surfing photos

I took my camera out to the beach this weekend! Here are a few shots.


Seriously. Not allowed.


Me showing off my board. And by "my board" I mean "the communal beginners' longboards."


I couldn't even tell who I was taking pictures of. I'm pretty sure these are strangers, but just pretend like they're my friends. Or, hey, pretend like one of them is me.


Kicking it on the beach.


Kadi, me, and Surfcat. AWWW.

awkward conversations with my landlady

Landlady (who I also pay to do my laundry): I’m sorry, when I did your laundry I got bleach on some of your underwear. It’s just that there were stains. You know… blood.
Me: Yeah, sorry… um… it’s fine.
Landlady: Oh, are you embarrassed to talk about this because there are other people here? Don’t worry, they’re my family!
Me: No, no… it’s fine.
Landlady: These are women’s things. We can talk about them.
Me: Yes. Anyway I have to go, bye.

Scene: In front of the small surf boutique my landlady owns.
Landlady: Renata, come here! I want to show you something!
Me: Okay. (Enters store)
Landlady: (Picks up a stack of panties) Look, these are very nice. (Begins showing me each individual pair) These ones have lace… these ones are pink… they are very pretty, right?
Me: Yes, they are very nice. But I already have enough underwear, thank you.
Landlady: Yes, I know. You have a lot of underwear.
Me: …. Anyway I have to go, bye.


Landlady: Do you want me to do your laundry?
Me: Oh, no thank you. I know you are very busy, and my other volunteer friends told me about a Laundromat nearby.
Landlady: You can’t go to a Laundromat! They don’t care about your clothes there! I care about you!
Me: Well… it’s just that the Laundromat is very cheap, and I am a volunteer and don’t have that much money.
Landlady: But I wash your clothes with love!
Me: Well… thank you.

Landlady: Did my girl do a good job cleaning your apartment?
Me: Yes, thank you. How much do I owe her?
Landlady: (Hands up in surrender gesture) It’s up to you.
Me: Well, I thought four hundred was too much. The other volunteers say it costs them two hundred to get their apartments cleaned, and their apartments are much bigger than mine.
Landlady: My girl will not want two hundred. It’s not about money. She cleans your apartment with LOVE. She is not some person who is only interested in money. She has a good heart. She will want three hundred pesos.
Me: … okay.

*Previous awkward conversation involved her talking about “her girl” and me not realizing that she was referring to her middle-aged neighbor who was sitting there the entire time. She convinced me that I should pay “her girl” to clean my apartment because she is so poor and needs the money, even though I feel awkward about the whole idea of paying someone to clean for me. But also I don't want to be overcharged for it!

in case you thought my life was just all glamorous surfing and whatnot

Here's how I've been spending my morning:

Attempting to partition a hard drive and install Windows on it. This is a pretty basic task but I keep getting weird error messages and having to re-install. I have re-installed three times. The power is out and the computers are running off the inversor, but the fans don't work. It is hot and I am frustrated.

Also, I made new cards to number the computers and taped them up on the wall behind each computer. Even though I used the paper cutter, none of my cards are quite identical. Honestly, I'm not even sure how I achieved some of the angles involved with these "rectangular" cards. Good thing I'm not the art teacher I suppose? (Although maybe I would just teach the class about modern art, and how what a rectangle means to me is maybe not what a rectangle means to you. Suck on that.)

This afternoon we start teaching! Our Estrellas Juveniles (Young Stars) program is pretty cool. There are three rotating groups. I'm co-teaching "Computers & English." The others are "Reading & Writing" and "Math." It is kind of a cool program because if a kid just wants to take, say, computer class, he still has to take the other classes and learn even more things. Also, our classes are free.

Anyway, we plan to use these ESL flash games in our class, and they are really fun and I've been playing them all morning even though I already, you know, know English. Also, some of the other volunteers and I have gotten really into the typing games at ARTypist (it's a bilingual site) and are now pretty competitive about it. Right now my top score is 17,000 in the ghost typing game. I was briefly the champion but Roger just blew past me with 19,000. That... might not be as interesting to the average reader as it was to us at the center.

