Holy Bejesus

Not going to lie reader, wasn’t sure that I was going to be posting anything today… didn’t know if my spirit was up to the task or not.  I know what you are thinking, “how can she not be happy, she’s in the CARIBBEAN!”  Here is what I say to that, shove it.   It’s not all tree lined streets with palm trees, and a perfect temperature where it’s not tooo hot and it’s not toooo cold. The truth is, most of the time you’re lucky if you find a tree on your street.  You spend most of your time walking around trying not to step in dog shit (which no one picks up here), or missing the rats scurrying across your feet/path.

Okay, confessional.  I am a Midwestern girl.  I LOVE cold weather. I LOVE snow. I LOVE having to wear sweatshirts or a comfy sweater to keep warm.  I NEED to be able to curl up under a blanket to sleep. My body temperature even runs lower than normal (I’m in the 96/97 range).

Here is what I grew up with

Now here is what I am dealing with now (no this is not me, it's an example!)

For someone that thinks summer is the worst time of year (unless you have AC, which I didn’t for MANY years), living in a country that is in what a Chicagoan would consider a perpetual heat wave, it’s just a little hot for me and my blood (which I’m sure is now back up to normal people temps or even higher).

I have a 2 story loft kinda office.  You sweat walking the 20 stairs up to the “loft/finance” section of the office. You sweat coming down the 20 stairs!  I walk to and from work everyday, remember that was a requirement for my apartment?  I gave up wearing makeup the day I got here (even though I have my entire pack with me) because it just melts right off me.  Who wants some fancy MAC foundation, eyeliner or mascara running into your eyes?  Seriously you are just asking to increase your already high chances of getting hit by a car because you have make-up dripping into your eyes (Plus, let’s face it, we all want some color!).  Plus with the dog, I now feel compelled to not kill her on some level of humanitarian level.

Okay, I’m digressing. Basically, if you haven’t gotten it this far, it’s HOT here. It makes it hard for me to work, like seriously hard.  I can’t concentrate… I even am afraid of taking my Adderall because I’m sure I’ll just sweat it right now.  I’m pretty sure that as hard as I work, I could be doing more in a lovely air-conditioned office space with me having to wear a sweater to work. You should see me right now, gazing off into nothing; remembering the days when I would have to wear gloves in my office because the AC was so high. Sigh.

I’ve figured out the poor way to sleep at night, which I’ve found to be the hardest things to do when you’re hot… actually it’s next to impossible for me. You take a cold shower, and thank the heavens that there is PLENTY of that around here (well actually not, we ran out of water last week… another story I think). So you go and you take a freezing cold shower before you go to sleep.  The trick I’ve learned is that you have to get under the water in the first 5 seconds or you wuss out and you’re done for. Getting your back wet is the worst part of it, thus you have to start there. You’re going to sweat the most on your back, and if you skip that part, well… nothing is going to change.   But yes, getting wet in a freezing cold shower and then jumping out.  You do an initial pat down, not one of those pat downs where you try to get your skin to be completely dry.  You need to leave a fine layer of wet on you. You then run to your room, ignoring your dogs completely confused look, and you drop trow in front of a fan…. a powerful one! Please make sure that your window curtains are closed and or doors to your room are closed.  Would not be a good idea to give you 80 yr. old. next door neighbor a heart attack (especially since I know what the hospitals are like here and probably many 3^rd world countries).

Yup, that is the method to the madness. Taking a cold shower and then standing in front of a fan to get “air-conditioned” and then falling asleep immediately.   It also helps to have an ice cold drink right when you get home… and if you drink it in front of a fan with as little clothing as possible, that also should help. I will never take for granted the subtle rattle of ice in a cup ever again.

So there it is, a short guide on how to stay cool when you have no air-conditioning and are living in a never-ending blaze of heat. I should also mention that doing nothing and staying put is another great alternative to staying cool, but you have to make sure that the quality of materials that you are laying/sitting down on don’t actually heat up with you. That one my friend is a hard one to figure out.

Well from my desk to yours, with a cold drink in my hand (Gin and tonic), I’m wishing you many a cool morning/day/evenings (and I’m secretly hating you if you do). 

J

P.S. Just want you to know that I love you, because this posting took over 45 min. with my sucky internet to get up here.

Being the Bigger Dog

It’s raining her in Santo Domingo (thank god, if you saw my earlier post), and with little else to do, I thought I would introduce you to my apartment and Cana, my “sidekick/security.”

