You can now follow all of my action on TUMBLR. I will be posting blogs, interesting articles, and other TUMBLR posts that I find amusing, entertaining, or thought provoking. I will be following all of the excitement during the primary season and will hopefully make some correct picks. Also, my 2012 Big Game proposition bets are up for tonight's matchup between the two post-Colonial superpowers - The Patriots of New England and the Giants of New York. The website is http://epicnightferret.tumblr.com/
I will update this blog from time to time, but tumblr will be much more frequent and up to date.
Sunday, February 5, 2012
Sunday, September 11, 2011
Follow By Email
You can now follow my blog by email, getting new posts sent directly to you through the interwebs (or system of tubes as one late Alaskan senator would have put it). All you have to do is put your email address in the box to the right that says follow by email and wire me US$1billion. Or at least just put your email in the box. You'll also note, I've added some links to my blog to check out. They are mostly the sites of entertaining fellow bloggers, but I will add some links here and there that I find interesting.
Any suggestions as to more gadgets that could be of use or layout design are, as always, welcome.
Also, here you can see a map of where I'm living. San Francisco de Macoris (SFM) is to the North with Santiago (the airport used to fly in) only slightly to the West. Punta Cana (not shown) is on the Eastern most tip of the Island, while the capital, Santo Domingo, is pretty obvious.
Any suggestions as to more gadgets that could be of use or layout design are, as always, welcome.
Also, here you can see a map of where I'm living. San Francisco de Macoris (SFM) is to the North with Santiago (the airport used to fly in) only slightly to the West. Punta Cana (not shown) is on the Eastern most tip of the Island, while the capital, Santo Domingo, is pretty obvious.
Saturday, September 10, 2011
Back in the Saddle
So here we are again. Welcome back. Bienvenidos a todos al blog de Drew (aka EL epic night ferret). After a month long hiatus in the good ol' US of A, I've come back for the long haul to the Dominican Republic. Last time was an appetizer, a sample platter of life in a developing Caribbean country. This time, I'm diving headfirst in to an entree of life and experiences in a place that is - while not entirely unkown to me - extraordinarily challenging and filled with unique and unexpected encounters. Everything that you, dear readers, will take in here are recollections of truly original experiences.
So, we begin at the Miami International Meltingpot.
Arriving at terminal D is like arriving at a modern day Ellis Island. If you can't hear more than one language at Miami International, you are either not listening, deaf, or someone who, like our dear former President George W. Bush, probably can't distinguish between Spanish and Inuktitut. Last time I was in Miami, I was a third-world virgin. I did not know what I was getting myself in to but was anxious to try out my relatively rusty Spanish on a crowd of native speakers. I was thrust into practice by a ticketing agent, however, when he mistook my pronunciation of ''Santiago,'' the Airport to which I'd be arriving in the Dominican Republic (henceforth the DR) as a sign of actual fluency. He told me where to go, asked about fluids and creams in my bag (at least I gathered that much from the context) and quickly stamped me and sent me on to drop my bags off. Much has apparently changed at Miami International (now to be know as MIA or Ellis Island South) since my last romp through. This time, I was briskly sent through the line by English commands, arriving at a ticketing counter where the mustachioed agent assured me that in order to enter the country I would need to buy a return ticket (something that is technically required in the DR, but then again you're technically required to stop at red lights and have a permit for your shotgun) and a visa (something that is a 100% fabrication). I ended up buying a return ticket to appease this unbudging roadblock to getting on my flight to the place I'll be living for the next 9 months, but assured him that I already had my visa, showing him a 10 dollar bill tucked safely into the folds of my left pocket. This is considered a down payment on visitation to the DR from anyone who doesn't hail from Venezuela, Iceland, the Principality of Liechtenstein, or a number of other extraordinarily influential international powers. In order to leave the country, one must pony up $25 or the somewhat equivalent RD$800 as an exit fee.
After heading through security, I finally hopped on the plane. The usual mix of well-to-do, primped up DominiYorkers and pale-faced, naive missionaries filled the plane almost to its max. Other than one flight attendant, I believe that I was the only gringo lacking a bible or a business plan binder en route to the country of eternal summer.
After a flight filled with lightning flashes, scattered dips and dives, and almost never-ending bumps, we landed in Santiago/Cibao International Airport.
The lack of applause upon landing showed that there were both a large number of gringos unfamiliar with the custom of cheering a successful, death-free touchdown and that the Dominicans were probably too busy clutching their stomaches and barf bags to bring two palms together in celebration. My cheerful, energetic applause must have seemed wildly out of place to everyone involved, but then I must have seemed equally as out of place my self.
