First of all, I read my entry from yesterday, and realized that I unknowingly implicated Joe in a lot of the crap I doled about Boys. He, ever the gentleman, was the perfect male travel companion. The problem was, for the first time on the trip, I really would have appreciated some good ol female socializing... just one conversation to tide me through the trek. In no way was it his fault, and he is, I maintain, an incredible traveler and a friend that I will have for a lifetime. Sorry buddy, I didn´t mean to come out so harsh.
Today, we took a gua gua a few kms past Imbert where we hiked, swam, slid down, and jumped off of no less than 27 waterfalls. It. Was. INCREDIBLE. One of the best trips of the trip, it was absolutely breathtaking to swim in the fresh water pools, look up to vines and sunlight seeping inbetween branches, and later, jump off of 30 foot waterfalls into 10km deep pools.
It felt absolutely magical... as if fairies and the like would creep out as soon as we were done rope climbing up the side of a rock. Magical.
I promised Antoni, our guide, that I would return and bring all my friends, and I know that I will make good on that promise. Amazing.
Los Viente Siete Charcos everybody... tell your friends!
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In other news, the hostel that Joe and I are staying at is the cheapest one so far, but, the most pleasant hands down. At $5 a night, there are actually two doors that are nailed like barn doors, and we were given a padlock to secure it when we leave. The room itself is mostly occupied by a twin bed (which explains how Joe´s leg ended up on my face last night), and a bathroom with no door. The ceilings are unnaturally high, almost twice the length of the actual room, and outside, there is a small sitting area in the courtyard with lines of fresh laundry stretching in all directions. The people are extremely hospitable, and the entire building has a quaint, eccentric feel with a dull pink exterior, and pale yellow walls inside.
On the down side, Joe and I have not showered in 6 days now... we smell. Badly. We have been jumping into some river or another almost every day, but, I always manage to forget the soap or feel bad about soiling the potable water. Our room does have a shower, but, water seems to be a bit... tempermental at best. We can only flush the toilet sometimes (about every 20 minutes or so when Joe timed it), and the sink works pretty much when it wants to.
I am going to go try to take a shower... wish me luck! I hope in three days my parents can recognize me beneath all this grime...
Friday, September 28, 2007
Thursday, September 27, 2007
The problem with boys
* Since writing this blog, I have found out that Pico Duarte is not only the largest mountain in the Dominican Republic, but the Caribbean as well.
The last three days have been devoted to arranging and attempting a climb up Pico Duarte, the largest mountain in the DR. At 3000 meters, it actually takes a climb up Pico Yaque, a smaller mountain, and then a trek through the range up to the windy, cold, and cloudy Pico Duarte. Normal and sane tourists attempt the climb in 3-4 days, while larger groups do it in a week. We wanted to do it in two. And thus began the problems.
Who exactly is this ¨we¨that I speak of? Well, of course, the ever tranquilo Joe, our resident surfer boy fom Cabarete, Francis, and our guide, Julio. We ended up taking our friend Francis because it seemed like a good way to repay him for free lessons and an introduction for Joe, and a reintroduction for me, to Cabarete´s night life. Plus, he´s quite simply a 16 year old trapped in a 19 year old´s body, and a whole ton of fun.
So, the people are all people who I consider friends. Good people makes for good times, right? Well, the trip was
HORRIBLE.
HORRIBLE.
HORRIBLE.
It was probably the worst experience of my life. Maybe second to the first time that I visited the burning clothes in the DR... but it was pretty high up on the list.
Now, I consider myself to be a relatively fit person. I can run a 7 minute mile, I work out at home, and I used to take pride in my dedication to working out 4-6 times a week. Well, after 72 hours of not eating when we got sick, and the subsequent 1 meal of day that Joe and I were able to stomach, I was definitely not at my best.
The boys, however, were Joe, the triathlete who mid mountain declared that he would like to return and run a marathon after this trip, Francis, a surfing, windsurfing, and kite surfing champion against world competitors with a six pack I could do my laundry on, and our guide, Julio, who makes the trip up the mountain five times a month.
