Feast/Banquete

Happy Thanksgiving, everyone! I just finished my over the top foodening at Il Cappuccino. Around this time, most of my beloved friends and family on the Best Coast are getting ready to sit down at their tables for their own foodenings. My dinner was so delicious I'm compelled to write about each course in detail, because I would do the same were I fixing and eating dinner in the US.

This is also the post where I try my hand at being a food writer. In case this sportswriting thing doesn't work out, I can turn to writing for Bon Appetit. It's awesome to get paid to write about sports if you're a huge fan like I am, so I gather it would be awesome to write about food for someone who loves to eat as much as I do.

Italian food is among my favorite cuisines of the world. Mexican, Japanese, and Caribbean foods are my other favorites. I rarely go out for a delicious Italian dinner, so I took advantage of the great Italian place down the road from me.

Vino: I have to start this portion by telling you that I'm not a wine connoisseur. I know red, white, rose, Pinot, Chardonnay...and that's about it. To tell you the truth I'm not even a big wine drinker, but I've come around on red wine here thanks to attending FUNGLODE to-dos where appetizers/wine are served. I make it a point to go to those to-dos, mostly for the free food and booze.

So I can't tell you exactly what was in my glass today, but it was a Pinot Noir and it was quite good.

Entrada: Carpaccio del atun (Tuna steak carpaccio)

I love tuna steaks and I love sushi so this is a natural win for my taste buds. It was served with a slight sprinkling of cracked black pepper. I appreciated the simple presentation because it allowed the flavor of the tuna to shine. I also love tuna for its very meaty and hearty texture. It's among the top of the fish varieties out there for its close qualities to cuts of poultry and beef.

Entree: Cannelloni con espinaca y queso ricotta (cannelloni with spinach and ricotta)

I went into this foodening really wanting a big-ass steak. Because really, what's better than a big-ass medium-rare steak? But then I saw the specials and one of them was the cannelloni. Pasta rules on its own and the only way to improve it is to stuff crap in it. I cook pasta at home often but I rarely go with stuffed/filled pastas because I can't make them from scratch and the frozen varieties are hit or miss.

The cannelloni came out smothered in cream sauce with a drizzle of tomato sauce over each tube. The filling was delightful and the sauce was especially delicious when sopped up with the two kinds of bread from the breadbasket--good crusty French bread, and focaccia baked with tomato on top.

I ate the whole damn breadbasket and I'd do it all over again if you put the bread in front of me.

Postre: Tiramisu y cafe con leche

Tiramisu is another one of those slam dunk dishes for me. It and creme brulee trump all other dessert options. Even chocolate. The tiramisu was absolutely lovely and delicious at Il Cappuccino. It was presented more like a layered cake: a thin layer of the coffee soaked ladyfingers, a thicker layer of the egg yolks/marscapone, and a liberal dusting of cocoa and cinnamon on top. The ladyfinger layer was more uniform that just stacking the cakes under the other stuff, like a real bottom layer of a cake. The middle layer of marscapone was creamy and refreshing, a necessity between the rich coffee soaked cake and the cinnamon/cocoa dust on top. I also detected rum in the cake, which tied the whole thing together.

The cafe con leche was the perfect balance to the variety of flavors in the tiramisu. If you ever find yourself in Latin America, do yourself a favor and drink as much coffee as you can. I love a good cup of unsweetened coffee with a rich dessert and following my tiramisu with a stiff cup of Dominican joe was perfection.

The service was lovely today. I got a waiter who was very interested in me and where I was from. He asked me how to say things in English--like what the English equivalent of "bon appetit" would be. Here they say "buen provecho" when serving your meal. I don't know what I would say to my dinner guests upon serving them other than "bon appetit" other than "enjoy your meal" which is what I told the waiter.

I did not pig out. Each dish I enjoyed wasn't enormous and it allowed me to finish each one and to savor them. I usually pig out on Thanksgiving. The turkey and the carbs (mashed potatoes and stuffing)  are the best part of the meal. By the end I'm too full for pumpkin pie. Come Christmas, I'll do the very same, complain about my searing stomachache, mainline Tums, and then eat my pie at midnight while watching Golden Girls episodes On Demand.

I very much enjoyed my non-traditional Thanksgiving and I hope all of you are enjoying yours, traditional and non-traditional alike.

Giving thanks/Dar agradecimiento

Most (if not all) of my readers are gearing up for Thanksgiving tomorrow. Let it be known that Thanksgiving is one of my favorite cold-weather holidays and one of the few things that gets me through the fall/winter months. I hate being cold and I hate being without baseball, but cooking a humongous meal  for my family and friends and chowing down with them takes a little of the pain away.

Here I am in a beautiful tropical country where it's warm and sunny and there's baseball the day before Turkey Day. That fact depressed me for weeks prior to the event. It sucks enough to be apart from your family and friends and to be all alone on any given day, but when it's one of the biggest deals of your home culture, it sucks even more.

That's right. Indhira went home to New York. Her time here was up about a week ago so here I am fending for myself for the next three weeks.

As I saw it, I had two options: one, continue to be depressed about being alone (not just for Thanksgiving, but for the duration of my time here), or two, make the best of my time here.

I chose the latter option.

My Thanksgiving plans involve me going to Plaza Lama, a supertienda (kinda like a big box store a la Target or Wal-Mart) and finish the rest of my holiday shopping. Tomorrow evening I'm going to Il Cappuccino, this delightful Italian place down the street from my apartment, where I will treat myself to a full Italian dinner: pasta, steak, bread, wine, and the most decadent dessert in the house.

The last time I went out for Thanksgiving dinner was right before my grandmother died. It was just the two of us and we went to Mimi's Cafe for their holiday turkey dinner. We ate, drank wine, and toasted to a year that sucked overall but it was okay because we had each other. It was one of the last good memories I have of my grandmother.

I can give thanks while I am here. Here are the things I appreciate about being in the Dominican Republic, and other things in my life:

The weather. I wake up with the sun streaming through the blinds onto my face every morning. The oppressive heat from September has cooled to a mellow, pleasant tropical warmth. Even the rain is charming. Sometimes it's soft and sometimes it pours like crazy and I love watching every minute of it from my balcony. After the rain everything smells fresh.

I value my time alone here. I need time to myself in any setting, to recharge my batteries and do my own thing, but I'm also happy to be alone here because it's forcing me to get out there and do things, which requires me to ask for help. I'm going out to eat more often and I'm going shopping tomorrow alone, things which would have terrified me when I first got here.

The people are lovely, in every sense of the word. From my English-speaking cab driver to my grocery boy to the InteRDom people to the security guards at my building, most of the people I've encountered here are helpful and kind. Whenever I felt alone or like an outsider in this culture, those people have endeavored to include me.