We landed about 20 minutes late with another few minutes to taxi and about 30 minutes to get through customs, grab my bags, and head out through the strange gauntlet that is set up at the exit of the airport. Fighting off the throngs of men asking me to take my bags out for me, (my Spanish both surprised and confused them) I walked outside and began looking through the crowd to see if Darling had defied expectations and showed up yet. Of course, I told him to get me 15 minutes earlier than I was actually supposed to land. Due to all the delays, I was about an hour late, making Darling an hour and a half late when he did finally arrive in his wobbling black Mitsubishi Montero SUV. After pleasentries and the customary Que lo Que Monstro! (What it is Monster!, somehow that is a term of friendship here) I hopped in the car to be greeted by Damaris - Darling's stunningly organized and soft-spoken wife - and Cherissa, my new roommate. We drove through the 2 million person city to get to my first meal in the DR, one that Darling assured would be very Dominican and enjoyed by everyone. So, knowing Darling as I and some of you probably do, it was not a surprise when we pulled in to the TGI Friday's of Santiago de los Caballeros, Dominican Republic.
Chuckling to myself and to Cherissa, we went in. I ordered some buffalo wings (pronounced booo fah lo, so as not to confuse the waiter) and we all ate. After a while, Darling, the pentacostal minister asked me why the place was called Friday's. I explained the origin of the name to him and he seemed to truly enjoy it even more, perhaps thinking that the skateboards, picnic style table clothes and free-flowing margaritas and Long Island Iced Teas were somehow religiously affiliated. After all, on the 8th day the Good Lord woke up from his slumber and created Jack Daniels barbecued chicken.
Coming back to the apartment, Cherissa and I talked for a while about the program, the city, and plans for making the place feel a bit more like home. In the morning, she'd be going to a resort with two students to ''practice English'' while I'd head in to the office for the first time in over a month.
The next day, I was told I'd be teaching a class, then that I wouldn't, then that I would. Finally I jumped in and informed everyone that I hadn't even unpacked yet and that I wouldn't start until we had a set schedule that I could refer to come payment time. A schedule was made and subsequently completely ignored, but at least I got the first day off.
What I did get to do the first day was go to the building that we'd be turning in to a school for our ever-growing (so I'm told) ULAE program. We'd retained some investors since I'd gone and now had enough money to rent a space of our own instead of sharing a building with the Universidad Catolica Nordestana (UCNE). I went with Darling to see the place. From the outside, it looked as if construction on the second story space had been abandoned about halfway through. Unpainted concrete with large open spaces was the facade I was looking at. Walking upstairs through the prison-like metal barred door (which is actually as common here as a mangy street dog) we ascended the wide, concrete staircase. I heard the sounds of serious and concentrated evangelical praying going on. Coming upstairs, I found a band of ''pastors'' hanging around, really not doing anything. Apparently these people, Darling's friends and fellow pastors, were the ones we'd be displacing to begin our new program. After a few introductions (almost all of which included ''You know, this Jesus guy is awesome, this is the right way,'' which was less than unexpected) I toured the space a bit more. I'll take some (before) pictures next time I go in. To say we have work to do on this space is a flagrant and egregious understatement. The walls were all unpainted, the ''doors'' on all of the classrooms were simply sheets somehow taped or nailed up above the frames. There were bathrooms in each room, but none had anything in them that resembled plumbing pipes, let alone toilets themselves. Each room had its own unique pile of garbage and evidence of human life. If this was an archaeological site, I'm sure the investigators would come to the conclusion that some overtly religious culture slowly evaporated, leaving a depressing and violent mess in their stead. At every turn, I wholeheartedly expected to see a member of the Manson family sharing a crack pipe with someone from Irvin Welsh's Trainspotting. There were even beds in a number of the rooms, some of which had lamps and tables, though I couldn't even venture to guess what kind of creature had slept there in the past. Perhaps that could be a task for the hypothetical aforementioned archaeologists as well.
Despite the thick layer of despair and destruction surrounding this ''religious center,'' I couldn't help but smile at the potential I was seeing in the place. After some serious cleaning, wiring, painting, and shuffling, this space would really feel like a school. Putting my own blood and sweat into the project will only make it more satisfying when I'll be able to sit down at my desk in my office (which Elizabeth has assured me WILL have a disco ball) and write my first lesson plans for the new school. I mentioned to Darling that my brother is quite the artist and he immediately asked when he'd be able to come down to put some murals on the walls to make the place more appealing to people passing by on the street.
The place has a lot of work to do, but so does the country as a whole. One building at a time , it can be improved. Education is the key to empowering people, and by creating a space that will hopefully one day become one of the best bilingual schools in the DR, we will create a generation who sees a crack shack like the one I've witnessed not as a lost cause, but as an eternal hope.
So, we begin at the Miami International Meltingpot.
