Clases y Dia de la Virgen de la Altagracia

Well hola a todos! Greetings from my third week in the DR!
Today's post I'm gonna dedicate to my experience in school. I am currently attending the Pontificia Universidad Catolica Madre y Maestra (that's a mouthful ain't it?). It's the first private, Catholic, and coeducational university in the DR. All that sounds really important doesn't and official, doesn't it? It's private, which means the tuition is expensive, which here in the Rep. Dom. means around $3000/year. Ha!  A likely tale...thought a bit about sticking around for the next year, but then I realized that Romance Languages probably doesn't exist here. Damn shame! Wouldn't mind not having more student loans to worry about...
I'm taking five classes, one of which is Caribbean dance. Yes, I am actually taking a dance class and learning how to dance if you can believe it. Right now we are learning bachata, and my profe is this short 50-year-old man who's got MAD SKILLS. My favorite class was probably last week when I had to be in front of the class in a group of four to dance the whole routine, with the security guards leaning in the windows, watching and pointing. Just kidding...that wasn't my favorite class. But I'm learning something either way :) There are three guys in my class and probably twelve or thirteen girls...lucky dudes! We have to take turns dancing with them, and now I'm a firm believer in the saying that white people can't dance. For real, though. But the good news is I've been able to use my skills in class to actually go out and dance with real people in real dancing clubs! I've got merengue down pretty well, still workin on the bachata. Dominicans are all about merengue and bachata, so I gotta learn. I've seen a little salsa too, but let's be real...I'm not on that level yet.
Apart from my dance class, I also take Culture and Society of the Hispanic Caribbean, Dominican Reality, Dominican Literature, and English as a Second Language (which is a teacher training course). So basically I'm learning all about the DR and randomly taking an English class. I've really enjoyed my Culture and Society class. We talk a lot about what it means to be Caribbean, and since I'm the only American and I'm from the cornfields of the Midwest where islands and oceans don't exist, I don't have a whole lot to add to the conversation. Today the profe happened to ask what was going on in the world in 1916, and I said, "LA PRIMERA GUERRA MUNDIAL!!!" (WWI). I was so happy to know an answer to a question that I nearly fell out of my chair answering it. I think I may have gotten some strange looks, but that's ok. Got my participation point! The teacher almost patted me on the back, saying "very good, Anna...". Felt like a happy third grader who just dominated her solo on the recorder in music class. Since there are only 5 people in the class (myself included), we are each placed in a group of...one. Shocking, I know. We each had to answer a question in the form of a presentation, and mine was "What does the Caribbean mean for foreigners?" Well, I thought about people's reactions back home when I said I would be living in the DR for four months. "Wow...a four month vacation!" "Life is gonna be so hard on the beach, isn't it?" "Is there internet down there?" "They speak French, right?" Needless to say, I feel like many Americans don't really know a lot about the Dominican Republic, despite the fact that there are over a million Dominicans living in the US and it's only a two hour flight from Miami. Not that it frustrates me or surprises me in the slightest. So for my presentation I presented two foreign viewpoints of what the Caribbean means. I first talked about the vacation aspect, the white sand beaches, the ocean, the beautiful weather and palm trees. When we think about the Caribbean, of course this is the first image that comes to mind. Cruises, vacations, resorts. But the reality of the situation is that this is not the reality that I'm living, nor is it the reality of the majority of Dominican people. Dominicans work, Dominicans study, Dominicans go out just like we do. Most have a life that has nothing to do with the beach or tourists. And this is the reality that I've been trying to capture while being here. The other lado I presented in my presentation was that of mission work and poverty. I know many Americans who have come to the DR to do mission work and work with poor kids and in clinics and orphanages. While I think this is good work and I certainly think it's useful and thoughtful, I feel as though it also provides an image of the DR and the Caribbean that isn't entirely accurate. Of course there is poverty, of course there is starvation. But not everyone in the Caribbean lives like that. I think that's another image that Americans have of the Caribbean, that the citizens are all dirt poor