I love the culture here. Aside from the obvious things like music, dance, and fried food, I value that tomorrow and Friday aren't big ass deals like they are in the US. I get annoyed when everything is closed in the US for a holiday and I loathe the hype around Black Friday and Christmas shopping in general. I've seen far too many obnoxious ads for Black Friday and for jewelry stores on the American TV channels here and each one of them makes me want to throw up. I get to sidestep all of that here for the next few weeks. I can go shopping tomorrow, even!

I'm thankful for baseball. Everywhere. Everyone who plays it. Everyone who works in it.

I'm very thankful for my MacBook Pro. It's been my window to the world I left behind these three months here. I've been able to keep up with my friends, complete the work for my online class, and it's become my best friend here. It's just so very handy. I did a complete project for my online class, using solely my laptop: I shot and edited video, put together a PowerPoint presentation, edited photos for said PP, and slapped all three together using programs and software already included on the machine when I bought it--save for MS Office, which I got from my boyfriend. I love this thing.

I am thankful to have strong people behind me in the United States, people who loved me enough to encourage me to go on this adventure and people who love me enough to welcome me home from my adventure. I would not be here if it weren't for Sam, my roommate Phil, my best friend and surrogate sister Jenna, my advisors at San Jose State, my various bosses and coworkers and colleagues in sportswriting and at Santa Clara Swim Club, and I know I'm forgetting some people.

I am thankful for all the lessons I've learned here, about myself, about my two cultures, about Spanish, and about how I look at the world. I will never be the same person I was when I left the US and I really like the person I'm becoming.

I'm thankful that I can return home in 17 days, but I'm thankful for the time I have here. I'm thankful for the views of the sea from my balcony and the banana and coconut palms growing in my neighborhood. When I go home I know I'll see oak trees, gray skies, and concrete jungles. I'm enjoying the beauty of this country for as long as I can.

I am thankful for the culinary tricks I picked up here. I'm going to wow them back home with my slick Dominican cooking skills. Even though the only thing I can replicate to Dominican standards is tostones (fried plantains), I still make other Dominican dishes that are at least edible.

I am thankful for the credits I've earned here that will get me another semester closer to graduation at San Jose State and I am thankful for the future opportunities that will come thanks to what I've done here. One already has come--I was accepted into SJSU's Provost's Honors Seminar this spring, a class for the top 25 students at the school. It's by invite only and it will look great on my resume. Hopefully it will make my applications for grad school a slam dunk.

I wish all of you the best Thanksgiving with your family and friends, and don't get trampled if you do venture out on Black Friday.

Grocery boys/Los muchachos de comestibles

One of the best things about living in my apartment and my neighborhood is that I have a big kitchen and a grocery store within walking distance. I was really concerned about having a space where I could cook and a place where I could get food to cook. I love going out for meals, but after a while that takes a toll on your wallet and your figure. Plus, cooking centers me and I love making food, plus I get the fun of experimenting with Dominican recipes in my kitchen here, with the food resources to make it happen.

Is a trip to the grocery store all that different here as opposed to the United States? It depends on what your criteria is. In terms of what I shop for, what I buy, how much I buy, and where I buy it, there's not much difference. The grocery store I frequent is laid out exactly like every other grocery store I've been to in my life. I buy staples like beans, rice, meats, bread, fresh produce, herbs, spices, and oil. I buy yummy things I don't need like ice cream, sweets, and crackers. Fortunately staples are very reasonably priced here (for me, anyway) and I get a great exchange rate with the US dollar. I shop once a week and I buy enough stuff to cook meals for a week, plus stuff for breakfast, and I replenish any staples that are running low, plus things like cleaning supplies and toiletries as needed.

As for the variety of things I buy, I've found some cool options here. I found these amazing six grain rolls that are delicious with Nutella. That plus a glass of Tropicana OJ (lots of pulp) is my usual breakfast. Yogurt flavors here come in dulce de leche, guava, and chinola (passionfruit). Beans galore. GALORE! Black, red, pink, white, pigeon peas. I love beans so this is outstanding. Naturally the selection of fresh produce differs here, and most of it is dirt cheap. I love fruits and vegetables so I love this. The avocados here are three times the size of the Haas avocados in the US and they cost about 17 pesos a piece. We're talking 50 cents for an avocado that can feed three people. That's the dream, right there.

Also, items tend to be referred to as their brand or product names. Diapers aren't called such here. They're "pamper." Want matches? Ask for "fosforo." The brand of matches.

So I buy my groceries once a week, usually on Saturdays after school, or Sunday mornings if I'm feeling extremely lazy. I shop with the idea of what I want to cook in mind--no different from my plan of attack in the US. I've taken to buying split bone-in chicken breasts because it saves me at least 150 pesos and I'm a pro at deboning meat. I buy a lot of sweet peppers and onions and tomatoes and I make a lot of stewed dishes.

It's easy to take care of your business at the grocery store, too. My grocery store has a Viva payment kiosk. Viva is my cell phone provider here and I can add minutes to my phone there. It also has a photo center and you can buy cigars there, too.

Shopping and buying the groceries is only half the battle. You have to get your groceries home, too.

I live in downtown San Jose and I'm within walking distance of everything. I walk a few city blocks to the grocery store. But as you know, it's hard to get a lot of groceries home without a car. I usually recruit my boyfriend to help on grocery runs and we use this rolling cube cart thing he has. It's not very big, but we've managed to cram a lot of stuff in there using creative methods.

Here however, I have no cube and no car. The first time I went to the grocery store without a ride I wasn't sure how to get my stuff home. Indhira told me the guys who bag the groceries will push the cart to your home--for a tip, and provided that your destination is within a reasonable distance to the grocery store.

Enter the grocery boys. Most of them are young (18-20) and very attractive. It's quite satisfactory to have a cute boy schlep your stuff around.

Relax. I only look. I don't touch. I'm too old for these children, anyway.

These grocery boys have a dangerous job when they carry my groceries home. The grocery store is on one of the busiest streets in Distrito Nacional and the sidewalk has been torn up since I got here due to construction projects. The grocery boys have to walk in the street, with traffic, because the sidewalks are either blocked off or so rocky/uneven that the cart wheels won't go over them.

More than a few times, grocery boys have recklessly pushed the cart into traffic. One of them ran with the cart then rode it. I would have felt awfully guilty if he died a horrible splattery death because he was carrying my groceries home.

Last week I ended up with a grocery boy who speaks English! He goes to La Universidad Autonoma de Santo Domingo (the public university) and works two jobs, at the grocery store and at a hotel. He's learning English at UASD and he speaks very well. Now he insists on carrying my groceries home every time I shop there. We practice our languages together. He told me (in English) that he's studying engineering at UASD and he wants to go to school because he lives in a bad neighborhood and he wants something better for himself. As a working student myself, I sympathize.