Arriving at terminal D is like arriving at a modern day Ellis Island. If you can't hear more than one language at Miami International, you are either not listening, deaf, or someone who, like our dear former President George W. Bush, probably can't distinguish between Spanish and Inuktitut. Last time I was in Miami, I was a third-world virgin. I did not know what I was getting myself in to but was anxious to try out my relatively rusty Spanish on a crowd of native speakers. I was thrust into practice by a ticketing agent, however, when he mistook my pronunciation of ''Santiago,'' the Airport to which I'd be arriving in the Dominican Republic (henceforth the DR) as a sign of actual fluency. He told me where to go, asked about fluids and creams in my bag (at least I gathered that much from the context) and quickly stamped me and sent me on to drop my bags off. Much has apparently changed at Miami International (now to be know as MIA or Ellis Island South) since my last romp through. This time, I was briskly sent through the line by English commands, arriving at a ticketing counter where the mustachioed agent assured me that in order to enter the country I would need to buy a return ticket (something that is technically required in the DR, but then again you're technically required to stop at red lights and have a permit for your shotgun) and a visa (something that is a 100% fabrication). I ended up buying a return ticket to appease this unbudging roadblock to getting on my flight to the place I'll be living for the next 9 months, but assured him that I already had my visa, showing him a 10 dollar bill tucked safely into the folds of my left pocket. This is considered a down payment on visitation to the DR from anyone who doesn't hail from Venezuela, Iceland, the Principality of Liechtenstein, or a number of other extraordinarily influential international powers. In order to leave the country, one must pony up $25 or the somewhat equivalent RD$800 as an exit fee.
After heading through security, I finally hopped on the plane. The usual mix of well-to-do, primped up DominiYorkers and pale-faced, naive missionaries filled the plane almost to its max. Other than one flight attendant, I believe that I was the only gringo lacking a bible or a business plan binder en route to the country of eternal summer.
After a flight filled with lightning flashes, scattered dips and dives, and almost never-ending bumps, we landed in Santiago/Cibao International Airport.
The lack of applause upon landing showed that there were both a large number of gringos unfamiliar with the custom of cheering a successful, death-free touchdown and that the Dominicans were probably too busy clutching their stomaches and barf bags to bring two palms together in celebration. My cheerful, energetic applause must have seemed wildly out of place to everyone involved, but then I must have seemed equally as out of place my self.
We landed about 20 minutes late with another few minutes to taxi and about 30 minutes to get through customs, grab my bags, and head out through the strange gauntlet that is set up at the exit of the airport. Fighting off the throngs of men asking me to take my bags out for me, (my Spanish both surprised and confused them) I walked outside and began looking through the crowd to see if Darling had defied expectations and showed up yet. Of course, I told him to get me 15 minutes earlier than I was actually supposed to land. Due to all the delays, I was about an hour late, making Darling an hour and a half late when he did finally arrive in his wobbling black Mitsubishi Montero SUV. After pleasentries and the customary Que lo Que Monstro! (What it is Monster!, somehow that is a term of friendship here) I hopped in the car to be greeted by Damaris - Darling's stunningly organized and soft-spoken wife - and Cherissa, my new roommate. We drove through the 2 million person city to get to my first meal in the DR, one that Darling assured would be very Dominican and enjoyed by everyone. So, knowing Darling as I and some of you probably do, it was not a surprise when we pulled in to the TGI Friday's of Santiago de los Caballeros, Dominican Republic.
Chuckling to myself and to Cherissa, we went in. I ordered some buffalo wings (pronounced booo fah lo, so as not to confuse the waiter) and we all ate. After a while, Darling, the pentacostal minister asked me why the place was called Friday's. I explained the origin of the name to him and he seemed to truly enjoy it even more, perhaps thinking that the skateboards, picnic style table clothes and free-flowing margaritas and Long Island Iced Teas were somehow religiously affiliated. After all, on the 8th day the Good Lord woke up from his slumber and created Jack Daniels barbecued chicken.
Coming back to the apartment, Cherissa and I talked for a while about the program, the city, and plans for making the place feel a bit more like home. In the morning, she'd be going to a resort with two students to ''practice English'' while I'd head in to the office for the first time in over a month.
The next day, I was told I'd be teaching a class, then that I wouldn't, then that I would. Finally I jumped in and informed everyone that I hadn't even unpacked yet and that I wouldn't start until we had a set schedule that I could refer to come payment time. A schedule was made and subsequently completely ignored, but at least I got the first day off.
What I did get to do the first day was go to the building that we'd be turning in to a school for our ever-growing (so I'm told) ULAE program. We'd retained some investors since I'd gone and now had enough money to rent a space of our own instead of sharing a building with the Universidad Catolica Nordestana (UCNE). I went with Darling to see the place. From the outside, it looked as if construction on the second story space had been abandoned about halfway through. Unpainted concrete with large open spaces was the facade I was looking at. Walking upstairs through the prison-like metal barred door (which is actually as common here as a mangy street dog) we ascended the wide, concrete staircase. I heard the sounds of serious and concentrated evangelical praying going on. Coming upstairs, I found a band of ''pastors'' hanging around, really not doing anything. Apparently these people, Darling's friends and fellow pastors, were the ones we'd be displacing to begin our new program. After a few introductions (almost all of which included ''You know, this Jesus guy is awesome, this is the right way,'' which was less than unexpected) I toured the space a bit more. I'll take some (before) pictures next time I go in. To say we have work to do on this space is a flagrant and egregious understatement. The walls were all unpainted, the ''doors'' on all of the classrooms were simply sheets somehow taped or nailed up above the frames. There were bathrooms in each room, but none had anything in them that resembled plumbing pipes, let alone toilets themselves. Each room had its own unique pile of garbage and evidence of human life. If this was an archaeological site, I'm sure the investigators would come to the conclusion that some overtly religious culture slowly evaporated, leaving a depressing and violent mess in their stead. At every turn, I wholeheartedly expected to see a member of the Manson family sharing a crack pipe with someone from Irvin Welsh's Trainspotting. There were even beds in a number of the rooms, some of which had lamps and tables, though I couldn't even venture to guess what kind of creature had slept there in the past. Perhaps that could be a task for the hypothetical aforementioned archaeologists as well.