In slightly more exciting news, I went surfing again on Saturday and totally didn't drown! I'm also still totally bad at it, but, as they say, Rome wasn't surfed in two lessons.

i, like, totally surfed!

It's true! The verb "to surf" is one that I never thought I'd be able to accurately conjugate in the first-person past-tense, but here I am. I surfed.

Okay, fine, I never actually stood up on the board. (Which most people don't their first time, apparently.) But I got up on my knees a few times and it was super fun!

A local surf shop donated a free lesson to all of the DREAM volunteers because we are so awesome. I was intimidated about it, since I'm not as athletic as most of my fellow volunteers here. Also, I fear sea creatures.

But it was awesome! I think I am going to sign up for a whole year of surfing, since the same guy is giving us a really good deal on it. (When I say "a whole year of surfing" it includes a few more lessons and then unlimited board rental. And rides to the beach.)

Anyway, that's pretty much my big news for right now. Other than that, it's been pretty chill, non sea-faring workshops and the like.

non-verbal communication

I'm preparing a few worksheets about Dominican culture for the new DREAM volunteers who are coming next week. (Peace Corps gives us three months of cultural, language, and specialized skills training--DREAM gives its volunteers a week!) Anyway, I thought this handout about non-verbal communication might also make a good blog entry.

Gesture	Meaning	Note
Finger-wag back and forth	“No”	This is very commonly used and is not rude. Use it like you would a head-shake no. It’s especially useful on the street—finger-wagging should put off most vendors and motoconchistas.
Nose-scrunch	“I don’t understand”/ “What?”	If someone does this do you, start off by repeating whatever you just said.
Hiss	“Look at me/listen to me”—attention-getter	Again—not at all rude here, although it may grate on American ears. You may grow accustomed to ignoring it, since it often comes from tigueres, but sometimes a Dominican friend will say, “Hey, I saw you in the street yesterday and you ignored me!”
Hand to opposite elbow	“Tacaño—cheapskate”	A little rude. A seller might use it if you are bargaining with too-low prices. A Dominican might use it to you to refer to someone else.
Lip-point (looks kind of like a kiss)	“Look at that” (whatever the lips are directed towards)	Not sexual or kissing-related at all. Just pointing, like with a finger.
Tapping temple	“Smart!”	For example, if a student has a really good idea you can say “buen idea” and tap your forehead for emphasis.
Rubbing index fingers together, or one index finger on the thigh	“Sex”	Usually a man will do this to a woman on a bus or something. It’s a gross gesture; don’t acknowledge it. It could also be used in conversation between friends, like “Eh, Juan y Maria… (rub index fingers together)?” I.e. “Do you think Juan and Maria are hooking up?”
Use index finger to scribble in the air	“Check, please!”	Use this after making eye contact from afar with your waiter or waitress at a restaurant.

Congratulations! You have completed the equivalent of 20 minutes of DREAM volunteer training.

cheer up, tropical depression ana

Well, hurricane season is starting up again with Ana, Bill, and Claudette partying in the Caribbean. Right now Tropical Depression Ana is causing a gentle rain to fall upon Cabarete. (Yesterday it was Tropical Storm but it's already been downgraded.) Bill and Claudette aren't even supposed to affect the DR. (Southeastern Americans, though, watch out!) Anyway, just a reminder that Peace Corps DR has an excellent storm warning system and I'd already gotten two emails, a text, and three phone calls about Ana before it even started raining here.

This weekend I failed to round up a group to go to Santiago to see Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince (Harry Potter y el Misterio del Principe--Harry Potter and the Mystery of the Prince, not quite the same) but I'm going to try again this weekend. Unless we get put on Standfast--Peace Corps code for "it's raining, or might rain, so everyone stay home." But si Dios quiere, I'll get my British wizard fix soon.

This weekend I did go to Sosua with my friends Asahi and Nate, which was remarkable for two reasons:
1. I ate some really greasy French fries and got spectacularly sick. (I'm fine now.)

