Party Rockin'

First weekend in Jarabacoa was an interesting one, but I survived it. So Friday after class got out and after everyone had dinner with their host fams, the lot of us decided to go out and experience the night life a little. We decided to go as a whole group the first night, to acclimate ourselves to the area. We met at what’s known as “el Parque,” the park, where there is a bunch of benches and a giant tree in the middle. So we’re gathering and there’s about twenty Americans chatting it up in English in the middle of town, so of course we attract some attention. The first guy was with his friends and decide to take a lap around the park to check us out (did I mention there’s only one male student on this trip). Then a little while later he decided he needed more exercise and took another lap. Then he said, oh I need to cool down from all that exercise, let me take another slow lap to loosen up some more. Needless to say, we were pretty creeped out. But finally Jacob, one of our facilitators, comes and whisks us away, all the way across the street to a little bar. Half of us are confused because we decided on going to a discoteca, which is a dance club, and they had us at a little bar on the corner without exterior walls, but we later realized that it was too early yet to go there.

The bar was fine, I was enjoying my purified ice chips, and watching people bachata and merengue in the middle of cramped tables. One by one, we were learning how to do the local dances, that night I learned the bachata, and I must say that I’m even more of a natural at the bachata than I am at merengue.  Ok, so it wasn’t my first time learning the bachata, but still. The locals were very fascinated by the sudden influx of Americans on one street corner, and we became their own personal reality tv show. Some were even so fascinated to ask us to dance, asked to teach us the dances, and, of course, bought some of the girls HUGE bottles of rum. It was hilarious to watch all the Dominicans, men and women, gawk from their motorcycles, shout out broken English phrases they had learned from songs or movies, my favorites being “it is beautiful” and “I love you forever!”

When we finally made our way to Venue discoteca, we were still the first ones there, and some of the more bold tigueres from the bar made their way to Venue as well. The music was so loud, the moment you stepped inside you went deaf from the shock (the doors were impressively sound proof). They also had a fog machine and strobe light going, kind of like what you’d see in a movie, but much smaller. The DJ started off with some local hits, and then he treated us to a Party Rock Anthem mix, in which everyone proceeded to the dance floor for some raving fist-pumping action, where, once again, we became a live reality tv show. I will admit that I was glad to hear familiar music, even though they play songs in English all the time here, for some reason in that moment I was really appreciative. The rest of the night was almost anticlimactic except for the part where Jacob had to walk all of us home because he was afraid some of us would get lost due to being directionally challenged and less than sober. I was really frustrated that I couldn’t just go home when I was ready to go, but because I was one of 2 people who hadn’t had anything to drink that night, I was outnumbered by loud, stumbling American college students,  living it up on a Friday night. So instead of taking 10 minutes to walk back to my house in a decent hour, it took us an hour and a half because we literally went to everyone’s house, one by one, and we had to back track twice because we went to the wrong place. It was a long night, to say the least.

Me and alcohol do NOT get along, for this very reason…

Meet The Parents

The day finally came when I’d meet my first host family. In the morning, they tortured us with a beautiful tour of the Colonial Square of Santo Domingo. The architecture is amazing and the history is beyond incredible. I felt almost insignificant being from a town like Ann Arbor, which has such little history in comparison, and a much more boring history at that, when learning about the social and political changes that happened in the Dominican Republic and how the monuments and buildings accurately represent all of these changes. They took us to a jewelry shop where they sold amber and larimar stones. These two stones are very popular in the DR, and they too have a rich history here. The amber is really popular, and represents good fortune and happiness, while the larimar is the national stone, and represents love. Together they represent a good live, love and happiness. There were so many jewelry options that used both stones, and they were so well made. We got a chance to see in the “factory” of sorts, which was really three guys in a room of to the side welding silver, shaping and polishing amber and larimar, and then assembling various pieces of jewelry. The cool part was watching them work so effortlessly to produce such beautiful works of art.