Despite the thick layer of despair and destruction surrounding this ''religious center,'' I couldn't help but smile at the potential I was seeing in the place. After some serious cleaning, wiring, painting, and shuffling, this space would really feel like a school. Putting my own blood and sweat into the project will only make it more satisfying when I'll be able to sit down at my desk in my office (which Elizabeth has assured me WILL have a disco ball) and write my first lesson plans for the new school. I mentioned to Darling that my brother is quite the artist and he immediately asked when he'd be able to come down to put some murals on the walls to make the place more appealing to people passing by on the street.
The place has a lot of work to do, but so does the country as a whole. One building at a time
Wednesday, July 20, 2011
Moving Along
I'll have a new post up soon, its just been very difficult to write after 10 hour days with the kids. The camp is going, not without difficulties and setbacks, but its been a great experience so far. Its looking like I'm going to be forsaking my plan to head out to Japan and will be staying here instead working in a soon-to-be built school, as long as I can verify that this plan is more than an idea. More on this to come - but in the meantime, check out a few of my Facebook photos on the promos we did on TV here and on the first day of camp.
Tuesday, July 12, 2011
The First Weekend
On Saturday, Darling told us he'd pick us up at 9:30. We figured that meant around 10. When it hit 11, we walked down to the cantina at the gas station to drink a couple beers. We each a couple of the liter and a half Presidentes, hanging out in the late morning sun and listening to the Bachata music playing from behind the bar. We talked to the people at the cantina, all of whom were extremely friendly (just like everyone else in this warm country). I finally got ahold of Johnny at the office. He said Darling had left to pick us up, but didn't have minutes on his phone so we wouldn't be able to contact him. This was just as well to us, as we were happy to have a day of relaxing and talking to some new people. Around noon, we talked to Darling and he sent a cab to pick us up. We got to the school and I realized I'd left my Blackberry in the cab. I figured it was as good as lost, but just then Benjamin came down the stairs and asked me if I lost my phone. He said the driver heard it ring and was coming back to give it to me. Not only are the people here friendly, but many of them are very honest as well. We got into the building later than usual and immediately each went to a class. Cory went to the beginning English class and I went to one where the students were preparing to take the English TOEFL exam, something that is taken very seriously here because it can mean the difference between getting a regular job or one with great pay and benefits and is, oftentimes, a start to a ticket to the United States (Darling even said, when joking about the Cholera problem in Haiti, he doesn't want to die here, he'd much rather die in the United States). The teacher in my class is a woman named Catherine. She's originally from New York and came here a while ago on a vacation. She liked it so much that she hasn't gone back home since then. She got her degree to teach English from a university here and has been teaching this class since then. The class only has 2 students, girls around my age who are really good at English. Their vocabulary and grammar is impressive, as well as their comfort with using the language to express what they want and to try to flex it to use new words, patterns, and sentences. I hung out with them for the entire 4 hour class, acting as a second teacher. Catherine is going to be taking her first trip back home in a few weeks and I'll be taking over the class for as long as I want after that. The girls are in book 3 of a 4 book course. We're working through the books to get them as ready as possible to take and succeed on the TOEFL exam. However, we have to keep the class interesting so last week they watched Black Swan and analyzed it on Saturday, speaking about the different personality traits and characteristics of Nina, the main character. I was again impressed at their vocabulary and ability to use the words in grammatical context. They were at first a little thrown off by the difference between my PA accent and Catherine's slightly Dominican New York accent. We both tried hard to speak as clearly as possible and the girls became acclimated to my accent. At the end of the class we discussed some of the political problems in this "Rich Country with Poor People."
Afterwards, we went to an actual restaurant. This place was a very nice restaurant with an awesome atmosphere. I got Teriyaki Chicken with, as usual, a notable Dominican twist and flavor. We sipped on some Piña Coladas and ate, getting ready to go back to the TV station for yet another show. At this show, we were interviewed by the head of the University on her educational program. I actually had to speak a lot of Spanish for this one. We promoted the camp. Darling told me I had to be a politician on this one, explaining that while I was abroad and around the world, the common language was English. Since the show was so late, the target audience was an older crowd, presumably the parents of the campers. We had to sell them on the benefits that the camp would have for their kids in an English-dominated world. After a long drive around the city laughing about the ridiculous differences between the DR and US (you can just go on TV if you know the right people and you don't ever have to worry about stop signs or red lights - especially on Saturday) and jokingly stopping at a corner home to some "ladies of the night," we headed back home to get some early sleep so that we could get up around 7 (read 8:00 in the DR) to go to the beach on Sunday.
