Hello Again

It has been many a year since I last posted in the Lobolian Journey....and many a trip I have taken.

Now my journey is somewhat of a different form, a journey into spirit and mind and body...a journey the goddesses of the past several years have placed before me and a journey I am now happily embarked on.

That being said, in these journeys I have learned to crochet and so I will be making occasional references back and forth with the other websites I work with on the interwebs.

Per EU requirements I am required to tell you that you can look into the HTML and whatnot to see encryption levels so whatever the rules are over there in Europe, it's in place here.

Good to see you all again,

The Roman Wolf

Lounging

Hello Readers

I last left you in San Juan, where I was vigorously debating between the Dominican Republic and Puerto Rico. That argument has now shifted and the DR has been thrown out of contention by a surprise victor, Fort Lauderdale, FL. It entered the race with the sudden arrival of four heavyweight job interviews last December. When Ft. L was able to accumulate and add five more locations to the list, including two from its partner in Miami, it even nudged out PR as the likeliest candidate for this writer and claimed top prize.

Therefore, I have just spend a very entertaining and interesting evening with some distant relatives down here, who took me out to dinner, and now I am mentally drained and thus in perfect condition for posting a blog. This is because the airline gave me a choice between arriving very late tomorrow, less than 12 hours before Job Interview 1, or 9 hours following the specific moment of the question. I chose exhaustion today over exhaustion at JI 1.

So, I am lounging and again soaking up the wonderful feeling of being on the road. There is nothing which suits me more than travel, but this place does not yield much travel, I do not think. That is not its lure. Its lure is that I have a feeling that my talents still require some unlocking in terms of publicity, publishing, and getting high end jobs, and these positions will not only train me to do those things, they will transform me from an amateur to a professional.

And besides, some of them are wonderful positions on their own merits and I hope I can be happy with any one of them should they decide to offer me a job. I am not afraid of hard work, I am willing to take risks,and I have an eye to the future -- all key components of what these entry level manager positions are asking for. So, I am here, in the USA, working on becoming...

The Floridian Wolf

Rich Port

Hello

There was supposed to be another blog post between this one and Cheese but the wifi died and I forgot to save the word document and accidentally deleted it when I had the chance to recover it. So that one, which detailed how sad I was that I was trapped in the Dominican Republic and unable to leave, no longer exists. Sorry. It was rather poetic and sad but now I have something happier to write.

I AM IN PUERTO RICO

I AM IN PUERTO RICO

I AM IN RICH PORT

Yes, that is right. I made it, finally, into this country. Well, semi-country. Hard to say what Puerto Rico is, since it is practically a country, and practically a state and I was welcomed back into the US even though this is more like a US protectorate. Or something. Anyway, the point is, I am here in San Juan.

And that feels wonderful. Come the morning I am going to walk to the beach and check out the beach. I am going to visit the Old Town. I am going to do something cool. I might even look into jobs and apartments for a few days. I saw a studio apartment for rent a few blocks from the hostel.

The crickets or something are chirping outside. It is a rather pleasant sound. The sounds here are much nicer than the sounds were in Santo Domingo. That might just be that it is night but not really because night at the hostels in Santo Domingo were LOUD. This is not loud. This is quiet except for those crickets or birds or whatever they ares.

Most importantly, I feel happy. Happy to be moving again. Happy to have a cool place to sleep, which is really just the top bunk of a four person dorm with two of my bags on the ground and the third up here with me, as I will probably sleep with my laptop. Not out of love, mind you, but because that is the sort of thing I would do. Saves space down below and keeps it safe.

I would recommend hostels to anyone who does not mind being forced to interact with other people while staying in their rooms. There is a kitchen to make food so I do not need to pay for overpriced restaurant stuff, there is a table where I can eat, chairs where I can meet other people who happen to be from all over the world, and the price is super affordable. By super affordable I mean like ten bucks a night affordable. Pretty cool, huh? And there's wifi and for five dollars more they will even wash my clothes. This is living. I like it.

I'll be here until Saturday then I am returning to Minnesota for the holidays. At that point I have a decision to make. Either I apply for a DR visa and go there, or I buy a plane ticket to come back here sometime in January. Or I try for both, apply for a visa and if I do not get it by the end of January I come to Puerto Rico anyway. We'll see. Life is what life is. I will take what I can experience and call all the experiences good ones, whether they are harsh like losing a passport or joyful like walking down a quiet nighttime street in San Juan on my way to buy hot dogs.

Puerto Rican? Wolf

Cheese

This really is quite the experience hanging out at my boyfriend's house by myself. The same sort of thing happens every time, usually more than once. For example:

Man/Woman/Teenager/Kid comes to door. "Saludos...Hola...etc"

Me: "Hola."

Other Person: *stare* *think: Oh, it is the Rubia. Isn't there anyone else? "Donde esta (where is ...) (insert names of everyone else in the house)

Me: No, no esta aqui (Nope, they are not here)

Scenario One

Other Person: *Hands me thing*

Me: Now what?

Other Person: Already gone.

Scenario 2

Other Person: Explains something in incomprehensible Spanish that they were here for, and walks away.

Me: Huh?

I cannot say that I am not amused. This is all very amusing. I never really know where any of the people are either. So I cannot redirect anyone. And I did at least know what to do with the cheese today.

Then I explain what happened when somebody gets back, but of course I do not know the names of these random people and the words in this house are not the words I learned in other houses (strange diction thing) so I just start saying everything I can and hopefully the point gets across. This is how one gets a reputation as a Rubia with very amusing Spanish. So I really cannot blame people if they are a little disappointed that it is just me in the house.