and have nothing but the tourists and mission workers to come help them and boost their economy. I told this to my class, and they agreed with me in that the reality of most Dominican people is something somewhere in between the beaches and the slums. I think my classmates appreciated my honesty in what Americans truly think about this country and region, and what I once thought as well. Well, needless to say my mind has changed a lot over the course of only three weeks. I think it has to do with the fact that my stay, while temporary, requires me to get out of my comfort zone and to try to blend into society (I say try because it's hard to do with my blond hair and blue eyes ;)), which is something that I think tourists and mission workers don't have to necessarily do, per say. Not to say that my experience is any better or more meaningful, but I think it presents a side of the story that most people don't get from being here for other purposes.
Well, ignoring my little rant back there, I do have a funny story to tell that has nothing to do with class or my university! So the other day my host mom asks me to go out and buy her some ripe plantains at the corner store. So I say sure and she gives me the money to go buy them. I go and ask the store lady whose name I still have trouble pronouncing for some ripe plantains. Dominican names are weird, by the way. Sometimes I really wonder where they came from, because a lot of them sure aren't Spanish. There are some funny Youtube videos about the origin of Dominican names. Anyway, so then she shows me where the bananas are, and they looked quite small to me. And of course, the delivery boy named Santos with the angel eyes starts picking them out for me, smiling the whole time. Literally, I could have walked away with ripe anything and not been paying attention. So I pay for them and go home to a laughing host mami. "Anna, you brought me guineos, not platanos!" Apparently, I had brought home bananas instead of plantains. I'm from Iowa, it's not like I know the difference! So then she had to call and ask Angel Eyes to deliver her the right kind because the gringa doesn't know the difference between the two. Embarrassing much? Nah...
I have to say, Monday was probably the most interesting and weird day of my stay in the DR. It was a holiday to celebrate el Dia de la Virgen de la Altagracia, one of the many Catholic Dominican holidays. My host mom told us that we were going to go to the campo, so I was pretty excited because I love to go to the campo. We first went to the house of my abuelos paternos, who had come from Spain and started a coffee plantation. They had huge tracks of land and a beautiful house, and when my papi was a kid they had over 300 workers working on the harvest of the beans. I got to see where they roasted and did all of the manufacturing, which now is an old barn but I there is still machinery from the old times. The old plantation is no longer in use because the damn Taiwanese people took over the market. Not sure how that happened exactly but I guess it did. Then we went to a funeral of a brother of my host mom's sister-in-law (I think.) It was quite sad, and it wasn't exactly the time or place to meet people and make friends. Katie and I felt like it wasn't exactly our place to be there, since we didn't know this man or anyone else at the funeral for that matter. I wasn't aware that we were going to the funeral, so of course that day I decided to wear my one bright orange shirt. Classic Anna. Stood out like a sore thumb. After sleeping in the car for a bit, we went to the house of my host mom's aunt. And this is where it got...interesting. Katie and I were sitting outside, awkward as ever, when from inside all the women of the family began to chant this song, in voices that I didn't know were possible or could sound so...undesirable. It sounded kind of like a chorus of roosters, and they started repeating the same song over and over. My host brother smiled at me because he saw that I was trying to refrain from laughing. I asked him if we should go inside, and he gave me the look of death and said, "NOOOO!" I think that was the moment when I burst out laughing. Then our tio came over to us and said, let's get out of here. I have never been more grateful in my entire life. He took us to the river where the young people were, and we had some fried fish. He was very impressed by the fact that I knew how to milk a cow, as he had cows in the campo. It was a nice opportunity to bond with new family members. He proceeded to make fun of the singing women, and I immediately felt more comfortable. On our way back, he started listening to rap music on the radio and dancing. Funny guy...was so grateful to him for saving us from the Altagracia. It was an experience, though.
Gotta go to my ESL class but next time I'll write more! Enjoy!
Anna

