#28: El Merengue

If you'd asked me 3 months ago if I liked the merengue, I only would have had a vague knowledge of what you were talking about. If you'd asked me the same question 2 months ago, I would have made a face. One month ago, I would have shrugged indifferently.

But today, I'm in love. The merengue is a type of Dominican music that was born right here in the Cibao Valley, although it's popular all over Latin America. The Hispanic Caribbean (DR, Cuba, Puerto Rico) is famous for its music and dance styles (think salsa if you haven't heard of merengue). Unlike most of Latin America, the Caribbean has very little indigenous influence, thanks to the Europeans who killed them off 600 years ago. However, there exists a huge African influence due to the importation of slaves to work the sugar plantations. (Thank you to Luis Felipe Rodriguez, my Historia del Caribe professor, for imparting your wisdom.) When the slaves arrived from Africa, they brought with them a beat. As the saying goes, the rest is history. African beats and Spanish language merged and evolved to give birth to a variety of musical styles, from el merengue to la bachata to el bolero to el sol to reggaeton. Today music and dance are some of the defining elements of Caribbean culture. You're bound to hear it blasting from storefronts and car windows, and it's not unusual to see a couple do an impromptu dance or two in the middle of dinner.

Like I said, I wasn't always a fan of the merengue. It kind of got on my nerves, actually, and my friend had to convince me to even try to learn the dance. I didn't even realize how much it was growing on me until Friday. I was on another one of those indescribable adventures that one can only find in the Caribbean. We took a boat out into a park of little islands called Los Haiteses off the Samaná peninsula. I could've sworn that we were in a scene from "Jurassic Park", and when we got off the boat and into kayaks to explore the mangrove swamps, I was pretty sure an ancient dinosaur would show up any minute. After kayaking, we explored caves that had been inhabited by los Ciguayos, indigenous peoples who lived here centuries ago. Since we didn't end up getting eaten by a T-rex after all, we got back on the boat. To no one's surprise, Omega El Fuerte (a popular merengue singer) started blasting through the speakers. I was already blissfully happy; how can you not be on a gorgeous boat in the middle of the Caribbean? But I couldn't sit still. The rhythm was too alluring, for me and everyone else. When one of the sailors held out his hand to invite me to dance, I just about jumped out of my seat. 

That night, we asked around and found a great hole in the wall place to dance. And dance we did, till 3 in the morning to be exact. And being white lends itself to all kinds of piropos along the lines of "You're such a good dancer! Well, for an American." and "Don't you want to move here so we can dance together forever?" (I was enjoying myself so much at the time that I was a tiny bit tempted.) If anything has redeemed for me the craziness that is the DR, it's music and dancing. It's the long nights at the discotecas and the music streams out from every street corner that make it every bit worth it. 

Stay, girl, STAY!

The above phrase is one I've used countless times with our family pets over the years. It's been especially common with our most recent addition, Lucy, but more so back when we still fantasized that maybe one day she would listen. While it hasn't been too effective with Lucy, I'm hoping I can talk myself into it.

No, I don't generally run at top speed before leaping on top of someone. But as I only have 33 1/2 days left here, it's already getting a little difficult to be present (probably counting down doesn't help too much). Life here has settled into a rhythm. I'm haven't had any exotic adventures in a few weeks, and the exciting daily discoveries of a new culture have slowed. Plus, I have so much to look forward to at home! Anticipating time with family and friends and my last semester at Wheaton makes it easy to check out and go on a little mental vacation to the good ole US of A. Yet I don't want to spend my last month+ here mentally absent. I have to remind myself that today I live in Santiago, so I have to stay in Santiago, not only physically but mentally as well. 

Plus as it’s turned out, I’m more or less a failure at cultural adaptation. My “adapting” to the DR can be best compared to a rollercoaster. My emotions from day to day or even hour to hour are outrageously discrepant; I can’t manage to maintain being happy or sad or angry or even ambivalent. Which is humbling considering how culturally competent I used to think I was. Also, I am a big fat complainer. I complain about my food, my host family, my classes, the weather, the language, you name it. Which, if you’ve followed my blog, you already know. Although the traditional culture shock diagram has been largely irrelevant to me since I’ve never followed the typical culture shock trajectory, I’ve taken enough diversity classes to recognize the signs that one is adapting negatively to a new environment. And I won’t for a second deny that’s me. I could write a book on all the things I’ve rejected in this culture, for better or worse. What’s more, I used to consider myself more or less an optimist, but I’ve found here that a lot of time I struggle to see the good in things. 

