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.
Sunday, September 11, 2011
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 PiƱa 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 cabaƱa 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 cabaƱa 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 cabaƱa. 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 cabaƱa. 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 cabaƱa to move. We packed up and headed about 20 feet to another set of rooms. They were still cabaƱas 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 cabaƱa to move. We packed up and headed about 20 feet to another set of rooms. They were still cabaƱas 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.
Bienvenidos a San Francisco de Macoris
The drive to San Francisco was nice. We went north, past the airport and out of Santiago. We spent some time traveling through little villages, past rice paddies and farms, and finally into the smaller city/town of San Francisco de Macoris. San Francisco is a much smaller town with narrower streets and busy storefronts everywhere, peppered with houses, corner groceries, and repair shops. We traveled through the small city, eventually finding the Universidad Catolica de Nordoestana in the city center, next to the central park. We walked in and met Darling Perez, the director of the camp for which we're working. After dropping our bags in Darling's Mitsubishi, we said adios to the missionary and headed inside to find out what we'd be doing. Darling does not speak any English, so he explained everything to me in Spanish while I translated the basic information to Cory in English. We were asked what age group we'd like to take, 5-12 or 13-17. I chose to work with the older group, focusing on more specific areas like sports competition and English comprehension. We found out that the camp would be an English immersion experience for the students. We will be working with the students at the Hotel las Caobas in San Francisco. We are going to guide them in various activities such as tennis, volleyball, swimming, basketball, music, all the basic camp activities. The only difference is that most of the students have little to no English experience, so we are going to teach them through these practical and entertaining activities. We will be grading the kids on their pronunciation, grammar, and comprehension throughout the day but won't actually require them to read, take tests, or do anything with a purely academic appearance. We discussed these details in Darling's office over Dominican sandwiches and drinks. We are going to be working from 8:00AM until 6:00PM every day, being paid 100 pesos an hour or 1,000 pesos a day. That goes very far here, considering I was able to buy a jug of cranberry juice, three small containers of kiwi and strawberry juice, a large bag of pretzels, some water and fruit at La Sirena in what is supposed to be a more expensive city for just over 300 pesos. We work Monday-Saturday with Sunday being a completely free day. This Sunday, we are going to try to head to the beach with Johnny, one of the guys who is in charge of marketing for the ULAE camp (and also the drummer for one of the more popular rock bands in the country). We spent some more time talking to Darling about what were actually going to be doing then headed out to the hotel to see where we'd be working.
Hotel las Caobas is just outside of town, right next to a country club. The hotel is a small compound that has a swimming pool, tennis court, a basketball court (although one hoop is short a rim, we'll probably have to fix that), volleyball courts, and fields for activities. Its certainly not the nicest hotel in the world, but it will serve the purpose of our camp very well. We then drove a minute past the camp to the adjacent baseball training camp and facility where two teams were scrimmaging one another. I guess it was one of the many Dominican camps where the stars of the MLB are born. After a quick drive around the compound, we headed to the place where we are supposed to be spending the next month.
