Leonel

The President of the Dominican Republic, Leonel Fernandez, came to my barrio Saturday. He was here for about 53 seconds. Enough time to shake some hands and give a wave. But he was here. I kind of took a picture of him.

I was really impressed when I arrived in my barrio, more than 3 weeks ago now, to find that nearly all of the roads were paved. This is most definitely not the norm in towns and barrios across the country. But I learned Saturday that as recently as August, none of the roads here were paved. In the last 3 months the government has aided my city and a beach town north of here in laying asphalt atop formerly dirt roads. My barrio is pretty big and it is quite a Dominican feat to get such an infrastructural project done in a timely manner.

There was still one road to finish the night before Leonel arrived and the road crew worked late into the night to get it finished. The heavy machinery needed to do the roadwork had sat parked and untouched for more than a week, but with a presidential visit imminent, the road was completed and painted in a matter of hours. What I deduced from this chain of events is that Dominicans should always work as if the president was coming to visit. Much, much more would get done.

So he came to check out the streets his government laid. He swooped into town on a helicopter to get a bird’s eye view of las calles and then hopped into a motorcade of jeepetas to be the first to drive on some of them. Then he was gone.

I’m told with midterm elections in May, his presence will be far more visible in coming months. While he is not up for reelection, he is getting out there to campaign for his Purple Party. The entire country is littered with political signs and billboards and not a day goes by without a camióneta, equipped with speakers in the truck bed, passing by to broadcast the platform for some obscure candidate at an obscene decibel level for all to hear.

Politics are ridiculous here. Politics are ridiculous everywhere.

¿Estás Perdido?

"To awaken quite alone in a strange town is one of the pleasantest sensations in the world." - Freya Stark

It is a strangely pleasant sensation to wake up here every morning. Now knowing exactly what the day has in store for me. Not yet having a daily agenda to follow. Not knowing if I'll meet dozens of community members of simply read a book from cover to cover. A far cry from the regimented life we lived for 10 weeks of training, where scarcely an hour passed without a training session, charla, language class or scheduled mealtime.

It is a bit unpleasant that everyone thinks I’m lost. Almost daily I’m asked ¿Estas Perdido? They all want to give me directions to the bus station where I can make my way to the nearest beach like all the other gringos. It’s kind of awkward. In fact, most everything about these initial weeks is kind of awkward. Introducing yourself to countless people and misunderstanding countless hours of Spanish conversation. Most everyone not understanding who you are or why you’re here. When I’m not a lost tourist I’m a missionary. Awkward.

All is good though, even while the awkward turtle insists on continuously showing its ugly head. After all, Americans are beginning to thrive on awkward. It’s kind of our thing at the moment. Why else would The Office be so popular? I look humorously upon it. The bright side, right? The Dominicans on the other hand don’t seem to even realize that awkwardness exists in my daily interactions. They don’t even have a proper translation for the word. I’m just the new guy and ya. Nada más. Todo bien.

I’m starting to look down the barrel at post-Thanksgiving to get some projects started. English classes are what the community most wants. So while I don’t want to be the local English teacher for the next 2 years, it’s a good starter project to do for a couple months. I’m also hoping to start a book club and a girl’s volleyball team. All in time.

For the time being until those projects take shape and come into fruition, I foresee more awkward, some quality time with the host fam and more books. Lots of books. Perhaps too many books. My host mom suggests I may get brain cancer from reading too much. Her suggestion to remedy the eyes she thinks I’m damaging and the tumor growing in my noggin? Watch TV. Seriously. Her next suggestion is undoubtedly to talk on a cell phone more often. I do heed her television advice from time to time in that I am fortunate enough to be a PCV with ESPN, meaning I still get a weekly dose of college football (sorry Hawk fans) and my fair share of English language movies. Not the typical Peace Corps experience. But I’m not a complainer.

Tis' the Season

Shameless as it may be,

I'm a broke PCV

I need lots of supplies,

and other goodies from you guys

So get off you duff,

and send me some stuff!

I'm getting requests for potential Xmas gifts and don't know where to begin. So...I created an Amazon Wishlist for all of you feeling generous out there. I have books and supplies for my kids here in the DR and books and supplies for myself to get through the especially long Caribbean days. Anything and everything is welcome so long as it fits in a padded envelope (no boxes) and is sent via USPS. If anybody has some good teaching materials or some fun items/ideas to use with kids and teens send them on.

Sorry for being so shameless but asking for money/resources is a big part of my life in the coming two years. I might as well get started early.

MY WISHLIST

Sworn-in

On Wednesday October 28th I became an official Peace Corps Volunteer.

The ceremony took place at the beautiful training center that had served as a home base during our weeks in the capital. The acting ambassador to the DR, as Obama has yet to appoint one, spoke. Our fantastic Country Director spoke. Two of our fellow trainees spoke. A couple of other distinguished guests spoke. Then we took the oath and became Volunteers. The ceremony was great and seemed to pass by just as quickly as the 10 weeks of training.

The only left to do before heading back to our sites to begin our lives as PCVs was to celebrate. We spent a significant chunk of the day Thursday eating cheeseburgers and enjoying the pool at the US Embassy. It was a small taste of all things great about America. (I forgot what a luxury it is to actually flush toilet paper.) Thursday night we crammed into a hotel and celebrated the night away. We Youth Volunteers found our own little Loma in the City and had one last hurrah until the day in just under a month when we reunite to eat turkey, stuffing and pie and swap stories of volunteerism and cultural/linguistic blunders.

As I sat and sunburned beside the Embassy pool on Friday, I couldn't help but feel like I had won the lottery. The Peace Corps lottery. Of the 70+ countries the Peace Corps sends Volunteers, I found myself siting beside a pool on a tropical island that I will call home for the next two years. I could be under feet of snow in Eastern Europe right now or living in a mud hut somewhere, which I was more than willing to do. But here I am in the DR. Like I said, the lottery.

With that we're official. 45 of us from 4 different sectors are the newest additions to the DR team. It really did feel on Friday as we headed back to our respective sites that the training wheels had come off and we were entering into new, exciting and unknown territory.

It's time to see what I learned these past 10 weeks.