But there comes a time when you have to make a decision (regardless of your life situation, your cultural context, or your God-given temperament) to appreciate who you are and where you are. Despite the stinging comments, the carbohydrate overload, and the occasional nights alone playing Solitaire, I know that coming here was not a mistake. A dear professor encouraged me recently to “assume there is a plotline here”. Life has a plotline, and when you can’t see the plotline, check out the scenery. Meaning, I can’t know the “point” of my being here (since becoming fluent in Spanish is not happening, although I am improving), but I can take small steps to appreciate the beauty in every day. So here’s the goal: for every day, I have to come up with something I like or appreciate about the country, the culture, or just little blessings that come along. And I'll probably post a few on the blog, so stay posted!

Today I am appreciating the fact that tomorrow I get to cross an item off my bucket list: learning to kayak! The DR really has it all -- mountains, beaches, cities, countryside, you name it -- that allow for a million incredible different experiences. Pictures to come!

ay mi madre.

Oh culture shock...does it ever truly end? I really don’t think I’ll ever get used to the Dominican style of communication. It's characterized by a bluntness that takes me by surprise every time. Tonight I was talking with a Dominican girl I’d just met who observed aloud to several other people that my accent was bad. Which was a wee bit discouraging seeing as I have been pouring BLOOD SWEAT AND TEARS into learning this !@#$ language! As I’ve mentioned before, Dominicans say anything and everything that may pop into their heads. They rarely deem it necessary to stop themselves from saying what they’re thinking, and sometimes when they’re talking I just wish there was some way to install a filter in there. (Especially as a girl from the South; where I’m from, even if you’re thinking something offensive it is never ever ever acceptable to say it to someone’s face.) At least I’m not the only one; a girl I know is regularly asked what she’s doing about her acne. And here’s a funny/slightly saddening one: there was this guy I was actually friends with. We’d spent a decent amount of time together, and I thought I had found the one Dominican guy who was okay with just being friends. Until one day, that is. We were talking over ice cream and I had just asked him about his plans post-graduation. “I want to find an American woman to marry me so I can get a visa,” he said matter-of-factly. I started choking a little. The conversation was in Spanish, so I looked over at my American friend to make sure I’d heard him right. Although she succeeded in keeping her food down, she looked just as shocked as I was. I looked back at him to see if he was joking. Not even a little bit. His face was as serious as any. It’s been a little awkward since then.

This can be observed not only in conversations like this one but the fact that men publicly utter whatever lewd thoughts they’re having about a woman’s body. And while I’m ranting making objective observations about Dominican society as a whole, I have got to say that being here has made me so disillusioned with relationships. Everywhere I go, I see and hear women being objectified. I am seen here not as Erin but as an anonymous American woman. I’m not valued for who I am but as a means to an end. Men look at us and it’s like those cartoons where dollar signs show up in the characters’ eyes, because they see us as their chance at a US visa. Sadly, it’s not just American women that are objectified, it’s women in general. Millions of Latin American women grow up with this mentality that they are valuable only for what they can offer a man. But that’s not even the worst part about gender relationships that I’ve observed here. Fidelity is practically unheard of.  A sociology professor at my university here said recently that “99.9% of Dominican men cheat on their wives”. The mentality is that cheating is inevitable; women expect it and men excuse it.

Sometimes I just wake up and want to come home. Spanish is still coming very slowly, and a lot of times I don’t feel like I’m making much improvement. But I’ve been learning a lot from the book of James. James tells us to “Count it all joy when you meet trials of various kinds, for you know that the testing of your faith produces steadfastness. And let steadfastness have its full effect, that you may be perfect in complete, lacking in nothing” (James 1:2-4). If there’s anything I’ve learned about myself the past few months, it is that I’m imperfect and lacking in all kinds of things. Which gives me all the more reason to count my trials as pure joy, knowing that they will provide me with much-needed steadfastness in my faith.  All my Spanish language woes? My deep disappointment and frustration with Dominican society? I consider them all joy.  

And if that’s not enough, then there’s the irony of all ironies, that of the cross. That Jesus, being perfect, without ever having committed a single error, having been the one person to ever have loved another flawlessly, allowed himself to die in order to take on the full weight of every sin. And because of that, someone like me is purged of that black mark, that scarlet letter, and can spend not only this life but eternity with God in all his holiness.