When I arrived in Santo Domingo, I spent a week looking for a place to live. It’s not hard to imagine that as a humanitarian worker I don’t get paid a whole lot for my work.  Okay, I make squat… $800 a month (I’m also basically volunteering for experience as a Global Fellow).  Yeah, not the glamorous life that you probably thought all of us humanitarians get for saving the world.  I really only had a few requirements for an apartment when I first got here. One, it had to be walking distance to work and (2) under $300 (that was all my non-profit and I had allotted for housing).  Just to clarify, from this $$ I was suppose to pay for insurance, food, housing and give a month donation to my flight down here.  Don’t get me wrong, I agreed to all of this, so the non-profit that I work for has no responsibility to any of this.

Well, after searching high and low in the Zona Colonial (Colonial Zone, Santo Domingo) and realizing that “Gringo” prices were $400+, I took the first place that I could for $200 a month.  It paid for one bedroom in a 3-bedroom apartment that just happened to be resident free at the time.  Included came…. A full kitchen (I wasn’t suppose to have to buy anything, ha!)….a bed…. a mosquito net…. and that pretty much sums it up. No internet, no TV, no air-conditioning, no hot water (very common here).  Turns out that I wasn’t in the Zona Colonial either, I was in a barrio (neighborhood) called San Carlos (which is right next door to Zona Colonial). 

What the hell does any of this have to do with my sidekick/security?  Well it literally started the second night that I was in my new apartment. I ended up having to work late… past the point where the sun was already down and it was dark, especially with little to no street-lights.  Now coming from Chicago I really don’t have a ton of fear walking by myself at night or really consider myself a target for most people.  Let’s face it, I’m a 5’9” white girl that has about 30 lbs. on anyone that could want to target me. Hey I also played soccer for 15 years, and I’m pretty accurate with male anatomy so I don’t think if it came down to it I couldn’t do serious harm to someone (male of course) that came after me.

But on the second night that I was here, walking home along Benito Gomez (ha, try this on for size, I’m a half Mexican that lives between streets named Benito Gomez and Mexico…hahaha) and I was SCARED. Not like hey this is a little weird and not really fun, it was a HOLY SHIT MAYBE I SHOULD RUN kinda scared.  I made it home safe and sound that night but when I got to work the next day (even in daylight it’s still creepy, but just in the uncomfortable way) I just said, nope sorry that was one scary walk home. I want a dog to come with me.

Everyone, meet Cana; Cana meet the lovely readers.

 (the booties are another story)

So this is Cana, I rescued her from what can only be described as the Dominican Version of a non-profit dog rescue (I will omit the name), I’ll call it the shelter. It wasn’t an easy choice picking her, she was younger than I had hoped, and considering that I had never owned a dog before, I was worried about taking a puppy home (I have a long history of making really rash decisions, ex. It only took me a week to figure out I wanted a car, get a loan, and buy it…2 states away).  But she’s a beautiful sunny blond color and was the only younger dog to be barking, so I thought what the hell.  My mom’s advice, buy one that barks and bites… lol, thanks mom… I actually took that into consideration after you said that.

Finding a name for her took my entire office. I wanted something Dominican for her (she’s a her FYI). We first thought Domi (pronounced Dom-e) but after a day my boss pointed out that when I took her back to the US with me, the Spanish name would sound a whole lot like Dummy. So we changed it to Cana, short for DominiCANA. Hey original, I liked it.

The one thing the shelter didn’t tell me, my beloved Cana was afraid of EVERYTHING. It took me a good 2 days before she would even walk (and yes I had to CARRY her to work). Once I got her to walk, she would stop every 10 ft and refuse to move.  I noticed that her triggers were dark colored Dominicans, usually of Haitian descent, loud noises, cars, people (some more than others) and yeah, pretty much anything else you could think of.   

It turns out that the “security dog” that I had adopted, needed me to be her security instead of the other way around. Go figure.  She didn’t bark either.  I knew she could, she had done it at the shelter… but I was convinced (along with the co-worker who helped pick her out) she had somehow gone mute.  HAHAHA. If only.  The barking came after 3 weeks and a little boost in her confidence and a whole lot of love from my office (thanks guys!).

So she’s good at barking at the office and at my apartment, the two places that she spends 98% of her day at. Her insecurities issues still plague me on our way to and from work. Most of the time she’s choking herself on her collar as I try to hold her back from running away from things (or pull her forward when she’s too scared to move for that matter), or trying to walk between my legs and tripping me.  It’s amazing that I haven’t taken a face plant so far… and believe me, Santo Domingo is not someplace where you want your face to meet the concrete… EVER.