The hike was straight up. Needless to say, I was the last one, and not only on the hiking up parts. At times I was jogging to keep up with the long legged pace of the others, even when we encountered rare moments of level land. Literally for every step they took, I took two on the rocky and muddy terrain. After the first two hours, I was tired, breathless, and my knees hurt. After the third, I was cursing in Korean every fourth step. After the fourth, I was cursing in Korean every fourth step, and leaking tears on every fifth. Tears which I discreetly hid under the pretext of wiping my glasses (God knows why in retrospect as the others were long, long, LONG out of sight). When we approached 1500 meters and 5 hours of hiking on Pico Yaque, I could not go further. Although the others wanted to continue on, I put my foot down. We had two options: to descend Pico Yaque and spend the night in the valley with a river to bathe in, a waterfall, and an indigenous Taino rock, or, to go up into the cold, cloudy, Pico Duarte which was another mountain climb up. We ended up going down and spending the night in this gorgeous valley with a flat plain that I will dream about in subsequent months. When we arrived, I promptly laid down for a nap, and wished that I would die.
The next day was better. I only have about four new, bloody scratches from times I fell, and I was only cursing about every tenth step. Mainly because I ran out of words to say in Korean.
Now, to the title of this blog. The problem with boys. While the boys were racing ahead of me, I got a chance to contemplate a few things. Such as the fact that even before we climbed, the boys were talking about how oh, 8 hours to get up Pico Yaque is NOTHING. We can do it in six. Three days? Psssh, we can do it in two. Two mules? We only need one. Five gallons of water? We only need three. I too thought that two days would be enough, but, the boys were... such BOYS! Since they were barreling ahead, nobody got a chance to actually stop and see, wow, what agreat view, or oh man, what is that bird song I hear? While behind the group, I saw not one but two solitaires (extremely rare birds), Palm Chats, a some white necked crows, and some other unidentifiable, but no less impressive birds. When we stopped, the chatter was about who was a bigger pansy, and I did not appreciate the sign on the side of the mountain that read Sara´s Crazy, or the lizard in the drinking water. On the entire trip both ways, barely a smile was cracked, much less a legit conversation.
On the way down on the second day, after the others had long passed out of my eyesight, I came to a fork in the road. While the boys had time to write ¨Sara´s Crazy¨on the side of the mountain, they could not have possibly had time to leave a marker telling me which road to take. Oh no. One road led up, one led down. I took the one that led down, which I discovered later was the wrong fork. It led to a river with fresh footprints in the mud around some stones, so I assumed that everybody had crossed earlier across the rocks. Midway through, one o fthe rocks overturned and I fell into the river. Bam, another cut on my leg, not to mention the fact that I was soaking from sneaker to mid chest for the rest of the hike. I kept on going through the river to another fork, where I made another wrong turn. The thing is, by the time I realized my mistake and retraced my steps, there was not a word about the wet clothes, fresh bloody scratch on my leg, or furious face. Wordless, like they were for the rest of the trip, the boys just turned and walked on. BOYS!! My feet grew soggy, then blistered blood because of the little fall in the river.
I will get more fit, and I will climb Pico Duarte... someday. But, the next time I do it, I will be with a GIRL. Boys just don´t get it.
The last three days have been devoted to arranging and attempting a climb up Pico Duarte, the largest mountain in the DR. At 3000 meters, it actually takes a climb up Pico Yaque, a smaller mountain, and then a trek through the range up to the windy, cold, and cloudy Pico Duarte. Normal and sane tourists attempt the climb in 3-4 days, while larger groups do it in a week. We wanted to do it in two. And thus began the problems.
Who exactly is this ¨we¨that I speak of? Well, of course, the ever tranquilo Joe, our resident surfer boy fom Cabarete, Francis, and our guide, Julio. We ended up taking our friend Francis because it seemed like a good way to repay him for free lessons and an introduction for Joe, and a reintroduction for me, to Cabarete´s night life. Plus, he´s quite simply a 16 year old trapped in a 19 year old´s body, and a whole ton of fun.
So, the people are all people who I consider friends. Good people makes for good times, right? Well, the trip was
HORRIBLE.
HORRIBLE.
HORRIBLE.
It was probably the worst experience of my life. Maybe second to the first time that I visited the burning clothes in the DR... but it was pretty high up on the list.