Darling was actually "early," showing up only a half hour after the agreed meeting time. We got in the car with him and his two sons, Benjamin and Bryan, and headed to the beach. The drive took a little over an hour and gave me a little more time to sleep although the bumpy, unpaved roads outside of the city jolted me awake more often than not. We got to the beach town and grabbed some breakfast (the customary mangu and eggs) and then headed out to the beach. The beach was pretty empty when we got there (at around 9:00 in the morning). The sun was still out in force and the sand was nice. The beach was lined with little thatched huts and chairs. We immediately grabbed the baseball and started throwing it around. After a while, the sun's rays became too much to bare so we all ran and jumped into the Caribbean. The water was warm and crystal clear. This was the day that all our work so far was leading up to. This was the ultimate weekend relaxation experience. This was what you think about when you think about the Caribbean. Except instead of high prices and foreign, snobby tourists, we were at the local beach with Dominican people, Bachata and Merengue music, and no costs at all. Eventually, we went back to hang out under the hut and a little kid (who claimed to be 16, although he couldn't have been a day over 11) came by with a bucket of clams or mussels or some kind of shelled animal. He offered us some and I immediately jumped at the opportunity. Nobody else wanted any but, after some persuasion from me (I can't believe the gringo is the only one brave enough to try your food!) everyone ate some. The little kid cut open the shells with his knife and we added some lime juice, salt, and hot sauce then sucked the food down like a fishy, spicy shot. It was actually incredible and I ate about 10 of them. We hung out at the beach for almost 5 hours, soaking up rays (later to come back to bite me) and throwing around the baseball. We taught the kids the TIPS game and then played some Dominican ocean games. It was a great day, and desperately needed.
We returned to the cabaña to shower and immediately headed to Darling's house for the customary 4:00 Sunday meal. We met most of his extended family and played some guitar. Then we sat down to eat platanos, potatoes with cheese, sliced avocado, and grilled fish (which yes, I did eat). After dinner, we walked around town a bit and came back to take turns strumming the guitar. We headed back to the cabaña and were told to just hang out because there would be a dangerous huelga (strike) the next day. The whole country had been preparing for the national strike to protest the corrupt, money-stealing ways that have come to be synonymous with government here (when I told Darling I majored in government, he was curious because he said I seemed like a good person - I guess politicians have that stigma everywhere). We hung out drinking some Dominican rum and throwing around the frisbee and then hit the sack in our respective places for the evening.
The next day, we were able to sleep in to the afternoon for the first time since we'd gotten to the country. We got up and walked down to the gas station to see if the cantina was open. When we got there, we noticed several uniformed military men with large m-16 machine guns guarding the pumps. We went in to the station to buy a beer each and some food to snack on. We then caught a taxi and headed down to La Sirena where I was able to change some money and get a taste of home at the Dominoes. The pizza was actually much sweeter than our Dominoes, but it was very good. After hanging out at the supermarket for a while and buying a box of real, handmade Dominican cigars, we bought a frisbee and headed back to the cabaña. We through the frisbee around for a while and then I went to finish my book. After a while, we ordered some dinner. I got shrimp and rice (it was the first thing I've eaten so far that I really didn't like) and learned the valuable lesson that its always smart to stay away from motel shrimp, no matter where you are. We then went our separate ways and I watched the home run derby. When the English ESPN stopped working, I watched in Spanish - an exciting shower of Noooooo no no no no came every time a long ball hit the upper deck. I eventually fell asleep and got up this morning to head to the University.
We were greeted by the honking of a taxi (the same guy that brought my phone back on Friday) at around 9:00 (interestingly the time we were told to be ready). We got to the University and began coming up with some games and activities for the campers to do every day. We've been racking our brains to make sure that they're not bored, that they learn English, and that we get them all excited every day with new games and activities. We also came up with some songs to signify the changing of periods, and more for dance contests and just general listening. We're going to be heading to La Sirena later to pick up the necessary camp materials (potato sacks, ropes, eggs, dodgeballs, balloons, water balloons, beach balls, etc.). I'll be training tomorrow and will have some more updates then and again when we start the camp. There is internet in the school where I'll be training the staff and in the hotel where the camp is located. I'll hopefully have some great pictures of the staff and the camp/campers up soon as well. The camp starts on the 15th so there is a lot of training an planning we have to do until then. So, buenos tardes, hope all is well back in the US of A.