Plus he's the cutest of all the grocery boys. Shut it. I'm allowed to enjoy the company of men. A little bit.

It's definitely different shopping here. In the US, once you pay for your shit, you're pushed out the door. Here, the typical Dominican quality of accommodating and helping people extends to the poor confused American who shows up once a week to drop a few thousand pesos on groceries.

Travelogue/Sobre viajes

I took some trips over the last several weeks and I realized I did a great disservice to my blog by not posting pictures or writing about my adventures.

I'll condense them for you by posting links to my photo albums and providing brief descriptions of my travels.

In early October I went to the beach at Boca Chica with my roommate and her friends. Boca Chica is east of Santo Domingo. There aren't any suitable beaches in Santo Domingo, so you have to go east for the best ones.

I took the pictures from this set at different intervals of the day, from afternoon to sunset. I was told that this beach was "ghetto" compared to the resort beaches in the DR. I was still in love with the sky, the sea, and the sand. Seriously this water was WARM and clear and gorgeous.

The rest of the photos are here: http://www.facebook.com/media/set/?set=a.10150314886931373.337181.731621372&type=1&l=eb2c2fdb6d

The next trip I went on was an excursion with my history class to the ruins of a colonial sugar plantation and the Columbus Lighthouse.

The ruins of Engombe was a fun trip to a natural protected area not too far from Santo Domingo. The ruins included the sugar mill, the main house, the slave quarters, and the chapel.

The rest of this first set is here: http://www.facebook.com/media/set/?set=a.10150331387681373.340547.731621372&type=1&l=cdb6ad361a


Then we went to the Columbus Lighthouse, a massive museum near the Colonial Zone that celebrates Christopher Columbus' voyage to the Americas and the history, culture, and contributions of each country in the Americas. There's a ton of stuff to see there, so I'll let you read the captions on each photo.

The rest of the photos from that set are here: http://www.facebook.com/media/set/?set=a.10150331471121373.340556.731621372&type=1&l=cabf035ae8

Towards the end of October I went on a boat trip to Rio Chavon and Isla Saona. Saona is an island off the southeastern coast of the DR and is a frequent stop for tourists. It is the pristine and gorgeous tropical paradise that comes to mind when thinking of the Caribbean. We also voyaged on the river and saw cool and wild stuff. It was the best parts of the DR, the untamed and natural beauty of the country.

Lots of photos are in this set: http://www.facebook.com/media/set/?set=a.10150334868421373.341244.731621372&type=1&l=d958263b95

The next trip was a voyage to the north, to the second largest city in the country: Santiago. First we visited the Hermanas Mirabal Museum. I mentioned the sisters before here.

I met Dede Mirabal! She's the only surviving sister and she still lives in the house where the sisters lived. She's the coolest woman ever. I'm on the far left, in case you care.

We also went to Centro Leon, which unfortunately didn't allow cameras, and we went to my internship coordinator's family home in Santiago.

I met my internship coordinator's dad, who is the coolest dad ever. He grabbed a machete and led us to his plot of platano trees, where he cut off a branch of platanos for us and pulled up a yuca plant like it was nothing.

The rest of the pictures are here: http://www.facebook.com/media/set/?set=a.10150340230816373.342310.731621372&type=1&l=a2e6edaa80

Last week we went to the east again, this time to La Romana and San Pedro de Macoris. Unfortunately the trip was kind of a flop. The cave we visited with cool Taino paintings didn't allow cameras. And we didn't get into Altos de Chavon because the security guard or whatever wouldn't let our car through the gate.

So our tour guide took us to San Pedro de Macoris and we saw some of the city's oldest sights. Like the first firehouse in the country.

And the symbols of the town in the middle of the city: the railroad, the sugar plantation workers, baseball players, and crabs.

And a quick trip to Baseball City, where several MLB teams have their Dominican academies.

All this and more, here: http://www.facebook.com/media/set/?set=a.10150354896646373.345487.731621372&type=1&l=9e7301c2d5

My most recent trip, yesterday in San Francisco de Macoris, was to a cacao plantation. We toured the cacao tree groves, followed the process from harvest to chocolate bar processing, watched them make chocolate in both the old fashioned way and the mechanized way, and ate chocolate.

Cacao pods! Not what you expected? Not what I expected either.

We went for lunch at a delightful place in town, where Christmas came early.

The rest of Sunday's pics are here: http://www.facebook.com/media/set/?set=a.10150359310251373.346103.731621372&type=1&l=d4778c4f90

That's the extent of my travels in the DR. No other trips have been scheduled. And now we are caught up. I hope you enjoy my pictures as much as I enjoyed taking them.

Some things don't change/Algunas cosas no cambian

I visited CDN's studios in Santo Domingo this morning. CDN's motto is "the national leader in news." I don't have enough information to confirm or deny that, but I learned that CDN has exclusive rights to broadcast Major League Baseball and the Dominican Winter League games in the Dominican Republic.

I met Ambiorix Vidal, the sports producer of the network. He's very young (mid 20s, and I am very old) and a former ballplayer, and when he spoke to me of his station's mission for baseball broadcast he smiled from ear to ear. That's why I came here--to find others who understand why baseball is so beautiful.

The details of my interview with Sr. Vidal are coming up in a future article. He showed me around the CDN studios. Our tour took me back nearly 10 years, to my first year in college and my first professional aspirations in broadcast journalism.

I got to see CDN's main television sets. Studio A has setups for four desk sets, plus a green screen and a few panels for sports broadcasts. It's not the largest or most advanced set in Santo Domingo, but it has everything necessary to produce a news broadcast. They have HD cameras and their typical news broadcast uses a two-camera setup, different from the three-camera set up I was trained on back in the day.

There's also a studio for programs broadcast on CDN2, geared for women and children, and a separate studio for cooking shows. We got to watch a bit of a live cooking show broadcast in progress. We also saw the editing rooms, the control room, and the radio studios. CDN produces radio and El Caribe, a newspaper in Santo Domingo.

When I started college I was a broadcast major and I was hellbent on being the very best sports announcer there ever was. Deep down, I also wanted to be a news anchor. I met one of the anchors for CDN's news program and was reminded of why I never could have been an anchor. She was tall and gorgeous with flawless cheekbones. Now, I have some damn good bone structure too, but next to this Dominican beauty I felt like Frumpy McStumperson, all fat and squat and awkward. They don't put flops like that on the TV.

But then I remembered the real reasons why I got out of the broadcasting game. Things really haven't changed all that much in how news is produced. The major changes have to do with the switch to digital broadcasting and HD--soon to be 3D, which I'm sorry, is gimmicky as a mother and annoying for people who wear glasses to see. I HATE those tacky 3D glasses and using them every time I want to watch TV? The hell with that noise--and non-linear editing, i.e., editing via computer programs instead of physically manipulating the videotape. I started out right as the industry straddled the line between linear and non-linear editing and I was taught how to edit videotape as well as via computer programs, like Final Cut Pro.