Excursiones

Today I seem to have most of the afternoon free, and since the weather’s not looking too great (I know…that’s shocking) I figured that I would take some time to write in my Blog.

As always, things are going well. I’m healthy, eating like a sow, studying a little, and tanning a lot! So far, our ISA group has had two excursions. The first excursion was to Santo Domingo, which is the capital city of the DR, and the second was to Puerto Plata, a big tourist destination on the coast with some pretty beautiful beaches. That was pretty painful to endure, obviously. J Santo Domingo was pretty amazing…I have some photos on Facebook but they don’t really do justice to how cool everything was. The Dominican Republic was the first European colony in the Americas, so we’re thinking over 500 years ago. Which is quite a while, and there are buildings in the city that were built that long ago and are still standing. I’ve probably never seen buildings that are more than 300 years old, so this was pretty exciting for me. Especially the church! Every time I visit a different city, I’m always sure to go to the Catholic cathedral because they are always beautiful. This one was pretty amazing. To think, the first Catholic cathedral in the Americas! Well, I know that probably doesn’t fascinate some of you as much as it does me, but if you think about the strong presence that Catholicism has in Latin America, this is where it all started. There were a lot of gringos there takin pictures of the painted ceiling, and I saw a lot of women wearing pink and red cloth skirts and shirts, and I was wondering what that was all about. Then I realized that it was because outside of the church, there is a security person checking everyone to make sure they are properly clothed so as to be respectful to the church. Well, a lot of women who come here don’t realize that it’s a long pants culture and women don’t wear shorts unless they want to get looked at. So they had a little stand to give cloth to the women to cover up their bare legs and shoulders. For us Americans this is really bizarre but hey. If you’re here you gotta comply with the rules!

This weekend was pretty great. On Friday we had an excursion to Puerto Plata (AKA Gringolandia). We took a teleferico (a cable car) to the top of the mountain, which is the only cable car in the whole country. At first, I have to admit that I was skeptical. I don’t like heights, and I certainly don’t like going in a little box held by a cord with 20 other people up the side of a mountain. But I was brave and it really wasn’t that bad. I was sure to take a lot of selfies to prove that I actually had the guts to go on it. There were about fifteen of us students, a couple Dominican guys and a poor woman in that little car together. The poor senora did not like the cable car at all…I think she shared my fear of heights. I’m not sure why she went, because she was sitting down with her head cupped in her hands and was all by herself. The fact that we were all there shouting and laughing and taking pictures probably didn’t help ease her pain. But once we got to the top, we could all see that it was worth it. It was the most beautiful sight I have ever laid eyes on (apart from the baseball field). Once again, if you have me on FB, you’ll see pictures of it. After the teleferico, we went to the rum factory, which made me want to buy bottles of rum for all my male friends and family members. Brugal rum company is the world’s third largest producer of rum, after Bacardi in Puerto Rico and Captain Morgan in Jamaica. We got to see a really old distiller brought over from Spain on the first ships to reach the Caribbean. I didn’t know that rum was made from sugar cane, but seeing that it’s produced mostly in the Caribbean, that sure makes a lot of sense. When we went inside the factory, we weren’t allowed to take pictures. I don’t know what I was really expecting to see but it was quite funny what was inside. We go in and of course there was large metal machinery operated by a bunch of Dominican men. I think they must have been on break or something, because as we were touring they just sat there, in a row, staring and smiling at us girls as the bottles of rum flowed from one end of the factory to the other. “Pleass…yo numbah?” I think not, strange man. Nothing like a stolen bottle of rum fresh from the assembly line to lure gringas.

            On Saturday, my friends and I had quite the experience. It was the birthday of one of our friends, so we decided to go out to a club. I have never been to a club in my life, and probably would have gone the rest of my life without having gone to one. At DePauw, we have fraternities for that sort of thing. My roommate and I got all dressed up to go out and you won’t believe it but…I painted my nails. Green! The things this country is doing to me! But I was kinda proud because they matched my dress. That wasn’t an accident. So off we went in a taxi to the mall where the club was. We were told that it was on the fourth floor, so up we went on the elevator. And the fourth floor was a parking garage. We went back in the elevator and were about to go back down when one of us saw a door with lights in the parking garage. Upon checking it out, we discovered that it was in fact the club. Sketchy? Nah J So in we went. It was unlike any other place I had ever been. It was fancy, cold, and there were strobe lights and mist. There was mist. And all sorts of American techno that really wasn’t my style, but we went with it. The other girls got fancy drinks like pina coladas and sex on the beaches. Well, my last name is Butz so beer is always going to be my drink of choice. And it was that night as well. We had a good time, danced some, met some people, that sort of thing. Got home at 3 and went to church the next morning. Such little saints we are! Yesterday after church Katie and I went with our host brother to go play some basketball (because that’s his favorite sport). I may not be good at basketball but I’m always down to play a game of horse or lo que sea. We went to the cancha to play and Katie asked me how to say the game “horse” in Spanish. I didn’t know how to say it, so we started saying “caballo” (which is the Spanish word for horse). Poor Moises had no idea what we were talking about, and at first it was a struggle. Katie started to explain to him how the game worked, and he said, “Oh! Horse!” Guess we could have said that before. So we started playing and we all did really terribly. A pitiful game of horse that my family would be ashamed of! But once we started playing one on one (or rather two on one) Moises started beating us to a pulp. Man, can that kid play! I suddenly felt like an old woman trying to compete in the Olympics. Once my hip started to hurt, I started to give up. Didn’t do too badly, but I’m glad no one else was around to see the beating.