That afternoon we drove to Jarabacoa, about three hours away, and on the whole ride there was a growing cloud of anxiety in our tiny Arabian bus. The closer we got to the city, the more we were all freaking out. We were bombarded with thoughts of “what will they be like?” “what if they don’t like me?” “what if the food is bad?” “what if I get sick?”… and the list went on and on and on. At one point almost everybody was asleep, minus me and two others. It was funny to see all the open mouths, and bodies half collapsed with exhaustion. I wanted to take a picture, but again, I just meet these folks, no need to create bad relations so soon. It was as if everyone had known the trip from Santo Domingo to Jarabacoa like it was their daily rout to school because as we were about to enter into the town, everyone woke up, like clockwork. After the first sign we say that said “Jarabacoa” on it, everyone was instantaneously refreshed and given new life, our heat exhausted bodies were now pumping fresh blood through our bodies.

Our Arabian styled bus took us to a wall of cinderblock bricks that had been painted white with a white iron gate that led the way to a small L shaped building with a basketball court nestled within it to create a big rectangle. This was “La Escuela,” our home away from home away from home. They sent us into the pre-school room where we waited nervously with our knees cramped to our chests, trying not to fall out of the baby chairs, waiting to be picked up by our new families. This was worse than the Sorting Hat in HP, because once you were sorted you left, to be alone in a foreign place, with foreign people, speaking a foreign language. Just sitting down in that room made me want to scream my head off! I don’t think I have ever been so nervous in my life, and I’m surprised I didn’t pass out or have an accident in my shorts (actually I was wearing a dress, but whatever. Details, details). One by one various families arrived to fetch their new temporary children. We started off with seventeen anxious college students waiting in a preschool with the crayons and Barney, then there were fifteen, then eleven, eight, six, five, three, two… Sarah and I were the last lonely amigas waiting to be scooped up by an awaiting family. We were so nervous, we couldn’t help but to squeal a little inside in anxiety.

At the last second, both of our moms came strolling up together. I can’t even express to you all how happy I was not to be the last one picked up. I was thinking as I sat in my little chair in the little room, I am always last, left waiting for ever after everyone else has left, and flashbacks of waiting to get picked up after middle school sports flashed through my head, like lightning during a thunderstorm. I was almost ready to cry, but lo and behold, I wasn’t exactly the last one, we were the last two. When I met my new mom, Cecilia, I was very nervous because she didn’t smile right away. She had a very serious look like she was in a hurry or just taking care of business, but when my facilitators told her that I was her new daughter for the next three weeks, a huge smile sprung upon her face, and I finally exhaled (good thing, too, because any longer I would have turned blue and passed out).  Turns out that Sarah’s and my mom are next door neighbors and were walking together.

Getting into the town for real was, well, awkward. I couldn’t help but feel like an open target. I wasn’t sure how the others, the ones who don’t blend in at all, were going to handle all the attention. I remember being fascinated by how friendly everyone was. My host mom basically said hi to everyone she passed. The vecinos would ask her which American girl was hers, and she’d proudly reply “la morena”, the dark one. They warned us ahead of time that Dominicans like to describe people and things by their color, and it is often a term of endearment to be called by such. It was cool to see everything they had warned us about before getting into the town actually happening (good to know that our facilitators are people of their word). When I walked into my host family’s house, which, by the way, is pretty cool, I did not quite experience the greetings they said we would. My host mom took me from room to room telling me, “this is your sister, your brother, your cousin, your brother. This is your room. Here’s the bathroom. Water (turning on the shower).” And that was it. Literally. No more questions asked. Nothing. My littlest brother, Puchi, whose real name is Jershua, was much more active in the whole acclamation process. My sister, Katerin, didn’t (and doesn’t) say much, and my brother Randi said hi, bye, then left. After about twenty minutes of awkward greetings and putting away my luggage, which actually arrived at my host house way before I did, my mom called me for dinner.