All that means is that I could get back into the game after a few crash courses in shooting, editing, and producing video. The question is not if I could do it. The question is if I want to, and the answer is a big fat resounding NO.

Basically in broadcasting, a few people do all the work while everyone stands around watching you do it. In my production classes, I ran the board in the control room. I ran the sound board. I ran video tape. I was floor manager. I was on camera. I did everything while the other nosepickers stood around doing nothing. It was enough to throw my headset at them.

Plus half the classes were girls and you can guess their motivation for a BS in broadcast journalism: "I want to be on TV! Tee-hee!" After a while, the women who were serious about production defected. One really smart girl who had a lot on the ball and who produced solid news reports just up and left in the middle of the semester because she was tired of the bubbleheads who didn't actually do a damn thing but always were on camera because their only talent was to sit there and look pretty.

Those frustrations pushed me pretty close to the edge, but I eventually found that I enjoyed the writing side of things more than the production side. I gave script writing a try, both film and broadcast news, and I didn't care for it as much as I thought I would. By the time I was completely exhausted with broadcasting, I was offered some opportunities to write about sports on the internet--back when that was still a novel concept--and that took its own course.

I enjoy the interviewing process a lot. Sometimes I think having my own newsmagazine program a la Anderson Cooper, with interviews and stuff, would be great. I love learning new things about people, places, and events, and I love to hear the stories that come out of my questions. I get a deep sense of satisfaction from turning the interviews into articles which introduce previously untold stories. At the end of the day, I'm a much better writer than a speaker and I flourish when I write.

My visit to CDN was still a valuable and fun experience. I got to relive a time in my life that I rarely give any consideration to, and I got to see that I made the right choice after all. Those are the best moments.

Swimming at Casa Blanca/Nadar a Casa Blanca

As much as I'd like to tell you that I took a quick trip to Morocco or I'm starring in a Broadway version of the classic 1942 film, Casa Blanca is simply a cabana club in eastern Santo Domingo. I went there with Indhira, her little sister, and our driver on Friday after class, and I had a great time.

Like baseball, swimming is one of the things in my life that is more work than recreation for me. Swimming is more work to me that baseball is, by the sheer amount of time I spend teaching in the water. Over the summer I worked nearly every day in the pool teaching lessons, from Memorial Day to the day before I left for the DR. I taught one of my regular private lessons on the Wednesday afternoon of the week I left, and Friday morning at 4am I arrived at San Francisco International Airport to catch my plane. Once I return to the States I'll be working a minimum of three days at the pool, and perhaps as many as five days if I can fit it into my schedule.

It's a good thing I enjoy aquatics and teaching so much, seeing as it's such a big part of my life. To be honest, I don't swim for recreation all that much anymore. I swam at a friend's pool party for the Fourth of July this summer. I think that's the only time I got into the pool for a recreational swim this year, before I got here. I don't swim in the ocean in California because the water is too cold and often really dirty, with seaweed and broken pieces of shells and just general ocean gunk washing up with every wave. I pass by the aquatics center at San Jose State every day when going to and from my apartment and I'm never compelled to go for a swim there, even as the facility is quite nice. I don't go to open or rec swim at the swim club where I work, either. 

I also have my own ideas of what a cabana club is like. I taught lessons this summer at a cabana club that's built for kids. It's seriously tiny town there, with showerheads in the bathrooms placed 4 feet off the ground, and a 1.5 foot wading pool with water kept at 90 degrees. Still, it was nice teaching there because they sold ice cream, cold drinks, and would play the local classic rock station over the cabana soundsystem. 

When we got to Casa Blanca, we drove on a side street off one of the main roads up to a white walled building. There wasn't even a sign of any indicator of what was inside. A huge pool of deep blue water in the middle of gorgeous architecture met us as we walked in. Two story balconies with white railings were all around the pool. There was a dance floor with a soundsystem that pumped out bachata, merengue, and salsa all day. Everywhere you go when you hang out in the DR has a bar. Even if it's just beer and rum, there's a bar. Casa Blanca follows that rule. The pool itself had a real rock formation with a tumbling waterfall.

The water was perfect--clear, cool, and not harsh at all. I've been to the beach twice here (details coming in my next post) and loved the warm water but hated the salt from the sea, burning my nose and eyes and wrecking my hair. In my pool in Santa Clara, the chlorine is cranked up so high the water tastes awful. One time I accidentally got some in my mouth and I nearly choked.

The water at the big pool at Casa Blanca was the best water I've encountered while swimming. 

As we've come into November, the weather here has become almost pleasant. I still sweat on my walks to school and to the grocery store, but it's no longer oppressively hot outside. Friday afternoon and evening was cool and refreshing, the kind of summer evening I've come to relish in San Jose. The water got colder as the sun went down and the wind picked up a bit, and I found myself on the chilly side. After two months of humidity at 90 degrees, I welcomed the chance to be cold.

I also welcome the chance to hang out in my bikini in November. Back in San Jose, it's been 40-60 degrees with rain. I could hang out in my bikini there, but I don't think I'd enjoy it much there.

Casa Blanca is truly lovely and if I had loads of money, I'd get married here and fly all my friends and family out here. The reception would be at Casa Blanca. Bring your own swimsuit.

We ended up at this gorgeous place only because our first destination was closed. We drove out to Agua Splash, a water park with water slides and other fun things, and found a sign that said the park was closed until March 2012 for renovations.

That really sucks because I was invited to go to Agua Splash last week but we couldn't go because of a scheduling problem and now I can't go at all. It looks like a really fun place, already made better by the standards of DR entertainment (aka the bar and loud music).

Because of this unexpected change of plans, we had to drive around quite a bit. Sometimes we sat in traffic for more than a few minutes. The main roads in Santo Domingo have people on foot weaving around the cars when traffic is stopped, selling…well, anything you can think of. Cell phone chargers, sunglasses, belts, snacks, cold drinks (those guys are geniuses if you ask me), flowers, phone cards. I saw more than a few of these vendors, including some women--a rare sight for me so far. I've seen men as the predominant ones selling fruit from their carts, pedaling their ice cream carts down the street, and selling drinks and snacks on the street corners on Avenida Maximo Gomez (the main street by my apartment).

Just as I got to enjoy myself at a baseball game, I got to enjoy a day at the swimming pool. Soon enough I'll go back to my job as a swim coach and I'll get back into it, loving what I do but not having time or desire to get in the pool for myself. That's okay.

I'll always have Casa Blanca.

