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.”