Now, I consider myself to be a relatively fit person. I can run a 7 minute mile, I work out at home, and I used to take pride in my dedication to working out 4-6 times a week. Well, after 72 hours of not eating when we got sick, and the subsequent 1 meal of day that Joe and I were able to stomach, I was definitely not at my best.
The boys, however, were Joe, the triathlete who mid mountain declared that he would like to return and run a marathon after this trip, Francis, a surfing, windsurfing, and kite surfing champion against world competitors with a six pack I could do my laundry on, and our guide, Julio, who makes the trip up the mountain five times a month.
The hike was straight up. Needless to say, I was the last one, and not only on the hiking up parts. At times I was jogging to keep up with the long legged pace of the others, even when we encountered rare moments of level land. Literally for every step they took, I took two on the rocky and muddy terrain. After the first two hours, I was tired, breathless, and my knees hurt. After the third, I was cursing in Korean every fourth step. After the fourth, I was cursing in Korean every fourth step, and leaking tears on every fifth. Tears which I discreetly hid under the pretext of wiping my glasses (God knows why in retrospect as the others were long, long, LONG out of sight). When we approached 1500 meters and 5 hours of hiking on Pico Yaque, I could not go further. Although the others wanted to continue on, I put my foot down. We had two options: to descend Pico Yaque and spend the night in the valley with a river to bathe in, a waterfall, and an indigenous Taino rock, or, to go up into the cold, cloudy, Pico Duarte which was another mountain climb up. We ended up going down and spending the night in this gorgeous valley with a flat plain that I will dream about in subsequent months. When we arrived, I promptly laid down for a nap, and wished that I would die.
The next day was better. I only have about four new, bloody scratches from times I fell, and I was only cursing about every tenth step. Mainly because I ran out of words to say in Korean.
Now, to the title of this blog. The problem with boys. While the boys were racing ahead of me, I got a chance to contemplate a few things. Such as the fact that even before we climbed, the boys were talking about how oh, 8 hours to get up Pico Yaque is NOTHING. We can do it in six. Three days? Psssh, we can do it in two. Two mules? We only need one. Five gallons of water? We only need three. I too thought that two days would be enough, but, the boys were... such BOYS! Since they were barreling ahead, nobody got a chance to actually stop and see, wow, what agreat view, or oh man, what is that bird song I hear? While behind the group, I saw not one but two solitaires (extremely rare birds), Palm Chats, a some white necked crows, and some other unidentifiable, but no less impressive birds. When we stopped, the chatter was about who was a bigger pansy, and I did not appreciate the sign on the side of the mountain that read Sara´s Crazy, or the lizard in the drinking water. On the entire trip both ways, barely a smile was cracked, much less a legit conversation.
On the way down on the second day, after the others had long passed out of my eyesight, I came to a fork in the road. While the boys had time to write ¨Sara´s Crazy¨on the side of the mountain, they could not have possibly had time to leave a marker telling me which road to take. Oh no. One road led up, one led down. I took the one that led down, which I discovered later was the wrong fork. It led to a river with fresh footprints in the mud around some stones, so I assumed that everybody had crossed earlier across the rocks. Midway through, one o fthe rocks overturned and I fell into the river. Bam, another cut on my leg, not to mention the fact that I was soaking from sneaker to mid chest for the rest of the hike. I kept on going through the river to another fork, where I made another wrong turn. The thing is, by the time I realized my mistake and retraced my steps, there was not a word about the wet clothes, fresh bloody scratch on my leg, or furious face. Wordless, like they were for the rest of the trip, the boys just turned and walked on. BOYS!! My feet grew soggy, then blistered blood because of the little fall in the river.
I will get more fit, and I will climb Pico Duarte... someday. But, the next time I do it, I will be with a GIRL. Boys just don´t get it.
Friday, September 21, 2007
Alive and more
Joe's out getting Mac and Cheese beause the new, super awesome place that we're staying at has a stove and refrigerator! Sweeet... God bless Cabarete.
^ Francis's house, and Francis and his cousins. The last two days he has been teaching us how to surf, although, I'm sure I feel a lot cooler on the surfboard than I actually look. Actually, I'm sure of that because the first time I tried to surf, I promptly hit myself in the head with the surfboard. The second time, I hit my chin. At least I'm not bleeding (much) like Joe whose knee is all scraped up! It was so worth it.
|
^ Taking a coconut break after being demolished by the surfboard. Check out the bruises on my right leg...Tuesday, September 18, 2007
Ew.