That is a lot to rejoice about. Despite everything from annoyance to agony, there is Jesus. There is hope. Not only for tomorrow but for forever. And it doesn’t get better than that.

¡27 charcos!

a herd of blancos fording a river in search of adventure

Remember my blog post from about a month ago about the Perfect Day? Well, Perfect Day #1 had some serious competition last Friday. I've been meaning to blog about it because it was incredible, but then I read my friend Katy's blog entry on it and knew I couldn't top it.  So this is exceptionally lame of me, but instead of writing my own blog entry, I'm just going to post the link to Katy's blog entry on 27 charcos. But to make up for my laziness, I'll post a few pictures (muchísimas gracias to my friend Aaron for documenting our trip with his waterproof camera).

Getting up the cascaditas was a bit of a challenge at times. Lucky for us there were rather strapping young men available to give us a hand.

my jump into the first of the 27 charcos

Not gonna lie, I was a little tempted to skip this one, but fortunately I allowed one of the aforementioned handsome guides to pressure me into jumping.

about to slide down a waterfall after Stephanie, a Dominican friend who came along

After slipping, sliding and jumping through the falls for 3 hours, we're very happy and very hungry. Rice and beans, anyone?

happy two-month-iversary to me!

To commemorate my two-month-iversary of being in the Dominican, I’ve decided to summarize a few of my feelings and experiences thus far. (Hint: look for intra-list parallels.)

Things I Miss About Being in the U.S.

• Seeing family and friends
• Not having to eat rice and beans every day
• Being able to communicate in my native tongue with almost anyone
• Air conditioning
• Being comfortable

Things I Like About the D.R.

• Making new friends with other study abroad students, Dominican and Haitian students at the university, my host family, etc.
• Eating fresh avocado every day. Even if you’re not lucky enough to have it growing outside your window, which I am J, you can buy it on the street for about 50 cents US$.
• Getting/being forced to practice Spanish. My Spanish is still sorely lacking, but at least it’s better than it would be otherwise!
• The sun! After three years of living in the land of endless winter, aka Wheaton IL, I am loving the fact that I can wear a tank top every day.
• Being able to go to the beach, race a horse through the mountains, or jump off the top of 27 consecutive waterfalls, just because it’s the weekend and why not?

Things I’ve Accomplished So Far

• Surviving in a foreign country! It was a little touch-and-go there at the beginning, but I’m still kickin’
• Reading lots and lots of Spanish literature
• Taking public transportation alone (and loving it)
• Learning the basics of merengue and bachata
• Having my first and probably last RDT (the Wheaton acronym for Relationship Defining Talk) entirely in another language. “No, no soy tu novia, y no quiero conocer tu madre.” No, I am not your girlfriend and I do not want to meet your mother.

Things I Hope to Accomplish

• Climbing Pico Duarte, the highest peak in the Caribbean. It’s a journey of 3-4 days (!) that I hope to do after my classes finish.
• Going to Puerto Rico. It’s only a short boat ride away from the eastern coast of Hispaniola!
• Getting significantly better at Spanish. I’ve been on a plateau as far as my improvement for a while now, but I’m hoping for a long upward slope soon!
• Learning how to make mangú and tostones. Who knew I’d be such a fan of plantains?
• Building and strengthening relationships with locals. I enjoy spending time with my host family and support students (Dominican students who volunteer to be friends with foreign students). I’m just starting to branch out to other students from the university, as well as people I meet around town, like the mother and son who sell apples down the street from my apartment.
• Watching lots of PELOTA! If you know anything about Major League Baseball, you know that many players come from the DR. Unlike most of Latin America, the big sport here is not soccer but baseball. The season starts after the end of the World Series, when many of the players return to the DR to play in their home country. The Braves didn’t make it, but maybe the Águilas, Santiago’s baseball team, will have better luck!

los niños del Comedor

I finally took some pictures of the kids I teach every week. So precious!

the famous Juan Carlos, the very first child I met at Comedor

They think they're so cute. They are so right.

hermanitas (sisters)

Comedor Padre Ramon Dubert (comedor translates directly into "dining room" but is a common name for a children's center)

The kids take a break from cracking nuts to take a picture with me

splash

A little while ago, I decided to take a post-lunch siesta. While falling asleep generally doesn't tend to be a problem for me, I couldn't seem to turn off my thoughts. They kept returning to one thing: Helado Splash. I tried to resist, to just keep my eyes closed and wait for sleep to come, but after a few moments I knew what I had to do. I had to get Splash. I needed it.