Viernes
I've waited a while to write the blog as the last few days have been very busy. After our first day in San Francisco, we woke up early in the morning and were taken back to the University. I was told that we would basically be living at the University, we would only sleep at our cabaña. After eating a delicious breakfast of mangu (mashed plantains), eggs, lightly fried cheese, and thick, round salami, we began our day of training. As usual, Darling spoke only in Spanish and I had to make sure the training points were given to Cory as clearly as possible in English. We were told that we would each then have to take our training and train the rest of the staff. We will be, essentially, the jefes (bosses) or captains of the camp. I also found out that, despite the fact that this will be an English immersion class, our staff only has limited English speaking ability, so we'll also have to train them in the vocabulary they'll need to speak to the kids in English. We'll be doing this on Tuesday, as long as the strike isn't continuing (I'll get to the strike later).
We learned about the format of the camp during this training session. Every day, we'll be at the camp at 7:30AM to get ready to meet the parents and kids when they are dropped off around 8:00AM. Darling emphasized the necessity of being on time. He explained that the culture in Dominican Republic isn't very focused on being on promptness or being on time at all. He said that, while he worked for a human resources company in the US, he really began to love our culture of being (or at least trying to be) exactly on time or close to on time. I found this extremely funny, as we've come to understand that if he says he'll pick us up in the morning at 8, we set our alarms for 8:15, shower, and he's usually here closer to 9. Everyone moves pretty slowly here (despite their fast, reckless driving and complete disregard for lanes, traffic lights, or stop signs). So we begin the camp by singing a Good Morning song in English. The point is to repeat it every day and get the vocabulary of morning activities into the kids' minds. Then we will start separating into the Kids and Teen groups. From there, we will divide up further into tribus (or tribes). On the first day, we will figure out a specific structure for each group. The three most important aspects of the camp are education, competition, and music and art. We will find out the strengths of each tribe and then gear our activities towards those strengths. Each kid will make their own tribe banner (if they are the tiger tribe, they will have a picture of a tiger and then, if they're good at basketball maybe they'll have a picture of Michael Jordan). They will present why they chose the name and strengths of their tribe, in English, to the rest of the camp. In schools in Dominican Republic, they don't have bells to signal when you need to switch classes, they have songs instead. So we are going to use this custom to play songs in English that the kids will become familiar with and that are easy to understand and sing. After the presentation of the tribes, we will hear the lunch song (Peanut Butter Jelly Time or the McDonalds/KFC/Pizza Hut song) and eat. After lunch, in order to digest, we will spend an hour watching English TV or listening to English music. Shortly after this, the competition song will sound (We Will Rock You or I Like to Move It Move It) and we will begin sports competitions. At the end of the day, we will have English classes, music, art, and evaluation of the students progress and will identify what we need to practice each day for the students. The camp goes from 8:00AM to 6:00PM Monday-Saturday. Each day, the schedule will remain basically the same, only with the selection of the tribes being replaced by presenting the day's activities, giving us more time for sports, swimming lessons, dance, music, art, English lessons, etc. We hope that the kids will be able to learn English without realizing that they are learning it. Just by being in an environment where their sports, games, lessons, activities are all in English, they will become comfortable with it in a more natural, useful setting. Darling gave us each some English instruction books so that we can look at some of the teaching techniques and vocab lists, giving us a way to maybe aim at teaching a unit each day through the activities.
After the training, we went back to our cabaña to move. We packed up and headed about 20 feet to another set of rooms. They were still cabañas but these ones were a little bit bigger, we each now have our own, and they each have a jacuzzi. We're also a little removed from the rest of the place. We've gotten to know the guards (many of who are armed and know that the two gringos in 25 and 26 are actually living in the place) so they've been taking good care of us.
After switching places, we headed over to the Telenord station. We were greeted by the shotgun-wielding guard outside the TV station (a really common site, Burger King usually has two armed guards) and went inside. I knew we were going to be on TV, but as usual, the information was extremely limited, so we just walked up the stairs ready to do whatever we needed to. Darling told me that there were 3 Telenord channels in the station, Channels 8, 10, and 12. We started at 8 and moved to 12. At the first station, we met a very good looking Telenord TV host, your typical fast talking, good looking, E!-type Spanish language TV personality. She didn't really give us too much information, or maybe she did, she was just talking at the speed that TV personalities talk (every minute costs money). She passed a microphone through my shirt and, at that point, I realized I'd be saying something but I still wasn't too sure what. There was a signal that we were on and she began to speak at her 100 mile a minute pace. Darling then said a few words about the camp, fast as well (but mostly because he was more nervous than we were). He then pointed to me so I said, in English, a little bit about the camp and why parents and kids should be interested. We then walked next door to channel 10 where we did the same thing, but this time on the live news. Afterwards, we waited a little bit and then went in to another show where 2 gorgeous girls were seated at a desk and interviewed us about the camp. Again, we weren't given too much information. Darling spoke in Spanish, I spoke in English, and Cory gave us support. Afterwards, Elizabeth, one of the teachers at the University suggested we go to get some Mofongo. I've had great Mofongo experiences in Puerto Rico, so I jumped at the chance.
