Saludos

This is a letter I wrote a while ago and never sent.

-Betsy.



Saludos.
It is 4:01 am here and I can’t sleep. I’m writing by candle light, swatting at the few mosquitoes hovering about my bare feet and listening to the night. The roosters just started, they always start at 4. I have no idea why or how, but the first on crows at four sharp, kind of faint and sleepy, the second echoes from maybe a few houses over and the chorus snowballs from there. Like a campo barbershop of 50 plus old men with rusty throats. Why do roosters crow anyway? And how is it they can all start at 4 a.m.? Just now they all quieted, even the crickets have paused—the rain started up again.
For the last month or so it has rained nearly everyday. Sometimes, like yesterday, it is all day, on and off. The showers came lightly, starting up almost on a whim and overlapping with the sunshine. Other days it comes in a fierce aguacero, heralded by a thick forerunner of dark, brooding clouds and opening with a crash of fat raindrops that instantly soak everything exposed.
Either way everyone runs or cover and if it’s rain to last a few hours or an afternoon, goes to sleep. Everything stops here in the rain. Sometimes, and especially at first, that seemed like such a lazy habit. Oh, it’s raining; we can’t come to your meeting. Or it rained this morning, so only half the class showed up. But now it’s starting to make some kind of sense. Rain here can go from that delightful, sun-infused patter to the violent tropical downpour with a mere change in the breeze. Streets flood in minutes; dirt roads become impassable gullies and any hillside a treacherous mud slick. A motorcycle can and will get mired up to the seat in the stubborn clay, making another 1/d day’s work to get it free and functioning again. Plus, it is just nice to relax in the rainstorm. Most houses here have zinc roofs, no insulation, so the drumming of the drops overhead can be thunderous, rhythmic and permeating.
In the harder rainstorms you can’t even hear yourself talk, so why not take a nap to wait it out? I am getting trained so that at the first sound of rain staccato I start to yawn and my eyes grow heavy. And it’s refreshing to be part of a life that has the space, flexibility and time to take the afternoon off for rain. It can be frustrating to only accomplish half the tasks I intended for the day, but that is another thing you have to get used to here. The daily pace is so much slower and spaced out. Tasks you might complete in a matter of minutes back home could take a whole day. Communication is slow, unreliable and less gadgety. You can’t just pick up a phone and call, at least not where I am, and transportation is even more finicky so the usual method of sending someone to fetch a person or deliver a message is often a lengthy process.
This style of managing work definitely requires patience and an adjustment on my part. I can’t be going going going, chugging from point to point, ticking items off my to do list like clockwork. I’m now required to take a breather, sit and talk for while, think and reprioritize. It must be good for me (seems like most uncomfortable changes are) but it still irks the latent American watch-slave inside me on occasion.
What do you think of this stationery? Good ol’ Winnie is phenomenally popular here, as are most other muñequitos—cartoon characters. This paper was given to me by a woman I work with in the Center. I have seen formal letters written on pink kitty paper with a Sponge Bb pen. It’s sometimes funny to see the strutting boys from the liceo (high school), bristling with machismo, sporting a teddy bear backpack.
There are many small things like that, just slightly out of sync with what I’d expect at home. I definitely get a kick out of people walking along the street belting out Celine Dion. Everyone lings here sin verguenza, regardless of present company or voice quality. In a way it’s freeing to not be held back by the idea that only those blessed with the best voices should sing out. But when one muchacha has been croaking out a warped rendition of My Heart Will Go On for the last 35 minutes, you start to wish for some cultural restraint.
Romantic, sugary pop hits are the rage. I must confess they are not my first picks, but it’s the passion that attracts people, which is kind of fun. There’s no such thing as lip sync here, but karaoke, oh man. Most Dominicans are born actors, every bone in their body built for dramatic expression. Performances of every style are common and expected. Most don’t understand my shyness at singing, speaking, dancing, whatever, in from of large groups. But I am getting a little more used to it, a little more comfortable at showing what I’ve got. Sometimes. Usually being the lone gringa is more than enough spot light for me.
Well, the candle is nearing its end and the mosquitoes are gathering forces so I’m going to try for a few hours sleep. The roosters have started up again as the rain pauses. Thanks for sharing the morning.

Taking Oneself Seriously

Here are a few photos of some P. sanchez Locals looking their sexiest.