Unfortunately, there were issues with the family that was supposed to be housing us, so we were told that we would be staying in a motel with hot water and free TV instead. Everyone kept saying, be careful when you turn on the TV, everything is free. They always made sure to emphasize everything. This definitely seemed strange, but we headed on to the motel or cabaƱa. When we got to our destination, we passed the guard gate and traveled inside. All of the cabaƱas were round, cement blocks with no windows or doors. The only entrance was through a garage door and then another locked door. When I got inside, I began to understand the meaning of the word everything and remembered Johnny saying something about the motels being a place where people go to "have a good time" in a hesitant manner. There are mirrored pictures of mermaids on the walls, a round couch, table with chairs, one large bed, and an enormous shower. The place does indeed have hot and cold water as well as a working TV with many of the channels in English and functioning air condition (a rarity in the Dominican). It also comes equipped with a switch that turns on Bachata music next to the bed and a small, blackroom like spinning door. When I asked about the door, Darling said that these places are extremely private. It is a rule that the guards are not supposed to see who goes in and out of the rooms after they've paid. If you want water, food, or other materials found in the "menu" you call 0 and they are brought to the spinning door, spun around, and a knock comes signaling that your request has arrived. After getting over the initial shock of our habitaciĆ³n, we started to somewhat reluctantly unpack. We put several layers of sheets on the bed and the couch. Afterwards, we headed back to the University. Here we talked to Johnny some more and went out to a cafeteria for lunch. We ate chinese chicken and broccoli with a very pronounced Dominican influence. We hung out and talked about Johnny's band and his time in the US (in Nashville, Baltimore, New York, and Colorado of all places) and about our common interests. We discussed the Dominican beer, Presidente, some other pointedly Dominican food and cultural items. After an hour or so we headed back to the office, watched some YouTube videos about our favorite musicians, sharing our music tastes, and waited for Darling. He had told us we'd be going to the local TV station to film a commercial for the ULAE camp. After I told Darling my educational background was in politics, he was excited to tell me I can practice going on TV and saying, "Vote for Drew!" We didn't make it to the TV station, instead we ended up going over more of the requirements for the camp. We were told how we're going to be grading the students, focusing on specific aspects of the English language and grading each one on a scale of 1-5, making notes along the way. After going over this for a while and drinking the coffee of the local school coffee-making women, we left to drive back to our "motel." Darling also told us we'd be giving one of the university students a test. She is a doctor in the local hospital. We're going to go in with a hidden camera and ask her about a fake sickness that one of the two of us has, testing her English when she is unaware that she is being tested and has no way to speak Spanish with us. Darling left to go to his 17-year-old son's graduation from high school and we went back to the compound to wait until 6 when he'd come back to pick us up and go to the fiesta celebrating the graduation. We hopped outside to throw around a baseball for a while (one of the baseballs I brought for the family that didn't end up working out that I'll now use for the camp) and then came back inside to wait for Darling when a serious downpour came out of nowhere. Taking shelter in the garage, I started talking to one of the guards who thought I was a Spaniard. He was surprised to learn that I was an American and even more surprised to know that we were staying for more than a night. After coming back inside, I took a quick shower and we decided that we're going to ask Darling to see if we can move to another sort of establishment.
Darling came to pick us up around 6:00 and we headed to the high school where his son's graduation was taking place. We came in towards the end. 24 students started singing a song that they had written in a capella, ending with the customary tossing of the mortar boards. Darling, his wife, his mother, and two sons took some pictures, eventually inviting us in for a photo as well. It was if we were a part of the family. The celebration moved to Darling's house where we took some turns playing pieces of songs on his son's guitar. His nieces brought us small, hard bread with butter and soft cheese with a soda water that tasted somewhat like sprite. Afterwards, we headed to the local Sirena to grab some dinner (potatos and salchiche). Over dinner, Darling (who speaks no English despite the ironic fact that he is the director of an English instructional camp) and Cory (who speaks no Spanish) decided that they would agree to only speak to each other in their non-native languages. We continued to grab some items we would need for the apartment (peanut butter, bread, drinkable water, and of course bleach for the mattress and couch!). We drank a bit of wine and then left La Sirena for Eros, our motel. Darling went back to his house where the festivities for his son's graduation would go on late into the night. Anticipating a very early start to our training tomorrow, Cory and I decided to just stay in, finish the wine and order a few Presidentes that came promptly through the spinning cubby hole. The price ended up being a bit high, so I decided that tomorrow or the next day I will invest in a small, cheap local phone (I'm told they can be found for around US$3) to communicate with Darling and the camp as well as to be able to call taxis and move around the city at night when its not safe to walk the streets (especially for me who sticks out as un blanco). We sat outside the motel garage door, chatting with the guard who has become quite friendly and discussing our mutual admiration of jazz and music in general. The warned us of an upcoming national strike on Monday that could make our small, seedy street a whole lot more active. This excitement will only add to the pile as I continue to experience the new at an exponentially increasing level.