2. I got one of the more hilarious pickup lines I've received in this country. Let me recreate the scene:
Asahi and I are walking back from the beach. We weren't swimming, so we're wearing normal clothes. The street to the beach is lined with small stores, all selling the same touristy crap. Asahi and I are talking to each other and trying to avoid eye contact with the sellers.
Che Guevara T-shirt wearing seller (in English): Excuse me.
Me (avoiding eye contact): No, gracias.
Che guy: Please, I do not want to sell anything to you. I just want to ask one question.
Me: ... okay.
Che guy: Where are you from? Are you from Canada?
Me: ... I'm from the United States.
Che guy: I'm from Haiti.
Me: Hm. (Tries to walk away)
Che guy: Wait, wait! I saw you before when you were walking to the beach, but I didn't call out to you because I thought, they are going to the beach. But I like the way you carry yourself.
Me: Um, thanks.
Che guy: I want to see you again.
Me: ....
Che guy: I want to see you again every day for the rest of my life.
Me: .... (Trying not to laugh)
Che guy: Let me get something for you. (Reaches out and wipes sweat off my cheek.)
Me: UM, GOODBYE. (Walks away and cracks up)

I think I might be leaving out a few pieces of the conversation, but I definitely remembered all the best lines. I want to see you again every day for the rest of my life. Nice one, Che guy. Nice one.

the pit of despair and other landmarks

Hi guys! So, not that much is new with me since the last update. I’ve been settling in at the DREAM Center, working on updating the manual for computer classes and a grant application. I now have some pretty bourgeoisie problems to deal with: my manual is for PCs and we have Macs! The lab doesn’t have air conditioning! But these are both kind of important, since Macs are different enough from PCs that the manual needs a lot of work to be comprehensible for beginner computer students. And without air conditioning these new computers are going to get super effed-up by the heat here. (That is not the exact phrasing I am using in my grant application, but you get the gist..)

I’ve also been getting to know my new fellow volunteers. It is funny: we go out to Happy Hour after work, like we are in America or something! Better than America, even, since Happy Hour is on the beach. Uh, where even am I? Am I still in the Peace Corps?

Perhaps most excitingly, I have been walking home from work. This is exciting because the last few days my street has been ripped up by a big earthmover. Apparently they are fixing some pipes down there or something, which is good since our water situation has been dire lately. (Like, half an hour of running water a day, which I have to obsessively monitor and then fill buckets when it comes.) But now, since the entire street has become a Pit of Despair, I have to scramble home over a very narrow strip of sand. Although “strip” sounds misleadingly flat—it is a narrow series of piles. Of sand. That I scramble over in flip-flops. Meanwhile, neighbors helpfully call out “Cuidado!” (“Careful!”), as if I am not already painfully aware that one misstep will send me straight down into the Pit of Despair. (OK, it is like five feet deep and I probably wouldn’t die. I could probably climb back out again. But it would be so awkward.)

Also, I have prepared for you all a small photo tour of my new barrio and apartment, including the Pit of Despair! Enjoy.


Here is the earthmover responsible for the Pit of Despair.


I am not sure if you can accurately detect the depth of the Pit here. Oh, it is deep.


This child is far better at navigating the edge of the Pit than I.


After successfully crossing the Pit, you arrive at my apartment! Not pictured: my apartment extends for about three inches past the door on the other side, but I couldn't get it all in the frame.


Here is my kitchen area! I put the cutting board on the stove to make a counter. One day I will probably melt my cutting board.


I thought about cleaning up before doing the photo tour, but then I thought no, you should see how I live! Thus, here is my bed/couch/table/nest, unmade. But the table is set for lunch, which inquiring mothers will be happy to note includes a fruit AND a vegetable. (Perhaps this is only detectable in the large version: it's pineapple, carrots, and a falafel wrap that I made myself because I am awesome.)


The front half (third, really) of the apartment. The TV doesn't work, but the ceiling fan does.


Here is the DREAM center! Perhaps it is not that exciting to look at. Dreams are invisible.


Oh hey, here's Playa Cabarete. I can walk there in about fifteen minutes. Just sayin'.

There are some more pictures at my Flickr. My dad particularly will be interested in the additional shots available of the Pit of Despair and related equipment.