A Visitor’s Guide to Visiting El Cuerpo de Paz DR

It is most important for you, reader, to internalize that the ramblings in this edition of “Betsy’s Blog” are solely and specifically the opinions of me (I), an exaggerated visitor of an exhausted Volunteer.
The primary and most important observation that I have made to date is that the people here are human beings, beings subject to common rules of individuality and variation betwixt persons. That being said, I feel free to generalize and say that the vast majority of Dominicans are impressively generous. The typical Dominican will halve their portion, in order to share with a relative stranger, and then halve that remaining portion once again to accommodate someone else down the line. The one exception to this is the Capital, which, at first impression, is an awful, awful place.
When visiting your volunteer, I suggest that you attempt to view them the most in their natural habitat. There exist, currently, two reasons for such advice. One (1): Volunteers usually tire with ease, and variation from their familiar schedule may be exhausting. Two (2): Volunteers can be crappy tour guides, frequently rushing you past the 500-some year-old church in order to get you to the best Yogun Früz stand in the DR.
Here are a few surprising things to expect from your volunteer in country:
-complaint or concern for money (this is often baffling, considering that they frequently argue over values amounting to less than three cents, USD). It is difficult to remember that these wonderfully sacrificial individuals are, in fact, volunteers. It is important to know that a brief argument over a few pesos is more a stand based upon respect and competency in their temporary home, rather than genuine penny-pinching.
-Frustration with their project (with exception of Jake). It seems as though resources are a major problem for many volunteers. Betsy is fortunate to have one of the most functional Centro de Tecnología in the IT division. Other volunteers seem to be missing important elements, such as inversores (battery-thingys to keep the power smooth and on), power, teachers, and students. Organizationally, much of the structure reminds me of two hands working simultaneously. One hand washes the dishes, but that hand forgot to inform the other hand, who was supposed to go buy soap, and in-stead told his cousin to go do it, and she had rolos in her hair, so all of the dishes got washed sans soap. And also, the river overflowed its banks, so there is now manure in your water. As a visitor, it is easy to see all of the energy that a person can put into this system, yet, said person will probably not see many fruits of their labor in their time in this country.
-Emotional withdrawal. I think that this is different to each volunteer, but is relatively common. A volunteer is having a tough time at living their life, in addition to the sometimes futile attempt to be useful at their site. They endure quite a bit of stress in response to these two factors, and all without the direct safety, resource and comfort of their security system, you. It seems common for the volunteers to create a space, or relative indifference toward home, if only to survive separation from those whom they love so much. This is an understandable process, and it may take some time for a volunteer to grow accustomed to a guest, even those guests with amazing levels of charm and handsomeness. Trust that they are happy to see you, or at least will be eventually (possibly after you leave).


As for making your trip everything it can be, keep your eyes open to things that appear unusual and different. Many irregularities here can be explained in terms that are common to American culture, yet exaggerated. For example. Most Dominicans LOVE to have their picture taken. It is not unusual to have a Dominican look at a photo of their-self and comment “wow, I am extremely good looking.” The odd thing is, looking as sexy as possible here rarely involves smiling. This can produce hilarious results, especially in a group context. Please see attached photo.
I have felt a lot of pressure here to “dress the part.” Dominicans typically wear very nice jeans, fancy shirts, and impeccably clean shoes. I have tried (in vain/vanity) to emulate this look, but have been able to come to only one conclusion: I am a Gringo. There is absolutely nothing that can be done to change my hair, skin, and the perspective under which I was raised. I stick out like an albino Oreo with hot sauce instead of sweet frosting. I might as well dress comfortably. Eventually, people will learn to value me for my differences more than they would for my Dominican-ness.
When I arrived, I felt the need to be prepared, as if for a safari. The odd thing is that here, the burden of accessories is often what makes you feel naked. When going out and about, especially in the capital, one will feel the most free with as little as possible (to be stolen). I have also spent a day in tow behind two (deceptively athletic) young Dominican men, with a sweaty back-pack, which filled more and more with fruit as we progressed though the neighboring hills. This type of journey is a serious character-builder, and is much easier taken without the pack.
In the Capital, which I would visit last, I recommend getting an actual guide-book and Xeroxing the pages of the Colonial Zone. I feel few volunteers get a real tour when they visit the capital, and your map and info would probably enrich their visit along with yours. Since this area is also very popular with tourists, this sort of thing is more acceptable there. Also, at shops/markets, don’t be intimidated because you don’t speak Spanish. If they want to sell you something, they can be patient. Since you will probably be over-paying anyhow, they can accommodate you.

Pueblo Specifics
Our pueblo is the most tranquilo of places that I have visited. The size of the community and their affection for Betsy can offer a lot of relaxation, and resource on the part of the visitor. Safety comes along with this package as well. I feel that introductions are very important, as well as a short visit to as many people as possible. Just take in the surroundings as the conversation happens, because this is beautiful, wonderful Dominican life. Betsy is usually pretty good with a general synopsis of what occurred in the conversation while your eyes glazed over. You find that you learn a lot about an individual without even communicating directly. If you are lucky, you can sometimes get invited for a real Dominican lunch, the biggest of the day. No matter how Betsy tries, she will not be able to duplicate the deliciousness of Dominican rice and beans. Warning, do not play Dominoes with a Dominican with any expectation, unless that expectation is to receive a real humbling.
I have made only one funny Joke in the entire time that I have been here. You can try, but American humor is worthless to these people. If you want to tickle their funny bone, get stuck out in the rain, or slip and fall or something. Patti, you will do fine.

With that, I abruptly end this edition. More to come!
Respectfully,
Jeffrey Cincoski, ingeñero de chopeando y instalador de filtros. Marriot El Seibo.

As for the toilet: I think that Betsy is nuts. It is fine to sit on the seat. And at night-time, I find that the roaches that do live in there are afraid of light. Shine your flashlight down there a few times and they will all go as far from your precious hiney as possible. Hers is the only one in the country that is ok to put TP down. In most places, there is a trash can or bucket for papel de baños. If it’s dark, or even semi-private, I recommend just peeing in the yard.