Two months: lessons/Dos meces: lecciones

Two months have passed for me in the Dominican Republic. It's odd to think that next month I'll be home. It was like when the calendar turned to August and I was saying, "next month I will be in the Dominican Republic."

A month ago, when I wrote about my first 30 or so days here, I put down a series of goals and benchmarks I had for myself. I vowed to reach those benchmarks and to improve upon those goals going forward.

It's not to say that I haven't improved on handling culture shock, speaking Spanish, and polishing my professional skills. I certainly am better at all these things. But instead on focusing on the end result of improvement  I've found myself thinking more about how I got to this point. What are the lessons I have learned?

Culture shock is still a problem, but a small one. I know how to do some things here, and when I don't, I know who to ask. I see, now more than ever, that my Spanish skills and culture shock are intertwined. I can make small talk with the doorman in my building. That puts me at ease. When I am at ease I do better with the Spanish.

Last week I had an experience that showed me that culture shock will always be a factor, but that I am never truly lost here. I had to call a cab to get home from an interview meeting. I struggled with understanding the dispatcher on the phone and with telling him where I was and where I needed to go, despite rehearsing it before I left and having it written down. A woman in the elevator lobby asked me, in English, if I needed a cab. I handed her the phone and she talked to the dispatcher, and then gave me the number of the taxi unit and the color of the car--necessary details when taking a cab here. I thanked her a million times for that.

The taxi arrived shortly in front of the building and again I stumbled over my Spanish. The driver then asked, in English, if I spoke English. Somehow I got the only English speaking cab driver in the country. I don't know how that's possible. He told me about all the places he's been: Japan, Italy, New York. I'm not sure if he was telling me the truth, but he speaks English and understands me so he's my guy from now on. I have his card with his cell phone number.

The lesson I've learned from my attempts to assimilate is that I'm never going to perfectly fit in here, especially after only three months. I've also learned that it's okay. I've done well enough while I'm here with my work and seeing the sights and learning from my experiences. I can't expect a complete cultural transfusion when I'm so deeply embedded in my native culture.

I still get frustrated with Spanish but it's becoming less of an issue. When I hit the wall last month with Spanish I went back and studied my beginning Spanish textbook. I realized that wouldn't help me but with spot checks on grammar, conjugations, and vocab. That book wasn't going to tell me how to converse with the doorman or give directions to a pedestrian on the street corner. I have to do those things myself.

I do, sort of. I mess up words. Sometimes the people I talk to fill in words that I miss. I can't say that my Spanish is any better technically, but it's better functionally. Now I really don't care if I mess up. I just speak and let the rest fall into place. Somehow that works better than being flustered and worried all the time.

Remember that Spanish class I said I was going to attend? That plan fizzled because I suffered from bad insomnia through most of October, due to stress here and stress at home. I couldn't fall asleep until 5am most nights, and the night before my current events midterm I was up all night until 730am before I took a quick nap and got up for class at 11am. Thank god I got a B on the test. The Spanish class begins at 8am three days a week and by the time I'd fall asleep I either slept through my alarm or just couldn't get out of bed.

But again, I think those classes would be a glorified version of me with my Spanish textbook. It's stuff I already know. We can conjugate verbs to our hearts' content but that doesn't really help us in real world usage.

My professional skills have been touched in ways I didn't consider before. As a journalist in the United States, I enjoy the widest freedoms and the strictest responsibilities to tell the truth in every story I produce. Journalists in the DR adhere to those responsibilities too...at times. What is public knowledge in the newspaper about an education scandal or embezzlement or police corruption is met with a warning to shush it in conversation.

One of my stories was rejected because it was deemed too negative to run. I take pride in my work and I stick to telling the truth without bias. My work here is no different from my work in the US. The rejected story was written with great care, taking different perspectives from trusted sources, using public knowledge from newspaper stories.

It concerned a controversial topic, so it was rejected.

I also need to be fair in describing the capacity of my work here. I am writing for an organization rather than a news source. Organizations require more of a public relations style for writing. PR doesn't tell lies, but they don't tell what's wrong with a situation. It's writing to build publicity. My background is news/editorial writing. There was a culture clash in this situation.

But the situation taught me a few things. One, that journalism is a lot different over here. Two, because of that difference, I should respect and value my job in the US, and I should respect the way the trade functions over here.

The biggest lesson I learned from this is that working for organizations requires a different skill set from mine. If I'm going to be working for MLB (or another sports organization here or in the US), chances are I will need PR writing skills. I've decided to take some PR classes at San Jose State when I come home. It never hurts to know how to do lots of things. Maybe I'll stick in news/editorial writing. Maybe I won't. The point is I want to be ready for the next turn my life takes.

Here's the article that did run. I'm quite proud of it: http://interdominternships.blogspot.com/2011/11/education-in-dominican-republic-part.html

I plan on writing a post every day this week, including photos and descriptions of the trips and excursions I've been on and what it's like to go grocery shopping here. If you have questions or want me to write about something I haven't touched on here, let me know!

Baseball: the insane tragedy and the majesty of being/Béisbol: la tragedia del loco y la majestad de ser

I like to think of my adventure here as a version of the hero's journey. I've brought that analogy up before here. Sunday night I achieved the step called "atonement with the father." In monomyth analysis, the atonement of the father is when the hero confronts and is initiated by the person or thing that holds the ultimate power in his/her life. It's the central point of the hero's journey. Everything has led up to it and everything thereafter will be directly influenced by it. Most often this step concerns the hero meeting a human male figure, but it can be any gender or even any entity, not just a person.

Naturally, my atonement step was meeting baseball here. I went to my house of worship for my religious experience: taking in a Dominican League baseball game at Estadio Quisqueya.

Here is the photo album from the day

And the prettiest picture of the day:

I went to see Licey and Escogido play. They are the two teams from Santo Domingo and they share the stadium. That made my game crazier than I could have imagined. There was a home team in name only. Escogido was the home team for the day, meaning they had last ups. I saw red for Escogido and blue for Licey in equal amounts around the stadium. Cheers were equally loud for both teams.

Dominican baseball is the same sport I know on the field. Off the field, I was treated to a different experience. The entire stadium was louder than most games I've been to in the States. Only the two major games I attended in 2010 were louder: the 2010 NL West clincher on October 3, and Game 2 of the World Series, both in San Francisco. The fans had horns and noisemakers, plus there was a small marching band with thundering drums and blaring brass playing tunes for Escogido. Every play had the fans waving their flags, red and blue, and blaring their horns.

I'm a veteran of minor league baseball, so I'm used to the gimmicky between innings entertainment featured in minor league games. They have that here too, in the form of a cheerleading/dance team, wacky mascot antics, and a parade by the marching band. The dancers are Venezuelan and Colombian models who fire T-shirt guns into the crowd, dance on the dugout roof, and ride around the warning track in a classic car with red Escogido flags. Every team has dancers and they all wear skimpy outfits.

