So I don’t really have any big break-in stories or weird customs to report about this month. Life has been rapidly plowing along. Things always tend to be a bit chaotic at the end of the school year.
I have begun to notice that now when I go around town I actually see people I know. BUT the amazing thing is that it isn’t just gringos that I see. No, I see kids from school, I see friends from soccer, I even recognize family members of friends. It makes me feel less like an American tourist and more like a, hmmm…not really local…maybe the cousin or the couch surfing friend that never really takes a hint to get lost. Of course I’m still ‘Jessica’ (the last American girl here) to a few of the students and to one of my neighbors- but heck, can I blame em?- I’m sure all we white people just look white and pasty and the same to them. But in a way, the white pastiness (which to my standards is actually tan) is rather a nice identifier to friends. Any white person walking/driving by or seen in the store is most likely someone known. It makes grocery shopping always fun. Last week my grocery trip ended up getting me a wonderful chocolate cake recipe and an invite to a party (from two different stores and two different sets of friends that I ran into). Unfortunately I was unable to attend the party (which I heard had a steady flow of Meringue (the dance)! So sad!) due to a untimely stomach virus that directly followed the eating of the chocolate cake…
I know I am absurdly slow but I feel I am making real progress at tiptoeing my way into the Dominican lifestyle. For what felt like the first time, I was able to sit at a Dominican friend’s house and start a lengthy conversation with a neighbor. It turned out that I had been to her house for the last party and we ended up having a good laugh (at my sake of course). Pause a moment to briefly go over this last party. Picture the PE teacher. He’s about 30, married to the office accountant at school. They have a young daughter and live in a one bedroom place with a kitchen and small living room. Their alley is full of identical places, which are full of his nieces, nephews, aunts, uncles, mothers, fathers, etc. The family goes up the street and around the block as well. It’s a lot of people in a little space; busy, if you haven’t gotten the picture. So when a party is happening, it really IS a party. With the entire block. And there is always a party. When I arrived that night I jumped on an empty seat inside next to the couch. On the couch were the high school musical prodigies flowing with their bachata (a Dominican music and dance). Inside count: maybe 15 people- directly outside the window: 30 or so. Plates of steamy food (yes rice and beans) are tossed out to the waiting crowd. Pop is flowing, and the music, oh the music! It was a riot. (below: pictures from a recent trip up to our Contanza site. Constanza is a agriculture town up in the mountains about 2 hours driving from Jarabacoa. Kids Alive is building a care center that will open in October. On the same site is the Constanza children's home as well. The truck with the carrots is a typical site on any road in the DR.
I have begun to notice that now when I go around town I actually see people I know. BUT the amazing thing is that it isn’t just gringos that I see. No, I see kids from school, I see friends from soccer, I even recognize family members of friends. It makes me feel less like an American tourist and more like a, hmmm…not really local…maybe the cousin or the couch surfing friend that never really takes a hint to get lost. Of course I’m still ‘Jessica’ (the last American girl here) to a few of the students and to one of my neighbors- but heck, can I blame em?- I’m sure all we white people just look white and pasty and the same to them. But in a way, the white pastiness (which to my standards is actually tan) is rather a nice identifier to friends. Any white person walking/driving by or seen in the store is most likely someone known. It makes grocery shopping always fun. Last week my grocery trip ended up getting me a wonderful chocolate cake recipe and an invite to a party (from two different stores and two different sets of friends that I ran into). Unfortunately I was unable to attend the party (which I heard had a steady flow of Meringue (the dance)! So sad!) due to a untimely stomach virus that directly followed the eating of the chocolate cake…
I know I am absurdly slow but I feel I am making real progress at tiptoeing my way into the Dominican lifestyle. For what felt like the first time, I was able to sit at a Dominican friend’s house and start a lengthy conversation with a neighbor. It turned out that I had been to her house for the last party and we ended up having a good laugh (at my sake of course). Pause a moment to briefly go over this last party. Picture the PE teacher. He’s about 30, married to the office accountant at school. They have a young daughter and live in a one bedroom place with a kitchen and small living room. Their alley is full of identical places, which are full of his nieces, nephews, aunts, uncles, mothers, fathers, etc. The family goes up the street and around the block as well. It’s a lot of people in a little space; busy, if you haven’t gotten the picture. So when a party is happening, it really IS a party. With the entire block. And there is always a party. When I arrived that night I jumped on an empty seat inside next to the couch. On the couch were the high school musical prodigies flowing with their bachata (a Dominican music and dance). Inside count: maybe 15 people- directly outside the window: 30 or so. Plates of steamy food (yes rice and beans) are tossed out to the waiting crowd. Pop is flowing, and the music, oh the music! It was a riot. (below: pictures from a recent trip up to our Contanza site. Constanza is a agriculture town up in the mountains about 2 hours driving from Jarabacoa. Kids Alive is building a care center that will open in October. On the same site is the Constanza children's home as well. The truck with the carrots is a typical site on any road in the DR.
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