*****Part 2*****

That was just a vignette. Really I am going to write in this blog about how I am going to Puerto Rico, blah blah blah. The blahs are not because it is boring but because I literally have no idea what is going to happen there. I changed my mind about my plans halfway through this vacation and I am keeping on going to Puerto Rico to get the lay of the land for a week, then I am going back to Minnesota.

After a week with the lay of the land, I should be able to say more definitely if I want to live there or not. If not, I am going to do my new plan B, which is to get a DR visa and live here for a year. If I do not get my DR visa and do not want to stay in Puerto Rico, I will move to my new plan C which is to move to Florida or Arizona. Or maybe New Mexico. Wherever I see the most job opportunities in the sort of fields I am looking at. And the cheapest housing with the lowest crime rates.

Worst case scenario I can always go to China for a year or so and teach English. Or South Korea. Or any other country I set my sights upon. But I have sort of lost my interest in teaching English as a career path. I've had my adventures abroad and now I want to settle with my "real work". Writing. There are other countries too where I may not need a visa. I can always run off and live in one of those. Really, my life is what I and the Immigration Officials choose to make of it.

That is both incredibly liberating and incredibly terrifying, all at the same time. I keep standing on high places and feeling like I have wings and if I just jump, I would fly. Except the wings are in my mind and I am not going to literally fly anywhere except in airplanes. So I refrain. But I cannot shake the impression from my thoughts. And one day soon, I will actually have a place to settle down. I think that is my deepest ambition at the moment. To unpack my suitcases and call a place my own.

Perhaps the day will come when I forget that feeling altogether, and happily live suitcase to suitcase. But if that happens, first I want my magic Mary Poppins bag.

Wolf

From Caribe Tours

Oh the joys of crappy internet connections. I am currently exemplifying how one’s plans can be made, changed, rewritten and acted upon very quickly. Not only have I left one friend’s house with intent to visit my Pantoja family, I now am waiting for two hours in the nicest bus stop in Santo Domingo (which is not saying a whole lot) and trying to see if I can get the wifi to connect. No such luck so far. Odds are against it happening, but if it does, I will post this.

Anyway, turns out that I was unable to visit with my Pantoja family really because my host mom had to go up to the Cibao region for her aunt’s funeral, and it was just the host dad there, but he was leaving in a bit, so I stood out in the courtyard with a guy who used to be deeply in love with me on the other side of a clothes line, where he was washing clothes. He did not look at me and I tried not to look at him. It was very awkward. I wanted to get out of there.

So, instead, I just stood there until I felt like I had stood there long enough and caught a series of public transit options to the Caribe Tours bus stop. I will be here for the next two and a half hours because that is just the way it works. I fear it will be bored but it could be worse. I would like it better if there were a wheat free option in the cafeteria, but the ice cream was locked up, so I ate a couple of gummi worms and am holding out for a meal in Samana. I do remember that there is ice cream next to the station there, so maybe I can treat myself to a snack while waiting for my ride back to my friend’s site.

There is one good thing about being gluten intolerant in a country like this. You really do learn how to ignore the desire for food and just gnaw on a banana or something until better food comes along, like a cup of ice cream. And ice cream is so wonderful in this hot climate. I STILL have not gotten my helados bon and I am determined to remedy that as soon as possible.

It was very nice visiting a volunteer’s site and doing volunteer things. Maybe I am trying to live the life I could have had vicariously for three weeks. Maybe that is why the urge to find the guagua to Barahona and leave for the south and live there is still so strong. I cannot shake it, no matter how hard I try. And I am trying as hard as I can. When the heart wants something badly enough, it has a way of steering the head around to its way of thinking, and that makes doing the rational thing extremely confusing – because the irrational becomes rational and the rational becomes undesirable.

Puerto Rico is my future. I have no idea how or what I will do there or what will come of this, but I will not let myself decide to leave Puerto Rico for Barahona until I have at least made the attempt at shaking off the desire to live there for a year, applying for a visa, all that.

Anyway, I just wanted to let you all know how I was doing, and to pass a bit of time here in this bus stop. It is what it is.

Wandering Wolf

Do Not Look Back

Nor should you read the next post after this one, when scrolling down. It was going to be a post but then I changed my mind and really just wrote about nothing.

Sometimes life is like that. We get ready to do one thing and then we turn around and do something else. As for me, I happen to be living that very moment right now. I am in the Peace Corps office, where I have a sore ankle where I kicked off some skin, and I came here in a taxi from the Caribe station because the rolling duffel bag was heavy and that was how I kicked my own ankle out, and that had not been my intention. My intention had been to walk.

The upside is that I have a package from home which had been intended for a "I am sad in Los Patos" gift but will now make a great "starting out in Puerto Rico" package. So far, the director of security and the director of the education sector have both given me some very impressive double takes. Clearly my appearance is not expected, but it shouldn't have been. I left three months ago, and I just have told some people that I am "Passing through" and have come for my package.

Actually, I am hovering in the lounge right now. The volunteer lounge. It is a safe place because I look like everyone else except instead of my face on a badge I have a plain red badge which I received in exchange for my passport at the front door. Wifi is nice. I missed wifi. Then there is a party tonight. I may go to the party. I may not. I do not have a costume. I will go as myself, a Traveling Minstrel/Poet/Singer/Storyteller currently on viaje por La Republica Dominicana.

Here is my plan. I will continue traveling through the country, visiting with friends, and all of that. Then, I will go to Puerto Rico. No clue what is going to happen to me in Puerto Rico. Something. Hopefully something cool.

Or hot. I really want to live somewhere hot.

