Undoubtedly, the past month has been anything but quiet. Really, since I arrived in country, I have gone through an absurd number of both difficult and rewarding moments. Adjusting to my new live in my site, well outside of the proverbial box, has been difficult enough. Uncomfortable and exciting are two particularly good words to use here.

I arrive at my site November 13, and left on the 17th to spend a week in the capital for Thanksgiving. I returned to my site for less than two weeks, after which I went back to the capital the weekend of December 7-9 for the annual Artisan Fair, sponsored by the ministry of culture. In my village, there are four scattered unrelated families who make crafts from gourds called hig¸eros. They open up the gourds, which range in size from handball to cat torso, scoop out the nasty stuff inside, and make intricate carving designs on the outside. Such products they make are cups, bowls, canteens, ornaments, centerpieces, guiras, and the most popular item, maracas. After trudging down my dirt/mud road in the pouring rain to the highway with five massive rice sacks full of hig¸eros, my artisans and I sat in the rain on the highway for a half hour to catch the guagua to the capital. There, for three days, artisans from all over the country sold their coconut earrings, scented candles, and soapstone carvings to tourists. As a Volunteer, I served as translator. Example:
Overweight German tourist in heavily accented English: How mooch iz thiz?
Artisan lacking many teeth: Que?
German: How mooch?
Artisan: Oh, cien pesos.
German: Vat? Ten?
Then I graciously step in and mention that the really cien is ten. I was impressed by this fair if only for the quality of the products, as they were much better than anything found in a beachside tourist trap gift shop.

Over this weekend, I was able to explore Santo Domingo a little bit. This included the discovery of a falafel restaurant downtown, which raised the value of the city for me quite a bit. In addition, I stayed at a hostel that all the Volunteers stay at whenever he or shi is in the city, turning the hostel into some kind of massive frat house. This was fun.
I came back to my site Sunday evening, and spent Monday quietly with my host family, staying inside because of the rain. Unofficially, the rainy season is the summer, but it has rained nearly every day since I arrived in country. Watching the news Monday afternoon, I noticed a bit about a "tormenta" coming the next day. It being December and all, I didn’t think too much of it, but soon after I received a text message from Peace Corps informing me that Tropical Storm Olga was on its way. The next day, Peace Corps initiated Consolidation, which meant that all volunteers had to leave their sites and head to a safe house (ie, hotel) in the major city nearby. Unsurprisingly, this also created a sort of college dorm atmosphere. Kept safe from the dangerous storm outside, we were able to take a three-day vacation inside, complete with three nice meals, wireless internet and lets say, more fun activities.

Finally, I returned home last Thursday to see my dirt road turned into mud and some downed trees, but thankfully no serious damage. I was able to settle down and relax with my host family Thursday evening, eat some boiled platanos, and watch a couple melodramatic Mexican telenovelas. However, just as Julia was about to inform Miguel that the baby wasn’t his but Enrique’s instead, a low rumble filled the house, which began a slow roll and then shifted violently. Earthquake. My host family didn’t flinch. Nothing fell, but it freaked me out.
So, in my first three months in country, I have survived three host families, two tropical storms, and one each of earthquake, parasite, and gripe. I can only imagine what the next twenty-four months have in store for me.

this picture is of the people i spent the most time with at my site. this is what we do for fun in the evenings.

Peace Corps: A puzzle

One year ago, I was a first semester senior, worrying about finals and papers and the like, as well as trying to forget that college was almost over; I refused to participate in the obsessive culture over what to do after it was all going to be over when the following May came around too quickly. I was about to submit my Peace Corps application. Applying to Peace Corps oddly mirrored my college process. Each times, I applied first to both Georgetown and Peace Corps, and while I submitted other applications, I did so with less energy and conviction, convinced as I was that I would get in. And although both choices were those of a different path than the vast majority of my peers (Georgetown is Catholic and I am from Jewville; Peace Corps drops its Volunteers in the middle of nowhere with nothing but luck, some phone numbers and a few thousand dollars a year), and many, if not most, thought these choices didn’t make sense or were simply crazy, I knew they would be right for me.
Over six months ago, I graduate from college. I walked across that stage a proud holder of a BSFS, but still without a job. Peace Corps, as any bureaucratic arm of the US government and thus notoriously slow, had yet to inform me of my invitation, or give any indication of wanting to communicate with me. A tearful goodbye in DC, and I was an unemployed college graduate. Still, I waited. It would come, I was sure.
Three months ago, I got on a plane in Washington, DC, my home over the last four years, and flew to a land geographically quite close to the US but in other ways far, far away. We were warned in staging: there is a lot to know, and you will feel lost. There will be many, many difficult times, but also the most rewarding ones of your lives. For two years. Pa’ que sepas.
So, I write this today. I have lived in my little farming village in the hot central valley of the Dominican Republic for two long, long weeks. I have met some truly amazing people, American and Dominican, and have met with some truly frustrating moments. Almost ten percent of my training group has left the Peace Corps. Now, I am more than just physically separated from my life in the US, but I do have my laptop here to keep me sane. I know that am in the right place, although I haven’t had a solid poop in almost four weeks. Two years is a long time for us – who knows where we will be in November of 2009? I know: I will be finishing up here in my little farming village and returning to the States, having achieved a certain measure of success as a development worker in my small corner of the world.

