Other stuff

Because of limited internet access, I think my new practice might have to be storing up blog posts until I can put them up... therefore, number 2 for today, some things that have happened/are happening here:

For mental and physical health I decided to start waking up at 6 and running into the campo in the mornings, enjoying precious alone time and beautiful vistas – trees, mountains, fields of corn, etc.   It was really nice and peaceful the one day that I achieved this goal.  But when I got back an hour later, my family was awake and wondering where I was.  Then my host mom was like: “Oh!  You should have told us!  You didn’t have to go alone!  I run every day with a group of women.”  Translation: “We walk slowly around the pueblo for half an hour and chisme (gossip).”  

Well, there goes my alone time.   There wasn’t a good way to be like, no thanks, I need a little break from doñas and chisme.  Dominicans don’t really understand the idea of ever wanting to do anything alone.  On the one hand this is great, as I am integrating into my community pretty quickly simply by going to everything I am invited to, sitting around with neighbors, drinking coffee, and talking to everyone who stops by my house, curious to see what the gringa is doing.  It’s not so hard to be happy in a new place when the whole community is interested in you and super welcoming.  On the other hand, I am already going a little bit crazy from life in a fish bowl.   I should probably just count my blessings – at least they always want to be with me instead of the opposite!

So this morning my “run” became a walk with Victoria and a few of her friends.  It was surprisingly very pleasant, and appears to be something we’ll be doing regularly.  I guess I’ll assert my independence when the time is right…

The women in this little pueblito are pretty organized.  They have lots and lots of groups.  How well these groups function is a different story, but I am really happy to be in a community where so many people are motivated and want to be involved in things.  Then again, when they say there’s a meeting, you generally have to consider that it will start at least half an hour late, then 15-20 minutes will mostly involve attendees signing their name to a sheet of paper, maybe some confused conversation, and eventually the point of the meeting will be reached.  Hopefully.   So when they say there’s a meeting at 9 AM that should end by 11, assume that it will start around 10/10:30, and maybe end by 12.  Frustrating.   But they do often have fresh juice and empanadas or crackers or something… so that’s a plus.

Gifts I have received:

Endless mangos:  Careful what you tell people you like.   I told my host mom that I like mangos, and since then mangos have been delivered to my house, handed to me on the street, stored for me in the fridge… I’m not saying this is a bad thing.  I do love mangos.  But the abundance is pretty excessive. She thinks it’s really weird that I only eat one at a time… she eats mango after mango.  My record to date is still only two big mangos in one sitting…I assume I will get better at mango consumption soon.  Buckets and buckets of mangos.  Juicy juicy mangos.  Yum.  Avocado season is coming up.  I’m pretty excited about it.

A giant sweet potato:  Upon meeting many people for the first time in my town, they exclaim, “Pero ella se parece a Gigi!”  (But she looks like Gigi!)  I’ve been told that I could be Dominicana on other occasions, as there are some blancas here too, so I guess it’s possible that this woman Gigi, who I haven’t met yet, looks just like me.  Or I look like her.   One of my first days here, an old man came at me with his arms spread and a look of joy on his face.  When he got closer his expression turned to surprise, but then back to joy.   “Mija!”  He immediately called me his daughter and gave me a hug, then stared at me for a long time, laughing to himself and chattering about how I look like Gigi.  He really thought I was her.  He’s light skinned and he’s got blue eyes, so it must be true.  I could be his daughter.   And then he brought me a giant sweet potato as a gift.   Every time he sees me (which is whenever he feels like wandering over), we have pretty much the exact same exchange.  I suspect that this will be our entire relationship for the next two years.

A bouquet of flowers:  My sister’s friend gave me a flower yesterday that smelled like honey-suckle.  I put it in my hair and tried to explain the concept of the nectar on the end of the honey-suckle… she didn’t really get what I was talking about, but she did understand that I liked it.  So today she brought me a bouquet of these flowers and put them in a glass of water in my room.  Now my room smells like honey-suckle.  Sweet.  J

Lastly, awkward moment of the week:

My new padres decided they wanted to see me dance because Caroline told them I’m a good dancer. (“Pero Laura sabe bailar!”)  No biggie.  I’m thinking they’re gonna put on some standard Prince Royce and I’ll bachata around the kitchen to satisfy their curiosity.   For some unknown reason, my host dad puts on a Mexican CD.  I find it only slightly awkward to sway by myself to Mexican music while my new Dominican parents watch.  To get out of this, I say, “I can’t dance without a partner!”  Whoops.  Dad pokes his head out the front door and yells something down the street.  Some guy comes a’runnin.   Hombre stands in the doorway, smiling at me with a lazy eye, waiting expectantly for... the Mexican dancing to begin?  Awk.  Mostly because of the way this guy just stood there and stared.  I tried to laugh it off, introduce myself, and kind of imply, “Ok, nice to meet you, see ya later.”  When that didn’t work, I went to brush my teeth and hoped he would be gone by the time I got back.   When that didn’t work, I went in my room and started moving my things around as though I needed to organize, though I’ve already organized.  It took a while, but eventually he left, muttering something about Americanas and verguenza.  Phew.  

Unfortunately, Tabara Arriba isn’t the kind of place where you never see people again.  Dude lives around the corner and now he likes to andar past my porch when I’m sitting in the rocking chair and "psst psst" me.  But this isn’t as bad as the old crazy man who comes over just to stare, or, if I’m not in sight, knocks on my door as he yells to my host mom, “Estoy enamorado.”  Por Dios.