What is Helado Splash? There are no words. It will suffice to say that it is a frozen yogurt and fruit combination that has changed my life. You know how in the States it's popular to get plain flavored frozen yogurt and mix in fruit or candy bar chunks or whatever? It's the same idea, only a million times better. Here, they put it in a blender! And it's only RD $70, which is just over US $2. To be more specific, Helado Splash is the establishment, and their delicious product is called "Yogurt Fruits"(yet another anglicism).

Yogen Früz is a very similar but slightly more expensive version of Helado Splash. Yummm.

So I jumped up out of bed and hastily grabbed my wallet. I threw it into my tote and hurried out the door and across the busy street to await an "M" concho. (Conchos are public cars with fixed routes around the city. Like an American bus, except it's an ancient Toyota Corolla that may or may not have a couple of holes in the floor. They fit seven people in a car that's intended to fit five. And they're great! I love them because you can get across town in no time for only 50 cents.) I waited a minute and a half that seemed like an hour, because all I could think of was Splash! I eyed the father and daughter standing near me and wondered if they were also waiting for an M; if they were and the next one was almost full, would it be unethical for me to shove past them and get in it myself? Fortunately it turned out they wanted a K, not an M, which put an end to my dilemma. But where was the concho that would carry me to my blissful destination?

Finally I saw an old, sputtering, pathetic vehicle in the distance, with an "M" plastered on the windshield. I waved my arm frantically and unnecessarily and then yanked the door open before it came to a complete stop. I placated myself during the five-minute ride by thinking ahead of time what combination I would get. Should I go bitter or sweet? Should I try coconut this time? "¡DONDE PUEDA!" I screeched, realizing we were nearly there. I scrambled out of the car and made a beeline for the 3rd floor of Bella Terra Mall, barely noticing this time the hissing and "Oye, Americana"-esque remarks. I didn't slow down until I reached the counter. "Pequeño con piña mango y coco," I said breathlessly. (Small with pineapple, mango and coconut: my favorite combination so far.)  My heart rate finally slowed when I sat peacefully at a white plastic table next to the counter and took my first delicious bite, which was everything I had hoped for and more.

Don't start judging me and assuming I've become one of those girls who goes all the way across town to sit and eat ice cream alone. That is only partially true. Allow me to justify myself. First of all, it is only 150 calories, and it has fruit, so it is practically healthy. I only get fruit four times a week, for crying out loud. Also, I'm not the only one. My friend Sydney goes to Splash on her breaks in between classes! And for good reason. It is just that delicious.

the Jimenoa waterfall in Jarabacoa, DR

...And then there's the fact that eating tasty low-calorie frozen yogurt is one of the few things that could distract me, at least momentarily, from the two things that have been bothering me today: first, that I am feeling really homesick, and second, that I have no idea what my life is going to look like seven short months from now. I'm having a great time here, though. Last weekend I went horseback riding through the mountains on a trail that led to the most gorgeous waterfall I could've imagined. There is nothing like racing through a river on horseback with the wind in your face; I seriously felt like I was in a movie.

So please don't think that I'm complaining, because now that I know enough Spanish to at least get around, I'm really enjoying it. But sometimes I can't help but think about how the leaves are probably changing at home right now, and about  what it would look like if we were taking our dogs out for a walk. And how if I were in Wheaton right now, what it would be like to go out to Starbucks and get a pumpkin spice latte with my best friends.

Which leads to my next source of inquietude, which is that I have no idea what I'm going to be doing with my life after I graduate in May.  I'm not so concerned about where I'll work as much as where I'll live. I could see myself in Chicago or Atlanta or LA, and I've even thought about taking a year to do missions in South America.  Most of my friends will probably live in or near Chicago; my family is near Atlanta; LA is where I fell in love with urban ministry. I feel like my heart is in a million different places and I don't know where I belong. Or if I even want to "belong" somewhere yet.

Fortunately, it's hard to stay worried when your life is in a tropical paradise and you have hours' worth of Spanish literature homework awaiting you. This is the first time I've thought seriously about the future since being here, and I doubt it'll cross my mind too often in the months to come either. So don't worry, I'm not going to spend the rest of my semester worrying needlessly and pointlessly about what's to come!

And if I do, Helado Splash is only a concho ride away.