Libre Wolf

Washing Clothes

Hi

In a bit I really want to wash my clothes. It is a simple enough wish but hard to accomplish. Apparently this morning there was no water. Then I just heard now that there is water. But I do not know for sure. So I will do my best to get this water and I will wash my clothes in the bucket and be happy because it is freaking hot right now and I really want to get wet. Washing clothes is a wonderful way to get wet.

I am also trying to put together the rest of my viaje in this country. In a few more days I will be traveling again and tomorrow I will do a mini bit of traveling, which is the second reason I really want to wash clothes today. That, and I don't have many clean ones left. Haha.

So, I think I will leave this blog post here and try my best to figure out whether or not it is possible.

Blog Post 1

Once again I find myself typing out a post in the dark. Which is to say, I am sitting on a bed in a dark room with the electricity out, except I cannot find my internet stick in my bags so I am typing this into Word and hypothetically I will post it when I go to Barahona this afternoon. Or this morning. It is raining outside, or at least it was pouring a minute ago but from the fact that the chickens and birds are now louder than the rain I do not think it is quite as bad.

Some of you are no doubt wondering how this trip has gone so far. All I can say is it has gone as wonderfully as I had hoped, and there are enough good parts that I can disregard the fact that I have literally been craning my neck around corners when passing by certain places where I know certain people are possibly at, just so I do not have to see them. As of now I am down to just avoiding one person and that is probably for the best, no matter what someone hinted at about time changing people. Time does not change people quite that much. Would Caesar have wanted to chat it up with his old pal Brutus if he’d survived the Ides of March, even if the other people in their circle of friends had described his change of heart as eloquently as Shakespeare’s monologue? I doubt it. Knives in the back hurt. A lot.

But that is unimportant. I have other Rubicons to cross, and I cannot be bothered with the one I already built a bridge over. What matters now is that the bright Caribbean sun shines down on me every day when it is not raining and the sparkling river is as fun to swim in as ever and the turquoise Caribbean sea still churns its white waves against the white rocks near the vast green mountains. This is where I am. This is what I am doing:

Get up. Hang around the house, maybe read a book. Well, probably read a book, chat, wait for breakfast, nibble at food, brush teeth, sit on porch, read more book, chat some more, hang out, maybe watch TV if there is electricity, eat lunch. After lunch, go to river, chat with old friends at river, swim in river, chat some more, go back to house, visit with old host family, do whatever, see volunteer friends from neighboring communities, eat dinner, watch more tv if there is luz, walk around Los Patos a bit, maybe read more book if there is luz (light) and hang out with the family here until I go to bed at some point in the night. It’s really quite relaxing. I know it probably sounds boring but I’ve never had a vacation quite like this one before. It’s different not having a schedule for my days.

And it is very different from how things were during the diagnostic, which was much more packed than the average volunteer’s diagnostic. For one, I am avoiding the school where I spent hours every day and the Center I was supposed to be reopening like they are centers of plague. I went to the school my first morning to give the map of Los Patos back to the sub-director, who’d given it to me during my service. It was made by a volunteer but really it belongs to the community. So I darted into the school like a polar bear plunging into the water after a seal, delivered the map, and fled. Then yesterday when I stopped by the sub-director’s house I apologized for my abrupt and probably rude behavior by explaining that I was scared somebody would ask me when I was going to be working in the Center or coming back to the school. It wasn’t unreasonable either. Kids have been asking me that ever since I got back here.  I do not want to answer. They don’t like it when I say never. But that’s the only answer there is.

Tomorrow I’m going with some friends by motorcycle to a place called Bahia de los Aguiles. Apparently it is the most beautiful place in the whole country, a real eye opener, a beach alongside a desert located on the other side of the southern bend of the DR. It’s only an hour or so from Los Patos. It should be pretty fun. One never knows what time one has. I’d planned on going there at least a few times during my service but I never did during those six weeks so I am going to do it now.

Oh, and speaking of motorcycles, one of the good friends of my neighboring volunteer told me he did not want to see what would happen if I’d been able to live here on my writer’s salary. Just because I said I would buy a motorcycle of my own and start driving it. I think I’d look great cruising down the main highway in my sporty black helmet when I go to visit my neighbors or whatever. Apparently, though, that thought is rather terrifying to him. Wonder why. Haha. I’m sure I’d learn how to drive one without smashing into everything on sight. Eventually.

Now it is pouring again and the chickens have gone silent. Probably hiding. Oh DR. I remember you and your rainstorms so well. Some things really do not change. I’ll never forget the sound of rain beating down on tin. Even though this particular house has a cement roof, there is still tin over the chickens out back, and it is their roof I am  hearing while the lluvia beats its raindrops down upon them. Wonder if I dare go up to the chicken farm again. The farmer was a really great guy. Very friendly. But it is outside of the town, up on the mountainside, and I am not allowed to stray beyond the boundaries of the town without a guide. When I was a volunteer I planned on doing so eventually, when I gathered groups of kids or teens to go with me, but that is out of the question now.  That future does not exist.

So, that’s how things are going so far. I’m sticking to the good like glue and making every effort to avoid the bad. I have a lingering suspicion that she is avoiding me too. It’s not like nobody could find me if they tried. Probably the whole town knows by now which house I am in, and she always had a knack for knowing what I was up to the moment I did it. Perhaps she disbanded the surveillance once I was “banished.” Either way, out of sight, out of mind, and I would much rather spend time with the people I once considered my dearest friends. So I am. J

Wolf of No Country

Lobolius

PS: Better yet, I found the number of my internet stick so I am posting this from the bedroom. Perfecto. :)

Reflections upon a Shaft of Sunlight

I took a walk this evening at the setting of the sun. As I neared the park, I saw it.

