oh holy night

(photo taken in Santo Domingo. Check out the bald angel!)

Happy Noche Buena to all. Noche Buena, good night, is the big thing here. The 24th of December. Leading up to today, many-a-pigs were fattened, houses painted and apples imported from America.

One of you (my loyal readers) lamented about the crazy American holiday season and remarked that you were sure that my experience here was much different and that the people (Dominicans) remember the REAL meaning of Christmas.

BUUUUENO

*in training, another PCV taught me that buuuuuuueno is a good word to use when you don't really want to say much more about the subject or something was said that is far from the truth.

So back to Noche Buena. Mom's in town, so we took her to the barrio for the afternoon. With a house full of the regulars-- muchachos & guys our age, different visitors stopped by, bringing gifts of food-- a fried hunk of pig, spaghetti, a special bread sold only at Christmas, a half an apple, a few grapes, a few gum drops, some chicken. I meanwhile made brownies in order to have something to share. An unknown treat here that, unlike most American foods I cook, people always love.

Sitting on the receiving end of gifts of food was quite special. (And in reality, I am almost always on the receiving end in this country!)

The Pig: Pig's the big thing to eat for Christmas. There's been quite a buzz the past few weeks as people have been fattenin' 'em up for the big day. I often heard that "eso es para el 24" (that one's for the 24th)!(un) Fortunately, we missed the mass killing, as we were busy enjoying the Punta Cana beach, kayaks, catamaran and pool.

The House Paint: Don't ask me, people just like to repaint the outside of their houses for Christmas. A woman I was visiting with told me she hates Christmas this year because she doesn't have the money to repaint her house.

Apples: In a world of locally grown pineapple, passionfruit, melon, oranges, mangos, papaya, bananas, and ton of other amazing tropical fruits you've never heard of, people get REALLY excited about red delicious apples imported from America, that have often sat in a cardbaord box or the sun for a day or two too long. They're more expensive than the other fruits, but coveted, especially this time of year. Fruit stands all over hang them decorativly by the stem and people by them for Noche Buena.

I share these tidbits of what I have seen of a Dominican Noche Buena with you with hopes that you realize that I am just pulling out what seems noteworthy & odd. I love this place, I love these people and I appreciate their traditions, but at the same time, I laugh too. Some things seem bizarre to me, and those are what I have highlighted here. I could have just as easily spent my words on how this entire month (and especially today & tomorrow) is about being with family, enjoying life, making things beautiful and eating good food. When it's put that way, we don't seem that different.

After several hours in our barrio, we moved onto visit Maria, the town mayor, whom I lived with for 3 months. She brought us into her formal living room and treated us like special guests. The party was hopping with about 30 people, complete with ear-blowing music, flowing alcohol, 2 pigs cooked on a spit and that oh-so-special Christmas bread. Maria's 80 year-old father begged me to eat a piece of pig, then gave us all a cheap, sweet red wine that most everyone seemed to be drunk on. Mom danced a few merengues, then we ate more pig (ok, I didn't. I don't eat pig here) & spaghetti and received gifts of apples.

Now we're back at Punta Cana with a pineapple that we've converted into a Christmas tree, carols over the internet and bathing suits drying in preparation for tomorrow.

Si, es una noche buena.

my world

I live in a dream world, maybe a cartoon. It's so rich, so bright, so full, so big that it's hard to document.

I saw a duck beating up on a dog a few weeks ago.

I worked with folks to host a fishermen's exchange-- bringing together fishermen from other parts of the Caribeean to meet the guys I work with. My guys had never met other fishermen. I had yet to recognize how much of the world my newly-aquired (aquiring) Spanish opens to me.

I was a superhero. I helped with a coral gardening project. A successful attempt to keep an endagered coral alive. I felt like a superhero- fighting against the current to plant little coral cuttings into the dead reef.

My hammock is used often.

My house is always filled with small children bringing me gifts of plants for my backyard, a sour orange to eat or juice their mom made.

Somehow I am gaining professional experience here too. Between the hammock & the beach, I write grants and help negotiate between a fishers community and a multi-billion dollar company.

I share my day-to-day with my best friend and love of my life. We learn Spanish together, pop homemade popcorn, cook banana pancakes, explore and recall what life was like with a 40 hour work week.

I paint murals. I dug deep and found my inner artist. Ok, actually, I coordinate. The community paints. But I still had to overcome a crazy fear of art and paint.

A grocery store line can take 30 minutes because for fun, the cashier examines everything.

I deal in a currency (pesos) that I'm still not used to. I flip out at a $1000 grocery bill (USD$30)

My friends are named Chito and Reyito. Chito looks a lot like a street thug ... bling'd out and pants low with a cool motorcycle, but he's my best Dominican friend.

Avocadoes are the size of ... I don't know ... they're huge. And cheap. And I eat them a lot.

Ya.

my fav DR pix thus far

halloween fun

Thanks to my friend Judy's birthday, we had an excuse to throw a PCV Halloween Party in StoDgo. Although I had other plans for a costume, learning that Judy was going to be a bee and then finding some fabulous carbdoard trash on the side of the road, led me to become a honeycomb for the event. Two pieces of string, some cutting and a headband, and whaaalah! Instant costume!

Travis sported his "Nurse Shark" digs quite well.

On Halloween evening I realized I had done nothing at home to celebrate, so using the basin we normally use for dish washing, I created a jack-o-lantern. Recycled trash bags become a spider, and my mosquitero was my green blob costume that I used (with sound effects and lights off) to greet an unexpecting Trav when he arrived home.

I also used Halloween as an excuse to buy one of our favorite colmado treats--MasMas. A MasMas is 12 pesos of milk chocolate and usually a raisin or 2-- and sometimes even a peanut.

My muchachos were disappointed that the spider wasn't a pinata, but otherwise it was a great time.

Mural Painting

In Peace Corps training we were taught how to direct the painting of a mural. If you look back on my older posts, you'll see a picture of a water cycle mural that I did with another volunteer. After that experience of teaching kids how to use a paint brush, cleaning spilled paint, and dealing with general chaos, I swore to never do another. Never say never.

When I began brainstorming with folks from the UM project that I help with on ideas for environmental education in the schools related to coastal ecosystems, it seemed perfect to suggest a mural. Then somehow I took responsibility for it. And then somehow 20' x 8' sounded like a good idea, instead of the 4' x 4' murals we did in training.

Fearful and with a brush & pencil in hand, I pieced together drawings and pictures, and with the help of local artists, 2 murals have been created thus far, and more to come.

Each mural takes about a week. They were painted almost entirely by school kids.

This experience has been incredibly rewarding---it's fun to give kids an opportunity to do something they've never done before, it's something that will last for years, and it's a chance to teach about each thing we're painting. As you see from the 2 murals below, the idea was to teach about how coastal ecosystems are interrelated--hence the mangroves, sea grasses, beach and coral reef.

I love that together, we've created something beautiful (& educational) that will last. I'm also proud because I've conquered my fear of paint & artistic projects. No, I can't draw and paint an entire mural, but I can organize people to!

(will post a completed pix one of this ASAP)

Super Mario Kart

Alright, so I realize that there are MUCH greater priorities in development that I could focus on here, but sometimes those weigh me down a bit. So here's how you can help: some muchachos that I live and work near have a Nintendo 64 and Super Mario Kart (beepbeep!). We thoroughly enjoy it, but there's only one problem--there are only 2 controllers and both and on the edge of breaking. Soooo... here's the all call: Anybody have any old N64 controllers you could send my way? 1, 2, 3 , or 4 would be appreciated and used more than you can imagine.

Beep!beep!

PIX UPDATE

go to the link on the right side of this blog. new albums have been added. enjoy. (and gimme a comment or something people...)

