A Whole New World

We had all piled into two vans, luggage stuffed into the back of one, and the overflow strapped to the top with a combination of twine, rope, and bungee cords. The air was hot and unforgiving inside the van with eleven bodies all squished together on the pleather seats that slid beneath our sweaty legs. The air conditioning was on, but the fans were so weak that they only reached the heads directly below them, leaving most of us stuck breathing in hot recycled air. We were only about 30 minutes onto the road and we were already ready to get out. I cracked the window beside me, even though I knew the air was on, and the breeze created temporary relief from the heat, until the morning air turned into the afternoon hotbox. The driver was playing what must have been his American Top 40s, Hip-Hop and R&B playlist from his iPod. We were serenaded by Yeah by Usher, Without Me Eminem, and We Found Love by Rihanna, which comforted us for a while as we pended the unknown that we were about to be thrown into.

What was ahead of us was a dark mystery that we tried to be positive about, but it was hard to do since we had only heard two good things about the campo: 1) Less tigueres and 2) It’s beautiful. After four hours of being cramped in our vans, two stops on the side of the road for carsick passengers, three stops for gas and snacks, we finally made it to La Esquina, the campo that’s somewhere between Nagua and Cabrera, but isn’t on any map we’ve ever seen. Well it was true that it was a beautiful place, as we drove up the mountain and dropped everyone off at their new homes one by one, I could see the huge pastures of grazing cattle, the palm trees in the distance, sunflowers and orchids in front of every house and the prettiest birds I had ever seen, but there was one eye sore; the houses. Many houses were made of cement with tin roofs, but there were also just as many made of weathered wood, that look like they have endured a hurricane or two. There were also a few very modern, western style houses that were completely made of cement with modern colors on the exterior, not the bright oranges and pinks that you saw on the other houses, but of course those were not the houses they were taking us to.

It took me about half an hour to actually reach the house I would be staying in for the next three weeks, since I lived the farthest up the hill. The last one to get dropped off, the anxiety I felt waiting in the van grew in my belly and I tried to calm myself down to keep from vomiting up the Doritos I had eaten about an hour before. There were three others to drop off before me, so I prayed for the last seven minutes of waiting, not wanting to have a horrified look on my face when I met my host family for the first time. Well I was calmer when I got to my house, but I still looked horrified. I looked in the direction of the finger of my director who was pointing out my house and it lead to a little wooden house painted Pepto pink and lime green. In the doorway stood a little old lady, who I later learned was called Maria. She was to be my host mom (well grandma) along with her husband Oscar, my host grandpa.

On the table to greet me as my lunch already prepared. La Bandera, of course, was set up on the table, but it didn’t look very appetizing. I didn’t realize why at first, but then I noticed that my chicken was moving. Ants had taken over my lunch, probably because we arrived two hours later than we were supposed to due to all the extra stops we had to make. The only thing on the table that had not been invaded was the rice, so I ate rice…a good choice since the little black soldiers would be easily spotted in my white starchy meal.

Maria showed me to my bedroom, where I was greeted by a very bright pink bed spread, a window that was wide open with no glass or screen, and a wooden vanity. I thought I was going to puke, there was so much pink. The sunlight that came in through the window had reflected onto the walls making them also appear to be pink. (For those of you who do not know me very well, me and pink do NOT get along…at all. It is by far my least favorite thing in the world. I hate it more than almost anything else, it’s almost up there with murderers, rapists, and child abusers…yes, that high on the list.) So yes, I had a pink room in a pink house… perfect -_-. I decided that I could stomach the pink room when I saw that I had a personal fan in the room too. That would make this experience much better.

First impressions say a lot, and I can honestly say that this has not had a great first impression on me. But impressions change, and I can only hope and pray that this one will leave a much better impression, and soon. I’m not sure I can handle three weeks of ant food and all pink everything.