I saw the shaft of sunlight hitting the yellowing leaves and my heart leaped for joy and in that instant of beauty and perfection I knew...I knew I would not stay away forever. One day the goddess would beckon me and whisper, "Come home, my daughter, it is time for you to come home."

Yet my wings have been itching and my flights are set. I cannot stay here, not now, not with my wings beating furiously every time I think of travel, and my heart set upon seeing those I know and treasured as friends. Not when I yearned above all else in the universe to revisit the Place Which Was, and which can never be again.

So I asked a simple plea of the goddess in that moment of stillness and perfection.

I asked for one last chance. My wings were shot and crumpled with pain after the First Disaster and I crashed bleeding to the ground, wounded and dazed for a month, before I could rise and walk away. And now my wings have mended and are thrashing madly, desperate to fly once again, but I have been patient. I have waited.

Patience, after all, is one of the keystones of the Druid way. The year's wheel turns season by season, moontime by moontime, and we can only live within that circle, we cannot change it to go faster or slower at our whims. I will take advantage of the flocks of migrating birds, like the little prince did, and I will make my escape.

Even he went home again, for he missed his rose. And he took with him his sheep, and the words of a fox.

"It is only with the heart that one can see rightly. What is essential is invisible to the eye."

Hunting Schema

Hello Readers

Once again I am turning to you, as I did in the very first blog, from my home in Minnesota's Lake Country. Sometimes a dream gets deferred, forgotten, misplaced, vaguely remembered, and then, when tragedy strikes, it comes back to us clear and bright. And bit by bit, we find a way to make that dream come true.

This is a journey. My life is a journey. I am sitting quietly, peddling my written word as my wares, and preparing to take the greatest leap towards my oldest dream.

I remember when I was a kid, I knew I was going to be a writer. It was one of those things that we just *know* when we are little. Then I grew up, still thought, oh hey, I could be a writer, then gradually it became, well maybe, and then, I don't know, and then I was going to do this, or that, or anything else with my life, except I really did not know what I wanted to do with my life, so I was just going to go into the Peace Corps for a couple of years...maybe afterwards I'll have an idea...etc.

As you all know, Peace Corps did not last a couple of years. It lasted four months. Then I was forced to make up my mind, quickly, of what my next plan would be. A two year process ended up being solved in a couple of hours, and over the course of nearly two months, became a workable plan.

First step, which I am on now, is to earn money writing and selling written things to whatever will pay me for them. This has included transcriptions, articles, paid forum work, and Search Engine Optimization work. Nothing grand, but nothing too shabby either.

Step two, I am taking a vacation in the Dominican Republic. Just going to do it. Have fun. Enjoy what I should have enjoyed for two years in a few weeks. Do it with the freedom of a tourist and the friendships and connections of a Peace Corps volunteer. I figure after everything, I owe myself that much kindness. So I am taking the first, long-term, international vacation purely for fun in my life. No doubt that will produce plenty of blog material and I will resume my journals.

Step three is where I throw myself into the current of my fate and hope for the best. More specifically, I am moving to Puerto Rico. Details still TBD, but I may either select a pleasant looking town on the west coast of Puerto Rico I've had an eye on or a suburb of San Juan. There, I will find a job, an apartment, a vehicle, etc. I'll work to pay my bills during and write what I can and what pleases me by night and on weekends. I intend to do this as long as Puerto Rico pleases me. If it really pleases me I might not leave. If my writing work really takes off and I can support myself on it alone, I may consider other moves, but for now I am keeping my sights low and attainable. I haven't the heart for a second failure so soon after the first.

So, if all goes well, in two months I will be a Dominican Wolf again for a bit, and then a Puerto Rican wolf. Or should I give up the wolf act altogether and say I've become a chameleon?

Lobolius
The Minnesotan Wolf

Shifting Ground

Dear Readers

Yes, I am writing to you from this fabled platform once more. No, I am not in the dear Dominican Republic, a country which has quite brazenly stolen my heart and captured my dreams...as all those who read my facebook should know! I am in Minnesota, my travels on hiatus, and my brain spinning like tires in the mud, while my life struggles to find purchase and move forward.

I won't quit. One thing I've learned in life is that a person quits first in their mind, then in their behavior. I won't let my mind quit. I'm going abroad again as soon as I get the pieces in order. To decide anything else is, simply put, quitting.

I choose not to discuss here what happened to me, and that is a deliberate decision. It was dumb, it was thoughtless, it was cruel, it was a chain of mistakes which I couldn't see until they blew up in my face and sent me out of the country. Or maybe I saw them and chose to look away. Hindsight is 20/20, but the past is the very quagmire I am trying to escape from. See paragraph 1.

How do I plan on going abroad? Well, it dawned on me at the Miami airport that all I'd ever wanted was to write and travel, and I still have my hands, I still have my ambition to travel, and I still have as much writing skill as I have ever possessed, which only needs work to hone it into something money earning. Why not, I asked myself, just put the pieces together and patch a new life for myself out of what I have wanted most all along?

There was no reason not to. The funny thing about a dream being broken before your eyes is that if the despair doesn't break you, the anger makes you stronger. It is as if I can think clearly about what I need to do in order to achieve my dream of becoming a travel writer for the very first time. It's always been one of those dreams, floating at the back of my head, but I never was totally serious...oh wouldn't that be lovely, I thought.

Then came Los Patos. There were days there when I almost saw myself living there, writing, soaking in the sun, looking at the beautiful Caribbean sea. Then Los Patos was torn away from me, and I didn't know what to do. Two years of my life, pre-planned, worked towards, which I had been so eagerly embracing--GONE. Dead. Vanished. Stolen. Call it whatever word you like, that dream was no more.