God, Jesus, Yogurt and Care Packages

So the latest rumor regarding the mail system is that due to the highly religious nature of this society, drawing crosses and writing phrases such as "Dios te Bendiga" (God Bless You) or "Jesus Te Ama" (Jesus Loves You) on care packages often ensures their eventual delivery -- and sometimes even quicker delivery! So there ya go, even more incentive to send packages of love.
Just a reminder, use the address on the right side of this web page, send only padded envelopes or letter (not boxes) and always mark the value under $20.
What's that? A wishlist ... sure!
dark chocolates-- individually wrapped
twizzlers
kashi granola bars
seasoning mixes for thai, indian, and other fun foods
dehydrated miso soup
pictures
tootsie roll pops
holiday decor
recipes
newspaper and magazine articles of interest
music and movies
surprises :)
I mentioned God, Jesus, and Care Packages, but still haven't written about the promised "Yogurt". What's yogurt got to do with the aforementioned? A lot actually. There is a brand of yogurt here that has a picture of Jesus on the front and a friendly "Jesus Te Ama". So the question I have is this: How great of a marketing tool is it to put Jesus's face on a bottle of well... anything ... in a culture that has quite an affinity for Jesus? I wonder what would happen if you put the face of Jesus on a care package?

updates ... por fin

How about a simple picture narrative of the past few months interspersed with little stories? Please excuse my slacking on the blog. Although change and weirdness is constant here, I am finding that I am much more “acustumbrada” (accustomed) to most things Dominican, and forget that you might enjoy reading about them. I’ll get back on the blog.

Llegó Travis! (Travis arrived) This pix is from his first day here—he pirated the sunglasses that I found on the beach, as his Midwestern eyes couldn’t handle the Caribbean sun.

Peace Corps Eco-Tourism Workshop—a weekend in the Cibao for sometimes-long workshops, a hike, zip line, a donkey that we enjoyed visiting with, and discussions about community-based eco-tourism. I must admit that prior to living here I had never spent much time considering the impacts of mass tourism. This experience has changed forever how I view resorts and tourism. When not developed with the community, tourism often exploits both natural and human resources. I see a lot of that here and it is a shame. On a positive note, there are several groups working in country to explore more sustainable tourism—including community guide groups and funding for small businesses that will bring tourists out of the resorts and into the community. I was able to meet a few weeks ago with folks from one of USAID’s newest international programs. It is called the Global Sustainable Tourism Alliance and the idea is that the community is integrated into the tourism market and that both the resorts and local community benefits from the Euros & dollars that enter here.

Environmental Ed in the schools—working with the Punta Cana Ecological Foundation and the University of Miami, I have begun helping with an environmental ed campaign. The pilot program includes three schools. We’ve completed the first and are on number two. The modules that I helped design include 8 sessions related to marine ecology—mangroves, sea grass, coral reefs—and human impacts on them. Part of the program includes painting a mural. Somehow in my ambitiousness, I chose a 20 x 8 foot mural – but it turned out great – the kids did most of the painting and an artist I know helped me design and draw it. In the last week we took the kids on a field trip to the National Park of the East to see caves, snorkel and enjoy the playa. A few girls and I spent our beach time collecting sea glass. =
Visiting Betsy—my friend Betsy lives in a campo a few hours from here, so Travis and I ventured out one weekend to visit her. The campo is a small town situated with mountains all around. There was a beautiful river to visit, 1 peso mini-bananas to gorge on, and tons & tons of free avocados. In our 24 hours with Betsy we made scrambled egg & avocado, avocado & cheese sandwiches, and pasta with avocado & tomato. It was cool to see what her life is like—showering outdoors, working in an internet center, and teaching the obligatory English classes.

novios

Being white, American and female in the Dominican Republic can be quite interesting. Walking down the street, riding a bus, visiting a government office, passing through a security gate, attending a meeting, or just sitting in front of my house exposes me to never-ending piropos, or pick up lines, blown kisses, requests to be my novio, or boyfriend, and marriage proposals.

I have days where the constant come-ons are entertaining. The piropos can be quite clever: Cuantos curves y yo sin frenas. -- How many curves and I´m without brakes. But most often they are simply hisses, ¨hola mami¨, and ¨I love you.¨

I do my best to ignore the hissing and calling. But there are the days where the guy trying for my attention receives an earful of my grammatically incorrect angry Spanish where I try to convey that I think he is obnoxious, that I have no idea why I would ever consider dating a rude guy who hangs out on the street calling to women, that being white is not better, and that he is the 65th guy to want me that day.

All that said, I would like to introduce you to a few of my suitors:

Gabriel -- A neighbor of mine, and in fact one of my first friends.
Gabby lives with his mom and brother and attends a primary school. He has told me various ages for himself, always older than he is, but I finally found out that he just turned 14. (!) Gabby used to take me around to introduce me to people, we´d go jogging together or watch Spanish movies. Several times Gabby has asked me to be is girlfriend and argues with me when I reject him. He explains that he is very mature for his age and it doesn´t matter how old I am. He apparently told his family that he WILL marry me one day.

Novio -- Old creepy guy from the corner store whose name I don´t know.
I cannot avoid passing the little colmado on the corner of my street. I pass it at least four times a day and am there almost daily to buy something. The owner of the place has a younger guy to do most of the work, but he sits out there from about 7:30 a.m. til 9:00 p.m. For my first few weeks in my house I cringed every time I had to go near him. He always had a piropo for me and constantly spoke of marrying me, getting himself a visa to America. Although maybe it seems silly, I found myself constantly upset by this man. He bothered me and I felt like I couldn´t fix the situation. That is until one day I found a solution. Anytime I passed him I would say ¨Good morning, afternoon, evening NOVIO¨. I simply call him my boyfriend, he calls me his girlfriend, and that´s that. I think he is so amused with the whole thing, as well as the reactions of others, that he doesn´t have time to make rude comments to me. We laugh together, I buy my egg or bread, and all is well in the world.

Travis – best friend of mine who has been living in Jacksonville
(Travis will be joining me in the Dominican Republic on September 9 to work as an English teacher, learn Spanish, and adventure together.)
On my very brief visit home, he took me to a place that we had been once before—about 4 and half years ago. At that place over 4 years ago we talked for hours and my life was never the same. I had fallen in love. And this time on our visit, after a picnic lunch and much reminiscing, Travis read me a beautiful letter, presented me with my Grandmother´s engagement ring, and asked me to join him in marriage. (I said yes)!!

Hurricane Dean

My brother flew into Santo Domingo and we began our jam packed 7-day itinerary, which included a visit to my CBT host family in Los Cocos, the climbing of all 27 charcos (waterfalls) in Imbert and visiting Nuna´s cigar factory for lessons. I had heard that there was a hurricane brewing in the Caribbean and that Peace Corps had asked that we tend our cell phones carefully so as to receive any urgent messages. On that same day, Rob and I passed through Santo Domingo on our way back to my site. On a whim, we popped into the Peace Corps office to check email and the hurricane. After walking in the door I learned that Peace Corps had decided that if you happened to be in the Capital on that day, you must stay because they were probably going to consolidate the next day (which they did). Consolidation entails calling in all volunteers from various regions to a safe house, in case of the hurricane. So, frustrated that we were ¨stuck¨ in Sto Dgo, and with bottles of rum in tow, we headed to the designated safe house.
This safe house turned out to be a 4 Star hotel, complete with casino and white terry cloth robes. Although we were not happy to be without the freedom to travel and see things (more so Rob than me), we made the best of 3 days in the hotel… buffet meals, hot showers and cable. Unaccustomed to air conditioning, many of us were cold and so wandered the hotel in our robes! We watched the Illinois Democratic Debates and applauded when Sen. Chris Dodd mentioned Peace Corps affect on his life (Dodd served in the Dominican Republic).
The category 4 hurricane that passed directly near the island left hardly any evidence of its passing. We saw drizzles and a tiny bit of wind. Apparently it was a ¨dry¨ hurricane, meaning that its bands hardly had power or rain. All joking aside about the hotel and our hurricane party, I am so glad that Dean didn´t do much damage. I have been working on a Disaster Mitigation Committee in my community, and it is quite obvious that in the case of something strong, the results would be terrible. When I finally made it back to my site, I found how many friends of mine had prepared for the hurricane--they had used rope to tie their wood & zinc roof down, just hoping it wouldn´t fly away.

camping on the beach with barrio kids, an experience I won't forget

One of the Presidents of the Juntos de Vecinos (neighborhood groups) that I work with has an amazing heart and energy that never tires. Hence, he organizes annual camps for kids from his barrio--really poor kids that never go anywhere or do much of anything. He does this without any formal funding--just solicits donations from anyone and everyone in order to have sufficient food. Tents were borrowed from his church and some women came along to do all the cooking.

This year, the camp was to take place in Macao, the closest beach to us that Dominicans still have access to. I offered to help, excited for the opportunity to camp on the beach and organize activities to teach kids about the environment, and especially coastal areas. I enthusiastically planned crafts and games, bought art supplies and packed my hammock for four days of beach and camping. What could be better?!? Well...