Both Joe and I have been felled by some mystery illness that has us vomiting and having diharrea (is that how you spell it?), with some side effects of mild hallucinations, chills, and headaches. Thankfully, it seems to be passing, but, the last two days have not been pleasant with the midnight motorcycle ride to the hospital (the only time in the DR when I felt like I was going to die... and not from the illness, but, from the motorcycle driver who almost tipped us over on a well-placed speedbump!!), a shot inserted in the rear end without even a word of warning, and more vomit in our shower, on our steps, outside the hotel than even after Harvard Yale.
We{ve slept night and day, and are finally able to drink down gatorade. Keep us in your thoughts as we experiment with choking down ritz crackers!
Huge thanks goes out to five people:
Mom and Dad... you guys were of course the first people I called, and thanks for checking up on us! Isn{t it funny how no matter what bad or good thing happens, my first instinct is to tell you two?
Philip... always awesome, and though your advice didn{t help at all lol, it was still reassuring to hear from my big bro.
The Seabass... I forgot to tell you, but the medication that you told us under no circumstances to take was the very same that both the nurse and the pharmacist perscribed us! We would be so lost without you.
and, of course, the Joe. Always looking out for me, the one to get out in the rain to call a motorcycle taxi, the one who held my hand when I was vomiting and crying outside the hospital, and the one who insisted on being the one to get medicine (unfortunately, mid declaration, he had to run to the bathroom, but, it was a great speech nonetheless), Joe has always been the most perfect friend and devout gentleman.
We{ve slept night and day, and are finally able to drink down gatorade. Keep us in your thoughts as we experiment with choking down ritz crackers!
Huge thanks goes out to five people:
Mom and Dad... you guys were of course the first people I called, and thanks for checking up on us! Isn{t it funny how no matter what bad or good thing happens, my first instinct is to tell you two?
Philip... always awesome, and though your advice didn{t help at all lol, it was still reassuring to hear from my big bro.
The Seabass... I forgot to tell you, but the medication that you told us under no circumstances to take was the very same that both the nurse and the pharmacist perscribed us! We would be so lost without you.
and, of course, the Joe. Always looking out for me, the one to get out in the rain to call a motorcycle taxi, the one who held my hand when I was vomiting and crying outside the hospital, and the one who insisted on being the one to get medicine (unfortunately, mid declaration, he had to run to the bathroom, but, it was a great speech nonetheless), Joe has always been the most perfect friend and devout gentleman.
Sunday, September 16, 2007
Some facebook pics
Some of the pics I put on Sebastian´s computer (and some of his as well) have been put on facebook finally! Here are some very after the fact pics. Enjoy!
P.S. The $6 hostel where we are staying now does not have a sink, so, Joe and I have been trying to brush our teeth etc. in the shower that does not have a shower curtain... good times! Oh well, it´s better than the communal bathrooms we used when staying in the same room with 7 peace core volunteers (hey, we wanted their hostel rates which were 1-5th the cost of any of the other rooms), or the rainwater baths we took at Blanacas!
Finished latrine, a five day effort beause we hit rock like two feet down.
Almost done.
Starting the painting of the outside of the school. Notice how that stick figure on the right is holding a machete...
The kids LOVING the new books from Oak Grove Library
Sea Bass reading to the kids. He tucked his shirt in for the special occasion.
Me, showing Juana, the teacher, the different books for the library (and of course, for teaching purposes)
Reading to the kiddies...
All in the same class despite age and ethnic differences.
Hahaha... this is one of my favorite pics. Melissa helping dig the latrine hole with John looking on.
One of the finished bookcases!
The almost finished library and all our little helpers!
P.S. The $6 hostel where we are staying now does not have a sink, so, Joe and I have been trying to brush our teeth etc. in the shower that does not have a shower curtain... good times! Oh well, it´s better than the communal bathrooms we used when staying in the same room with 7 peace core volunteers (hey, we wanted their hostel rates which were 1-5th the cost of any of the other rooms), or the rainwater baths we took at Blanacas!