So, as I picked up the pieces of that dream, nearly crying from the agony of my loss, I made up my mind. One, I was not going to let the loss overwhelm me. Two, I was not going to give up my dreams of travel, I would just have to rewrite them a bit. And three, I was going to throw myself headfirst into the current and become a travel writer. Even if first I have to do whatever form of work gets me paid. Ha. Not quite whatever, but I would sell my writing skills and keep food in the mouth and shelter over the head.

That's what I'm at right now. For the sake of the whole shelter and food thing, I am also planning on peddling my skills as an English teacher, possibly in Ecuador, but that is only a stepping stone on the broader road, which now I seek. It will be mine, if I have the courage to claim it.

Lobolius
Worldwide Wolf

Quotes of the End

Not like this is the end. This blog is about my journey, and even though my journey through the Peace Corps will end prematurely, it is not the end of my road. Like all adventures where one does not see the end, the ending came unexpectedly, but I still am more than I was when i went into this, and I will be more after my next one and so on and so forth.

Failures are made only by those who fail to dare, not by those who dare to fail.Lester B. Pearson

The Highest Ambition

To do something, however small, to make others happier and better, is the highest ambition, the most elevating hope, which can inspire a human being.
John Lubbock

When a person really desires something, all the universe conspires to help that person realize his dream.  Paulo Coelho

I bought the alchemist in Spanish yesterday. Of all the things I wished to take away, it was that book.

Do more than belong: participate. Do more than care: help. Do more than believe: practice. Do more than be fair: be kind. Do more than forgive: forget. Do more than dream: work. William Arthur Ward

And the day came when the risk to remain tight in a bud was more painful than the risk it took to blossom. Anais Nin

Don't wait until everything is just right. It will never be perfect. There will always be challenges, obstacles and less than perfect conditions. So what. Get started now. With each step you take, you will grow stronger and stronger, more and more skilled, more and more self-confident and more and more successful. Mark Victor Hansen

and most importantly

Courage is as often the outcome of despair as hope; in the one case we have nothing to lose, in the other, all to gain. Diane DePoiters

I will not despair, but I will admit, at this moment, I am at the edge of the known, the edge of my dreams, and I do not know what my next will be. I had not anticipated this, but sometimes the most difficult decisions are also the right ones, and I made the right decision. I shall not say more. I have said more, perhaps, than I should, because despair is a dark feeling, and I have battled it like Gandolf and the Balrog. It shall not pass. I shall continue with my story.

At this point, I will pause in my journey, recooperate, and emerge stronger and more determined than ever to do what I must do. I just don't know what that will be yet. Part of my heart will always linger in Los Patos, but the past is the past, the future is the future, and I will prevail.

Thank you to everyone for your support through this difficult time. 

Dominican Wolf

Questions, Camps, and Rocks--A Volunteer's Diagnostic Activities

Hello Readers

Miss me? I've been so busy I've practically missed myself. Today I have a meeting at 10:30 with some teenage girls who are going to help me run my questionnaire and map making projects this week. Very important work, because this is the sort of information on which projects are formed. I'll be sure to buy them cookies. The colmado store down the street is going to love me by the time I finish two years.

When it comes to my project all the people assigned to me as my project partners are very hands off, which means I have turned to my teenage host sister for help rounding up her classmates to aid me in my project, and when it comes down to it, maybe I don't mind so much. It gives me a chance to be independent and formulate my own project, even if it also means that the story of what they want me to do changes almost as soon as I finish speaking with one person and begin speaking with another. Still have to find a way to coordinate this better.

I may not get a literacy program this summer after all, but I have a green light to form a camp. A camp would be fun. I could do that for like a week or a few days or something and really gauge which kids would be most interested in some of the side activity projects Peace Corps has. And I'd have an excuse to get together and meet more families and parents, which can only be helpful in my long term work.

And I'll be hanging out in the library working with community members all summer for three days a week. I've mentioned to a few people interested in English classes that I would be willing to do a little bit of that, informally, during those days.

The diagnostic phase has been a lot of things, but I cannot call it boring, not now anyway. I get up, I get working, and then in the afternoon I walk and visit and play in the river and talk and visit and sit on the beach and talk and visit and then I come home and eat at my two houses and really have a great time. I've also found a new pastime while sitting on the beach. You dig a little hole in the rocks, and then you take a larger rock and you throw it into the hole to watch the smaller rocks go flying. Or you can build a pile of rocks and try to see how many big rocks you can stack on top of the rock pile before they slide off. Very popular games here.

Maybe there's some truth to the Peace Corps insistence that the diagnostic is the time when you make or break your feelings towards your site. Every day I feel a bit more connected to the people here, meet new folks, discuss my projects, and build up my future little by little. Give me until August, and I'll be as well-known and popular as the beloved previous volunteer, and I can steal his legacy.

Coincidentally, I also heard that he might be coming for a visit in August. haha.

Dominican Wolf

La Patosa

Hello Readers

Patosa: a woman from Los Patos.

Once more I find myself without power and a dying laptop battery. I've got 9% to type with before it goes so I will just type what I can and if I don't get it posted I'll post this when I have energy again. Haha.

What have I been doing? Oh, nothing much. Played some Dominoes yesterday and learned a bunch of names and houses and interconnections between people, because this community, like small towns the world over, has about five or six degrees of connection between every person. Classy, hm? And now I'm one of them. Even classier.

This afternoon I'll be meandering to the river to help out with some girl's clubs that the other volunteers are bringing to my site to play in the river. As always, should be quite entertaining.

