, they will make it very clear. So much different from my experiences with American culture in which boys are so wishy-washy about their feelings, or try to play it cool all the time. But by the same token, Dominican females have become immune to this consistent "woo-ing." In fact, they can be flat out mean to their male suitors. And here in lies a fundamental difference between U.S. culture and Dominican culture. When a woman says "no" in the U.S., men generally take her at her word and leave her alone. When a woman says "no" in the D.R., does that deter the Dominican male? Nope, it just means he is going to try all that much harder to win you over. "The more you step on him, the more he sticks to you."  At first I thought this sentiment (although meant to be funny) was rather cruel. How could Dominican women be so harsh to these poor Dominican boys who seemed madly in love with them. I mean, it seems kind of sweet that a guy could be so in love with you that he won´t give up until he has made you realize that he is perfect for you. And maybe that is the case sometimes, but one of my female students gave me what might be a more accurate explanation:  Dominican men just can´t accept that you don´t like them. Believing that you might not be interested in them would be a serious blow to their machismo pride, so they choose to ignore it.  Interestingly enough, none of the males in the class argued the point with her. 

Knowing this, I suppose, has kind of changed my outlook on how to handle male attention here. 

Being a young American woman, I´ve received my fair share of Dominican male attention. Having fair skin here is generally considered attractive and maybe even a little exotic. Not to mention I carry around with me the stereotype that all American women are loose. That combination makes me a prime suspect for wandering male eyes. I´ve had more guys ask me for my number here in 2 months than in the 25 years I lived in the U.S.! The museum security guard,  the boy who tried to sell me pineapples, the young guy whose barbershop I walk past every day. I´ve even been stopped twice by men driving by in cars as I walk home from school. They pull up to me and start having a conversation as I walk along!  
 
"So how are you finding the male attention?" A peace corp friend asked the other day.
"Frequent." I responded laughing.
"And how have you been managing?"
"Pretty well I think."

That may be because about 90% of the conversations I have with males here are just to practice my Spanish. Terrible, I know. But it wasn´t always like that. When I first arrived I talked to men to be nice, because I didn´t want to appear mean by ending the conversation or walking away. Now that I´ve been here a while though, things have changed. Last night I went out to jazz night at a bar with a friend and the old man sitting next to me started chatting me up. He immediately slipped me his card, pointing out his phone number. I obviously wasn´t interested (really I was a little disgusted), but the whole time I was talking with him, I was thinking, "Yes!, this is the perfect opportunity to practice using my ´Usted´ form!" (That´s the formal form in Spanish that is used to show respect, often with people older than you or people you don`t know well)
Was I shamelessly using him? Yes. Do I feel bad about it. Not really. Afterall, I didn´t start the conversation and I´m sure he expected to shamelessly use me as well. 

So does this mean that all Dominican men are macho and egotistical? Of course not! It´s important to point out that I know many upstanding, hardworking, intelligent Dominican men. I definitely do not want to generalize or stereotype in the way that I am sometimes generalized and stereotyped. I just want to share some of my own personal experiences. 

In summary, I could choose to be frustrated at the way I am sometimes stereotyped or the way that women are sometimes objectified here, and sometimes I am, but ultimately I prefer just to take the compliments and the conversations and use them to my advantage: let the compliments make me feel good and use the conversations to help me with my goal of fluency in Spanish. "If you can´t beat em´, join em´" And if somewhere in there, the conversation turns out to be pretty good, well, great, you never know where a good conversation can lead. But for right now, I am perfectly content with where I am. 

So, finishing thoughts...I received about 7 compliments on the way home from school today. That´s a little more than usual. I am feeling pretty good :D

So this week I´ve done a lot of eating. The good kind of eating, you know, the kind where you get to enjoy amazing food and good company together, and afterwards, the only thing you feel is happiness. And it all started with Ananás. Ananás is student-run restaurant at my university. Really, its a brilliant idea: the Culinary students get to practice their skills in a real-life restaurant setting and the Tourism and Business Management students get to practice managing a real business in the service industry, plus the students get paid to do work that pertains to their major, and everybody else gets to enjoy their amazing 4-star quality upscale Dominican food for a lovely 2-star restaurant price. Its win-win-win. 