-30 kids, age 4-15, never been camping before, and growing up in a rough barrio with often teenage parents, hence do not receive a lot of attention

-SAND! SAND! SAND! in my hair, my food, my pillow, my ears

-bugs--mosquitos and some tiny thing that doesn't respond to repellent and hurts & itches more than mosquitoes

-clinginess-these kids all cuddled with me at all times--sounds cute, but not in the heat, hence I "slept" in my hammock with the bugs

I could carry on about the so-called challenges of this camp, but the truth is that although I was so tired, dirty and sometimes frustrated, it was wonderful! The kids who hardly ever go anywhere had a chance to play in the water for hours, examine crabs and shells, listen to my charlas about self-esteem and environment, play games that involved pretending they were lobsters, paint, build sand castles, eat marshmellows, and stare at the stars.

There was a moment at dusk when some kids and I were walking on the beach and one of them asked me how old I was. 25, I responded ... thinking about how I used to dream about my mid-20's--hoping that I would be doing something really cool. I am doing something cool -- a gorgeous beach, speaking Spanish, trying to share my love of the environment with kids ...

PLEASE check out the pix from our trip! http://picasaweb.google.com/colleengatliff/20078BeachCampingInMacao

this is for real

So for the first 3 months we were just trainees. Nervous kids stumbling through Spanish and scared of public transportation. People told us where to be and when. We pointed out people carrying chickens under their arms, cringed at new starchy roots for dinner and had to reference a map when someone told us they were from San Juan de la Maguana.

We graduated… it was exciting, we felt accomplished and proud to be PCVs. We’d passed minimal conversational Spanish, survived CBT, built friendships, and even wore our Peace Corps DR pin for a day or two.

Then we ventured to our sites. We took full advantage of our cell phone “flota” as a social support network, learned to count ants on a wall, and drank endless cups of coffee while getting to know our new neighbors. All of this coffee drinking was supposed to have a purpose—we were conducting community diagnostics. Peace Corps tells us that we are not to begin any projects in the first 3 months—just do your diagnostic. So, it was a fantastic excuse for what often felt like aimless wandering and chatting.

Well, I wrote up a diagnostic and then went to Santiago with a friend from my site, Kassiel, to present it at the Peace Corps 3 month IST (In Service Training). All the PCVs presented our diagnostics to each other and sat through workshops on project planning and grant writing. Kassiel then left to return to Veron and our entire group of 31 went to a retreat center in the mountains for 5 days of training, relaxing and idea sharing. I so loved getting to know my group better. We’re from so many different places and have such different experiences. Who knew that I’d learn to play Pinochle (sp?), have a friend from South Dakota, learn to create a makeshift chai from colmado ingredients or spend an hour listening to a Texan explain techniques for making solar ovens?

The workshops were interesting, even if they hardly applied to my project. We learned to make an improved wood burning stove –which involved lots of mud! Learned about coffee in the DR—and the fact that it is controlled by a monopoly that offers ZERO incentives for improved quality or organics, hence it is a country with perfect coffee climate, but poor quality coffee. Bummer. A Sunday afternoon at the river was thoroughly enjoyed. Note my favorite picture from that day: PCV chicks tanning and reading Cosmos!

Anyway, the week was great, I learned a lot and enjoyed organically grown romaine lettuce (my first romaine since I arrived in this country!) And now, I am back in my site and I have no excuse of “I’m working on my diagnostic” … it’s time to plan projects, solicit funds if needed, and get movin’. Happily, I am moving at a Caribbean speed. It’s exciting, as it is unlike anything I’ve ever done but at the same time I am bringing my skills and experiences to the table. I feel like I am forming a niche, and that feels good. This niche of mine is probably best explained by Kassiel, who said to someone at Peace Corps—“Colleen is here to be a bridge for us between the hotels and the people of the community.” Yikes, that's a big job!

(note: if you can read Spanish and want to see my diagnostic, just ask. If you can’t read in spanish and are really interested, ask nicely and I’ll translate it)

power and such

On Friday, my project partner Maria was inaugurated as the first mayor of Veron. The event was filled with fanfare, champagne, a helicopter, and lots of important people.

A member of the national newspaper told me he forgot his camera and asked me to take photos for him, so I acted not only as the token Americana, but also as press! One of the presidential candidates, Amable Aristy, and his daughter Karina, mayor of Higuey, arrived in a helicopter, which was very exciting for everyone involved. Maria gave a speech that she had practiced for hours with me and answered questions of the press. I enjoyed the opportunity to chat with community members and continued to be amazed at the fact that I am a PCV drinking champagne! The people of power in this community are the people of tourism as this area is the largest tourism destination in the Caribbean and the highest grossing province in the DR. So, many presidents of hotels were present supporting this new effort.

Maria is busy setting up her new office and finding out what funds she will have.
Now, with her as mayor and Veron as a Municipality, we will apparently have access to a lot more resources for basic needs such as trash services and school buildings. I am still trying to understand exactly how things work and what role I can play in all of this. It looks like I am going to help link the community groups to the Ayuntamiento (mayor’s office) in order to improve communication and distribute resources, but how that happens I don’t quite understand (and I don’t know that anyone does!)
A few weeks ago I found out about a community group that is trying to build a school in a barrio where there are no public schools. They had a piece of land donated and a little bit of money. I told Maria and expressed interest in helping this group, she told Ayuntamiento in Higuey, and at the inauguration, they announced that they would be building this school. (Although the Secretary of Education is not involved, so therefore we’ll have a school but no teachers or supplies…). Gotta love the system here!

Adventures with Tropical Fruit

This post is dedicated to the people who went blueberry picking in Jacksonville on my birthday, you know who you are. I’ll gladly admit that you made me very jealous with your stories of billions of pounds of blueberries, but now, Ha! – I have passion fruit, papaya, mangos, zapotes, and pineapple—all grown near me. YUM

Although my initial vision of Peace Corps was living in a tiny campo with an abundance of free fruit and that is not quite my situation, I do live in a country of unbelievable fruits and generous people who share (and when all else fails, I can buy fruit off the side of the road).

Our adventures shall begin with chinola (passion fruit)—an ugly yellow fruit with an even uglier center and a very bitter taste, but when made into a juice, with incredible amounts of sugar, is delicious! Dona Juana gave me a lesson in juice making, which you can view here: http://picasaweb.google.com/colleengatliff/ChinolaJuice It’s quite a process, but well worth it in the end. Warning to men: the lore has it here that you should be careful with chinola. Consume too much and you’ll lose your virility. Oh—and I almost forgot—chinolas can also be made into margaritas at Mexican restaurants in the Capital—which is how I celebrated my birthday.

Adventure dos: Guineo. Simply, banana. They’re sweet, they’re fresh, they’re really cheap, and they’ve never seen an airplane. Twice now I’ve made banana bread (pan de guineo) for my family—using the oven that no one else uses—and both times while the oven was heating a giant rat has scurried out from under it, causing many screaming folks, including me, to flee the house. I’ve named him Guineo. The bread though is delicious and we eat it for breakfast sometimes.

Adventure tres: MANGOS, I saved the best for last! I waited very patiently for mango season and it’s finally here. I have learned to eat them without a knife, a process that involves peeling the skin with your teeth as you eat, careful to keep up with the juice, or else you’ll have a very sticky forearm. My first few times with this involved me nearly needing to bathe myself afterwards! But alas, I am now an expert and the world is full of mangos. Happy day. One afternoon two of my fishermen friends and I took one of their motorcycles on a mango hunt. We climbed through barbed wire and found a tree full of ripe fruit. One of the guys climbed it and shook branches, resulting in a literal raining of mangos. I stayed under the tree, guarding my head and collecting mangos as they fell (with one hand of course, as the other was occupied eating a mango). I ate 3 or 4 during that little excursion and carried home overflowing bags, which were used for mango batidas (milk, mango & ice in a blender), then shared mangos with “todo el mundo” and still ate 1 or 2 a day for about a week. Yum!

true story

Her question to me was did I go to the sea often?
Why I asked
You smell of it, she said
No I replied
But thought to myself—it’s because I am from there
This based on and inspired by the actual incident mentioned above, which occurred the other day in our public clinic, and also one of my favorite Brian Andreas poems:
“He kept a piece of algae behind his ear to remind him of his roots. A million years ago every place was a little place by the sea, he would say & my mind would go blank & I would swim through the day without a care in the world & it all seemed so familiar that I knew I would go back someday to my own little place by the sea.”

what is it that I actually do?