Oh my goodness, if only you knew how terrified I was of eating dinner, mostly because they spent the last two days scaring us about how the food needs to be prepared and telling us horror stories about what will happen if it’s not done right. It was a simple meal, but I felt so uneasy about everything. We had cooked bananas with some baked chicken, I think, and it was interesting. I can’t say that I liked or disliked it. After dinner, which was quiet and awkward due to a chronic case of non-curiosity, I basically passed out in my room. I was so worn out from the physical, mental and emotional stress that my body literally could not hold me up much longer. I thought it would be difficult to sleep in such an unfamiliar place with so many unfamiliar people, but no. I slept like a baby, well like how a baby sleeps when they’re actually sleeping. I fell asleep before I had the chance to meet my host pops, but I was ok with that, I think if I had now some man was in the house I would not have slept as soundly as I did.

So anxious to see how this relationship with my host family will turn out to be. I hope my host mom likes me, and that my little brother isn’t obnoxious, and that my sister doesn’t hate me for taking her room ( or at least I think I’m in her room) and that I don’t get too terribly sick from the food and water here. It seems like the food is really similar to home for me (yay red beans and rice with chicken!), so I’m not too concerned with that, but still. I also hope that my padre likes me when I finally get to meet him, and that he’s not scary and to macho to talk to.

¡Aplauso!

The first day in Santo Domingo was great! The morning was cool, waking up in the Dominican Republic. It started to sink in that I was really away from home. The breakfast at the hotel was simple, fruit, sausage, rolls, but the food was delicious! I had never experienced such a tasty mango in my life! They taste way better here than in the US, I can guarantee you that. The papaya wasn’t as good as I hoped it would be, but it was still papaya, which is amazing!

Orientation was chill, they gave us a pizza lunch, because we weren’t feeling American enough, and taught us what to expect when entering a Dominican home for the first time. That was a laugh, mostly because the volunteer student suffering through the role-play wasn’t me. Our instructors played various characters del barrio, your mamá, papá, tías, primos, and vecinos (that’s mom, dad, aunts, cousins, and neighbors, for you non Spanish-speakers)… and it was loud, rambunctious and chaotic.  My actual experience, I later found out, was nothing like that, but  I still felt prepared.

That night, our facilitators took us out to dinner at this cool place. I don’t remember the name, but it looked like a pirate’s ship, the walls were painted like treasure maps. I think it was more to do with Columbus’ voyage to the New World, but I can’t be too sure. The food was great, and I wanted to eat more, even though I was beyond stuffed. The serving sizes here are much bigger, which is great!

After dinner they took us to a little place that was sort of like an outdoor bar. It was just like a little storefront that had drinks, a TV with the Yankee’s game on, and loud music! So what you do is you take a chair and put it in the lawn across the street, sit, listen to music, and have a beer or two with your friends. Of course the beer part is totally optional. So we sat up a small hill, by the ruins of an old monastery, and got to know each other. Right next to us was a birthday party of little girls (yes, it was a 5 year old’s birthday at 9-o-clock at night across the street from a bar where others are drinking openly, and yes, this is normal). The girls were dancing to the music and it was so cute! When we first walked up a merengue song came on so only a few of the girls were dancing together, like four, and it was very precious. Then a bachata song came on and they all got up. And then, drum roll please, they played reggeton, and the whole world broke loose! Those girls were shaking everything their mamás gave them! Once they saw us watching them, they came and picked up a few of us to dance with them. Then a few more joined on the next song. I have the best videos, but for the protection of the privacy of the other ladies on this trip, and to not cause drama with seven weeks to go, I will refrain from posting them.

These little girls were so cute! At the end of our first reggaeton song with them, they all jumped and shouted, “¡Aplauso!”, which has quickly become our catch phrase, because they had taught us so well. It was amazing to see such little girls “bailando muy sexy” and then revert back to little girls as soon as the music turned off. I guess that’s similar to girls in the States who learn how to pop and hip roll as soon as they can walk.