More to come! Next one’s gonna be about school. Oh joy J

La Primera Semana

Well, here I find myself a whole week and some in the Dominican Republic! Once again, I have so much to talk about and so little space to explain everything. But I will sure do my best. I think I’d like to talk a bit about the culture…not so much the things I have done but little differences that make this place incredible and make me feel right at home (even though it’s only two hours from Miami) J

The Dominican Republic is an amazing place. I live here in Santiago, which is the second largest city of the country. I don’t live particularly on any beaches, but I feel like I’m getting to know the way things work, little by little. Every day brings a new challenge and I am doing my best to take advantage of every situation that I can, because believe it or not, four months is not a whole lot of time. My host family, as I mentioned in my last blog, is one of the best parts. My mami is a wonderful cook, and I serve as a human vacuum cleaner to her food. Dominican food is very organic but can also be very fried. Personally, I could eat fried food all day every day if it didn’t make me fat! Mac and Cheese bites are probably one of my favorite of God’s creations. Here, lunch is the main meal of the day, so my roommate and I come home from school with plates full of deliciousness steaming in front of us. The most common meal is called the “bandera” (the flag). This consists of meat, beans, and rice of whichever variety. There is always white rice and beans accompanied with some sort of meat for lunchtime. One thing I found really interesting was that in the US, we typically don’t eat the burny parts of the rice from the edge of the pot. So one day during lunch we had rice and I was arbitrarily scraping the burned parts from the edges of the metal pot when my host mami shouts: “OH LEAVE IT, I LOVE THAT PART!” and starts eating the burned rice. Apparently it’s her favorite part of the dish. Then she asked me if I wanted to try the burned delicacy, and I said sure, why not? You know what it tasted like?! Burned rice. We also drink fresh fruit juice every morning. When someone from the US imagines going to the DR and having breakfast in a resort, they probably imagine drinking the stuff I’m drinkin’ on a daily basis. My host mami makes fresh juice for us, usually of pineapple, passion fruit, or papaya. I could drink gallons of this juice. I remember thinking at first that it seemed like such a waste to use all those beautiful tropical fruits just to make juice. But then I remembered…when you have something in excess you can do whatever you want with it. In Iowa my dog eats cow ears. In the DR, people make fruit juice. Simple.

My host brother and I get along pretty well these days. He’s a good kid and I like him a lot. Sometimes I feel bad for him because he’s that one member of the family that always has to do favors and get the phone or answer the door. It seems like every minute I hear his name being called: “Moiseeeees! Come eat! Moiseeeeees, can you bring me that thing from the kitchen? Moises, bring this food to the neighbors!” The kid is constantly running errands. He tells me that he likes to play basketball, but judging from the amount of time he has to run back and forth, I think he gets enough exercise already. Speaking of exercise, last night my roommate and I wanted to take a walk around the block after dinner to digest a little bit. So I told my host mom, “Mami, vamos a caminar. Quiere ir con nosotras?” She said that of course she wanted to go, so after dinner I put on a pair of sandals. She looked me up and down and said, “You’re gonna walk wearing that?” (jeans and sandals). I said, yeah I’m used to it and it’s pretty comfortable. So off we went. And let me tell you, when she said we were gonna walk, she wasn’t kidding. We walked, all right. Powerwalked for forty-five minutes to parts of the neighborhood I didn’t even know I could reach in such a short time. I pretended not to pant or sweat or suffer as I struggled along behind my mami, who was so determined. There she was, walking a mile a minute and talking the whole way as I saw my life flash before my eyes. She sure showed me up, and she’s almost forty years older than me. Now I remember why I need to exercise. I think I’ll end up losing weight while I’m down here…