My last real entry about what I was up to was a pathetic attempt at putting a positive spin on a very frustrating month. The home I was living in was, well, difficult (ask if you want to hear the story!), I wasn’t quite sure what I was doing, and my project partners that I have been assigned to work with were extremely busy with meetings and political campaigns. Things have since turned around and I am really loving what I'm doing.

(side note on politics: Peace Corps mandates that PCVs avoid all things political. With that said, one of my project partners is the sindico (mayor) of our town and is very involved in a campaign for a presidential candidate. The general elections are next year, but primaries were held a week and a half ago. It seems that her involvement will continue and the candidate may be bringing helpful resources to our town. It’ll be an interesting balance for me to maintain.)

Back to what’s happening in Veron, Dominican Republic. First, a history lesson: in the 1970’s a few investors discovered what is now called the Coconut Coast. At that time, this far east part of Hispanola was a quiet place with pristine beaches and a few fishing communities. These investors purchased a large chunk of land and named it “Punta Cana” after the Cana Palm that is quite abundant. Punta Cana developed into a multi-hotel enterprise with golf courses and enormous residential areas. This development brought attention to the coast, and now 30 years later there are over 20,000 hotel rooms, almost all of which are all-inclusive. Punta Cana is only one part of the area, most of all-inclusives are in an area called Bavaro, although most say they are part of Punta Cana. Here's touristy info about the area, for you to get an idea. http://www.debbiesdominicantravel.com/eastcoast.html

See below touristy map of area. I live in Veron, but spend a lot of my days near the Punta Cana area. (southern area of map)

As the tourist industy has developed here. ;ittle by little, people that lived on the coast have been relocated. Unfortuntely, development of community infrastructure (schools, waste disposal, healthcare, etc.) has lagged behind. Now we're playing catch-up.

Many of the relocated people were/are fishermen. There is still a group of people that fish, but their access to the ocean is very limited. I’ll explain more details of this in a future entry.

Basically, the situation now is this: the coast is filled with hotels, million-dollar homes and golf courses. There is a reef that runs along the coast that is in pretty rough shape. The Punta Cana Group, which has an ecological foundation, has contracted with the University of Miami to conduct a 2-year study of the reef. The study includes 3 dimensions: 1. a very technical water-analysis part, looking at nutrients and algae, 2. a coral and fish evaluation, and 3. a socio-economic project examining fishermen’s livelihoods. The end goal: find solutions to preserve the reef.

I will work with the University of Miami project mostly on the socioeconomic part. The idea is to first understand how/ why/ when/ how much/ etc. the fishermen fish, and then together establish best practices for preserving the reef. One such idea is to develop a Marine Protected Area (MPA). People from Reef Check are working with me to explore this idea and how it has been successfully implemented with fishermen communities in other countries. I have begun to breach the topic with some of the fishermen and it’s gone over well so far, which has surprised me. Right now, anything that can be fished is being fished—tiny parrotfish, small lobster (even though it’s the closed season), you name it. So right now, I’m spending a lot of time at the marina and in the water with the fishermen—learning about their lives and establishing confianza (trust). There’s a great group of 5 guys that I spend a lot of time with. They are all “buceos” or snorkelers. They don snorkel gear and a spear gun and spend the entire day swimming to and from the reef shooting fish. Their catches are strung on a wire that stays afloat with a makeshift buoy. It’s an interesting life! Other fishermen use air compressors with a long tube and spend hours at over 100 feet (umm…Bends, anyone?) shooting larger fish—groupers, red hinds, snapper, and occasional baby nurse sharks.

When I’m not with fishermen, I am spending time with my project partner Maria or with various community groups. There is a small group of people that is trying to build a school in a barrio that does not have a public school. I’m helping them get organized so that we can look for funding and the support of the Secretary of Education. Maria is involved in a lot, and I help where I can. There is a disaster mitigation committee for the entire zone, which I’ll be involved in.

At the same time as these other projects, I am supposed to be conducting a community diagnostic, so I spend time interviewing people and collecting information when I can. It’s a busy life, but I’m really glad for it… and take “busy” with a grain of salt. I’m busy sitting. … and spending sufficient time at these unbelievable beaches.

marlin

Below is a 4 1/2 foot white marlin caught by this fisherman in a boat similar to what you see behind him. He caught and fought this marlin simply with fishing line in his hands. He does not use a pole! He said he snagged 3 others that day, but this was the only one he was able to fight to bring in. He held it up for a photo like this because he's seen that in the nearby marina where there is currently a marlin tournament being held. The people competing in the tournament are using half million dollar boats...

my new life

“…people in Western civilization no longer have time for each other, they have no time together, they do not share the experience of time. This explains why westerners are incapable of understanding the psychology of sitting. In villages all over the world, sitting is an important social activity. Sitting is not a ‘waste of time’ nor is it a manifestation of laziness. Sitting is having time together, time to cultivate social relations.” –Andreas Fuglesang

So the simple fact that it has taken so long to create something to post on this blog serves as excellent evidence of this new life I have embarked upon. Almost a year ago I filled out a Peace Corps application and wrote a moving aspiration statement about an “intercambio” of cultures and how I wanted to listen to people and help them organize themselves. I endured months of waiting, interviews, a medical clearance, goodbye parties and packing, and then I arrived. My first few months were filled with so many new things—yuca, merengue, guaguas for public transportation, plus Spanish, that my mind remained constantly occupied. Training afforded plenty of opportunities to hang out with other volunteers and direction—a schedule of where to go and when, even if it was just four planned hours in a day.
That, my friends, is what I am without now.
I am in my site--Veron, Republica Dominicana—and this is my home for the next 2 years. Yikes. Every PCV I spoke with before getting here made it clear that getting to your site can be, well, weird and overwhelming.
I have 24 hours a day to occupy myself, get to know my community, and find out where I’ll fit in and how I can help. I spend hours on porches drinking cafecitos (espresso and a lot of sugar), sit in area schools for a few hours at a time, hang out in the public clinic and help where I can, follow around community leaders, go for long walks, and read. It’s such a challenge to drop my expectations of meeting on time and wanting my project partners to sit down with me and create a plan. I’m here, so I have to play Dominican, not American.
My area that I am working is quite large. Look on a map if you can—I work as far south as Juanillo and as far north as Bavaro. So there ya go, my new life. It’s just so bizarre, and right now, sometimes scary and overwhelming. So different than anything I have ever known, and I know that in the long run, that’s a good thing. I am learning, growing and stretching a whole lot. For every frustration around here, there’s an amazingly rich moment. Here are a few excerpts from my crazy new life:
Cow feet & pig fat: on Saturday at my house they made a Sancocho—a favorite Dominican dish that’s a stew of root vegetables and meat. This time the meat was cow feet & pig fat. Seriously.
Cualquier cosa: As I’m introduced to people, so so many of them say to me “cualquier cosa tu necesitas, me llama” – anything you need, you call me, then they make sure I realize that they mean it.
Chinola & Avena: While visiting a neighborhood with a community leader, a friend of hers made us sit and she served us each a glass of juice—chinola (passionfruit) and avena (oatmeal). Delicious.
Shoe-swatting: I went to the local evangelical church on Sunday night and during a passionate part of the service a kid was acting up, so the woman I was with (who was not a relative) took off her sandal to swat him. No
one batted an eye.
14 year-old amigo: My 14 year-old neighbor who lives in a tiny wooden house without a bathroom does all the cooking for his family and has the coolest cell phone I’ve ever seen—complete with mp3 player and camera. He’s my buddy. I hang out at his house in the evenings sometimes, and not because he has a cool phone. Because he’s friendly and talkative.
Not so domestic: I wash my own clothes now. We have a machine that does a spin cycle, so we fill it and add soap. There was a bag near the washer that looked like detergent, so I used it. After about 15 minutes, a friend of the family realized that it wasn’t soap—it was concrete. That was fun.
Yuca: I love it now. Like look forward to it love it. I couldn’t eat it the first time it was served to me. Woo!

Pictures!