At the baptism of Milka, my Goddaughter! Michelle, Roznie, and the Pastor are from left to right. Unfortunately, I think the exposure in this pic was a little off...
Finished latrine, a five day effort beause we hit rock like two feet down.
Almost done.
Starting the painting of the outside of the school. Notice how that stick figure on the right is holding a machete...
The kids LOVING the new books from Oak Grove Library
Sea Bass reading to the kids. He tucked his shirt in for the special occasion.
Me, showing Juana, the teacher, the different books for the library (and of course, for teaching purposes)
Reading to the kiddies...
All in the same class despite age and ethnic differences.
Hahaha... this is one of my favorite pics. Melissa helping dig the latrine hole with John looking on.
One of the finished bookcases!
The almost finished library and all our little helpers!Saturday, September 15, 2007
It is so ridiculously hard for me to remember what happened the last few. Oh man. Here it goes.
Cacao was amazing. Quaint, lovely... a little winding stone town where the lady we were walking with seemingly had family around every corner. After she settled us in and gave us coffee, we realized we had no idea what her name was.
Blanca as it turns out has 7 children, and two of her daughters took us and their daughters to the beach. A wonderful family and greaaat eating... SUCH good food!!!! After swimming in the ocean, they took us to this tropical nook with fresh water to bathe... stuff of dreams. The entire day was magical, and I could not believe places and people like this existed in the real world. Is this the real world? I have no idea.
Blanca´s house is a typical Dominican house, but, her kitchen opens up to the most gorgeous view of the ocean, and a direct drop.
In the last two days, we learned how to dance bachata, got quite close to our new and dear friends Yiselle, Nairobi, and Yiselle´s kids Cynthia and Christian. They wanted us to stay for a week, but, we had to leave. We exchanged numbers, and promises to see each other again, and soon. I really will miss them. I keep on saying this, and I know, I know, it´s probably getting old, but, what a great great family. What great people, and such hospitality to strangers.
Mairobe with our freshly caught lobster and fish... literally, we walked to the boats where they had just pulled in, and picked out which ones we wanted.
Bachata with the sisters!
We decided to leave Samana and head towards wherever. We stopped to ask a nice looking lady where we could catch a gua gua. She ended up walking us to the street where the gua guas pass through (gua guas being the vans that are privately owned and serve as cheap methods of transportation), and we started up a pleasant conversation. Somehow, she ended up inviting us to stay at her house in Cacao, and we of course accepted. What a nice lady!
The crazy thing is, as we were walking with her, a motorcycle crashed literally right in front of our feet. I panicked a little bit, and was the first to get to him. My first instinct was to put something on the wounds, so I whipped out the antiseptic spray and gel and coated the guy who was bleeding from his head, arm, legs... I also relived my memory of crashing a motorcycle, and had my stomach churning with the feeling of lying on the ground, cut and shuddering. What a horrible memory.
Cacao was amazing. Quaint, lovely... a little winding stone town where the lady we were walking with seemingly had family around every corner. After she settled us in and gave us coffee, we realized we had no idea what her name was.
Blanca as it turns out has 7 children, and two of her daughters took us and their daughters to the beach. A wonderful family and greaaat eating... SUCH good food!!!! After swimming in the ocean, they took us to this tropical nook with fresh water to bathe... stuff of dreams. The entire day was magical, and I could not believe places and people like this existed in the real world. Is this the real world? I have no idea.
Blanca´s house is a typical Dominican house, but, her kitchen opens up to the most gorgeous view of the ocean, and a direct drop.
In the last two days, we learned how to dance bachata, got quite close to our new and dear friends Yiselle, Nairobi, and Yiselle´s kids Cynthia and Christian. They wanted us to stay for a week, but, we had to leave. We exchanged numbers, and promises to see each other again, and soon. I really will miss them. I keep on saying this, and I know, I know, it´s probably getting old, but, what a great great family. What great people, and such hospitality to strangers.Mairobe with our freshly caught lobster and fish... literally, we walked to the boats where they had just pulled in, and picked out which ones we wanted.Bachata with the sisters!
Now, we are in Terrenas. I am starting to realize two things... here, I am as fearless as Í´ll ever fear. I love staying with new found friends, and I am loving grabbing gua guas with no plans and eating whatever with whomever. But, my greatest fear at the same time is going home and being a different person, weighed down to the point where I look back at these blogs, at my journal, at the pictures and think I am a different person. I want to keep this Sara around as long as possible!