I very much look forward to heading to the university in the morning with my laptop (we have TV and food service here but no internet) to add this post to the blog as well as uploading my pictures from the drive. I also can't wait to get some training from Darling, Johnny, Elizabeth (though Johnny speaks quite well, she is the lone fluent English speaker) and whoever else may show up so that we can have a better idea of how to measure the progress of our students en el campamento. Hasta maƱana, y buenos noches.
Hotel las Caobas is just outside of town, right next to a country club. The hotel is a small compound that has a swimming pool, tennis court, a basketball court (although one hoop is short a rim, we'll probably have to fix that), volleyball courts, and fields for activities. Its certainly not the nicest hotel in the world, but it will serve the purpose of our camp very well. We then drove a minute past the camp to the adjacent baseball training camp and facility where two teams were scrimmaging one another. I guess it was one of the many Dominican camps where the stars of the MLB are born. After a quick drive around the compound, we headed to the place where we are supposed to be spending the next month.
Unfortunately, there were issues with the family that was supposed to be housing us, so we were told that we would be staying in a motel with hot water and free TV instead. Everyone kept saying, be careful when you turn on the TV, everything is free. They always made sure to emphasize everything. This definitely seemed strange, but we headed on to the motel or cabaƱa. When we got to our destination, we passed the guard gate and traveled inside. All of the cabaƱas were round, cement blocks with no windows or doors. The only entrance was through a garage door and then another locked door. When I got inside, I began to understand the meaning of the word everything and remembered Johnny saying something about the motels being a place where people go to "have a good time" in a hesitant manner. There are mirrored pictures of mermaids on the walls, a round couch, table with chairs, one large bed, and an enormous shower. The place does indeed have hot and cold water as well as a working TV with many of the channels in English and functioning air condition (a rarity in the Dominican). It also comes equipped with a switch that turns on Bachata music next to the bed and a small, blackroom like spinning door. When I asked about the door, Darling said that these places are extremely private. It is a rule that the guards are not supposed to see who goes in and out of the rooms after they've paid. If you want water, food, or other materials found in the "menu" you call 0 and they are brought to the spinning door, spun around, and a knock comes signaling that your request has arrived. After getting over the initial shock of our habitaciĆ³n, we started to somewhat reluctantly unpack. We put several layers of sheets on the bed and the couch. Afterwards, we headed back to the University. Here we talked to Johnny some more and went out to a cafeteria for lunch. We ate chinese chicken and broccoli with a very pronounced Dominican influence. We hung out and talked about Johnny's band and his time in the US (in Nashville, Baltimore, New York, and Colorado of all places) and about our common interests. We discussed the Dominican beer, Presidente, some other pointedly Dominican food and cultural items. After an hour or so we headed back to the office, watched some YouTube videos about our favorite musicians, sharing our music tastes, and waited for Darling. He had told us we'd be going to the local TV station to film a commercial for the ULAE camp. After I told Darling my educational background was in politics, he was excited to tell me I can practice going on TV and saying, "Vote for Drew!" We didn't make it to the TV station, instead we ended up going over more of the requirements for the camp. We were told how we're going to be grading the students, focusing on specific aspects of the English language and grading each one on a scale of 1-5, making notes along the way. After going over this for a while and drinking the coffee of the local school coffee-making women, we left to drive back to our "motel." Darling also told us we'd be giving one of the university students a test. She is a doctor in the local hospital. We're going to go in with a hidden camera and ask her about a fake sickness that one of the two of us has, testing her English when she is unaware that she is being tested and has no way to speak Spanish with us. Darling left to go to his 17-year-old son's graduation from high school and we went back to the compound to wait until 6 when he'd come back to pick us up and go to the fiesta celebrating the graduation. We hopped outside to throw around a baseball for a while (one of the baseballs I brought for the family that didn't end up working out that I'll now use for the camp) and then came back inside to wait for Darling when a serious downpour came out of nowhere. Taking shelter in the garage, I started talking to one of the guards who thought I was a Spaniard. He was surprised to learn that I was an American and even more surprised to know that we were staying for more than a night. After coming back inside, I took a quick shower and we decided that we're going to ask Darling to see if we can move to another sort of establishment.