Ok, some pictures are up, more to come ... http://picasaweb.google.com/colleengatliff

Enjoy!

the dengue fever

So I've been MIA with my postings, but I have a good excuse: A day and a half after our lovely swearing-in ceremony, the event that made me an official PCV, I woke up feeling achy and feverish. After two days of this fever and pain, a Peace Corps Medical Officer (PCMO) called me in for a blood test. That particular blood test was #1 of 8 (yes, EIGHT) that I would have in 7 days. Although the test did not show it for several days, they were certain that I had dengue fever. For the first time in my life I was hospitalized and given an IV. I stayed in the hospital for 5 long, feverish days where I spent most of the time sleeping and the rest of the time trying to use my faulty nurse call button because my IV was beeping. I remember one particular night of fever when I played with the nurse call button for close to an hour and a half!
The dengue caused my liver to swell, so I had a sonogram (also a first, though fairly uneventful). Somehow the swelling liver made my appetite obsolete, so I hardly ate all week (again, a first for me!). The IV kept me alive and hydrated, but also made me pee alot, and thanks to my weakened state, (again a first!) I had to use a bed pan, assisted by a nurse. I was woken up every morning at 5:30 on the dot for a blood test, and then spent my days trying to doze.
When the fever finally subsided I was greeted with a lovely full body rash that itches like crazy. At this point, the rash is settling down a bit and my energy is slowly coming back. I am staying at the Pension, a guest house in the Capital, and should be able to head to my site tomorrow... only a week and a half late! I was told to expect about a month of feeling tired. Good fun with tropical illness!
FAQs about dengue:
How'd you get it? From some tiny little mosquito during the day (dengue mosquitos are day feeders, malaria mosquitos feed only at night)
Why didn't Peace Corps vaccinate you? There is no vaccination for dengue
Now do you have dengue forever or are you immune, like chicken pox? nope, I could get it again tomorrow.
Is it contagious? It's spread only by mosquitos
What about other PCVs? I think that last year about 30 PCVs in the DR got it. It's just the thing to do I suppose!
Anyway, I survived. I am so grateful to the excellent PCMOs that provided great physical and moral support.... and thank you to all of you for your emails, text messages and phone calls. They were a huge morale booster.

my site ... never in my wildest dreams!

At long last, I have received my site assignment, met my project partners, and have spent 5 days visiting where I will live for the next year. I am so excited, as the site is much more than I could have dreamt of!

I will be living, playing, and working with the people of Veron, a community 10 minutes outside of Punta Cana on the eastern coast of the country. The town of Veron sprung up quickly in the early 70’s, when the first resort was built in Punta Cana. Since that time, it has grown as more people have flocked to the area in search of work in the resorts, which now number over 50.

The second largest reef in the DR runs along this eastern coast. From the beach, I can see the waves breaking on the reef, as it is so close to shore. One of my project partners will be Reef Check www.reefcheck.org, an international organization dedicated to preserving coral reefs. I will strategize with them on community education projects and will be trained in reef monitoring, thus opening up diving opportunities to me!

In the past few days I have seen postcard-quality beaches of spotless white sand, hundreds of palms, and the unforgettable turquoise of the Caribbean. I’ve been inside amazing resorts and spas, seen the houses of Punta Cana, which include the residences of Oscar de la Renta, Julio Iglesias, and Shakira, and I ate some amazing grilled shrimp.

I also toured a lot of barrios in the area where one can see the worst of what tourism can do to area. Human trafficking, including that of children, is prevalent. The aforementioned of course, means a much higher rate of HIV/ AIDS than other parts of the country. Housing can be expensive, and many families live in one-room apartments without a bathroom. One barrio I visited has no trash service, no sewage, and no school. The people that live there are waiters, waitresses, and maids in the resorts. In this one particular area in Bavaro, outside of Punta Cana, the only school of two rooms is staffed by two women who voluntarily teach the children, 5 days a week. While touring this area we learned that there is currently an outbreak of dengue fever in the barrio.

Another project partner of mine will be the Punta Cana Foundation (www.puntacana.org). You can read the website to learn about the history of the Foundation and all of their ecological work in the area. What you will not read much about is their work in the community. The Punta Cana Foundation is committed to improving the quality of life of the people of Veron. They have facilitated the building of a Politecnico, or high school, have greatly improved the quality of the community clinic, including keeping it well staffed and supplied, and have built a sports facility in Veron. The Foundation aided a group of local community leaders in forming the Asociasion Pro-Desarrollo Sostenible (Association for Sustainable Development).

This Asociasion consists of a dedicated and amazingly passionate group of community leaders who care about their community—both its people and the environment. The Punta Cana Foundation wants to work with them to continue community development, leadership building, and community education about environmental and health issues. Hence, that’s where I come in. My role is to be a link between the two groups and to help implement projects in the coming two years. I will also most likely work to form a youth group of kids who want to protect and learn about the environment. I don’t think the next two years will be boring, as these folks have great ideas, tons of motivation, and a willingness to work.

So much of what I love about my site so far is the people. My project partners that came to welcome me in Santo Domingo are dynamic, fun and creative. This past week I spent with them was wonderful. I learned so much from them and heard their ideas on how to improve their community, I laughed really hard, and played a few great games of dominoes. They threw me a welcome party on Saturday night that included BBQ steak and chicken, yucca, and lots of bachata music. One of the group members painted me the most beautiful beach scene as a welcome gift. I couldn’t believe it!

Another fun note is this: my new host family used to live in Tampa and still has a few kids there! We joked that it’s just a kid swap—my folks can watch out for their daughters, and they’re my family here. Best of all, they share in my love for a tiny cafeteria called Ideal and think that Café Bustelo is great coffee.

Stay tuned, my life as a PCV is about to begin...

cigars

One of the coolest things I’ve done so far in this country is this:
My host sister Nuna in Los Cocos (near Santiago) obtained permission from the cigar factory in which she works for me to visit one afternoon. The factory is located in a Zona Franca.
(explanation of Zona Franca: a tax-free zone set up my the Dominican government. Both foreign and local companies may buy or rent space to set up factories. They can import materials at no additional cost, and then export it back out without paying taxes. Thus a Zona Franca creates a lot of jobs in an area, and provides businesses with relatively low-cost labor to make such things as cigars, purses, and dresses.)
I arrived around 2, and Nuna hadn’t yet completed her daily quota of 500, so I spent my time chatting with her while she worked and exploring the factory. Lucky for me, this culture tends to be VERY outgoing and loves to share. A supervisor told me that I could and should learn everything about cigar making and could explore any part of the factory I wanted. Therefore, I had no problem making friends. People showed me how they do their jobs and chatted with me about their life and why I was visiting. I told many of them that my interest in cigars was born in Tampa, and is due to the fact that my grandmother and many other family members once made a living rolling cigars in Ybor City. They loved that and wanted to teach me, but warned that it takes a really long time to learn, as cigar rolling is difficult.
I have time, I told them. So began my training. I started by learning to tear the center stem out of leaves without tearing the dried leaf, and then being sure to organize the leaves by size and in the proper direction.
Another man showed me the “really hard to roll” cigar that he makes. It’s called a Hemingway. “Do you know who Hemingway is?” he asked. No one in the factory knew. I taught him and those in his area who the man was that their work is named for.
A friend of Nuna’s first showed me how to roll the outside part of the cigar. With much trial and error, tobacco-stained hands, and a few torn leaves, I started to get the hang of it. It’s hard as the leaf is delicate and a natural resin is used to secure it in places. One wants this final wrapper to look perfect, but with his help, I wrapped the final part of several Don Antonio cigars that passed the quality control check!
Later on I learned to use a mechanism to tightly roll the inside part of the cigar. With the particular cigar that I was working on, four different types of tobacco are placed together to make up the cigar. After this part, the cigar is placed into a holding container that then presses the tobacco together for at least four hours, being sure to compress the cigar properly. From there, the outer tobacco leaf is rolled on.
Thus, most people work in teams. One person makes the inner part, one the outer. Daily cigar quotas for workers range from 400-500, depending on the difficulty of the cigar. The people working in the factory shared a few cigars with me, including one Hemingway, one that Nuna was working on, and I was able to keep one of the Don Antonio’s that I made. “Smoke them,” they told me, but I don’t actually like to smoke cigars, I just think they’re interesting. I’m saving my three for my brother.