It's been raining a lot. Especially at night. Last night there was tons of rain. And lightning and thunder and wind. I just hang out in the dark house, listening to people speak in rapid and blurred Spanish, and laugh when I barely understand them but am highly amused by their hand gestures, which accompany stories I can sort of understand but not really. Especially when those gestures are made by the light of flashlights and candles. Sometimes I wish I knew how to tell ghost stories in Spanish because that would be really appropriate.

I am also a product of vivere power now. Or so they tell me. Those are the very potent vegetables and plaintains and bananas which constitute the entirety of my diet. I also walk a lot every day, so all the nutrients are going to fuel muscles. I've got very muscular legs and arms. People like to comment on them. They tell me I am very skinny and in good shape because I walk a lot, and it amuses me because in training we were always told that we'd be told we're fat for a compliment, but I've only been called fat once. Usually I'm just told I have strong legs.

And I am also very tanned. The other day I had my arm on a counter near a friend of mine here, and her skin and mine were the same color. She is a paler skinned Dominican, but still, it was quite funny. She told me I was a Dominican now, not an American. I just laughed. Of course, my hair is yellower than ever, and will just keep getting bleached by the sun, but if it were black, I suppose I'd be a true Dominican beauty.

Instead, my blonde hair and nice muscular legs make me an attractive figure on the guaguas. The other day I took a trip up to Barahona and on the ride there and the ride back I had guys practically salivating for me. They were very nice about it, unlike guys in the capital, but I'm not blind. I know what it means when a young man stares desperately at a woman and tries to engage her in conversation. Especially when they start asking if I have a boyfriend. Or a husband. It's quite amusing.

Believe that's all I wanted to share with you guys. Cuidate. (take care)

Dominican Wolf

Mud on the Shoes

Dear Readers--

There is one high praise I will give for Dominicans--this is a culture of extreme cleanliness. The more you bathe the better. And that goes for Peace Corps volunteers too.

So, here's the story.

We'll begin yesterday, when I was visiting House 2. I have two houses because I live with one and sleep in that one and officially live in it, and I have House 2, where I am the adopted daughter of the Dona. In House 2 I spend a lot of time, eat some meals, and sit in a hammock.

As I said, this is a fastidious culture. So, I've become very conscious of whether or not I am clean or dirty, I clean my fingernails several times a day and am always checking my body for mud because it rains a lot and I often get muddy. I was sitting on the front stoop of House 2, when I noticed that my arm was dirty. The Dona was washing some clothes nearby and there was still water running from the hose into the ponchero, which is the large bucket used for washing clothes.

There were no clothes in the ponchero, and as I said, my arm was dirty, so I took the hose and washed my arm, and then I washed the other arm for good measure. I thought I was being covert but naturally, her keen Dona eyes spotted that I was trying to wash myself with a hose. I was then taken into the house, handed a towel and soap, and she told me it was okay, I could use their bathroom to wash up.

It ended up being a great experience. My first glance was for their bucket, but there wasn't one, so I looked up and they actually had a pipe sticking out of the wall! Running water! I took the soap I'd been given and scrubbed and scrubbed and let the running water hit all the parts that I just can't reach well with the bucket baths. I felt so gloriously clean. It was wonderful.

Fast forward to the evening. Have I mentioned that there's been a lot of rain and mud? Well, that means my tennis shoes have gone through a lot of rain and mud. I've also hiked up mountains, through beaches, and along dirt paths in them for three months. You can imagine the state those poor things were in.

Ah, this too is a problem! I've watched people scrub their shoes clean, and have admired the experience, but had never done it myself.

Yesterday, people started dropping hints. Sarah, your shoes are really dirty. Sarah, your shoes are really dirty. Sarah, your shoes are really dirty. I felt embarrassed. My shoes were dirty! Muddy! I was a horrid person because I let my shoes become dirty. There was only one solution.

"Yes, I know my shoes are dirty. I really do need to wash them. What do I do?" (ie: the helpless gringa defense. Save me Dominicans, for I know not what you do.)

Enter Grandma Dona of House 1. She just came back from Santiago last week and she is a marvel of Dona power. Since her arrival, clothes have reappeared from the dirty laundry, rice tastes delicious again, and things get clean.

Together, we scrubbed, bleached, washed and rinsed those tennis shoes until they were a brand spanking new white color. Then the shoe laces received the same treatment. Problem solved. I've seldom felt so proud of a pair of shoes in my life. Now they are hanging on the clothes line, and I can again be a proud human being with clean shoes.

Maybe these stories bored you. Too bad. I am in the Peace Corps and cultural exchanges is what I do.

Dominican Wolf

Missing my Site... =(

Dear Readers

Took a trip up to the capital today. Tomorrow I have to get my green card. This means I've spent a cheerful day passing the hours in the Peace Corps headquarters. Bought some ice cream and checked my mailbox--no letters. Sad day. But, happy day, visited with a bunch of volunteer friends from training!

Eventually I may swing up to Pantoja again, to visit my host family there, but I am giving it time. Sounds like the guy I dumped is feeling like shit and miserable, so he needs lots of time to forget me. I could feel bad about this but in a way I am just letting it slide. Time will heal him far more than I could at this point. Things happen. I've changed and my heart changed with me.

This is a mistake I regret, and one I will not make again. I know my facebook posts have been cryptic and a little schitzo, but really, things are very smooth going in the site with the guy. I'm just frustrated with myself because I know I need time, but there are moments when I am ready to start up with the one person right now, even if I shouldn't and even though I WILL NOT. So yeah. That's that. He is unbelievably patient, or unbelievably in love, or a little of both. He's willing to wait for me. In the meantime, I spent time with him as a friend. It makes me very happy, and I teach him English and he explains as much as I need explained in Spanish, multiple times if necessary, so all is well.