Darling came to pick us up around 6:00 and we headed to the high school where his son's graduation was taking place. We came in towards the end. 24 students started singing a song that they had written in a capella, ending with the customary tossing of the mortar boards. Darling, his wife, his mother, and two sons took some pictures, eventually inviting us in for a photo as well. It was if we were a part of the family. The celebration moved to Darling's house where we took some turns playing pieces of songs on his son's guitar. His nieces brought us small, hard bread with butter and soft cheese with a soda water that tasted somewhat like sprite. Afterwards, we headed to the local Sirena to grab some dinner (potatos and salchiche). Over dinner, Darling (who speaks no English despite the ironic fact that he is the director of an English instructional camp) and Cory (who speaks no Spanish) decided that they would agree to only speak to each other in their non-native languages. We continued to grab some items we would need for the apartment (peanut butter, bread, drinkable water, and of course bleach for the mattress and couch!). We drank a bit of wine and then left La Sirena for Eros, our motel. Darling went back to his house where the festivities for his son's graduation would go on late into the night. Anticipating a very early start to our training tomorrow, Cory and I decided to just stay in, finish the wine and order a few Presidentes that came promptly through the spinning cubby hole. The price ended up being a bit high, so I decided that tomorrow or the next day I will invest in a small, cheap local phone (I'm told they can be found for around US$3) to communicate with Darling and the camp as well as to be able to call taxis and move around the city at night when its not safe to walk the streets (especially for me who sticks out as un blanco). We sat outside the motel garage door, chatting with the guard who has become quite friendly and discussing our mutual admiration of jazz and music in general. The warned us of an upcoming national strike on Monday that could make our small, seedy street a whole lot more active. This excitement will only add to the pile as I continue to experience the new at an exponentially increasing level.
I very much look forward to heading to the university in the morning with my laptop (we have TV and food service here but no internet) to add this post to the blog as well as uploading my pictures from the drive. I also can't wait to get some training from Darling, Johnny, Elizabeth (though Johnny speaks quite well, she is the lone fluent English speaker) and whoever else may show up so that we can have a better idea of how to measure the progress of our students en el campamento. Hasta maƱana, y buenos noches.
Wednesday, July 6, 2011
Santiago de los Caballeros
Today was my first real day in the Dominican Republic. We woke up early and made some breakfast: eggs, bagels with pineapple jelly, and fruit juice. After breakfast, we headed down to the bank to change some US dollars into Dominican pesos. I changed $80 into a little over 3,000 Dominican pesos. Leaving the bank, we headed to the Cemetario Municipal. Dominican cemetaries are very interesting. Because of the proximity to sea level, many people are buried in cement casing above ground. After this, another cement casing is placed on top and again more on top of that. Generally, families are buried together with some stacks reaching seven or eight feet high. Many of the monuments were grandiose and looked extremely expensive. There is a day of the dead here, but I'll be gone by that time. After that, we walked down to La Sirena (The Mermaid) which is a large superstore akin to Wal-mart. Just like Wal-mart, this store combines low prices with high quantities and has everything from a GNC to a food court, to groceries, flat screen TVs and motorcycles, thus making it extremely difficult for the local small businesses to stay on their feet. Because of this, La Sirena is also the place to find the largest selection of American products. Fortunately, we only stayed for a bit to check out the place then headed over to a friend of the missionary's house.