Pictures: http://picasaweb.google.com/colleengatliff/CigarFactory

in lieu of jelly beans, an easter bunny and baby chicks

Here, Easter festivities take place for the whole week. It´s called Semana Santa. Kids have off school, all my host sisters workplaces closed, and we had a break from training beginning on Thursday, which is where my tale of Semana Santa shall begin.
In the afternoon, a few hours after lunch, I was served a very special treat. It´s a treat that I had heard a lot about, as it is always made during Semana Santa. Like women in the midwest with their pumpkin pies, the donas here have competitions as to who can make the best ... and recipes are kept secret. So what is this amazing treat? Habichuelas con dulce .. translation¨is SWEET BEANS. It is made with kidney beans, evaporated milk, raisins, coconut, sugar, cinnamon and a root vegetable called batata. Habichuelas con dulce can be served cold or hot and is eaten with a spoon. I must admit that it´s actually quite good. I can get over an Easter without jelly beans.
In the evening my host sister took me to a party where people ate, drank, and danced. It was not unlike other parties I´ve been to here. An interesting cultural note is this--the Taino indians that initially inhabited this island were entirely eliminated by the Spaniards. Hence, Dominicans´roots can be traced to Spain, and due to the Slave Trade, Africa. African roots are not embraced here, but a European Catholicism is. So, without African or Indigenous influence, Semana Santa passes without the large colorful celebrations that so many other Latin American countries have. Instead, we spent Maunday Thursday drinking Prsidente and dancing merengue.
For me, Easter is synonomous with getting an Easter bunny from my mom. I was ok with not having one this year, that is until I was visited by a Dominican subtitute for an Easter Bunny. After Thursday´s party, I was sitting and talking with my sister when a VERY large rat scurried across the rafters above my head. Later as I was preparing for bed, the terrible subsitute for an bunny visited my bedroom!
The rest of the weekend passed quickly. We spent a lot of time just sitting and talking. On Saturday, my sister took me and a few others to the river where people sat, swam, and drank --apparently the most popular tradition! A 10 year old took me to church one day. It lasted about 20 minutes. Later I spent 3 hours playing dominoes.
Sunday, Easter Day, a lot of businesses re-opened and I had my final Dominican substitution for an American Easter. What better replacement for a cute yellow baby chick than a Dominican cock fight?!? A few of us caught a bola, or free ride, up the mountain to meet up with one of our Spanish teachers who took us to the gallera. The ring was packed tight with all men, minus myself and another volunteer. Cigars were smoked, beer drank, and money passed through many hands. Spurs were attached to the cock´s feet and their legs were shaved bare, and then tobacco rubbed on their legs in order to irritate the skin. I made it through one and a half fights, which was maybe 10 minutes. I enjoyed watching and listening to the men as they were so passionate about the fight itself, but couldn´t quite stomach the aggression and gore. Cultural experience!... but not exactly a bright-eyed baby chick, eh?
habichuelas con dulce for jelly beans,
a giant rat for an easter bunny,
a cock fight for baby chicks,
whatever, I love it here!

waterfalls and language learning

At the present moment, most of my days are filled with technical training and Spanish classes. Although necessary and sometimes fun, there´s not much to say about them. I promise that tons of pictures will be posted once I have access to the Peace Corps computers, after swearing in, which is in about 3 weeks. We´re currently counting down to the end of CBT, as in less than 2 weeks we will receive our site assignments, i.e. where we´ll live for the next 2 years! To wrap up training, I am working with another aspirante, or trainee, to host a series of activities with a 5th grade class to celebrate Earth Day. We´ll be painting a large mural of the water cycle, creating masks, playing a game with the masks, and taking an interpretive and clean up hike along the river.
At times, exciting adventures break up the monotony of training. Take Sunday afternoon for example.
Two other aspirantes and I recruited Zoe´s host brother and friend, both 18, to take us to the local waterfall. As we walked, we picked up a few of their other friends and 2 bottles of rum... I brought water for myself, not knowing what I was getting into! The hike took us about 5 hours and included 2 waterfalls, one of which we couldn´t resist swimming in, so swam fully clothed. During the hike we came across a cainito tree, so one of the guys climbed over 20 feet into the tree to throw the fruit down to us. Although it looked like an apple, when we opened it, it appeared more custardy and was white and bright purple. The guys said we could eat it, but kept saying that it would do something to our lips. The only problem was that we didn´t understand the word they were using to describe what would happen to our lips! After much deliberation, we went for it and it was in fact delicious. Later we looked up the word... it just meant sticky! Ah, the joys of language learning. On our way back from the pretty falls, we took a different route to find sugar cane. With large pieces to naw on, we made our way home, cold and tired, but exhilarated by the fun.
On Monday, training consisted of a group excursion to learn more about eco-tourism. We visited 27 charcos http://www.27charcos.com/ to learn about the development of the site. Only in the past few years has it been declared a national park, thanks in part to the work of a PCV. The first part of our day consisted of a meeting with several of the guides and park administrators. They shared of their challenges in running the park and of the 50 to 100 tourists that visit each day, most through foreign-owned tours that charge upwards of USD$70, even though the tour costs less than USD$10. The guides were open and fun to talk to, and as the females in our group noticed---all in their 20´s and incredibly buff. We didn´t question the buffness, just appreciated it. Later, we would learn the reason for it.
We were instructed that for the tour we would wear a bathing suit, shoes, a life jacket and a helmet---a helmet?!?! You can check the website to learn more about 27 charcos, but basically it is a series of 27 breathtaking waterfalls that are situated in a canyon of sorts. To scale the waterfalls, we were thrown, pushed, pulled and carried by the incredible guides. I´d like to believe that my muscles did some of the work of swimming against the strong currents or climbing the slippery rocks, but I think most of my success was due to the buff guides! They had amazing techniques that included us stepping on their hands and shoulders and being propelled to the next guide who would catch us by an arm or life jacket and pull as we scrambled. Because it is rainy season here, the falls were especially strong, so we could only do 6. I have vowed to return for all 27. Once above the 6th, the guides reminded us that there was only one way to get down---the way we came up! So, they´d help us climb the rocks to the edge of each fall, then we had to jump. If we didn´t jump, we were nudged in the butt, as that was the only way. I made it up and down all 6 with minimal bruises and having swallowed a good amount of water. I was glad I had a helmet.

Poverty & Relativity

This entry has been brewing in my head for about a week, and more and more relevant experiences and conversations keep presenting themselves. Hence, I figured I should write this out before it becomes a book! Recently a group of us were discussing the pocket money that Peace Corps provides us during training--a little over a dollar a day, which is enough to use occasional internet or buy a small snack. It's not much, but it is more than we technically need. Volunteers are frustrated though, because it would be nice to have more money. One girl commented, "Poverty Sucks!" which reminded me of a quote from aBarbara Kingsolver book which I shared with the group: "Poverty Sucks... yah, they should make a bumper sticker or something." That quote made us all laugh, and another person commented that bumper stickers would be a great idea, because that way all the people in this country that have cars (only the very wealthy), could display it. AHH... irony! That conversation led to another in which someone told of the time that Newsweek International ran an article about the "really poor" in Appalachia. The magazine was flooded with feedback from International development workers because of a photo that showed a really poor family's house--it included a t.v. and refrigerator. Extreme poverty does exist in Appalachia, but if differs from poverty in the developing world. Even here, it has been fascinating to see how people understand theirworld and what they consider poor. The family that I live with considers themselves well off. They have lights 24 hours a day, an inside bathroom, hand soap, a semi-automatic clothes washer, a 13"t.v., a microwave, and a bath rug. They eat meat almost daily and bought a cake for a 10 year old's birthday. They also have about 3 hours of running water a day, a zinc roof that leaks when it rains, 6 hours of real electricity a day (lights are supplied by an inverter), unfinished concrete floors, a dirt yard, plastic chairs, and they sleep 4 people in one room, with two beds. To accompany the little meat that they have, daily they eat rice, viveres (root vegetables), and what-we-gringos-like-to-call bean juice--due to the lack of actual beans in the mix! An average teacher's salary here, which places them in the top 20% earning bracket of the country is USD $260/ month -- exactly what Iwill make once I am sworn in as a Volunteer. The thing I find so interesting is this idea that I am to spend 2 years living with and as a poor person. I cannot allow myself to believe I am experiencing poverty. Peace Corps Volunteers make enough to travel the country, eat occassional McDonald's and pizza, eat protein, fruits and veggies, and live in a safe place. I will not have AC, internet or running water, but I'll also sit in the top 20% earning bracket of the DR. Today our group toured Centro Leon, supposedly the best museum in the Caribbean. After the museum we gorged on Domino's pizza. Once we'd rested a few minutes, we climbed back into the trucks and drove 15 minutes to Barrio Moscas--"Neighborhood of Flies". Barrio Moscas formed at the edge of the city of Santiago's garbage dump. It's an unorganized collection of shacks built of scrap metal and wood. The people in the barrio make their living off of the dump. There are businesses that will buy scrap metal that has been found by the people for a very small price. So everyday, men, women and children spend hours climbing though the garbage, searching for metal. They light fires to the garbage in order to burn through the organic material and are sometimes burned by the fires. They also raise pigs, goats, and cattle on the garbage and sell them for meat. I saw pigs eating plastic and cattle grazing in a field of tires. Two bare-footed boys around the age of 6 befriended us as soon as we arrived. The guided us up a trail (it felt like we were hiking--the dump is that big--30 years of trash), over a river that was filled with garbage and had water that was a very odd green color (they told us they bathe there) to the top of the dump. While we took it all in, they rummaged for stuff. One of the boys stepped on a large piece of glass, looked at it, casually pulled it out of his foot, and kept scrounging. With our hearts heavy and their heavy load of trash, we proceeded back down. I was feeling especially pensive, trying to process the magnitude of the situation, when one of the boys found an old Pepsi sign. At a particularly steep and slippery part of the hill, he flashed us a huge grin, then slid down the hill on his Pepsi sign, laughing hysterically the whole way.

