Memory/Memoria

This is my last entry from the Dominican Republic. All future transmissions will be from the United States.

I'm at Aeropuerto Las Americas, checked in, security cleared, and ready to board my flight to Philadelphia. I barely had time to marvel at the miracle of getting through immigration and security in 25 minutes, because I've never made it through airport bureaucracy so quickly. I suppose other countries roll differently with their air travel, because it took me damn near two hours to get through check-in, security, and other nonsense when I left SFO to come here.

Yesterday was my last full day in the Dominican Republic. I didn't do anything differently from a normal Saturday night. I didn't get sad and wax nostalgic for the country I'm leaving behind. I did start to remember home: the palm trees on the San Jose State campus, the weird green/blue carpet in my apartment, even the baseball stadium blankets I drape over my couch in my living room. I do think it's odd that I recollect images before people, at least right now.

When I came here in September I arrived in the dead of night. All I could see was the highway, street lamps, and darkness. It felt like it took a hundred years to get from the airport to my apartment in Distrito Nacional. This morning we drove along the coast and I watched the deep blue sea fly by. Thirty minutes later I was at the airport and I had to face that my adventure in the DR is over.

During the car ride I recalled my first days here. I remembered the first Saturday I was here, terrified and confused. My driver bought me breakfast and I told him my pastry was a pill. I remembered when I met Indhira, and when she took me around the city and out with her friends so I could see what it's really like to live here. I remembered all the people I met here and all the places I'd seen.

Before I got here, I thought of the Dominican Republic as a big black void in my mind. I had no idea what to expect and no way to form a mental picture. Now I can fill in the missing scenes with the memories I formed here. I can also answer the questions I had before I left: can I do this? How do I do it? What will I lose if I go? I answered to myself with a resounding yes, I can do this; just do it; and I lost the fear and uncertainty that held me back.

The adventure may be over, but the story is not. I have a few more journalism pieces to write and I want to write a prologue and a brief return to the US story.

I wasn't sentimental last week. Now I'm tearing up. Something about bearing my soul on the internet touches my heart.

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.

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.