I've been in the capital not even half a day and I already miss my site. I miss the quiet, broken by the occasional roar of a motor.  I miss knowing people as I walk down the streets and calling salutations to the Doñas. I miss visiting the river and talking with the restaurant owners. I miss the roar of the waves crashing into the beach, over and over again, so loud I can even hear it during quiet moments at the house. I miss the wind which blows off the sea and the heavy greenery in the forests and the mountains. I think it is fair to say that even if I am holding back my heart from men, I am unreservedly giving it to the land around me. I can only think of one place in the world I love more, and that is my home in the pine forests of northern Minnesota.

At this rate, I hardly know how I will leave in two years. My friend has told me that when the last volunteer left, the entire town threw a party for him and he sobbed all night. I could believe it. I've never met him, nothing more than stories and a single photo from the volunteer magazine last spring, but he sounds like the sort of volunteer every volunteer dreams of being. He knew everyone, he built cool things, he had the total respect of an entire pueblo, and he gave his all to his work. I cannot even imagine what it will be like to build a life for myself over the course of two years, and then have to say goodbye.

For right now, I am constructing that life. There is no time to imagine deconstructing it. I'll be starting up week after next, when the school exams are finished. Need to get the Center up and clean, remove all the dead bugs and lizards and cobwebs and dust, and then start up the literacy program with the high school students. We'll be teaching kids who are about to repeat third grade. It's good work, and I am pleased to be doing something constructive. I feel once I begin working I can start to have a more steady grasp of my life in my site. And I have to run the diagnostic. That will be an activity all its own. I'll need to talk to my co-teachers about it. They can help, or know people who can help.

This is the Dominican Republic. There is always time, just as there is always space on a guagua, or more rice, or another mango. Sometimes I forget and become impatient, but in time, I may become less American and more Dominican about time. Who knows. That's for the future to know.

Dominican Wolf

Happy Corpus Christi

I actually had no idea there even was such a thing as Corpus Christi until very recently (as in this week) but it appears that today is Corpus Christi. It is a day without work here in the Dominican Republic, so rather than observe in the school and trek up to the main city in Barahona I'm sitting in the house, amusing myself with qualquier cosa and blogging.

For those who are also ignorant, let me share a bit of cultural knowledge. A long time ago, there was a nun who had a vision that there needed to be a day celebrating the Eucharist outside of Lent. She spent the rest of her life campaigning for that day, and after she died, the Pope issued a Bull saying that there should be a feast day of Corpus Christi. That's today. In Catholic countries the world over, today is a very special day. Including my new one.

So, anybody wondering what I've been up to lately?

I've done some pretty intense parent-engagement activities, conducted non-participant observation activities, am planning participant observation activities, and yesterday I learned more details about my primary assignment and ran follow up checks with other members of the committee.

All of which is a fancy way of saying I have climbed a mountain with a parent who was so flattered by the fact that I wanted to take pictures of his chicken farm that he took me up a mountain so I could take more pictures of the mountains and the sea, and have greeted way more people than I have names for (all of whom seem to have my name down pat) and sat in the school watching lessons, and have decided to take up a teacher's repeated offer that I teach his class for an hour, and yesterday I had a meeting with my boss from the Peace Corps and went down to the river later and chatted for a few minutes with a committee member who wasn't there.

Oh, and I've got keys to the library!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

So, about the assignment. I'll be working this summer on a bit of diagnostic activities, obviously, and also there is a group of girls in eighth grade who'll be aiding me in a tutoring program at the Centro. Yay! And doing other things in the Centro. Small, enjoyable activities, and cleaning it up a touch. There's going to be a clean-up day there with community people. It needs it. Poor place has been shut down since last July, nearly a year by the time anything happens there now.

There's going to be a lot of fundraising plans needed for things. For this, I may need to call in my business volunteer contacts. Hehe. And the community needs to feel more invested in the building. There are always possibilities. And my boss told the committee member showing us the Center how I'd reacted when she told me about the library. He was pleased. I thought it was funny how she remembered that too. It is certainly a moment in my life that I will never forget as long as I live. I wasn't exactly subtle and I wanted it so badly I did not wish to be subtle because I was afraid subtly would be lost. Hence the wide-eyed, desperate begging for the library project. Shameless.

Ah, there went the electricity. Dang. This is the price of paradise.
Dominican Wolf

Adventures of the First Week

Dear Readers

All this week I've made the quick trek up to the school for observations. It's been fun. For one thing, I can speak Teacher in Spanish, so I can actually hold conversations there at an intelligence level above that of a twelve year old obsessed with clouds. Despite that, I cannot understand Dominican Teacher Speak Speed, but at least in the afternoon classes, everyone is very understanding. Yesterday I burst out laughing because over the course of a conversation the only words I had really comprehended were Blood, Leg, and Parasite. They were spaced out enough that they were probably unrelated but taken together they were pretty funny.

Then, of course, everyone is like, what's so funny? And I actually told them so they could laugh too.

And everything I've been told about No Dancing, Be a Nun is complete BS. I've been ordered to get up and dance at the school to prove that I really do know how to dance bachata. Not like in front of crowds or anything but the teacher attitude towards being in the classroom is much more lax here, so frequently my observations entail sitting in a chair, on the sidewalk (sientate! My most common command, it means Sit!) and chatting with teachers, or listening to teachers chat. The other day I was there, and was asked if I really knew bachata, and one of the teachers who had already forced me to prove my bachata dancing prowess said yes, I did, so some music was put over a phone and yep, I got up and danced.