Casilda greeted us warmly as her niece helped her cook lunch. Her 9-year-old twins also helped set the table and made us feel very much at home. We were told the kids were in English class and Casilda was practicing her English as well, however the kids became hilariously shy when asked anything in English. After chatting for a while and doing my best to get the kids to at least count the plates or name some household objects in English, lunch was served. We ate a meal that is commonly referred to as the Dominican Flag, due in part to its variety of colors including red and white (I didn't notice anything really blue) and because of its regularity at the typical Dominican table. First we started with rice which was topped with habichuelas, a type of red, runny bean. Then we added a green, sweet pea soupy dish. After this came potatoes cooked with a semi-spicy pepper, spiced chicken, bananas, and fried plantains. We drank water and fresh orange juice. Everything mixed together perfectly. The kids even added some Heinz ketchup to their platanos (something I didn't partake in, but it was nice to see a taste of Pittsburgh all the way down here in the Caribbean). After dinner, Cory and I went out to play catch with Oscar, one of the very energetic 9-year-old twins. After a while of throwing around a rubber ball in the street in front of Casilda's house, it seemed that Oscar was tiring down some. This would soon pass as the cry of "¡Cafe!" came from inside the house. Oscar went running and I wasn't too far behind. I had been told that Dominican coffee was very strong, and still very tasty. It is brewed with a lot of the beans still in the coffee and with nutmeg. When I said that I didn't take milk or sugar in my coffee, I was looked at with an air of suspicion. Casilda seemed surprised that anyone would want to drink Dominican coffee without diluting it somehow - she herself doesn't even touch the stuff. However, I downed it and complemented her on the wonderful taste. It definitely did have the kick that everyone was talking about. Full of energy, we headed out to the market in Santiago.
Home to over 2 million people, Santiago de los Caballeros is the second largest city in the Dominican Republic behind only the capital, Santo Domingo. The streets are narrow and colorful houses and shopfronts line every one, giving it a very Caribbean yet urban feel. The ubiquitous tooting of car horns was a constant reminder that Dominican traffic laws are some of the most lax in the world. Red lights are, essentially, suggestions. Especially at night, if you don't see anyone coming it is perfectly acceptable to go through a red light. Mopeds, mini-bikes, scooters, and motorcycles seemed to be the most popular mode of transportation in the narrow streets of the city. They weaved and sped through the rows of cars, some loaded with as many as four people. Once we got to the market, we traveled through a maze of fruit vendors, street salesman, and traffic. We walked through the streets looking at the various stalls where vendors had their wares, most of which was your basic tourist attraction type stuff. Each stall was another opportunity to practice Spanish, each vendor gave me a new opportunity to think of a creative Spanish way to say, "No, I don't want your Che Guevara wallet or an amber necklace for my girlfriend." After traveling through the streets of Santiago for an hour or so, we headed up to the main monument.
Casilda greeted us warmly as her niece helped her cook lunch. Her 9-year-old twins also helped set the table and made us feel very much at home. We were told the kids were in English class and Casilda was practicing her English as well, however the kids became hilariously shy when asked anything in English. After chatting for a while and doing my best to get the kids to at least count the plates or name some household objects in English, lunch was served. We ate a meal that is commonly referred to as the Dominican Flag, due in part to its variety of colors including red and white (I didn't notice anything really blue) and because of its regularity at the typical Dominican table. First we started with rice which was topped with habichuelas, a type of red, runny bean. Then we added a green, sweet pea soupy dish. After this came potatoes cooked with a semi-spicy pepper, spiced chicken, bananas, and fried plantains. We drank water and fresh orange juice. Everything mixed together perfectly. The kids even added some Heinz ketchup to their platanos (something I didn't partake in, but it was nice to see a taste of Pittsburgh all the way down here in the Caribbean). After dinner, Cory and I went out to play catch with Oscar, one of the very energetic 9-year-old twins. After a while of throwing around a rubber ball in the street in front of Casilda's house, it seemed that Oscar was tiring down some. This would soon pass as the cry of "¡Cafe!" came from inside the house. Oscar went running and I wasn't too far behind. I had been told that Dominican coffee was very strong, and still very tasty. It is brewed with a lot of the beans still in the coffee and with nutmeg. When I said that I didn't take milk or sugar in my coffee, I was looked at with an air of suspicion. Casilda seemed surprised that anyone would want to drink Dominican coffee without diluting it somehow - she herself doesn't even touch the stuff. However, I downed it and complemented her on the wonderful taste. It definitely did have the kick that everyone was talking about. Full of energy, we headed out to the market in Santiago.