this is me with bunny pelt on my bunny farm. the other is the goodbye rave party.

These couple weeks have been pretty boring. I finished CBT with a rave party, spent a day at the US Embassy, got locked out of my house, received a cell phone (a call would be really sweet), and lastly got my site placement. The place where I will be living for two years is… [cue favorite dramatic movie theme music] well, I’m not supposed to say exactly where it is for security purposes. If you really want to know, email me. I spent most of this week visiting, however, so I can say it’s a great little pueblo in the north-central part of the country with about 1000 people. I have electricity (sometimes) but there is no water in the tap, so it magically appears in a large bucket in the bathroom every time it gets low. This is terribly confusing as the bucket looks like a big trash can, which is where you put the used toilet paper, since you can’t throw it down the toilet like at home. This clogs the already mostly water-less pipes. Messy indeed. Anyway, it seems that this bucket-water originates from the sky and is transferred through drops and a bigger bucket placed outside under the gutter, but I wonder what they do when it doesn’t rain. Besides the water, my host family is great, the town is only a couple minutes by moto from bigger towns with internet cafes and other volunteers, and only 2 hours from the capital. My host dad is a platano/ yuca (potato-like tuber) / batata (sweet potato-like tuber) farmer. Finally, my primary project is working with a youth group, their upstart bunny farm microbusiness, and other family/microbusiness finance. More on bunnies: have 60 of them in my backyard. They come in many different colors. Adults weigh 4ish pounds, 2.25 meat. Saturday I watched my host brother kill, skin, and disembowel a rabbit (white with black spots and big brown eyes), which we ate for lunch (not kosher, but delicious nevertheless. I’m thinking we make an addendum to let them in).
I’m back in the capital now, swear in on Wednesday, celebrate Thanksgiving Thursday, and return to my site for two (2) (!) years this weekend. This is where you make your plans to visit. Bring mosquito repellent.
The picture is the goodbye rave in training.

It looks like The Dominican Republic has survived Tropical Strom Noelle, but just barely. I went to bed last Sunday night to the fiercest rain I have ever seen, made healthier by the tin roof, and woke up Monday to find Noelle here. No one in the country knew about it until maybe 6AM that morning. People are just a little pissed about that, especially now with dozens dead and missing and billions of dollars in damage. Dominicans tend to love their weekends, so it seems like some people might have been off when they should have been watching the radar or Weather Channel. I wrote this entry Thursday night. I had not seen the sun for seven straight days. Think about an entire week without even one ray of sunshine – it was bizarre, and really does affect the human spirit. By the end of the week, pretty much everyone was at least a little depressed. Anyway, it rained for about 48 hours straight, from Sunday through Tuesday night. Some parts of the country got 35 inches. The creek behind my house flooded it banks and washed out the road that fords it (a bridge would clearly just be too much) but my house was fine. Supposedly there was a countrywide blackout, but we don’t have electricity during the day normally, so that didn’t matter too much. Class was cancelled, so we played domino all day. In case you were wondering, as I’m sure you were, I’m OK. Breathe again.

In other news, the other day, my host sister showed me a bird that her uncle had brought over. He had done this once in the past; my family kept the bird as a pet until a small child visiting one day decided to experiment with his foot and the bird. His foot won. My family decided to keep this new bird in a small bowl covered by a towel behind the refrigerator. It ate nothing and squawked all night. During my breakfast of sugar with coffee, my host mom showed me the bird – dead, found in the kitchen earlier in the morning. I think Uncle Fabio (his name has not been changed to protect his identity) should maybe think again about giving my family live animals.