Wednesday, September 12, 2007
Cayo Levantado
9 am boat ride to La Isla de Cayo Levantado! We followed our¨friend¨and guide Raphael to board a rickety boat to the island. We spent the entire day snorkling, playing some more volleyball, and seeing the craziest fish. There were some that were bright, neon blue, others that looked like pieces of seaweed, and others that looked like they came straight out of finding nemo. Just gorgeous.
There was a little nook on the side of the rocks that had thousands of the most pristine shells in various shades of orange. I´m sad that I can´t bring more back home to give to people, but, it was quite the sight.
At night, we wanted to see the church that was in front of our hotel that looked like a barn, and happened to walk in when the service was starting. We were given introductions by the pastor, sang some gospel songs, and listened to a sermon on what appeared to be human rights and the Dominican constitution. I think I would like to go to more Spanish services when I get back to the states.
Tuesday, September 11, 2007
Santo Domingo to Samana, our first real adventure.
After touring the Zona Colonial with Marino, a good friend from Harvard, seeing the Fortaleza Ozama where Columbus´s son was rumored to have been kept, the Catedral Primada de America (the oldest catedral in the western hemisphere), and walking through the parque colon (although we unfortunately could not enter where Columbus was buried because I was wearing shorts), we decided to pay a visit to a friend of a friend´s friend, Shanna. Here we found an amazing young family, the wife being Shanna, an ex peace core volunteer and proud new mother, and her husband, a Dominican going to school in Santo Domingo. They treated us with an ultimate dinner which was soooo ridiculously good. Such wonderful people in a town full of strangers. We cooked dinner in the dark as there was no power (surprise surprise), but it was a great meal and good company.
Me and Marino at the Fortaleza
Unfortunately, while roaming the streets of SD, I had to unload the monster in the middle of the street next to a highway. The monster is HEAVY, and I decided that I was carrying waaay too much extra superflous stuff like pants and shampoo. My load considerably lighter, we carried on.
-----------------------
After spending the night at Senor Don Nelsons (really, the name says it all), we embarked on our first real adventure, to the city of Samana. It doesn´t sound likea big deal to transfer busses and head only five hours north, but, getting anywhere here is always quite the ordeal. We made it to the first bus stop on our first try, in a relatively nice gua gua where we had just enough room to wiggle our feet if we so desired. The remarkable part is we made it on our first try, so, no complaints there.
The transfer was little harder. We got off at bus stop number 9 which ended up being the wrong stop. Joe and I walked to the next stop, and arrived at 950, just in time to catch the 10 bus. We waited with the soothing sounds of a generator and bachata in the background. We finally made it, and are currently in Samana!
Samana is the coolest little town. The buildings look like lego pieces stuck on the sides of the hill, and literally, the streets are built on top of one another connected by long stairways. The people are the friendlist that I have ever met, and when I approached a lady to ask for directions, she kissed me on both sides of the cheeks! Me, a perfect stranger!
We ended up at a casino where I promptly lost all of my money and vowed never to go back. Joe won 5 dollars and was pretty happy about that, but, I really do not want to gamble again ever.
At night, we played an intense game of volleyball, five on five with 8 big guys. Although there was a crowd of people waiting a turn to play, they put us right in the game, and Joe got a few spikes in before it got too dark to see.
Great town, great people, and the days keep getting better and better.
Monday, September 10, 2007
Breaking all the rules already
The volunteers have left, and though I miss them terribly, Joe and I are just having a blast already. The one bad thing about the volunteers leaving is, it seems like they took all our rationality along with them back to the states! Today has been a day of breaking all the rules of travel, and I´m so glad that Joe is here to egg me on.