Home to over 2 million people, Santiago de los Caballeros is the second largest city in the Dominican Republic behind only the capital, Santo Domingo. The streets are narrow and colorful houses and shopfronts line every one, giving it a very Caribbean yet urban feel. The ubiquitous tooting of car horns was a constant reminder that Dominican traffic laws are some of the most lax in the world. Red lights are, essentially, suggestions. Especially at night, if you don't see anyone coming it is perfectly acceptable to go through a red light. Mopeds, mini-bikes, scooters, and motorcycles seemed to be the most popular mode of transportation in the narrow streets of the city. They weaved and sped through the rows of cars, some loaded with as many as four people. Once we got to the market, we traveled through a maze of fruit vendors, street salesman, and traffic. We walked through the streets looking at the various stalls where vendors had their wares, most of which was your basic tourist attraction type stuff. Each stall was another opportunity to practice Spanish, each vendor gave me a new opportunity to think of a creative Spanish way to say, "No, I don't want your Che Guevara wallet or an amber necklace for my girlfriend." After traveling through the streets of Santiago for an hour or so, we headed up to the main monument.
Monumento de los Heroes |
The monument is a giant lighthouse looking structure in the middle of the city. It is the main point of interest so it attracts many visitors and also acts as a point for which to give directions, "Va al sur del monumento." The monument was originally built by the self-indulgent dictator Rafael Trujillo. Trujillo, or El Jefe as he was known during his 31 year reign, was responsible for the death of over 50,000 of his own people as well as vast oppression and the creation of a personality cult. It is therefore somewhat surprising (considering the mass murdering) that he would built a massive monument to peace in Santiago, but also predictable that he would dedicate it to himself (just another part of the personality cult). The monument was later rededicated to the war that restored Dominican independence. After it gained its independence for the first time from Spain, it was taken over by Haiti, became independent from Haiti but fell back under Spanish control, then again won its independence from its original colonial ruler. The story of the revolution and war was told through paintings, sculptures, and scenes on the 5 stories leading up to the observation platform before the tower of the monument rose. We couldn't go any further up the monument do to a lack of access, so we stopped and took some panoramic views of the city of Santiago. Those pictures are available on my flickr page that you can view by clicking on the flickr link below the thumbnail photos to the right, or by clicking on any of the thumbnail photos that appear to be Caribbean and not European.
After this, we came back to the house and took a quick rest before heading down once again to La Sirena for some pasta. You chose meat, vegetables, and sauce and they sauteed them with your choice of noodles. It was actually a really good Dominican twist on Italian food. I had tomato sauce and rotini with sweet corn, peppers, onions, and bacon. This was followed by a quick stop at the mechanic to check out an issue with the car and then attempt to go bowling. Unfortunately, the bowling alley was closed so we came back home through the usual maze of Toyotas, Daihatsus, Skodas, Peugots, and a huge number of SUVs. We played some Wii for a while and then I began to pack up, getting ready for the hour and a half drive to San Francisco de Macoris at about 8:00 tomorrow morning. Tomorrow I'll find out where I'll be living and what I'll be doing for the next month or so. More information and photos coming then.
