Sometimes it's good, sometimes it's bad/A veces es bueno, a veces es malo

I've arrived in Santo Domingo. I actually got in late Friday night, but due to spotty internet, a lot of frustration, a room mix-up, and a long Sunday, I haven't had a chance to update here.

I suppose we should just get used to the idea that these updates will not be chronological. I wanted to do more background stuff on my internship and studies here before I got into the actual day-to-day stuff, but a lot has happened in the last two and a half days here.

The flights were uneventful. I slept most of the way from San Francisco to Philadelphia. I slept at the gate waiting for my connecting flight to Santo Domingo. I slept all the way to Santo Domingo, until it was time to fill out customs and immigration forms.

Going through customs was quick and easy. I bought the tourist card (US$10, cash only, paid immediately upon arrival), did my customs thing, and loaded my bags onto a cart. A free cart! Better than the US already.

Famous last words.

A gent offered to push the cart for me and I tried to tell him no thank you, I could do it myself. He insisted. Mind you, this and all future conversations unless specified occur in Spanish. So I said okay whatever, and let him schlep my stuff.

Halfway to the exit he asks for "un regalo." Literally, a gift, but in this context, a tip. I gave him US$5. It was all I had. I haven't yet exchanged my dollars for pesos. That will come up again.

I met Juan, my driver from FUNGLODE (the org that's running my internship and putting me up in the apartment building), and he loaded the van up with my stuff. Juan is super kind but speaks no English, so I felt really bad that I couldn't communicate with him.

On the way, we rode with two profs who will be teaching seminars in the FUNGLODE program. One was from Argentina, and we talked about the differences between South America and the Caribbean (in English). He liked my plans for study in the DR and he seemed impressed with FUNGLODE and InteRDom (the internship program itself).

While Juan drove me to my apartment building, I tried to talk to him about music. Here's why I try my horribly mangled Spanish.

Me: Conozco bomba, plena, merengue, reggaeton, y bachata.
Juan: Estas consada?
Me: Sí.
Juan: Por qué? Bailas?
Me: No, hay una fiesta para mi viaje a mi apartamento y no dormí.

That took about 20 minutes to figure out, because I couldn't understand him and I couldn't find the words right away.

We got to the apartment building about 1130pm. I was shown to my room on the third floor with Juan and a gentleman in a suit, whose name I cannot recall. The gentleman was nice enough to let me use his phone to call Sam (boyfriend) and tell him I made it okay.

Next morning there's a banging on my door. It's Juan again, and another man in a suit. He was rude and he asked me if I was homeless (in English). Turns out I was in the wrong room. I had no idea about any of it. I was supposed to be on the fifth floor.

Meanwhile I'm trying to tell them that I have no idea what's going on, I'm fumbling my Spanish, and I start to cry. I was just so damn frustrated and scared. I think Juan took pity on me because he took me to a coffee shop for breakfast. When I told him I didn't have pesos, he said "no es importante."

There, I tried to describe my pastry to him. It was delicious. It had some marmalade stuff in the middle. In my description, I said, "es como una pastilla." He didn't get it.

Later on I realized I had called the pastry a pill. Pastel is the word for cake. Oh lord.

Juan drove me around part of the city while he was doing errands for FUNGLODE. He bought me a pastellita, a deep fried thing with cheese and scallions. So good. I also saw him buy some weird purple fruit things. I asked him what they were, and he told me "aguacate." Avocados! No way, I said. Then I tried to describe how avocados are in the States. Poorly. I got as far as saying, "en mi país, son pequenos y verdes." I also said they were my favorite.

When we got back to the FUNGLODE building, I overheard Juan and the rude guy from earlier in the day arguing loudly about keys. Later Juan told me that the mixup was his fault. I think. He said "no es tu culpa."

I got the keys for my correct room and Juan told me to look in the fridge. Two cartons of orange juice, a loaf of bread, a pound of cheese, and some drinking water were in there. I got upset again, trying to tell Juan I didn't have pesos for the stuff, and he said it was all taken care of. So I started to cry. Again.

I was chillin' in my apartment, doing some reading all afternoon, and there's another knock on the door. This time, it's a delivery man with a bag of ice, asking for money. I did not order ice, nor did I ask for it from anyone. I tried to tell him I didn't want it ("no quiero") but he wouldn't take it back. I got upset all over again and insisted he leave. Finally I just gave him US$2 and he left.

Yes, I was hustled with ice.

The rest of my experiences with people around my building have been similarly embarrassing on my part. I'm so stressed out here trying to remember my Spanish and not look like a clod that I can't remember words. I get upset so easily and then I just break down. I'm such a damn noob here and it sucks.

Sunday was my saving grace. I know an American ex-pat journalist living here and he invited me to his daughter's birthday party. It turned out to be a great time. I met his family and his daughter's friends, all around three years old. I chatted with a few native Spanish speakers who say my Spanish is "muy claro" and they really tried talking with me.

Another guy I met, who's probably the most awesome person ever because he's hooking me up with a good contact for my research, is a Guatemalan native who's working and living here with his wife (who's American). I described my problems with Spanish so far and he says I'll get it. Like everyone else I've spoken to, they seem to think I'll get it.

I talked with people in Spanish and English all day, ate great food, and spent time outside my apartment. I really needed to get out. So far, all I've seen of the city is the Caribbean coast when Juan took me for a ride, and the park near my friend's place. I stood by the window and watched some teenagers playing baseball in the park. It was so cool.

This is already hella TL;DR, so I'll wrap it up. I'll describe my massive swank apartment another day, plus I have my first official FUNGLODE function tomorrow at 930am! Lots of stories ahead.