For starters, we decided to wander around, and ended up in one of the strangest plazas I have ever seen. Granted, I have not been in many plazas in my lifetime, but, this one was exceptionally bizarre. It had benches stacked on top of each other in the middle underneath a great big black statue of Gomez. It was deserted, and seemingly had no purpose as there was nowhere to sit, nor anything to see. Below it was another nicer plaza, and a building next to it that had its doors thrown wide open. We decided to wander in, and saw a nice, big room with chairs set up like a classroom. We assumed it was an extension of the Santiago Technology University that was across the street, but were bewildered when we asked the guard and he ushered us to two seats in front of a great big official desk. We sat down, a bit nervously, after all, we didn´t exactly come to get consulted or anything. Then, a bubbly man strode out to the desk, and began talking to us. And talking to us. Joe did his trademark nod and smile, and I was able surprisingly to understand almost all of what he said, and what´s more, to talk right back to him. An hour later finds us still conversing with this incredible man who has walked from Santo Domingo into Haiti, the length of Puerto Rico, and from Miami to New York. He is the right hand man of a senator it turns out, a lawyer, and a devoted emissary of love, peace, and solidarity. We had to regretfully leave to meet Marino, a friend of mine from Harvard who lives in Santo Domingo, but, before we left, Angel offered us a place to stay that night.
We went to the Colonial Zone with Marino afterwards. Then, in a thunderstorm with HUGE bullets of rain and lightening all around, we had to make a decision. Either we hop on a bus and head to god knows where to stay dry and begin our adventure there, or, we head back to the plaza.
Well, let me just say, in twenty minutes, we are meeting Angel to stay the night at his house. Absolutely amazing. His hospitality, his good nature, and his dedication to solidarity are things that I admire so much, and am abolutely thankful for.
So, the adventures begin with a stay in a stranger´s house, and a great meal that he promises us as soon as we get there.
Plans for the rest of the trip? Meh... haven´t really got any. I think we will get on a bus tomorrow in the general direction of North, but, we´ll see. Wish us luck!
Much love,
Sara
For starters, we decided to wander around, and ended up in one of the strangest plazas I have ever seen. Granted, I have not been in many plazas in my lifetime, but, this one was exceptionally bizarre. It had benches stacked on top of each other in the middle underneath a great big black statue of Gomez. It was deserted, and seemingly had no purpose as there was nowhere to sit, nor anything to see. Below it was another nicer plaza, and a building next to it that had its doors thrown wide open. We decided to wander in, and saw a nice, big room with chairs set up like a classroom. We assumed it was an extension of the Santiago Technology University that was across the street, but were bewildered when we asked the guard and he ushered us to two seats in front of a great big official desk. We sat down, a bit nervously, after all, we didn´t exactly come to get consulted or anything. Then, a bubbly man strode out to the desk, and began talking to us. And talking to us. Joe did his trademark nod and smile, and I was able surprisingly to understand almost all of what he said, and what´s more, to talk right back to him. An hour later finds us still conversing with this incredible man who has walked from Santo Domingo into Haiti, the length of Puerto Rico, and from Miami to New York. He is the right hand man of a senator it turns out, a lawyer, and a devoted emissary of love, peace, and solidarity. We had to regretfully leave to meet Marino, a friend of mine from Harvard who lives in Santo Domingo, but, before we left, Angel offered us a place to stay that night.
We went to the Colonial Zone with Marino afterwards. Then, in a thunderstorm with HUGE bullets of rain and lightening all around, we had to make a decision. Either we hop on a bus and head to god knows where to stay dry and begin our adventure there, or, we head back to the plaza.
Well, let me just say, in twenty minutes, we are meeting Angel to stay the night at his house. Absolutely amazing. His hospitality, his good nature, and his dedication to solidarity are things that I admire so much, and am abolutely thankful for.
So, the adventures begin with a stay in a stranger´s house, and a great meal that he promises us as soon as we get there.
Plans for the rest of the trip? Meh... haven´t really got any. I think we will get on a bus tomorrow in the general direction of North, but, we´ll see. Wish us luck!
Much love,
Sara
Saturday, September 8, 2007
So much to say but so little time to say it!
Sorry for the lack of posts on this volunteer trip portion of The Great Adventure. I´ve been writing in my journal hoping to have some time to translate that onto this blog, but alas, the last few times I´ve tried to use the internet, the power has gone out five minutes in. Oh the Dominican Republic!
Walking to Estella´s house, the home of a Haitian sharecropping family. They pay for agrochemicals, the seed, and of course the labor to produce a crop to sell at market day, however, under the unfair sharecroppnig system of the DR, have to give up half of their profit at the end of the day to a Dominican landlord. Sebastian and I microfinanced Estella´s family so that they can begin a small corner grocery store.