Tuesday, July 5, 2011
Welcome to the Dominican Republic
Its my first night in the Dominican Republic. I hadn't even left Miami airport and the check in man spoke to me entirely in Spanish after I gave him my destination with the slightest of accents. I dropped my bag off, headed to the terminal and met up with the other guy from Pittsburgh who is working at the camp as well. After a flight that was delayed by missing seat cushions and the (later found out to be typical) slow, helter-skelter fashion with which Dominican flights are boarded, we took off only slightly late. The flight to Santiago was pretty smooth. We landed, collected our bags at the single bag pickup carousel, and passed through customs. Cory's aunt, a Christian missionary who has spent more than two decades working in the Dominican picked us up and drove us a short distance to her apartment for the night where we found pizza (delivered by Pizza Hut!) and cookies. We're not expected in San Francisco de Macoris until Wednesday, so we'll spend tonight and tomorrow night here. Tomorrow we are going to check out Santiago de los Caballeros, the second largest city in the country and where I'm currently located. We are going to change some money, buy some food, and have my first Dominican meal (rice, sweet peas, and chicken I'm told). After that we'll come back to the apartment and make our way Wednesday morning to San Francisco to find out more about what will be my home for the next month. It was night time and the drive was short. The weather is in the mid 70's, but still quite warm and humid from the rain. The drizzle prevented the sights sounds and smells from being absorbed, so I'll have to wait until tomorrow to be hit with the intoxicating wave of newness that accompanies the first steps and experiences in a truly foreign country. For now, I go to sleep with the jubilant sound of loud laughter and patois coming from the Haitian neighbors next door. Tomorrow I'll be up with the rooster that lives down the way, ready to spend an hour or so trying to put in my new contacts so that I can better see the city that will be giving me my first impression of this island country. Until then, buenos noches.
Monday, July 4, 2011
Sunday, July 3, 2011
The Legend of the Epic Night Ferret
Several hours to kill at the Atlanta airport. I figure in the sake of killing time, I'll explain the namesake for this blog and corresponding twitter and flickr accounts. Many years ago, when walking up a dark road in Pittsburgh, PA, it was noticed that several small and mystifying lights emanated from the undergrowth of the woods alongside the road. At first, simple acknowledgement of the presence of the lights was all that occurred. However, as we traveled on we realized that the lights were moving too. It soon became obvious that these glowing orbs were not lights at all, but were the glowing eyes of a group of some unidentifiable woodland creature. The creatures seemed to be very aware of our presence, noted our every step and taking in our actions. We too were aware of the existence of the strange creatures, but couldn't identify them for it was dark and they seemed very adept at hiding and nimble when looked for. We cautiously moved forward towards our destination. Just before we reached the house to which we were walking, into the spotlight of the glow of the full moon ran one of the creatures. He was long and thin, cloaked in black ninja-like cloth. His fangs shined in the moonlight, only diminished by the intense, luminous glow of his eyes. He let out a deep, guttural snarl and was gone just as quickly as he had appeared. Thus occurred the first known sighting of the mystic Western Pennsylvania Epic Night Ferret. We would soon find that the creatures came out very rarely and have since only been witnessed a handful of times. They are very handy with throwing stars as well as stringed instruments. They are dexterous and creative, nimble and crafty. We were lucky that night, for it was later discovered that not every person who witnesses a pack of ENF's lives to tell the tale. It is because of this event and my reverence for the generosity and mercy shown to us by these mystical woodland creatures that my blog, twitter and flickr accounts, and a band dedicated to perfecting the technological musical prowess of the Epic Night Ferrets, all take the name Epic Night Ferret.
Saturday, July 2, 2011
Flickr Photos
Czech [sic] out my pictures from my time abroad in Czech Republic and Europe. All the photos have short descriptions and are mapped. You can click the link on the right side of the blog to go to my Flickr page, or just go to http://www.flickr.com/epicnightferret
Soon I'll have some photo updates from Dominican Republic!
Soon I'll have some photo updates from Dominican Republic!
Getting Going
I have begun packing for my trip to the Dominican Republic. I will be working for ULAE, an organization that teaches kids English. I'll be working at a summer camp at first and staying on afterwards. I'm not entirely sure what my duties will be, but I eagerly await more information. I found out about this opportunity just a week ago. I'm leaving for Florida tomorrow and then catching a plane from Miami to Santiago, DR on Tuesday. July 4th will appropriately be my last day in the US for an indefinite amount of time. I will be living with a host family, will be teaching, but don't know much more about the job. I can't wait to get started and update with what exactly it is that I'll be doing.
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