Cory, Shannon (a friend of Johnny's) and I got in the car and Darling drove us out to the town where we'd eat. We got to the place and each ordered our own type of mofongo. I got mine with sausage. Mofongo is basically a mash of plantains and whatever meat you choose, put into a bucket like object and turned upside down so it looks kind of like a sand castle of meat and starch. We had various sauces, poured them on, mixed the food up, and went to town. This was supposed to be the best mofongo in the Cibao region and it really didn't disappoint.
Lunch was over, so we started towards the campus of UNE (the University - Univesidad Catolica Nordoestana). On the way, we stopped at the Museo de las Hermanas Mirabal. The Mirabal sisters were three sisters who were involved in anti-government action during the Trujillo regime. After their mother died, they decided to mount a campaign against the government. They were all certified teachers and lawyers under a regime that coveted unyielding obedience and discouraged advanced education, especially for women, because it could lead to, god forbid, questioning the regime's oppressive stranglehold on the country. The sisters and the husband of one continued raising awareness about the oppressive policies until they had an "accident" in their jeep one day. The three sisters were killed and dismembered. They became martyrs to the cause of throwing off the shackles of totalitarian rule. Today, their estate stands as a monument to liberty and nonviolence. Trujillo took power in 1930 after a military coup and held it until he was assassinated in 1961, one year after the murder of the three Mirabal sisters. We met the only surviving sister at the museum which is still also her home.
After this, we headed to the campus to check out the University. We do our daily operations in the old administration building that is now primarily used for continuing education and English classes. The main campus was actually really nice. It was secluded in the woods behind some farms. The buildings, although fairly quaint, were large - enough to contain the 5,000 students taking classes. Students don't live on campus, they only go to the building for classes, food, or work. We drove through the campus and then headed back to town. We spent a little bit of time at the university and then headed back to shower and hang out for a bit. Later, we got picked up by Johnny, Shannon, Darling, one of their friends whose name I don't think I'll ever be able to spell or pronounce, and Darling's son Benjamin. We also squeezed into the car (Dominican cars are usually filled with well over the capacity and its not uncommon to see 3 or even 4 people on one moped). We headed to the movies, a typical Friday night activity. We stopped in at the heavily guarded Burger King. They have something called a cheesy Whopper. This heart-stopper is a regular whopper with a piece of fried, processed cheese. I felt like actually making it to the movie without keeling over, so I opted for the regular burger. We headed to the theater where Transformers, Cars 2, and Limitless were our options. Since none of us had seen limitless, we went in. The movie was really awesome and afterwards, everyone was trying to figure out how to come up with the ingredients for the limitless pill so we could immediately understand each other's languages. We headed back to the room, ready to go for Saturday, our first day of not actually "working."
We learned about the format of the camp during this training session. Every day, we'll be at the camp at 7:30AM to get ready to meet the parents and kids when they are dropped off around 8:00AM. Darling emphasized the necessity of being on time. He explained that the culture in Dominican Republic isn't very focused on being on promptness or being on time at all. He said that, while he worked for a human resources company in the US, he really began to love our culture of being (or at least trying to be) exactly on time or close to on time. I found this extremely funny, as we've come to understand that if he says he'll pick us up in the morning at 8, we set our alarms for 8:15, shower, and he's usually here closer to 9. Everyone moves pretty slowly here (despite their fast, reckless driving and complete disregard for lanes, traffic lights, or stop signs). So we begin the camp by singing a Good Morning song in English. The point is to repeat it every day and get the vocabulary of morning activities into the kids' minds. Then we will start separating into the Kids and Teen groups. From there, we will divide up further into tribus (or tribes). On the first day, we will figure out a specific structure for each group. The three most important aspects of the camp are education, competition, and music and art. We will find out the strengths of each tribe and then gear our activities towards those strengths. Each kid will make their own tribe banner (if they are the tiger tribe, they will have a picture of a tiger and then, if they're good at basketball maybe they'll have a picture of Michael Jordan). They will present why they chose the name and strengths of their tribe, in English, to the rest of the camp. In schools in Dominican Republic, they don't have bells to signal when you need to switch classes, they have songs instead. So we are going to use this custom to play songs in English that the kids will become familiar with and that are easy to understand and sing. After the presentation of the tribes, we will hear the lunch song (Peanut Butter Jelly Time or the McDonalds/KFC/Pizza Hut song) and eat. After lunch, in order to digest, we will spend an hour watching English TV or listening to English music. Shortly after this, the competition song will sound (We Will Rock You or I Like to Move It Move It) and we will begin sports competitions. At the end of the day, we will have English classes, music, art, and evaluation of the students progress and will identify what we need to practice each day for the students. The camp goes from 8:00AM to 6:00PM Monday-Saturday. Each day, the schedule will remain basically the same, only with the selection of the tribes being replaced by presenting the day's activities, giving us more time for sports, swimming lessons, dance, music, art, English lessons, etc. We hope that the kids will be able to learn English without realizing that they are learning it. Just by being in an environment where their sports, games, lessons, activities are all in English, they will become comfortable with it in a more natural, useful setting. Darling gave us each some English instruction books so that we can look at some of the teaching techniques and vocab lists, giving us a way to maybe aim at teaching a unit each day through the activities.