rich

Today I stood in the back of a truck, listening to my iPod and sharing it with a new friend, Zoe. We bonded over mutually-liked songs. Our truck climbed the steep mountain, always revealing breath-taking views of the valleys giving way to more mountains and the city of Santiago, way below us. Everything was green. I saw seas of tobacco, interrupted only by huts to dry the leaves and tall talms. We spotted a large waterfall in the distance and I felt it calling me to locate a path towards it. We passed a few men urging their donkeys up the mountain. They paused, waved, and shouted an hola to us. One of the ride's highlights was a mama goat and her 4 kids, with some of them nursing.
Later on, after working the land to learn gardening techniques (by land, I mean mud and clay), our trainer took us further up the mountain to a tiny house where Dominicana lives. She's small, shuffles, has a hairy chin, and apparently makes the best dulce de coco in the entire Cibao region. I won't argue, it was incredible! We wished Dominicana a "Buenas Tarde," and headed down the mountain. Once in Los Cocos, I walked home, worried only about my favorite gallina because I haven't seen her in two days. Zoe and I then discovered that one of the gates we normally walk through is now wired shut. That was earth-shattering news, worth several minutes of discussion. I love that the things that worry my mind these days include missing chickens and re-wired gates.
I arrived home to a smiling Dona who asked how my day was and declared that I'd arrived just in time, as she has just completed cooking my dinner. She kept me company while I ate, then let me be as I prepared to bathe. I found my bedroom spotless, and was grateful that she had cleaned. I enjoyed a much needed shower, and prepared to go out. Plans had been made to visit another volunteer, watch a movie, and relax, but the rains came and transformed my street into a river. When rains come here, plans change: schools close and people stay put. For me, that meant snuggling into bed early in order to enjoy a lullaby of rain pounding the zinc roof. I feel so rich.

Bucket Baths 101

1. Recognize that you smell, and a bath is necessary.
2. Gather clothes, towel, soap; then find a place to put them so they don't fall on the floor.
3. Step into shower.
4. Convince self that shower is necessary.
5. Fill small bucket with water, bend over and wet only your hair. Use caution not to get neck and back wet.
6. Take a deep breath and stand up straight.
7. Wash hair. Enjoy clean smell.
8. Wet bandanna, move it quickly between your hands so it's not ice cold when it touches body.
9. Wash body.
10. Remind self that you're living your dream--living in the Caribbean, speaking Spanish, and part of Peace Corps. Take a really deep breath.
11. Remind self that for health and social acceptance, bathing is necessary.
12. Hold breath, pour icy water over head.
13. Uncontrollably squirm and dance while quickly pouring more water over head to rinse out shampoo and soap.
14. Laugh at the idea of conditioner and another round of rinsing. Soft hair is not a priority for me.
15. Although cold, relish the clean refreshed feeling and know that no one at home has such an exciting daily shower experience.
16. Dress, leave house, and 15 minutes later, wish you were showering again because you are already sweating.

5 Days of Comida

Due to popular demand, here is a listing of my last 5 days of food. Enjoy!

Monday
bfast- white bread and hot chocolate
sn-saltines and peanut butter
lunch-rice, beans, chicken
snack-coke and 2 oreos!
dinner-yuca, fried squeaky cheese (not sure of the real name but that´s what we call it. It´s white, relatively tasteless and squeaks when bitten sometimes. Nevertheless, it´s cheese and I can appreciate all cheese), sauteed onions

Tuesday
bfast- white bread and hot chocolate
lunch-rice, beans with some starchy thing, chicken, tostones (fried plantains), tomatoes soaked in oil
snack- banana batida (milk, ice and banana in a blender) and 2 crackers, presidente beer
dinner-mangu (boiled plantains mashed with butter), fried egg, onion

Wednesday
bfast-white bread and hot chocolate
snack-coffee, cracker
lunch-rice, taiota (tasteless and nutrient-less root veggie), tomatoes soaked in oil
snack-chips, too much rum and coke
dinner-mangu, fried egg, sauteed onions

Thursday
bfast-some type of really sweet, hot, liquidy cereal made of corn
snack-wafer cookie
lunch-spaghetti with a tomato slash oil sauce, white beans, tomatoes in oil
dinner-yuca, onion, squeaky cheese

Friday
bfast-white bread, hard boiled eggs, hot chocolate
lunch- pineapple juice, pasta with the tomato grease sauce, tostones
dinner- (note on dinner--all the gringos cooked together and gave each other instructions in Spanish as part of class, hence the non-Dominican menu) mac and cheese, guacamole and chips, chocolate chip cookies, green beans, coke

CBT

Community Based Training has begun. We started by spending four days way up in the mountains of the Cordillera Septentrial mountain range. There, we had workshops on eco-tourism and trail maintenance. Part of that included doing actual work on a trail. Hence, we all rolled up our sleeves and learned how to use axes and machetes. I, of course, managed to slice my finger a bit on a machete, but it´s not bad. In fact, I´d much prefer a small machete slice over a paper cut. Paper cuts are boring, and thankfully, I´ve already received a tetanus shot.
We also had a great hike to the top of Diego O´Campo, the highest mountain in the Cordillera Septentrial range. The hike took us through a manacla forest. Manaclas are mountain growing palm trees. Pretty cool.
Now I am living in Los Cocos, campo outside of Santiago. This is the most lush area of the island, so it´s beautiful. I am with another host family and will be with them for the next 32 days. Our Spanish class of 4 meets almost daily... which is so needed, let me tell you. This is supposedly the time when we learn the most language. I hope so! The only problem is that we´re in an area of the country that has a very strong and distinct accent. They replace their R´s with I´s. Crazy, crazy.
Due to incidences of mystery pig meat and goat at my last house, I have decided to tell this new family that the only meat I eat is chicken. It´s working out so far, just pray for no chicken feet.