The mascots had an epic war the entire game. Escogido's mascot, a lion, had several costume changes throughout the night. He wore a devil costume for Halloween and an umpire's getup to make fun of the umpires. When he challenged Licey's mascot, a tiger, to a dance-off and won, the tiger responded by bringing a stroller out of the dugout with a plush lion toy in it, and pushed the stroller around to make fun of the lion.

I can't go anywhere without talking about the food. The ballpark featured several national brands (Presidente beer, Pizzarelli pizza) and some international brands (Chili's margarita stand). Vendors walked around selling a variety of food: pizza, hot dogs, empanandas, Pringles, and the best vendor of them all would fetch a cold beer for you and bring it to your seat. All you had to do was ask. I was told they have vendors serving people in their seats to eliminate people walking around during the games. Brilliant, if you ask me. I got a beer for 80 pesos, a slice of pizza for 95 pesos, and a hat for 125 pesos. All in all, about US$8, and all of it was top notch. Compare a similar day at the yard in the US; $6-10 for a beer (Budweiser on the cheap end, good beer like Anchor Steam on the expensive end), pizza for $7-10 (quality widely ranging from crappy to mediocre), and a hat for $15-30 (fitted caps run more). On top of your ticket, that can be a pricey day.

I had a hard time choosing a hat to buy. There were several stands set up outside the ballpark with hats from all the teams around the league. I decided to wait until I got inside to check out the team stores. Licey and Escogido had one store each. I didn't find anything I liked for Escogido--their fitted caps were either 6 3/4 or 7 1/4, and my size is 6 7/8. I have a rare size I know. But it's possible to find it. I have several 6 7/8 fitted caps. None of the adjustable hats looked good to me. So I went to the Licey store and realized how limited my choices were there too. Licey is blue. Dodger blue. I can't have a hat in any shade of blue that isn't San Jose State, and I especially can't wear anything blue with my Giants gear. I wore my Juan Marichal shirt to the game. No way in hell would I wear a blue hat with that.

I found an all black Licey adjustable cap that fit me well and looks great, so I bought it. I think it's a kids size, because it's really small. But it fits great so I'm happy with my purchase.

We had an hour long rain delay after clouds quickly swept in. It rained hard for about 20 minutes and the rest of the time the grounds crew worked on the field to get it ready for baseball. This keeps up my streak of rain delays at every ballpark I visit outside of San Francisco. I went to Coors Field in Colorado in 2006 and it rained. Biblical downpour thunder and lightning rain. I went to Comerica Park in 2008 and it rained.

Once the rain left and the players could begin their warmups, I saw Brandon Belt come out of the Leones dugout. Belt plays first base (not outfield. Do you hear me, Giants? NOT outfield) in the Giants system and I've interviewed him a few times for my various reporting jobs in the US. I was excited to see him play. I find it hard to get excited about what I see on the field because I spend so much of my time working around baseball. I wouldn't call it boredom, just getting used to what's there. I don't get starstruck easily, I should say.

But I bounced in my seat to see Belt swing a bat in the on deck circle. I felt a link to what I do in the States to what I'm doing here. I was initiated. Dominican baseball was no longer this cloudy subject I had no real picture of. It became real for me at that moment.

I had a flash of a moment buried in my past last night, too. Years ago, I sat in the arcade section of AT&T Park with some friends and watched the Cardinals and Giants play on a foggy July evening. Next to me was a painfully cute Cardinals fan who tried flirting with me the whole night. He asked me questions about my scorecards, about the field, about the teams and I basically gave him the ice queen act. I didn't realize he was trying to get with me until my friend brought it up on the car ride home.

Sunday night, the cute Escogido fan next to me asked me why I was writing in my notebook. He asked my why I was rooting for Licey. He asked me a lot of things I didn't understand. I tried my best to engage him in conversation.

Naturally, when I was as single as they come and dying for a baseball fan boyfriend, I act like a buffoon. I'm with the love of my life now (baseball and Sam) and I become warm and loquacious. Que malo.

I value my first game outside the US for several reasons, but the biggest one for me is having the chance to go to a game as a fan. I don't get to attend many games just to watch them. Most of the time I'm working: taking notes, keeping score, scouting, watching radar guns, shooting the shit with scouts. When I went to the key games for the 2010 San Francisco Giants, I was on edge the whole time because those games meant something. While last night's game meant the world to me, it wasn't watching the team I gave my life to. It wasn't work. I was able to kick back with a beer and chat and take in the most rewarding experience of my life.

Joseph Campbell, who coined the term "monomyth" offered this explanation of atonement of the father:

The problem of the hero going to meet the father is to open his soul beyond terror to such a degree that he will be ripe to understand how the sickening and insane tragedies of this vast and ruthless cosmos are completely validated in the majesty of Being. The hero transcends life with its peculiar blind spot and for a moment rises to a glimpse of the source. He beholds the face of the father, understands—and the two are atoned.

I opened my soul by submitting to the Dominican Republic's definition of baseball in all its insane tragedies. And still it's as beautiful to me as it ever was. It is the majesty of being.

Baseball and I are atoned.

Some things are universal/Algunas cosas son universales

One of the first lessons I learned in my global studies classes at San Jose State was that things are universal. I took that to mean that we share the world as a system. Economies work together (and sometimes don't, shutting out poorer economies, but hey, that's just business and it proves my point). McDonald's is everywhere. We even have cognates between languages; words that are spelled and pronounced the same way (or very close to it) and that have the same meaning. Like universal.

Last night I learned that some things, like hanging out, don't differ much over here. Indhira and I went to the 'hood, pretty far from our comfy bubble in the nice part of town, to kick it with some of her friends.

Getting there was an adventure in and of itself. Traffic was hell, though not for the usual reasons of a million people rushing in opposite chaotic directions. We drove right into a parade/rally supporting presidential candidate Danilo Medina. People were crammed into the beds of pickup trucks, yelling their support and waving purple flags. Some whizzed by on motorcycles with flags. There was a marching band and everything.

I'll break here to explain a few things about Dominican politics. Purple is the color of Danilo's party, Partido de la Liberación Dominicana. It's basically a two-party system here, with Danilo and Hipólito Mejía representing Partido Revolucionario Dominicano. The party's color is white. And instead of referring to candidates by their last names, they are referred to by their first names. 

I really wanted to take a picture of the rally/parade, but it was all asses and elbows in terms of how packed the streets were, and people here aren't exactly demure. One guy reached into the car window to (presumably) shake my hand. I just gave him a shy smile and kept my hands in my lap. Whipping out a camera in that mess would have meant I come home down one camera. Plus we were moving at a crawl, and I wouldn't get good image quality as we bumped over the poorly paved streets.