When we left that little bar spot, we went to a similar place that was across the street from our hotel (no dancing little girls this time). We were just chatting it up, making fun of incorrect uses of the hashtag “yolo” and enjoying being in la República Dominicana. One of the facilitators was teaching us how to merengue, and I must admit, I’m a natural. We felt the necessity to take a “yolo” photo, just because it wasn’t raining outside, #yolo. When it got too hot to bear, we found some chairs and sat outside, by the road. This is also very normal. Even though the night air had the occasional breeze, the heat from the multitude of people in such a small area became unbearable, so we moved our fiesta to the fourth floor balcony of our hotel for a game of “Never Have I Ever.” Again, due to the privacy of others, I cannot say what went on in this game, but I will say that I learned more about this group in 30 minutes that I think I could have learned from a group half this size (and there’s only 17 of us) in a year. People were very comfortable with just putting it all out there. Some stories good, bad, or require your own personal judgment to decide whether it was good or bad, but they definitely created a bond that I don’t think will be easily broken.

El Primer Encuentro

I am so excited to be on this trip! Seriously. I woke up Tuesday morning in a panic because I thought I over slept and missed my flight, but I looked at my watch and it was only 4:08am. It was difficult to get out of bed, but I made it out on time. Saying my see-you-later’s (I don’t do goodbyes) were easier to do than I expected (no waterworks), but I had not anticipated the trouble with my boarding passes. So being the genius that I am, I forgot to print my boarding passes ahead of time and the airline didn’t know to connect my two flights. The attendant was very helpful about straitening everything out, but I will admit I was very embarrassed when I noticed that my baggage-check took two or three times longer than everyone else’s. Well you can’t win them all, right? At least I didn’t have to be additionally embarrassed by having an oversized suitcase and having to play the “what-can-I-sacrifice-to-not-have-to-pay-100-dollars” game.

The flight to Miami was fine, very smooth. I tried to sleep, but I couldn’t get comfortable (mostly because I couldn’t figure out how to recline the seat: fail). The kid next to me was a high-schooler going on a mission’s trip with his church flying for the first time…ah he wasn’t that bad. I did, however, have to tune out his obnoxious airplane jokes. I don’t think he realized that a plane can just take off from the spot where you board, on account that it would crash into the building, but maybe he’ll figure it out on his next flight. The view coming into Miami was really cool. It was funny to count all the blue amoeba shaped swimming pools in the back yards of clusters of subdivisions. From the sky all the houses look identical, but the pools were all different. I guess that’s how you know you’re at the right house. “I’m home! Oh oops wrong one, my pool has an extra blob on the left side, sorry” The clouds were so fluffy and white, I wanted to sleep on them. They were perfectly plush and I think if it were possible, I would definitely get my bed made out of cloud material.

The layover was taking FOREVER!!! The longest 10 hours of my life. I wanted to sleep, but it was hard because it was so cold! My nose was red, and my lips had turned blue (ok, so I’m exaggerating a little). The worst part is that it was 88 degrees outside and I felt like I was in the arctic. I checked my toes for frost bite….thank you air conditioning. I did good fighting off the urge to buy a lot of food, but that is hard to do when there’s nothing else to do. I even got some tea to restore some heat to my body.

The Flight from Miami to Santo Domingo was smooth, although there were about four screaming children on somewhere behind me on the plane. I would have been ok if they were infants, even a year or two, but there is no reason for four, five, and ten year olds to be screaming and shouting on a plane. It was a late flight, so you couldn’t really see anything coming into the city…actually I’m not really sure how the pilot found the runway it was so dark. Well, we made it safely, so I guess he knew what he was doing. Off the plane we all noticed something very special about the Dominican Republic…the people here are beautiful! Their skin is flawless, beautiful hair and features, AND they are super nice! There was a cluster of people waiting for their family members to get off the flight, and they all greeted each other with big passionate hugs, and smiles and laughter. It was amazing!

I got to meet some of the other ladies in the program, which was cool. I don’t think we’re going to have any problems, but the summer is still young. After successfully making it through customs and retrieving my luggage, we were greeted, very enthusiastically, I might add, by Christine and Juan. The led us to our chariot, which was a bus with curtains strait out of the movie Aladdin, and we took a thirty minute trip around the corner to our hotel. We thought we were going to do some bonding once we got there, but we were so tired by the time we got in, everyone pretty much collapsed. I’ll admit that I slept like a baby.

First Dominican Encounter: success