We started off our girls´ night with a complimentary round of champaigne. 

Salud!

Next came the appetizer round. The pear and blue cheese salad was killer. 

And then the main dish. Sofía and I both ordered the chicken ravioli with pumpkin parmesan sauce and spinach pesto. 

Maddy opted for the roasted pork with caramelized apples and mashed potatoes; Sydney the Dorado (fish) filet with coconut curried rice. 

And next came the best part: dessert!

Ójala que llueve: Coffee flan

Brazo de Gitano: A swiss role with guanabana and sweet tomato filling. Definitely unique.

Pasion Chocolate: A chocolate cake with a hint of chinola. 

We spent the evening sharing each other´s meals, stealing morsels off whatever dish looked most tempting, giggling about Dominican men, and raving about how each bite was better than the last.   
The waitress brought out an after dinner aperitif, coffee liquor, and we ended the night with another toast: good food and good friends. 

Students working hard to feed us!

On Sunday I was invited to a friends house to make sancocho. Now let me explain something to you about sancocho, it is the epitamy of Dominican food. If you ask any Dominican what their favorite dish is, 9 times out of 10, they are going to tell you sancocho (mofongo or yarao possibly being the alternate answer). Its a hearty stew made with just about everything you can find: yucca, cebolla (onion), papa (potato), yame (Dominican sweet potato), platano verde (plaintatin), auyama, yautia, apio (celery), cilantro, zanahorria (carrot), naranja agria (bitter orange), aguacate (avocado), and of course a healthy amount of chopped bone-in, skin-on chicken, pork, and sausage. 
Making sancocho is often a group effort, and everybody brings a few ingredients to contribute. 

Serve it up along with white rice, ice cold beer or soda, ad some swaying bachata music, and you have yourself the perfect Sunday afternoon. 

Anne is learning how to mash the garlic with a mortar and pestle. 

All the ingredients in, now all we have to do is wait! Good thing Galvín built this awesome speaker system entirely by himself from scratch, and completely out of recycled materials. Words cannot even describe how impressive and resourceful this is. Now we can listen to our bachata in true Dominican fashion: loud. 

And speaking of bachata, here´s a little somethin´ somethin´ courtesy of Juan Luis Guerra. This song is called "Ójala que Llueve Café" which translates to "I hope it rains coffee." It´s probably one of the most famous bachata songs of all time. Just put this song on while you look at the next set of pictures and imagine the smell of  roasted chicken wafting through the house; it will be almost like you are there with me :)

That face says it all

While discussing our upcoming beach vacation to Cabarete, a good friend of mine told me that her idea of the perfect day consisted of spending time with a group of compatible people, in stations. 
Stations?
Yes, Stations.
Please explain.
Each person can move freely amongst the stations at will, without feeling obligated to spend time at any particular station or with any particular person; merely enjoying the stationed activity and the company of the people that also chose to participate in that station, and changing stations at your own leisure. 

Intriguing. Now I have to say that this thought had never occurred to me before, but the more I thought about it, the more it appealed to me. And so upon our arrival in Cabarete, I found myself consciously trying to set up the stations that my friend and I had discussed. 

First off let me explain though, this weekend was a three day weekend since there was a Dominican holiday on Monday. Coincidentally, the beach town of Cabarete decided to host a jazz festival for Saturday and Sunday night. So it wasn't really tough to decide how we were going to spend our long weekend: beach, sun, and good music,  who could say no?  A group of 8 of us rented 2 rooms in a cheaply priced hotel and split in on food. It was definitely "La vie boheme" for the weekend, but that made it all the much more fun. 
We arrived in Cabarete Saturday evening, ate our thrifty dinner of ham and cheese sandwiches accompanied by rum and juice cocktails, and began our journey along the beach to the jazz festival (our hotel was situated about a quarter mile walk from the jazz tent). Of course though, as soon as we had made it about half way to our destination, it began to drizzle. And that drizzle soon turned into a steady pour. We sprinted for shelter under the nearest cabana to wait out the rain. 

