The beginning, part IV: The boyfriend/El comienzo, parte cuatro: el novio

This can also be subtitled: "I am a complete idiot." But I'll get to that.

I've mentioned my boyfriend, Sam, a few times in previous entries. He's a big part of my story here and in the United States. The planning process for my internship and study abroad took over a year to complete. During that time, Sam went from being supportive but reluctant to being supportive and wanting me to go more than I wanted to go.

Part of my current homesickness is missing Sam. I want him to be here with me. We've discussed settling down outside of the States and he likes the idea. We're together in part for what our future could be like, but I want to be with him right now.

Our relationship progressed pretty quickly once we got together. He said "I love you" to me the night we got together. A week later I knew I was in love with him. That scared the everloving crap out of me. I can't handle being emotionally vulnerable. I was in the shower a few days before New Year's Eve in 2009 when it hit me that I was in love with him, and I cried hysterically because I was terrified of the emotion of love. I wanted to run out of the bathroom and jump out the window.

Then I told him I loved him over dinner at Carl's Jr. Which is actually not the first time I'd expressed the depths of my emotion to someone at Carl's Jr. I told my first boyfriend I loved him at a Carl's Jr. in my hometown when I was 18. It took me two months to realize it. It only took a week with Sam. And most of that week was spent fighting between my emotions and my logic.

My emotions won.

Not too long after the Carl's Jr. dinner, Sam practically lived with me in my apartment on campus. We were together almost every day. The only real time when we spent time apart was the summer, when I moved in with my best friend and her mom. I lived there the last two summers after I had to move out of campus housing. Sam stayed overnight sometimes at my friend's place.

We found an apartment across the street from San Jose State and moved in there with another close friend in July. I love my ridiculously luxurious and spacious apartment in Santo Domingo. Seriously, I could ballroom dance in the entryway. There's a third bedroom and bathroom going unused in our apartment. My only gripe is that the balcony isn't big enough for chairs. I want to sit out there and look at the sea.

But I love my small, quirky, dumpy apartment in San Jose. Even with the tiny bathroom with the leaky shower stall, lack of air conditioning, and crackling (probably lead-laced) paint. I love it because it belongs to my roommate, Sam, and me. I love it because Sam is there.

He is not here and it's making me sad.

I hate that we can't talk as much as I want us to. It got worse this weekend when the power cord for his computer broke. He can't charge and use his laptop now. I ordered a replacement cord from Ebay, but I didn't read the seller's profile. Turns out the cord is shipping from China and it won't arrive in the US until November 1, the latest November 15. I checked for other options on Ebay and they're all around the same price I paid and they also ship from China, so there's nothing I can really do.

Talking via chat and video chat on the internet is our main method of communication. I want to save my phone minutes for when I call my parents, as they don't understand the internet.

So I don't get to talk to my boyfriend for a month.

This is awful.

The beginning, part III: The process/El comienzo, parte tres: el proceso

Originally I envisioned these backstory posts as a fixed number of entries. Like, it would only take four or five of them to wrap up the backstory and we could move on to other things.

Then I realized that my existence here is less of a story than the things that brought me here. That said, I have no idea how many prologue pieces there will be in the future. I'm not limiting myself with a number, whether it be four or four hundred. I'll just tell the stories that need to be told.

Today's story is one that's shorter than the other prologue stories in chronology but longer in content. It's the story of how I had to fight tooth and nail just to come here, and of how I won.

I must warn you. I'm about to be pretty angry and I might drop an F bomb in the upcoming text.

As you've read before, I'm a global studies major at San Jose State. You all know that doing a study abroad semester is required for me to graduate. Apparently, San Jose State's administration does not understand this.

Here's a little backstory belonging to SJSU and their study abroad office. When I did my campus tour and orientation, I asked both times about doing a study abroad, mostly costs. They assured me that I'd get academic credit for going (!) and funding would be covered by my financial aid (!) and costs were about the same as attending university here (!) and everything was ever so great!

I had several phone interviews with the InteRDom admissions coordinators, starting in February. As I got closer to actually going to the D.R., I was asked to pay the program fees or provide financial aid documentation, because they were willing to wait until I got my financial aid disbursement. I went to SJSU's financial aid office to ask if I could get my financial aid early because this was a special case.

I was referred to a specialist and given an appointment for another day. In the meantime, they told me to speak to the study abroad office to see if they could help me.

Here's something that you must understand about SJSU. Everyone who works for the university administration is a mind-numbing combination of rude, unhelpful, or stupid. I get that there's no money in the budget and thus services aren't always available, but I wasn't aware that it required money to prevent people from acting like unkempt dolts.

As you probably surmised, I got no help at the study abroad office. They never heard of InteRDom. They asked me why I wasn't going through the CSU-affiliated, pre-packaged study abroad programs. Well, duh, because InteRDom is amazing and I found it and I want to, so there.

This was my downfall.

I went to my appointment with the specialist at the financial aid office. She was the queen of the dolts: rude, unhelpful, AND stupid. I laid it out for her: my advisor had explained to me how the study abroad financing works. You register for a special 11-unit course to do the study abroad to get your aid, and 99% of the time, you'll have at least one more class to take while you're abroad. In our case, it's Global Studies 189, the global experience requirement. Thus you're over 12 units, full time status, and you're good to go for the financial aid.