After the training, we went back to our cabaña to move. We packed up and headed about 20 feet to another set of rooms. They were still cabañas but these ones were a little bit bigger, we each now have our own, and they each have a jacuzzi. We're also a little removed from the rest of the place. We've gotten to know the guards (many of who are armed and know that the two gringos in 25 and 26 are actually living in the place) so they've been taking good care of us.
After switching places, we headed over to the Telenord station. We were greeted by the shotgun-wielding guard outside the TV station (a really common site, Burger King usually has two armed guards) and went inside. I knew we were going to be on TV, but as usual, the information was extremely limited, so we just walked up the stairs ready to do whatever we needed to. Darling told me that there were 3 Telenord channels in the station, Channels 8, 10, and 12. We started at 8 and moved to 12. At the first station, we met a very good looking Telenord TV host, your typical fast talking, good looking, E!-type Spanish language TV personality. She didn't really give us too much information, or maybe she did, she was just talking at the speed that TV personalities talk (every minute costs money). She passed a microphone through my shirt and, at that point, I realized I'd be saying something but I still wasn't too sure what. There was a signal that we were on and she began to speak at her 100 mile a minute pace. Darling then said a few words about the camp, fast as well (but mostly because he was more nervous than we were). He then pointed to me so I said, in English, a little bit about the camp and why parents and kids should be interested. We then walked next door to channel 10 where we did the same thing, but this time on the live news. Afterwards, we waited a little bit and then went in to another show where 2 gorgeous girls were seated at a desk and interviewed us about the camp. Again, we weren't given too much information. Darling spoke in Spanish, I spoke in English, and Cory gave us support. Afterwards, Elizabeth, one of the teachers at the University suggested we go to get some Mofongo. I've had great Mofongo experiences in Puerto Rico, so I jumped at the chance.
Cory, Shannon (a friend of Johnny's) and I got in the car and Darling drove us out to the town where we'd eat. We got to the place and each ordered our own type of mofongo. I got mine with sausage. Mofongo is basically a mash of plantains and whatever meat you choose, put into a bucket like object and turned upside down so it looks kind of like a sand castle of meat and starch. We had various sauces, poured them on, mixed the food up, and went to town. This was supposed to be the best mofongo in the Cibao region and it really didn't disappoint.
Lunch was over, so we started towards the campus of UNE (the University - Univesidad Catolica Nordoestana). On the way, we stopped at the Museo de las Hermanas Mirabal. The Mirabal sisters were three sisters who were involved in anti-government action during the Trujillo regime. After their mother died, they decided to mount a campaign against the government. They were all certified teachers and lawyers under a regime that coveted unyielding obedience and discouraged advanced education, especially for women, because it could lead to, god forbid, questioning the regime's oppressive stranglehold on the country. The sisters and the husband of one continued raising awareness about the oppressive policies until they had an "accident" in their jeep one day. The three sisters were killed and dismembered. They became martyrs to the cause of throwing off the shackles of totalitarian rule. Today, their estate stands as a monument to liberty and nonviolence. Trujillo took power in 1930 after a military coup and held it until he was assassinated in 1961, one year after the murder of the three Mirabal sisters. We met the only surviving sister at the museum which is still also her home.
After this, we headed to the campus to check out the University. We do our daily operations in the old administration building that is now primarily used for continuing education and English classes. The main campus was actually really nice. It was secluded in the woods behind some farms. The buildings, although fairly quaint, were large - enough to contain the 5,000 students taking classes. Students don't live on campus, they only go to the building for classes, food, or work. We drove through the campus and then headed back to town. We spent a little bit of time at the university and then headed back to shower and hang out for a bit. Later, we got picked up by Johnny, Shannon, Darling, one of their friends whose name I don't think I'll ever be able to spell or pronounce, and Darling's son Benjamin. We also squeezed into the car (Dominican cars are usually filled with well over the capacity and its not uncommon to see 3 or even 4 people on one moped). We headed to the movies, a typical Friday night activity. We stopped in at the heavily guarded Burger King. They have something called a cheesy Whopper. This heart-stopper is a regular whopper with a piece of fried, processed cheese. I felt like actually making it to the movie without keeling over, so I opted for the regular burger. We headed to the theater where Transformers, Cars 2, and Limitless were our options. Since none of us had seen limitless, we went in. The movie was really awesome and afterwards, everyone was trying to figure out how to come up with the ingredients for the limitless pill so we could immediately understand each other's languages. We headed back to the room, ready to go for Saturday, our first day of not actually "working."
Friday, July 8, 2011
Notes
I just got a chance to sit down at the university building and get on the internet. I'm going to upload a post with the extremely exciting day we had today. We are going to be changing rooms later and we both might be famous by the time the day's over. I've been writing the blogs at home and then uploading them when I get a chance at using the internet which is kind of rare. Uploading pictures is proving to take even longer, but they'll all be up eventually.
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