Trying to stay dry

Rain, rain, go away. 
After waiting about 15 minutes, with jazz music taunting us from a distance,  and serious talk being tossed around about just giving up and taking a dip in the ocean (we were already soaked), the rain finally began to ease up. Notice I said ease up, not stop. At this point, a few wandered back home, deeming tomorrow a more worthy night for celebration, and a few of us (those who had drank more rum and juice cocktails) continued on, making a mad dash for the nearest night club and hurling ourselves inside out of the rain.  By this time, the jazz festival tent had also given up due to the inclement weather, but the night clubs (having real roofs), were getting into full swing.  We danced ourselves dry into the wee small hours of the morning. And despite the rain, the night was awesome. Maybe even because of it. Nothing like dancing in the rain to make you throw away all cares in the world.

Galvin looks like he is getting ready to attack, lol, not sure what´s going on this picture, but apparently nobody was ready. Gotta love those candid pics.

We blinked into life the next morning around 11:30 a.m. (I think the sound of a falling mango crashing onto our rooftop from the rain is what actually woke me up). The rain continued to drizzle steadily, and although this wasn't ideal, we were determined to make the best of it. So after some grocery shopping and a little lounging,  we headed poolside. Let the life-in-stations begin! 
At our previous discussion, Maddy and I decided that for the purpose of a perfect day in Cabarete, the stations would need to include: Reading, Swimming Pool, Cards, Beach Volleyball, Playing in the Ocean, Food and Beverage Consumption

Station 1: The Swimming Pool
Swimming in the rain, oh swimming in the rain, what a glorious feeling, la la la...(I forget the rest of the words to that tune....but I bet it gets stuck in your head now!)

Ok, so it was about this time that things started looking a little dreary again. Our little group disbanned and went our separate ways in search of Station 3 (Food and Beverage Consumption) once again.  That's the beautiful thing about stations, you can just move freely from one back to the other without rhyme or reason. 

We reconveined later that night just to find out that Maddy and Dominique had tried to rob the grocery store in search of food!

Ok so that didn't really happen.
But come on, that picture was pretty awesome. 
I mean, this is a real gun we are talking about here people. 
Ok, so I should probably explain to the folks back home that this is not uncommon, to see watch men walking around with loaded rifles (They are called "watchimen" in Spanish, haha, no joke. Best translation ever.) Lots of businesses and people with wealthy homes hire them out to stand guard for the night. Its a pretty intimidating security system, but apparently quite effective. Even the University where I work has armed guards walking around daily. 
Anywho, what really happened is that we walked by this guy on our way back to the jazz festival that night and couldn't resist asking for a picture. So there you have it, the boring truth. The night might have a been a lot more awesome  if that first story had really happened. 
As it turns out though, it still ended up being pretty great anyway. 

We made it to the jazz festival to enjoy some sweet tunes

And when the jazz music died away, we tore up the discoteca floor dancing to techno and merengue remixes...

 It ended up being another late night for me, but no worries, the only thing I had planned for the next day, aside from a strong cup of coffee, were more stations, including one of my personal favorites:
Station 6: Reading

Mmmmhhh, a night of dancing with coffee and a good book in the morning. Perfection.

We ended our mini vacation with a trip back to the beach (for more of Stations 4 and 5 of course!) 

The sun was finally shining today!

We even added a station. Station 7: Bath time. 
We suddsed up in the ocean like good little bohemians. 

The icing on the cake? Maddy and I caught a motoconcho ride back to the bus station to head back to Santiago.

Unfortunately, my motoconcho driver was not super on top of his game, and we ran out of fuel on the way. Extremely fortunately, we ran out of fuel just a block away from a gas station, so he didn't have to walk the bike that far. All part of the adventure here!

So my final suggestion to you, try life in stations for yourself! Note: Beach and good friends not included (but highly recommended :)




P.S.to worried friends and relatives:  It is important to note that motoconchos are a very common and often-used form of transportation here in the Dominican Republic, and in fact, sometimes they are the most convenient.  But the use of helmets by motoconcho drivers and passengers simply does not exist. It was not by choice that I did not wear a helmet, the motoconcho just happened to be the most readily available form of transportation this day and there were no helmets to be found.