She had absolutely no idea what I was talking about. I told her I was signed up for two classes totaling six units at UNIBE, that were already approved for transfer to SJSU, and I was going to have GLST 189 as well. She refused to accept that those classes in the DR would count for anything, then told me that I wouldn't get financial aid because I wasn't a full time student.

Hold up. Taking nine units plus doing an extensive research project isn't being a full time student?

I said exactly that to her. God help me, I tried my best to keep my innate bitchery in check, even as this woman pissed me off something fierce. But she tried her best to ruin my life. Here's how she did that.

She accused me of wanting to exploit federal financial aid funding and alluded to me stealing that money by not having units at SJSU while I was abroad.

In the name of OH HELL NO, flipping tables, and all that is holy...

I got mad. I didn't yell. I didn't scream. I did tell her, firmly, that this was required of me for graduation and I worked my ass off to make InteRDom pick me. I applied for (and won) scholarships that would only pay for part of it. And that other little thing. What was it?

IT WAS REQUIRED OF ME FOR GRADUATION

She held her snooty ass attitude and her position, so I finally left. Yes, I stormed out. I just could not continue talking to that rancid woman as long as she was trying to accuse me of dishonesty and thievery.

I'm still furious about it now. My hands are shaking thinking about how much I hate her.

I spent about a day and a half mired in despair. I felt like that was it. I had nothing left to try. I wasn't going to the Dominican Republic after all. It takes an awful lot to make me consider admitting defeat. SJSU managed to do this to me several times over the summer. Just wait, there's more of these stories to come.

That night, I couldn't sleep because I was too exhausted from crying and swallowing my urge to take a baseball bat into the financial aid office and swing for the fences. So I went looking around for classes I could take while abroad to make up 12 units.

I went to my advisor the next day, armed with a plan: I would take GLST 189, an online class (technology and civilization, the class I have right now), and two individual studies courses. He got on the horn immediately with the chairs of the history department and the journalism department to explain what was up: the university was trying their damndest to ruin my life, and we needed to come up with an extra six units of credit for me to get my financial aid while I was abroad.

Thank Jesus, Buddah, Allah, and Oprah that they both agreed. My Dominican history class here counts for History 180 and my journalism work plus my current events class counts as Mass Comm 180.

I need to make this abundantly clear. I have 12 units at SJSU, plus six units here, plus this research project. So that's 18 units of credit and 10-20 hours a week of work.

And somehow that doesn't make me a full time student.

I registered for those classes. I got my financial aid. And now I'm here. But that's not enough to show that I had won. That was just slaying the dragon by stabbing it in the neck and then checking your hair in the reflection of the dull eye of the repugnant beast you just killed.

InteRDom also required me to have a doctor's note saying I was healthy to travel abroad. The health center at school offers these services...but if you're going to some place that has bad things like tetanus, you need to have your vaccines up to date before going.

I don't have health insurance and I had to pay out of pocket for every vaccine I needed. And I needed five: TB, Tdap, tetanus, flu, and something else I forgot. It was over $300 for all the vax and I'm terminally poor. I had very little money over the summer because I only work part time.

Panic button all over again.

Prior to all of this mess, I had won the College of Social Sciences Dean's scholarship for studying abroad. They refused to tell me when they'd disburse that money. So I had to call in another favor to get the department to give me at least part of it to cover my medical costs.

That one was approved with much less drama and murderous intent. That was like walking away with the prize after I kicked the disgusting dragon in the head on the way out.

Sometimes I can look back at the things in my life that got me all riled up and think "oh how silly that was of me." I'm still legitimately angry over that whole circus that lasted over a semester. And my only crime was aiming for my dream internship. Now that I think about it, I need the scars to remind me of how I got here, and how to fight in the future.

About a month before I left, I played Lupe Fiasco's "The Show Goes On" practically on repeat. I felt like he wrote that song just for me and what I was going through. It's a song about struggling to succeed, never giving up despite all the shit you have to slog through, and above all, never letting the sons of bitches keep you down. There's a particular lyric where he talks about giving up everything, even starting a world war for the ghetto kids he's rapping for.

I really took that to heart. I'm far from the only one who's getting screwed by San Jose State. I needed to win and go to the Dominican Republic to show those who get left behind by the school that this is not their ultimate fate. It was what got me through the darkest of the dark times; thinking that I couldn't give up because it was all for them. I could no longer believe in myself, so instead I believed in them.

I would sit on the seventh floor of the library and look out at the panoramic view of downtown San Jose listening to that song over and over with tears pouring down my face. In the days before I left, and I'm talking literally days before, I still couldn't believe that I did it and I was going after all.

I have to go back to SJSU in December. I have four more semesters until graduation--that is, if the school remains at its usual state of crappy affairs. If it gets any worse, I might have to push back my grad date. Having to work a little harder and wait a little longer to graduate doesn't upset me as much as thinking of suffering at the hands of the uncaring and incompetent university administration any longer than I have to.

I hate San Jose State and if I had any options to transfer elsewhere or take classes at another school, I would do it right away. My major isn't offered at most colleges, plus my life is in San Jose now. I live there. I work there. I love the city, and I love my teachers. The university can go directly to hell, however.

So I need an effective coping strategy for that, when I return. I'm open to suggestions.

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.