Ok now comes the nitty-gritty of being down here, which is something that one just really has to get used to, which are the Dominican men. Ladies, un consejo. My hair is blond, my eyes are blue, and my skin is pale. No matter how much I leave my hair curly (which it has been…the Irishness is on full swing down here!), wear long pants and hoop earrings like the Dominican girls, I look like a gringa and I’m always gonna look like a gringa. This tends to call a lot of unwanted attention. Just an example, a usual day of walking to class (which is about a ten minute walk), I not only get stared at by everyone, but I’m sure to get at least five comments. It’s funny because I think in the US I’m probably about as normal-looking as it comes. Not here, oh no no. I’ve heard all kinds of stuff, from “Gringa, I luh you!” to “Rubia, ven aqui!” to “Ayy shorty!” (had to laugh at that last one…couldn’t help it). It’s completely normal and it doesn’t mean that it’s unsafe to be in places where men make comments. I would probably be more worried if they were staring at me in silence. The best thing to do is to ignore them and keep walking, which I have been doing successfully. I experienced some of this in Chile and El Salvador, but never so much as I have here. It happens every time I walk out in public, and it’s nothing good or bad, it’s just different and something that I’m getting used to. Luckily, I’m not a stupid person. I have a certain instinct that never allows me to trust strangers. This probably stems from my experience of being mugged, but it’s certainly useful. I lock my car everywhere I go. I only buy purses that have long straps and I never ask anyone I don’t know to take a picture of me. You might think me insensitive, but I just call it some good common sense. So I have a good idea of when to worry and when not to worry. Most of the time, I don’t worry, but when I do the best thing to do is walk confidently, pretend like I know where I’m going, not take out my cell phone and keep my purse held tightly to myself. Everywhere can be dangerous, but I would say that in the Dominican Republic it’s more out in the open and everyone knows to ignore men in the street. My program directors told us that acknowledging them or smiling at them could mean that you consent to have relations with them, so I REALLY try to avoid eye contact! None of that!

Another thing that is really different about the DR is the traffic. I heard from some people that it was bad, but it’s one of those things you have to see to believe. There are traffic laws, of course, but they are not followed in any way, shape or form. I’m sure glad I don’t have to drive while I’m down here because I don’t know driving like that. It’s not so much that it’s fast, but more that it’s disorganized. Cars go between other cars, stop signs don’t matter, there is no right of way, and people honk to let you know they’re comin. It’s a really incredible thing. My first ride freaked me out, and for a brief moment I considered what color I would want the flowers to be at my funeral. But you just learn to get used to it. There is constant honking of horns, screeching of tires, and cars dipping in and out of traffic and parking on sidewalks (of which there are few!). But you just have to trust in the driver that he knows how to drive because that’s the way everyone drives here. I’m not scared anymore of going in cars. What scares me more than going in the cars is crossing the street. The whole “pedestrians have the right of way” thing does not exist here. I remember when I went to El Salvador and our leader told us that whatever is biggest goes first. I think it’s safe to say that it’s the same in the DR. I live near a really busy avenue, a lot like First Ave in Cedar Rapids. Luckily, I don’t have to cross the street to go to school. I try to avoid crossing the street because I know that unlike in the US, no car is gonna stop for me and I don’t really want to get hit by a car at this point in my life.

Apart from that, I don’t feel unsafe. One of my favorite parts about Santiago is the conchos. There really isn’t a good mode of public transportation in the city. There are some buses (guaguas), but they go to places outside of Santiago, like the surrounding towns and cities. The conchos are what people take to get to different parts of the city. These are cars with a direct route, which are numbered K through M. The M line is the one I take to get to the centro from the University or from my house. These aren’t nice cars, either. But they do their job and they get you to where you need to go. You pay 20 pesos (less than 50 cents) to the driver, and he will take you wherever you want to go on his route. These cars can fit up to seven people, two in front with the driver and four in back if at all possible. With that many people in a sedan, you really become close and personal with those around you. It’s an experience, all right, and my housemate and I were really proud of ourselves when we went in concho by ourselves because we didn’t exactly know where we were going. But we made it and we went to the centro and we returned home without a problem. Also, knowing that every concho charges the same price makes it easier for us gringas because we know they aren’t trying to rip us off J

But I have to say, despite all the craziness, I love it here. And the best part is the people. Dominicans are extremely friendly and hospitable, and even in our house we have family visitors nearly every day. It’s a great way to meet more people and to understand the importance of family in this little corner of the world. Plus, there are some really cute tiny grandchildren! Here, people don’t seem so stressed out and nothing is more important than passing time with family and chatting and sharing a meal together. It’s something that I find to be extremely relaxing and that gives me a peace of mind. Schedules, meetings, all that I’m leavin’ behind, and I’m gonna do my best to enjoy every single moment I can with these great people in this awesome country.