We arrived at a colmado, which I described once before as a corner store type thing. This colmado had music blaring (salsa, bachata, and merengue), people flowing in and out, and tons of people hanging out on the sidewalk in front. There was a table for dominoes. Everyone had beer. Indhira brought her hookah. We danced--well, they danced actual salsa and merengue steps. I just kinda shook my ass all around. It was a lot like the parties I attend in the States, just with more dancing and better music.

And when I say everyone, I mean everyone. The entire neighborhood turned out, from kids to grandparents. We dined on some street food, particularly this delicious thing made with green platanos and hot sauce that was to die for. 

It was like this on almost every corner and every street in that neighborhood. Neighbors all know each other and hang out. It's a stark contrast from my building in the States; I live in a renovated Victorian house that's been split into four apartments. I've met two of the other apartment tenants (two couples) only once and all I know of the other tenants is that they're complete jackasses who slam doors and scream swear words in the middle of the night, and who call the cops on our cable guy for being parked in a red zone. 

I digress. It had a point. Americans are jerks, Dominicans are cool. Let's continue.

The whole evening was so chill. It was perfect for me, to get out and relax and see a side of the city that I haven't yet seen. I didn't come to the Dominican Republic to sit in my room in my fancy apartment. I came to see what this country is all about.

I didn't take a lot of pictures from last night, mostly because I don't want to treat the people here like they're part of some National Geographic documentary. I respect them enough not to run around with a camera and snap pictures like I'm at the zoo. 

The whole evening was the best night since I got here, and I'm glad I got to go out and see more of the country I still know so little about. I also took a lesson from the night. I'm going to go out and live. I will be bad at Spanish.  Nike put it best when they said, "just do it." I just did it last night, and I ended up having the time of my life.

Something (really) old/Algo (muy) viejo

Monday was my trip to La Zona Colonial, the section of Santo Domingo that was the first settlement in the Americas. I had to resist the urge to title this post First!


I took a million pictures, running around like a tourist fool for the first time since I got here. I have a public link to the Facebook album here: http://www.facebook.com/media/set/?set=a.10150286566621373.331592.731621372&l=4c8d415b83&type=1

We took a walking tour with a few different guides, all who spoke Spanish at my insistence. I didn't understand our main tour guide completely, but I got about 2/3 of what he said. Our guide for the Catedral  de Santa María de la Encarnación was easier to understand and I learned a ton of cool stuff about the joint. It was the first cathedral built in the Americas. Even to a non-Catholic, that place is stunning.

I didn't catch everything that was taught to me. Instead of breaking my ass to figure out the who/what/where/when/why of nearly 200 photos, I brought the pictures up to my history prof at UNIBE. He loved my idea of sharing the pics in class and discussing the sites. I figured if anyone knew what was going on, he would. It's a future class project. That's turning a frown in the form of a still crippling language barrier upside down.

I shouldn't say that my inability to communicate freely in Spanish is crippling. On the contrary. I feel like I understand more and more each day. I'm to the point now where I can listen to most people speak and I can hear the words they say. I don't know what each word means, but it's not just a jumble of impossibly fast noise anymore. I suppose I'm in the word salad stage. 

As for my speaking, it's getting there. Over the weekend I went to the coast with my roommate, where we drank beer, ate fine food, and I took pictures of the Caribbean Sea like a noob. Those pictures are here: http://www.facebook.com/media/set/?set=a.10150284665336373.331083.731621372&l=07420e3668&type=1

On our walk home we stopped by the ice cream shop near our place and met a cute boy working there. Quite honestly I'm surprised that I haven't met that many cute boys here. This boy working at the ice cream shop took an interest in me because I swim. He told me he swims, too. I told him that Indhira does doggy paddle (by mimicking the dog paddle motion with my hands) and he asked "¿perrito?" Then when I asked him for some vanilla ice cream he told me to get something better, to which I said "no es aburrido" (it's not boring).

I guess I'm getting good enough with Spanish if I can tease my roommate and defend my ice cream choices.

Anyway the ice cream here is amazing and puts everything in the US to shame. SHAME. I had tres leches ice cream from Helados Bon. Bon also offers hand packed pints with three flavor options; I got chocolate brownie, tres leches, and vanilla. Jesus Joseph and Mary. Best ice cream ever.

As much fun as I had over the weekend and on Monday I can't think of anything except my visit to Sr. Epifiano Guerrero, the most respected and successful baseball scout in the Dominican Republic. I was whisked away on the freeway to his training complex to the north of the city to get an introduction to what I'm really doing in this country.

After only a few hours with Epy, I was extremely humbled by his body of work, as well as his enthusiasm and interest in me. He's like the cool Dominican abuelo I never had. He pulled out all kinds of old articles and pictures to show me and was bubbling with excitement the whole time.

It wouldn't do justice to the magnitude of this connection to write about one afternoon with Epy. I'm going back to his home, also on the complex grounds, tomorrow to learn more and celebrate his father's birthday. El padre is 100 years old. I don't know how these Dominicans do it. Must be all the Helados Bon.

The city/La ciudad

I used the cliche "When in Rome" in my last post. I wonder if anyone has stopped to think and expand the cliche and make it something meaningful. Like today, when I did the second part of the public transportation tutorial, and like other days I've been here when I see the similarities and differences between San Jose, California, and Santo Domingo, Dominican Republic.

Today my internship people took me around the metropolitan area of Santo Domingo on various forms of transit that I've mentioned before: the metro, a guagua, and a carro publico. First, we took the metro. It's very new, opened in 2009, and the cars look almost exactly like the cars on the VTA light rail in San Jose.

I'm a veteran of public transit. I got my drivers license in 2008 when I was 26, the same weekend that The Dark Knight came out in theatres. The second thing I did with my freshly minted license was drive myself to the movie. The first thing I did was back up over a curb at the Boys and Girls Club near my old house and have a panic attack before fleeing.

That digression has a point. Really. Before I drove everywhere, I practically lived on BART, a subway-esque system in the San Francisco Bay Area. I took BART to work, school, baseball games, and everywhere else I wanted to go.

I was impressed with the metro in Santo Domingo. It meets with my approval. Clean, efficient, air conditioned, and cheap--fifty pesos a ride.

Next it was the carro publico. It's a cross between a taxi and a bus. That's the best way I can explain it, because the carros are regular old cars that run on fixed routes on main roads in the metro area and often times you can find a group of them waiting for passengers on certain corners and streets. What makes them different from taxis is that six passengers cram into a car, typically a smaller model Honda or Toyota, and the driver doesn't leave until he has six passengers. Two in front, four in back. And they can be six completely different people. When you want to get out, you let the driver know and you just bail out as soon as you stop.