We went to a Dominican baseball game last night. At the end of the season they are apparently like a World Cup soccer game, but this one was pretty tame. By the end it was just the Americans screaming for the home team (the Aguilas, ie Eagles, who lost 5-3 but scored 2 in the bottom of the 10^th thanks to us).

Lastly, there is a foam party scheduled at the one bar in town tonight. It will undoubtedly be, shall we say, interesting.
the picture below is of the normally really quiet creek behind my house during the storm.you can see the road washed out in the middle

i think they worked here.

first, let me say that the picture below was from my CED group, the 17 of us developing communities economically from 2007 to 2009 in the dr. we are way sweet.
Well, we have more than halfway through community-based training. We go off to our own sites for the 2 years in less than four weeks. Its been great up here so far. We did a practice community diagnostic, which involves interviewing members of the community, attending community meetings, and just wandering around taking notes. It has been fascinating getting to know this community of about 750 (my estimate) really well. Even in this small place, there are very specific mini-neighborhoods, and I’d say pretty much everyone of Haitian descent lives on one very poor block. This unfortunately seems to be symptomatic of many areas and is a sad part of Dominican culture. Many of us will end up working with communities with large Haitian populations, which presents its own opportunities and difficulties. Besides that, I find out that everyone is interrelated and intermarriage is not uncommon. I guess the "country" is the same everywhere.
Lets see, the other day my family took me to a river/beach thing in the pouring rain. I was a little pissed because it was raining but they refused to let me stay home. Of course, we got there as it stopped raining and it was a beautiful site. One great thing about the Caribbean is that cold mountain rivers aren’t that cold.
Did I mention I live in a rain forest? It seems to rain on and off all day, every day. Nothing works when it rains, which presents some problems, such as leaving the house. This does not occur if it is raining. Another fun bug story – the other day my friends host brother smashed a massive spider in the house. In the ensuing explosion, dozens of baby spiders pretended they were shrapnel and flew out of the dead momma spider, leading the entire family to chase and attempt to kill all the baby spiders running around the house. Hours of family entertainment indeed.
Finally, I am a master at dominos. Challenge me and fail.
Also, apologies for not posting pictures recently. I know you wanted to see me and my shaved head but the internet is too slow here to put any pictures up. Ill try soon. Also, send me postcards. They make me feel good.
lets see if these pictures came out right, it should be one of my street and one of my ride to training in the morning. hope it works

try again.

picture

more training fun

My Spanish professor is hysterical. He has been teaching us la lengua de la calle, so we can improve out street cred. We also learned some fascinating insights into Dominican culture: men shouldn’t drink passionfruit juice, it makes you less manly, as does using an umbrella. Men shouldn’t drink red rock (a pretty nasty tasting soda), it makes you sterile. Men should also protect themselves from the harmful effects of copying machines and jeans for similar reasons. He also encouraged everyone in our class with significant others in the States to partake in the festivities of this country, because of the “fiesta del 4” – you and your boy/girlfriend should take another one, and then everyone is happy.
My host family is entertaining. I live with a single mother and her two teenage daughters (my host sisters… nada mas… although one seems to be deeply in love), but they are related to most of the people on the block, as well the host family of another Trainee. A bunch of people in their mid-20s hang out at my house with my sisters and cousins and they adopted me into their group, I have a nickname, they feed me cerveza, and invited me to the beach. I have eaten avocado at every meal since I got here. 3 meals a day, 10 days – that’s a lot of avocados. Boiled plantains often accompany the avocado. They are one of the more unfortunate parts of the Dominican cuisine. They also really enjoy sugar, salt, and oil. For example, to make eggs, the recipe is the 3 parts oil, 1 part eggs, put in pan, cook until center is still really runny and you can easily get food poisoning.
Dominican machismo was on a little too thick the other day for me, when several male friends and relatives were over, and my host sisters were obliged to give up their seats, fetch food and drink, and act as entertainment for the guests. We aren’t here to change our host country’s culture, but sometimes it would be nice if we could tweak a couple things. We also visited a public high school. The grounds were nice enough, but the classes were a huge mess. There are 60 – 70 students in each class that has 40 desks, they lack books for all students, and there is no order or discipline in the class. Certainly plenty to work on.