I just tell everyone it is because I am a Dominicana now, not an Americana. People seem to think that is very funny. I survive by laughter. If not for my ability to create humor with my crazy situation and lack of Spanish prowess, I think I'd be miserable. Peace Corps is not easy, not by any means. Day after day of constantly speaking and listening in a language I barely have a handle on, the high expectations the community has of me, (contrasted with my lack of Spanish!!!!) and too many guys surrounding me like lovestruck puppies.

Speaking of lovestruck puppies, I also have a real lovestruck puppy. The family dog follows me to the beach and the river every day now. He won't let me out of his sight. I feel kind of awkward about this because he is not my dog, but everyone asks me if he is. I just enjoy having some company when I take my walks that does not try to speak to me in Spanish.

The other high entertainment I've been experiencing is with my guitarita. That tiny little guitar has won me some friends, and possibly another love-struck male. People are trying to teach me how to sing 24 horas, which is a very romantic and beautiful song by Frank Reyes. That also is cute. Instead I just start singing in English and nobody knows what I am singing about. It is fun, especially when I am feeling frustrated by things I cannot describe in Spanish so I start singing about them in English and people only know to compliment me on my singing, without having the slightest clue what I am really talking about. The best was when I was singing about how I hated bucket showers and my host mom said it was a beautiful song.

What else? Well, what if I were to tell you that I am often given commands like a dog? There is the ever present command, SIT! and then there is Come! And then there is Bath!

And it might amuse people to know that I have been presented to the mayor. It was an odd experience. I told him who I was, what I was doing, then I was given the third degree on how powerful he was and how great he was, and then he told me welcome to Los Patos and I said thank you several times and bolted. With dignity, but I bolted. I can see why people might not like him much.

I think that about covers it. I've now had a full week free of those crazy tigueres and their crazed cat-calls. The only time I am ever bothered is by tourists from other parts of the country and I am learning to recognize them on sight.

Dominican Wolf

Update

Hello Readers

Going to type this fairly quickly because the electricity is out, again, and my computer doesn't have a whole lot of battery power left. Just wanted to update everyone on a few interesting things.

Interesting thing one: the speed of gossip in the Dominican Republic is very impressive. No doubt it is this way in small towns the world over, but this is my first time living in one and experiencing it. This is how I can come back from the river, the day after I explain to my Dona that I have feelings for a guy, and suddenly my project partners are giving me fist pumps because I have a Dominican boyfriend. I never even used the word boyfriend, in fact I carefully avoided the word novio because it is very strong here, but that's how the story is going around the town.

Interesting thing two: I think I've lost my phobia of eating fish with the eyes still attached, or else I was just very hungry this afternoon. I was certainly hungry, and I was tearing into this extremely bony fish that barely had any meat, and got quite excited when I saw a hint of flesh I could eat. I dug and tore at it with my fork and finally exposed this succulent morsal---and it was an eyeball. All I felt was a vague disappointment. I really wanted more fish meat. Maybe one day I will eat an eyeball but that day is not today. Eventually I found the other eye. They were both stuck to the skull.

Interesting thing three: Schools. Ai Ai Ai. There's some very interesting teaching practices here, or maybe I should say there are some very interesting non-teaching practices here. Not to complain, but I will just say that at one point today I ended up leading a class in a bunch of clapping exercises because I was afraid if nobody intervened there might be some eyeballs on the floor.

 Interesting thing four: Come visit me. My site is beautiful and there is so much to see and do. But wait until after I finish my first three months. Then I will have a charming little house of my own.

Dominican Wolf

Hasta la Mañana: A few scenarios

Greetings and Waits.

Greeting: Today I hung out in the lounge with my fellow volunteers at the Santo Domingo office. Pretty darn cozy. It was so welcoming to be there and *know* that at long, long, long, long last, I am a volunteer. I feel there are more differences between the day of being a volunteer and not a volunteer, than there was of having my birthday. Normal enough, I guess.

Greeting: Everyone has told me that my site (described below) is incredibly popular among the volunteers. Today, I learned that that is very true. Many times, my name and site introduction was followed by some sort of wow, cool, hey, I like that place, I've been there. Hehe.

As a side not, apparently I've been bragging. But can I help it? I mean, I'm not trying to brag. Here's a sample of how I have been bragging.

Person says. "Yeah, I'm not getting very much cell service. I have to go to a certain tree."

I say, "Yeah, I was having the same problem. So I had to go to the beach because my signal was better there."

Everyone in earshot: "Stop talking right there."

Me: "What? It's true."

"Just stop."

Me: Sigh. *shuts up*

Greeting: Met a fellow Vermillionite! It was quite the coincidence. I happened to be wearing one of my old USD shirts, because it was the most comfortable shirt that I still had clean in my closet of the few I'd left in Pantoja.

Vermillionite: You are from South Dakota?
Me: No, but I went to school there.
Vermillionite: Oh my gosh, I am from Vermillion!
Me: No way!

Turns out we know a lot of the same locals. Which is cool. The Vermillionite had even studied International Studies there for a year.

Now for the waiting.

Waiting: Come the morning, or sometime tomorrow, I bid adieu to Santo Domingo. And I give a fond hello to my new home, that lovely land with prime cell phone reception on the beach.

Waiting: Until I can look out along the beach road down the south, gaze upon the turquoise sea, see the curvy mountains nearly reaching the water, and thank whatever twist of fate gave me this place to live for two years.

Waiting: For the next three months, when I get to know that community much better. For the time after, when I know who, what, when I'll be working with. Some things are clear, others are not.

What matters, then, is the now.Tonight, I'm in a hotel in Santo Domingo. It is what I call the lap of luxury: wifi, shower, and a television we are listening to in English.


Dominican Wolf