At Market day where Estella and other families sell their produce and whatnot. I´m holding a stick of sugar cane. Market day is when the border between the DR and Haiti is open to facilitate trade, however, it can be a dangerous place because of the national tensions... a man was stabbed fairly recently, so market day was at maybe a quarter capacity. We stuck out like sore thumbs. 
The pristine and unused DR beaches are absolutely gorgeous. This isnt exactly a tourist destination, so we were quite alone when we took Michele´s family to the beach. 
Jump!!!!!!!! Meliss and I.
Poor Jeremy was so confused when we told him to lay down and began burying him with sand!!!
Before I transcribe my journal entries here, let me just say briefly that this has been one of the greatest experiences of my life, and it´s not even halfway over. Sure, I woke up with two cockroaches on me... sure, we now consider a good bathroom to a) be enclosed with a hole b) flush c) be light enough to see... and sure, I have a blister from using the machete to clear the land by the latrine, but, we have also successfully built the school latrine, painted and restored the library, built bookshelves for the books to be put in Oak Grove Library (courtesy of the amazing folks up at Oak Grove), taken 13 infants and mothers to get vaccinations and medication for vomiting and diharrea, painted the school, etc. etc. the list goes on. Our volunteers are an aboslutely hardy bunch, not deterred by the bajillion mosquitoes or being slapped in the face by poverty. On the contrary, we´ve all made fast friends with the children and parents, and it was a sad sad thing to say goodbye this morning.
We´ve been so blessed... it´s been a fruitful, productive, and memorable trip. I am now officially a godmother of Milka, the daughter of a friend and Haitian sharecropper who we eat and spend time with, Michele, and once again rejuvenated by the awe inspiring work of God.
These pictures are not mine, but, I promised some pics so here we go.
Taken from one of the volunteer´s cameraÑ
Our fearless volunteers!!!!!!!!!!! AMAZING folk who gave up 12 days to help out the DR Schools Project. From the left, me, John, Jenny, Melissa, Joe, and Linda. The Seabass is not pictured unfortunately (I had limited photos to choose from)
Walking to Estella´s house, the home of a Haitian sharecropping family. They pay for agrochemicals, the seed, and of course the labor to produce a crop to sell at market day, however, under the unfair sharecroppnig system of the DR, have to give up half of their profit at the end of the day to a Dominican landlord. Sebastian and I microfinanced Estella´s family so that they can begin a small corner grocery store. At Market day where Estella and other families sell their produce and whatnot. I´m holding a stick of sugar cane. Market day is when the border between the DR and Haiti is open to facilitate trade, however, it can be a dangerous place because of the national tensions... a man was stabbed fairly recently, so market day was at maybe a quarter capacity. We stuck out like sore thumbs.Below, because I can´t get the formatting right, is some of Roznie´s food. We ate every day at Roznie and Michele´s place, a house that was purchased by Sebastian, my co-director. Sebastian has been going back and forth to the DR for 10 years, and in his travels met Michele and Roznie, living on dirt floors in inhumane conditions. He bought them a house and pays them a monthly stipend in exchange for all of their children going to school everyday. Those same children are the ones who are the BEST in school, and I am Milka, the infant´s, godmother.
The school!! The books were a HUUUUGE success, and I taught the kids how to play perro perro gato (dog dog cat because I forgot the names for geese and duck) as well as ultimate frisbee and gongi.
Jenny and me trying unsuccessfullly to grab some guavas from the tree. The kids made it look easy!
Jenny and me again. Behind us is Haiti where we purchased the most delicious empanadas you can find ANYWHERE. MAN, those were good.
The pristine and unused DR beaches are absolutely gorgeous. This isnt exactly a tourist destination, so we were quite alone when we took Michele´s family to the beach. Jump!!!!!!!! Meliss and I.
Poor Jeremy was so confused when we told him to lay down and began burying him with sand!!!Jeremy up close (michele and Roznie´s son)
The volunteer portion is over and the volunteers are leavng tomorrow. I will miss them, but, Joe and I are going to have just the greatest adventure, I´m sure!
Much love and un abrazo,
Sarrrrrrrrita
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