wireless and lizards

first: its guanabana, not guayabana.
second: i shaved my head. it is much cooler now.
in addition:
in this little farming town of 7000, we happened upon a farm supply store with a little WiFi logo on the fence. We walked in, hoping for the best, and were warmly welcomed to stay and use the wifi for free. damn.
in this country, there are a lot of bugs. mosquitos, cockroaches, flies, other assorted things. there are many, and some are quite large. they are bothersome. many carry diseases, such as malaria and dengue, the latter of which already one of my fellow trainees has had already. naturally an ecosystem develops where these bugs are eaten by something - in this case, lizards, usually green or brown and 4 to 8 inches long. they like to hide in dark places. we also know that here catholocism is very important. jesus is pretty much everywhere. what do lizards and jesus have in common? in a fellow trainee's house, the lizards live in jesus's head, a painting on the wall. whenever a bug comes by, lizards pop out of jesus, chase, catch and eat the fresh local catch of the day. this provides hours of entertainment.

guyabana

Guayabana

I thought maybe I should write this entry in the mode of the Dominican-slash-PCV conversation. Some parts will have to be left out to protect the privacy of some individuals.
Holy Dios, its hot here. Hace un calor. Etc etc. I hope it will rain, then it will be cooler. It looks like it might rain. No, I don’t think it will rain. But boy, is it hot. Hot, hot, hot. (Note: even if its not that hot, its still hot.)
Chisme! Chisme is the yente (ie gossip) of the Dominican. For instance, it is rumored that Juan-Pablo has a thing for Marta. It has been confirmed by several sources that Pedro and Mercedes are together, and rumors are swirling around Lisbet and Jorge. Lisbet has a boyfriend already, so that is especially interesting. The above was inspired by true stories. In addition, say these are real people, they would be called by nicknames, or apodos. These include morena, negrito, la flaca, and various other blunt descriptions that may or may not be based in a realm of accuracy. They also seem to be not big fans of Haitians. For another time. Additional chisme includes the fact that a trainee who lives on my block already got dengue fever. She’s a trooper. Apparently dengue is really in right now, 65 PCVs have had it this year.
Anyway, I did manage to go to Yom Kippur services here in the capital. I also fasted, very difficult when my dona is telling me I am too skinny. Speaking of my dona, she just fed me a tropical fruit that grows on the street. Think of all the best parts of a mango, papaya and banana, put it together and multiply that by a high number of your choice, and that is how tasty this fruit is, I think called guayabana. I was too busy taking in its delicious interior to make much sense of what she was saying. Right, so atoning – the synagogue is a small but beautiful building that had snipers on the roof to ward off evil spirits and the like. I think they only come out for the big days. Half of the people there seemed to be local, and the other half expats from the US, Israel, or other American countries. All very nice, though none invited the three of us trainees back for break-fast. Tear.
This weekend, all of us trainees fanned out across the country to visit current volunteers who were so kind as to lead us around for four days. My site visit was in the north of the country, about a half hour from the coast in a town of about 15,000. My volunteer works with an artisan association that makes very detailed and beautiful soapstone and sandstone carvings for what I figure is quite a bargain. He helped organize the association from a bunch of carvers into a more effective, well, association. It was great being out of the big city. I prefer the cooler, friendlier campo. On Saturday, 4 of us trainees and our respective volunteers hiked the “27 charcos” roughly translated as 27 waterfalls. If you are in the DR, you must visit. Absolutely incredible. It is a series of deep pools, waterfalls and rock formations in the jungle. We hiked up to the top, and then jumped our way down off of cliffs or slid down natural rock slides into the successive pools. One of the volunteers works with the guides to the charcos, organized them and received a grant from USAID to improve infrastructure. This is the website: http://www.27charcos.com. If seeing me wasn’t incentive enough to visit, this should be.
This Friday, we will split up into sectors for separate trainings, so I won’t be seeing anyone outside of CED (community economic development, in case you forgot) for almost 6 weeks. On the plus side, I get to learn how to develop communities economically. I’ll let you know how that goes.
Lastly, there was supposed to be a huelga, or strike, today, so we got the day off, as well as my 4 host siblings from school. It seems like there won’t be a strike, but anyway now I get to spend the day with my host siblings playing a surprisingly violent version of monopoly that includes crying, screaming, and flying crayons.
cheers

pictures

i posted some pictures on facebook for everyone's enjoyment.
http://georgetown.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2083094&l=576fe&id=1400123
enjoy.