La llegada y mi familia

Wow…it’s only been three days and already I have way too much stuff to talk about. But let me begin by saying that I’M ALIVE AND WELL and am more than happy to be here in the DR. Had you all worried there for a second, didn’t I?

First of all, my flight was quite interesting. Despite all my successful airport ventures in the past, this time I somehow managed to forget two very important things. First, I forgot my leather jacket. If you know me well, you have probably seen me in this beast and know that it’s my pride and joy, made of only the finest dead Argentine cow. Well, I forgot that. So my mom took me back to go find it, then dropped me off at the airport and guess what else I forgot? None other than my wallet containing my ID, credit cards, money, international insurance, you name it. Not really important at all, but I felt like I should have it, you know, just in case I might need to board the plane or be able to pay for medical bills after getting cholera in the Caribbean. After no response to my telephone calls, I began to panic and forced one of my friends to search the house for me. This went on for a good fifteen to twenty minutes as I stood looking like a major security threat in the doorway of the Eastern Iowa Airport, whispering into my phone, “It’s gotta be somewhere in my purse! Did you look in the hidden place in the dresser that’s in my closet???” Definitely saw the American Airlines lady eying me a little bit. No worries…I’m not a smuggler J

So finally they were able to find my wallet and I got checked on through. I hadn’t eaten much that morning, or the day before, or the day before that. Not sure if my ill stomach was an effect of New Year’s Eve or pre-DR nerves. Either way, I was sick and felt really awful, but I made it through all my flights all right. Almost missed the one from Chicago to Miami, but I barely caught it and soon enough I was on a plane to Santiago, Dominican Republic. Another funny thing to mention is that somehow my plane tickets ended up being first class. I’m not entirely sure how this happened, but it did. And man did I enjoy it! I felt like such an outsider…the first thing the stewardess offered me was a hot moist towel. On a silver tray, of course. I sat there thinking, what in the hell am I supposed to do with a wet towel right now? Clean my ears? And then I looked around and saw people wiping off their hands and face with the towel. I guess it’s important to refresh before a two-hour plane flight. So I casually began to wipe my hands like I knew what I was doing and placed it back on the silver tray. First class flying, if you’ve never done it, is quite the experience. So I discovered three days ago, at least. I was offered all kinds of things, such as a china bowl of mixed nuts. For a split second (and I mean a split second) I wondered if I was supposed to do something special with the nuts, like throw them in the air to give me good luck. Nope. I ate them all, and they were delicious. I was served a three-course dinner on a real plate with real silverware. And was offered WHITE WINE with my meal. I was pretty happy with myself about that because it may have been the first time anyone has just assumed that I’m 21. Man did I feel important. Only thing that was missing was a cigar and brandy and a built-in fireplace on the airplane made for high-end people to talk about economics and fine wines. At this rate, I’m sure they’ll find a way somehow.

Toward the end of the flight to Santiago, it had turned dark outside and I could only see a few lights of the Dominican Republic. And I thought, wow. There sure isn’t a lot here, is there? And then…I saw it. A beautiful sight built for an Iowan. A gigantic ball park as big as Wrigley Field, all lit up in the night with fine Dominican men playing professional baseball. At that instant I felt immensely happy. Baseball is something that I have always grown up with. Even though I was never very good at it (or any sport that I attempted and failed, for that matter), I grew up playing catch, doing softball, watching my brothers play, going to the occasional Cedar Rapids Kernels game. It’s part of our way of life. To see a big baseball diamond in the middle of a country I had never been to was a huge comfort. I suppose another reason why I liked seeing the ball diamond so much was that all of the other Latin American countries I’ve visited are all big soccer countries, as is much of the rest of the world. I like soccer enough, but it was never a big part of my childhood and the US doesn’t take a big part in it like some other sports. Futbol futbol futbol. But here, things are different. There are ball diamonds everywhere and it’s a sport that everyone likes to play, an all-around topic of conversation. So even from the airplane, I knew I had come to the right place.