The guagua is the bus, similar to the carros in poor quality of the vehicle, in the amount of people crammed in, and that they both take fixed routes. I saw the cobrador in full effect while on the guagua. The cobrador is a guy who hangs out the door of the bus telling people to get on. When the guagua stops the cobrador walks around asking people where they want to go, and if his guagua can get them there, he tells them to get on the bus. Then he runs after the bus, gets on, and repeats the process all over again at another stop.

I gotta say, we could use cobradors in the States.

I've been out in traffic a few times now, both as a passenger in carros and guaguas and private cars, and as a pedestrian. The traffic here is a free for all with several cars side by side in one lane, speeding, completely ignoring traffic signs and signals, and blaring horns. But it moves. Sometimes I think I'd rather deal with the complete clusterfuck of traffic here over sitting on a Bay Area freeway without moving for 40 minutes (I'm looking at you, 680). And it drives me insane when people honk at me while I'm driving in the States. Here, I accept the constant honking as the way things are.

Guagua and carros publicos are typically pretty cheap, around 25-50 pesos depending on where you go.

We walked home after our public transit tour we passed by a colmado, the corner/liquor stores I described before that deliver. I got a green apple soda and Spongebob Squarepants Cheetos. I bought the Cheetos just because Spongebob was on the bag. I love SBSP. They turned out to be really delicious, completely unlike Cheetos I've had in the States. Oh and Spongebob is called "Bob Esponja" here.

This amuses me.

The colmados and bodegas on the corners are things I'd die to have in San Jose. The best we can get is 7-11. While 7-11 can save my life at 3am, I want more. I've seen a world where I can have more, and where I can have it delivered to me for an extra 20 pesos. How can I live a different life now?

A few blocks down the street from our apartment there's a statue of someone whom I can't remember. Forgive me. In the context of famous Dominicans, it's not Trujillo, Duarte, the Mirabel sisters, Leonel Fernandez, Oscar de la Renta, or David Ortiz, chances are I don't know who it is yet.

The man honored at the statue may not be important. What caught my eye about the statue was a single Red Vine on the corner of the square base, lined up at a perfect angle. I saw another at a different corner of the base, then another, and one more. Someone had place a Red Vine at perfect angles on each of the corners of the base. I decided it was a tribute to the man I couldn't identify. At least someone thinks he's important enough to be honored with candy.

Big weekend ahead, with a film festival event at FUNGLODE and a real honest possibility to meet the president of the DR, Leonel Fernandez. Indhira and I might go out Friday or Sunday night. Then MONDAY is our trip to La Zona Colonial and I'm beside myself with excitement about that.

First day of school/Mi primer día de escuela

This week is full of orientation events at FUNGLODE. Today was my public transit tutorial and my first day of school.


The public transit tutorial taught me about ways to get around in Santo Domingo. Guaguas are crappy buses crammed with people, with a guy (cobrador) hanging out the door telling people to get on the bus. They drive fast, don't obey traffic lights, and they don't have AC. And yet, they're one of the most popular forms of transit around here. I've seen loads of people gather to get on a guagua and I've seen tons of people get off of one on the main road near my apartment.


Then there are the public cars (carros públicos), again, shitty old beater cars in worse shape than my old Honda that finally died last month. These cars go around and pick people up and take routes with some stops on main roads. They often have brightly painted roofs and bear a sign on the driver side door telling you they're legit. But they're not necessarily safe. They typically drive with the driver, two passengers in the front, and four in the back. And these are not big cars. Again, fairly popular.


Another option is the metro, a subway/light rail system that goes only around the city. I'm used to BART in the Bay Area and light rail in Santa Clara County (where I'm from the States), and the metro seems like BART's retarded baby. We're doing another transit tutorial later in the week where we will experience the metro.


None of these options are too expensive in pesos. Not even taxis are that pricey here, if you're just going around the city.


I didn't take any public transit to school today. I walked to UNIBE with my roommate and my housing coordinator this morning. I walked home alone, confident that I could find my way. I did. What I found along the way was that walking here is like an interactive version of Frogger. Drivers don't stop. They don't obey signal lights. They'll go through the intersection. You basically have to wait until the traffic itself stops because no cars can move, then you start crossing. 


I made it home just fine. In the ten minutes I spent walking, about ten different guys whistled at me and/or said suggestive things. From what I understand, that's just the way it is here. Such a thing would outrage me in the States--both the act of sexism and the blase reaction to it--but here, it's kinda like the Dominican version of "LOL U MAD?" 


Oh right, school. I was supposed to be talking about school. I had my first class today, Dominican History. My professor is Sr. Nelson Sanchez, a Dominican who lived in the US attended Washington State University for his undergrad degree in engineering. He works here as an engineer and has worked on several construction projects. 


The class itself is tiny. There are three of us--a young woman from France, a Haitian-American from Miami, and me. The class is taught in English and Sr. Sanchez's English is excellent. We spent most of the time today talking about the tobacco trade, how that relates to Haiti and the Dominican Republic and their discord through history, and Spanish colonization. It was very informal and geared toward discussion. I love it. We will take field trips around the country to see important historical sites as well.


Before I went to class, I met with the international student life coordinator at UNIBE. She gave me a quick rundown of the school and told me to come to her with any problems or questions. It was like the first day at a new school, way back in elementary school. I had someone walk me, I had to meet the principal, and my baby-sitters said goodbye and good luck to me.


UNIBE is La Universidad Iberoamericana, one of the most prestigious universities in the country. Their medical school is among the best in the nation. For some reason, my classes at UNIBE are taught to the med students, so I get to attend classes on the 10th floor of the main building, a completely posh air conditioned paradise with an even more stunning view of the Caribbean Sea than what I have at my apartment. And my view is pretty damn spectacular. I will get to my digs here in another post, I promise.


The best part of the past few days is that I feel more confident, both in Spanish and in getting around here. My Spanish still isn't the best, but I feel more comfortable with it. I can understand a little bit more each day. Today in class it felt almost odd to speak all in English. I'm used to at least stumbling over Spanish while someone corrects me--I asked them to do that. Anyone who hears me speaking incorrectly has carte blanche to correct me. How else can I learn?


Remember how I said I'd skip around a lot? Yeah. I can't even pretend to promise a linear format here. I still have to describe the agenda for my 15 weeks here, my roommate (who's solid gold awesome), and my apartment.


Tomorrow I have more workshops at FUNGLODE that will prepare me for business etiquette in the D.R. and a workshop on race and gender in the country, presumably addressing the LOL U MAD attitude about the creepers on the corners. I have history class again on Friday and then my first class meeting for analysis of Dominican issues on Saturday. Monday we're taking a trip to La Zona Colonial, the oldest part of the city with cool shit like Fortaleza Ozama, which was built in 1502.


¡Escribiré más mañana!