i am a peace corps trainee

This is my first entry in country. Obviously very exciting. I wrote this while sitting with my family in the living room. The TV is on, though the electricity se va y llega, it comes and goes. It is pretty much a fiesta when it comes on. Anyway, its been pretty much a fiesta here. A fiesta for my mind, and soul. Corny, perhaps, but true. Also note I didn’t say body. I haven’t gotten sick in the gastro-intestinal sense yet, but I have an eye infection and a rash, and I have never sweated this much in my life. When you stand up, you sweat. When you sit down, you sweat. I walk from my barrio to training, a simple 20 minute walk, and I am absolutely drenched when I get there. That is at 8AM. Today was actually a nice day, I only sweated on the way home. Also today we had a little get-together for someone’s birthday today (Ma’ayan – yom huledet sameach), it was really nice seeing each other in a social setting outside of training. Still, I love being with my family. 4 kids (Frendi, age 15, Fredul, 11, Catherine, 8, Edili, 6; yes, these names were invented by the parents) who are thrilled with me at their house, a mother who treats me like one of her own, I am next door to an internet cafÈ and a chicken farm. The other day my father cut down a few coconuts from the coconut tree in the chicken farm with his massive machete and opened them so we could drink the "agua de coco" and eat the coconut meat. I also eat tons of carbs and have been told I am too skinny and need to eat more. I was called "indio," which I think is pretty cool. It means I don’t look gringo.
As I have mentioned to some people back home, the other volunteers here are amazing. I couldn’t have chosen a better group of 50 people. I can’t say enough of how motivated, sincere and intelligent they are. Everyone seems to care so much about what they are doing here. Beautiful.
This weekend is Yom Kippur. I will attempt to navigate the insanity of the public transportation system to get downtown to the synagogue. The busses are called guaguas; they try to shove as many people as possible inside. Besides the infrequent and randomly numbered busses (the ones that come up this way are 10B, 23, 27, and 69), there are carros publicos, cars that run up and down major streets that you can flag down and get in. Note that these aren’t taxis, people get in and out of them at will. There are no official stops. The first one I ever got in had a completely smashed windshield and the paint was all rusted off. People get pickpocketed in them all the time. We are suggested not to use them after dark, about 7:30. We have to watch out for "tigueres," or sketchy dudes. One last note, they use the "snap" here all the time. My ability to snap is highly esteemed and will come in handy all the time. Many thanks to the people’s house. Hasta pronto.

leaving great neck

Looks like it thats time, folks. Today I am off to Washington, DC for staging, a kind of pre-orientation. I leave today and stay with my roomates from last year, and then the staging is the 11th to the 13th. We get a bunch of seminars about how to survive in the Peace Corps. I've gotten a lot of questions about what exactly I'll be doing. I don't really know what I'll be doing until I get to my site, which will be in late November. But I will post here the description given below.

Community Economic Development volunteers will work primarily in rural areas. They will engage in numerous activities that range from business education to strategic planning to technical assistance. They may work with farmers groups, agrarian cooperatives as well as with micro-entrepreneurs receiving loans from micro-credit organizations. They also promote the improvement of business and leadership skills with Dominican youth through capacity building workshops.

I also just finished my tour of duty as an Ambassador at the US Open. Essentially, I wore a straw hat and Ralph Lauren and waved at people when they arrived or left the grounds. I also attempted to do some semblance of crowd control outside Arthur Ashe Stadium in between the daytime and evening sessions. I worked from 9 to 8 or 8:30, and I stood for about 8 of those 11 hours. My heels are very tender and my skin pretty dark. I did meet some fun people and got to see a few matches. I watched a couple Roger matches in the second week, he is truly amazing. I also ran into a few people: Cal Watson, Robbie Arnay, Brian and Jenna, two aunts and an uncle, Taline Pampanini, Amanda Setton, Andy Jeninga, Afua Tay, and Steph Ramirez. I know there were more, but I can't remember them all now. I also had meaningful conversations with Eliot Spitzer, Richard Williams (father of Serena and Venus), and Patrick McEnroe. I got a huge snub from Chris Evert.

This will likely be the last post in America. Cheers.

One Month

I leave for the Dominican Republic in one month to begin my training as a Peace Corps Volunteer. My sector is Community Economic Development, and my title is Community Economic Adviser. What this entails exactly remains to be seen. Regardless, I am really excited to go, and can't wait for September 13. I get asked all sorts of questions now, so here are a few links that might help out.
The Peace Corps - my employers
Yes, the DR exists outside of Punta Cana. To understand how, both the US government and Wikipedia have extensive information. Both sites are useful in their own special ways. This country seems fascinating, and I've heard extensively positive comments about my future home from so many people, I can't wait to get there, and then let you all in on what I'm doing. Hopefully I'll get this blogging thing down, and put up some sweet pictures when I begin.