Upon arriving I was introduced to Jonathon (yon-a-ton), one of the coordinators of the program. He was very nice and pleasant and seems to know a professor at every university in the United States. Talked a bit about Decorah and Luther and how there was a Dominican professor there. We got along right away and now he teases me and calls me Butz (boots), as do many people. I got on the bus with the other students, three of which were from the same university back home! Small world, eh? I was dropped off at my new home in a part of Santiago called the Reparto Universitario, which is very close to my university PUCMM and is a very nice middle-class neighborhood. My host mom, Lourdes, came out straight away to give me a hug and to welcome me to her home. The house is awesome, and I have a room all to myself with two full-sized beds. And yes, there are palm trees in my backyard. And yes, I drink real passion fruit juice for breakfast in the morning. My host mami Lourdes is a homemaker and cooks very good food. She is extremely hospitable and has been working for the program for some eight years or so, so she has a lot of experience with exotic and pale blond girls like me J Every day she makes food for us and has visitors over in the evening time. My host father is a lovely man, and a very hard worker who likes to make jokes (kinda like my own dad.) He works in agriculture, and although I have yet to find out what he does exactly, he told me that he spent some time in Wisconsin, so we got to talking straight away about farming and the Midwest. Nothing like talking about crops to make people bond! I also have a host brother Moiseis who is fifteen. He’s like a lot of fifteen-year old boys. He’s a bit shy and spends time in his room, but every time I see him I make sure to joke around with him so that he feels comfortable having me around his house. I totally get it…if I had foreign boys living with me at the age of fifteen I probably would have acted the same way. Today he ate with us for the first time since I arrived, and I think little by little we are getting there. Having three brothers myself, I know a little bit about teenage boys. I think we’ll end up being good friends, and one of these days I’m gonna have to pop the big question: “Wanna play some ball?” Can’t wait!

Finally, I have a bit of a sister. I share the family with another girl from the program named Katie, who is from South Carolina. I honestly could not have asked for a better person to house with. Katie is what I would call DePauwsome, and we already get along really well and have a lot in common. It’s so nice to have someone else to share the experience with, and I don’t feel so solita with her in the house with me. She is an only child who goes to Clemson University, and this is her first visit to Latin America, so I’m really happy to share the semester with her. We do a lot together and talk about anything and everything. The best part about our relationship is that we made a rule not to speak English to each other, and we have barely broken it. We are speakin’ Spanish 24/7, and it’s absolutely fantastic. Every day I’m learning more and more about other people in this language, and it’s a completely different way of getting to know someone. She has been kind enough to lend me her computer when my Dell fails to comply with my demands, and it’s because of her that I’ve been able to communicate at all, so I’m grateful. All in all, my host family is all I could ask for and I’m very happy that I’m living here with all of them.

One would think that the hardest thing about this semester would be transitioning from English to Spanish. To be honest, for me this isn’t the hardest thing. I went a whole year speaking Spanish in high school, and it’s all coming back to me now and gets easier every day. The hardest thing is not speaking Spanish like a Chilean! Man is it hard…anyone who knows about Chilean Spanish knows that it’s a whole different deal and the chilenismos make up most of the day-to-day language. Well, I have to get out of that habit. That habit of saying, “Como tay po? Aonde vai? Me cachai, weon?” needs to absolutely stop. I’ve caught myself a few times when I talk to someone and they start looking at me and wondering where that gringa learned her Spanish. The simplest words are the hardest, like going back to saying “dinero” instead of “plata”, “chulo” instead of “bacan”, things like that. What’s interesting is that a lot of the words that are used as slang in Chile are also used as slang in the Dominican Republic. In fact, some slang words even cross over and mean something different. Probably the most entertaining example is the word “guagua”. In Chile, this is another word for baby. In the DR, it means bus. So here when someone says “I took the guagua”, I have to remember that they are talking about taking the bus, not stealing a baby. Jesus. It’s gonna be a fun semester! More to come…