busy days

I spoke of Independence Day in my last entry, so I will begin there. February was a very exciting month here, as Carnaval is in full swing and it is the month of the Dominican Republic´s Independence. A few days before Independence Day, I was sitting on my host family’s front porch with my Doña and my host cousin, Angele. Angele was putting my hair in twists while the Doña read to us from the newspaper. We learned about the history of “La Bandera,” or the flag. The red symbolizes the blood that was shed in the fight for freedom, blue represents liberty, and white represents a quest for peace. In spirit of all of this patriotism, they decided my hair should be la bandera. Hence, the rubberbands used where red, blue and white. According my host family, everyone in the country acts crazy in February, so it’s completely acceptable to have crazy hair!
To continue my celebration of Dia de la Independencia, which is the 27th of February, I went to the national parade with another volunteer and a few of his host family members. We took public transportation to the Malecon, a street downtown that runs alongside the Caribbean. Using incredible skill, we wove through the masses to the front stage of the parade, and then proceeded to wait about 2 hours for the president, Leonel Fernandez, to make his appearance. (waiting entailed standing in beating sun with thousands of people). When he appeared, there was much fanfare, and then the beginning of the parade. It was essentially a display of civil servants and military. There were marches and helicopter fly-overs. My favorite part of the parade was a float that demonstrated airport security. There was a woman on the float who acted as a model traveler, and the agents “checked” her and her baggage!
From Independence Day, I had one more day of training in Santo Domingo, and then took off for four days by myself for a site visit with a Real Live Peace Corps Volunteer (I am only an aspirante, or aspiring PCV). I visited Lindsay in the south, near San Juan de la Maguana. It was great to see her day-to-day. We walked to the closest river with some kids and enjoyed the cool water and a small waterfall. Her main project is a Brigada Verde group of 5 girls—much like girl scouts. We also traveled to San Juan to see the market and meet up with lots of other PCV’s and aspirantes for a few hours of pizza and a pool!
I left Lindsay’s early on Sunday and arrived home in time for lunch. My thoughtful Doña had bought me Chinese food for lunch. I’ve come to love Chinese food here because that means Chop Suey and Chop Suey means tons of vegetables, which I do not get to eat often. I ate lunch and had about an hour to rest before setting out with Angele and a few of her friends to the Malecon again.
This time, the Malecon held CARNAVAL! I am not quite sure how to describe Carnaval except to tell you that there were thousands of people and more colors than I’ve ever seen. I loved the creativity of people’s costumes. One man covered all of his clothes in bottle caps from Presidente beer. Another created a costume out of tiny teddy bears. I did buy a pirate mask which I wore with pride! An important part of Carnaval is that a lot of people have inflated cow bladders on strings (think leathered), which they run up and smack women on the butt or legs with. I was hit only once, and I don’t think it was done with full force. Gracias a dios! The Carnaval experience was total sensory-overload, but so much fun! As soon as I can, I will post all of my pictures, which will help paint the picture for you. http://picasaweb.google.com/colleengatliff/DR3Carnaval
I leave my house here on Thursday for CBT, or Community Based Training. We’ll be near Santiago, the 2nd largest city, in a very beautiful region of the country. There, our group will consist of just 10 environmental education aspirantes, 2 Spanish teachers, 1 main trainer, and tons of special guest trainers. I will have a new host family, and will begin to slow down my pace in preparation for Peace Corps life. This segment of training will last into mid-April. I am really excited about time in CBT. I’ve loved training here in the Capital, but we are busy all of the time and it is so crowded. A change of pace should be fun.
It’s hard to know what to share with you. If you have any questions, feel free to post them under comments or shoot me an email and I’ll do my best to answer them! Keep the mail coming, it is a very exciting part of the week. Letters, inspiring quotes, and local Jax news stories are welcomed. :)

un dios de queso

I promise to fill you in soon on really important things (like yesterday´s Independence Day in which I saw the DR´s President live and in person), but for now, I´ll tell you something really fun--
If you know me well, then you know about my unnatural love of nacho cheese. I celebrated my birthday last year with a giant jar of nacho cheese, my friends and the beach. I expected my next few years to be void of nacho cheese. Little did I know! Today after training I went to La Sirena, a local supermarket to buy toothpaste. Upon arrival I found Tostitos doing a promotion and offering FREE SAMPLES! They were changing between salsa and chips or cheese and chips. When it was my turn in line, the lady was preparing to open salsa, but I asked ever so politely for queso instead. So, I just ate four tostitos with queso! Life is good and I relished the moment. Food here hasn´t been bad at all. In fact, I really like it. But, it is a bit monotonous. I eat a lot of yuca, plantanos, rice and beans, so queso was a fantastic afternoon snack! More meaningful things later... (maybe)

what´s in a name?

So anyone who has been around people that speak a language other than English know that sometimes it´s necessary to adjust the pronuniciation of your name. For me here, my name is Coh-leen. No problem, except that I have recently learned that one of the major manufacturors of machetes in the DR has the last name of Collin (pronounced just like my name is). Hence, if someone is having difficulty, I say ¨Coh-leen¨como la machete, and then the understand. From that, a lot of jokes have been made about how fuerte, or strong I am.
Well, a family member of my host family who sometimes visits told me upon our initial meeting that he was going to call me Coh-leen Power. Since he knows some English, I figured he was making a joke about strength. I saw him a few days ago and he said ¨Hola Coh-leen Power¨and then asked if I knew who that was. I played along and said yes, me of course. Nooooo, said he, Coh-leen Power, the guy in Washington D.C., the black man .... oh, said I, Colin Powell!

In other news, while you at home watched the Oscars last night, I had a movie-going experience myself. I saw Sanky Panky (www.sankypanky.net), a Dominican film about Sanky Pankys, or Dominican men that hang out at resorts to charm rich tourists in order to get married fo ra visa or just get money. I´ve been told that in recent years there has been a rise in Dominican cinematography. It tends to be very satirical. The film was a lot of fun, very silly. If you can get ahold of a copy at home, you should watch it. The scenes shot outside of the hotel really depict a lot of what I see daily in my barrio and at local colmados, or stores.

No hay mangos o aguacates, pero estoy bien

(There aren’t mangos or avocados, but I’m good) -- correction--I wrote this a few days ago, and have since been served beautiful avocados!
I’m so glad that I am here. The avocado and mango season is not until late summer, but I will survive, since everything else is great. So far, I absolutely love this country. The people have been so kind, machismo isn’t bad. I’m never cold. The sun shines often. The Peace Corps training program has incredible structure and excellent instructors. My host family is wonderful. My Spanish is progressing decently. Esta bien!
I think that it will take me some time to learn how to share my experiences. For now, know that I have had several action-packed days and the only way I know to share them is to offer you some excerpts from my journal:
How will all of this play out?
I feel like I connected with people today.
I am so distracted—did I pack the right things?
We are a team now…2.5 hours in the DCA airport…ran through MIA
Platanos dulces
Rabies shot #1 (we get 10 shots in total, 2 are rabies)
Hung my mosquitera (mosquito net—mandatory for malaria prevention)
Sweat
Water
Caribbean
Palm Trees!
I could see the difference between Haiti and the D.R. from the air. The DR is green.
Host family today. Dona Maria. She explained that she is my Dominican mom. If anything bothers me, I should tell her.
We have two pregnant Chihuahuas in our house—Gucci y Mimi.
Pasta y platanos.
Happiness requires positiva, says mi dona.
Hummingbird at La Entrena (our training center).
Cheddar cheese in the DR—yay!
Lots of rest, even with barking dogs, crowing gallos and merengue.
My dona sounded surprised when I told her I heard gallos last night. She said they only crow en la manana. I would guess that they are just white noise to her. When will they be that to me?
Great culture and diversity exercises at Entrena—will add to my bag of tricks.
Tetanus shot (ok, I won’t report on any more shots!)
A RPCV (returned peace corps volunteer) from the 60’s spoke with us today.
Jogging with my host cousin.
Yoga.
Frisbee with neighborhood kids—“la platillo”
Vamos a la playa! One of the first phrases I ever learned in Spanish and someone said it to me for real. WOO. After church (Catholic of course), 4 adults and 4 kids piled into a tiny car and went to Boca Chica—the beach closest to Santo Domingo. Many hours of playing in the Caribbean with lots of kids. I am “la Americana”.
Saw my first McDonald’s and Payless Shoe Source.
Ate empanadas—laughed with the dona about how hard the dough is to make. She buys it pre-made. Es muy inteligente says she. (Aunt Alice, I guess you know what you’re talking about because this dough was much much better than anything I’ve ever concocted!)
(end journal)
Today we had a transportation lesson at Entrena. We rode around the Capital with small groups, learning the norms of public transportation here. So far, I have ridden in a ”carro publica” and a “guagua”. Carro publicas are (usually) very old Camrys. The normal capacity is one driver, plus 2 passengers in the front seat and four in the backseat. Guaguas are mini-buses that fit as many as can sit and/ or stand. I am so grateful for my experiences in Guatemala that taught me a bit about public transport in Latin America. I have, however, been reminded on several occasions of the many, many differences between Central America and the DR. I have made several incorrect assumptions and have since learned the difference. I am being very patient with myself here. I have lots to learn, and luckily, plenty of time.
As you begin filing your taxes this year, smile, think of me, and know that your tax money is financing my Peace Corps experience. Thank you! For the next few months, I believe that email will be scarce. I will do
my best to stay in touch though. Amor y paz!