One thing that I have yet to inform you of is the huge amount of street dogs that freely roam around the city.  It’s extremely common here for puppies to be thrown out into the street because families just don’t want them (I have a very sad story about this that I might share when I’m just really depressed sometime). The street dogs usually congregate on corners with 1 or 2 other dogs, close to a trash drop point (another story) and get fiercely territorial when another dog approaches their “zone” for lack of a better word. The National Police (NP) are not looked on in the Dominican favorably by many, but for the first several weeks, I only escaped dog barking, growling and would be attacks by the NP or other good natured citizens stepping in to help scare the dogs away.

I learned this lesson very quickly.  When a dog comes at you (well me and Cana), you have to be the bigger dog.  Fear might tell you to run away, and in many cases I’m sure this is the best idea… because I would totally do the same thing in the states (my sister got run over by a dog once and neither of us have forgotten it).  Instead, you have to look like an idiot, putting your hand in the air waving frantically and step TOWARDS them. No, it sounds stupid, it sounds really stupid writing it out for the public to read, but it’s the truth. Cana at first would bark at them since I was scared shit and would let me 4 month old puppy do the fighting, but once I got over my fear she’s pretty much stopped (she hides behind me now).

Oh dear reader, I wish I could take a picture of the gringa doing this in the middle of a busy street in Santo Domingo.  I look like a freakin idiot, and yes I shamefully admit to that.

I guess the crazy thing about now having a dog that is afraid of everything, is that she is still REALLY effective.  Women move out of the way, mothers grab their children… men stick out their hands to say hello and Cana runs to my other side to get away (so maybe not so effective with men… which again just goes to defeat the purpose of a security dog). Who knows, maybe I should have bought a bigger dog, but I would never subject a huge dog to the heat that we are facing or the higher temps everyone has promised me are coming.

The best part is, I’ve decided that living in a sketchy neighborhood, with no air-conditioning, no TV, no reliable internet (another story, yes again) and cold water was just NOT survivable.  Instead I’m doubling my rent and moving closer to my office, that also houses a 12 yr old Doberman Pincher that it half my height, and a 2 month old lab.   So instead of being my Security, Cana has become my sidekick… and even without the security dog, she’s still pretty awesome J.

The Cat

Do you ever have those moments where you think someone is watching you, so you turn around quickly and see nothing?  Walking down the street, hearing someone behind you?  I did, but when I turned around this time there was only a scruffy looking street cat sitting at the door of my kitchen surround by the dark of night.  I literally screamed…. rightfully so, the thing looked like a ghost, just sitting, with it's tail wrapped around it's legs... just watching us as my dog and I ate dinner at the kitchen table.

I didn’t think much about it besides the pulsating heartbeat I had for a few seconds. Cana (my trusty sidekick dog) chased it down the hallway once we realized it was there.  It wasn’t until last week that my grubby street cat and I become much more intimate of friends.

It started with the dog food.  Industrial strength dog bag, up on my kitchen counter, tied up and closed for the army of ants that I have in my apartment. Got home one day after a hard day of work and lo and behold, the dog bag had been ripped open along the side with food pouring out and ants climbing all over what was left on the kitchen counter. My first thought, fuck, I have a rat… or mice… no the hole is too big to have been a mouse… unless it was Nutcracker size.  Okay, a rat (should I be touching something a rat ripped open?); oh please no, I’m going to have to stay in a hotel again. Then I thought, maybe it was THAT cat.  But she hasn’t been here before… so how can it be?

So annoyed and praying that I didn’t have a rat, I switched all the food to a plastic bag and then covered it again with another plastic bag thinking…hey 2 plastic bags, that should be enough.  I moved it off the counter onto a harder to reach bookshelf and thought to myself, "I think I've conquered the problem." HAHA I know, I thought it was a great idea at the time, but now that I'm writing it out, I'm pretty sure that sounds like the dumbest solution in the world. What would 2 flimsy grocery store bags due that an industrial strength dog food bag wouldn't do?  Hey, maybe the knots at the top would deter the smart whatever to give up...no opposable tumb to untie them right?   The next day I get home and WHAT?  My invincible plastic bag solution, on the impossible to reach bookshelf,  has had an attempt on it again!!!! There were a few bits of food that made it out, but hey maybe my knots where just the thing to keep the rest of it safe.  HAHA, I win round 2.

In an attempt to wipe the floor clean with my yet to be known opponent, I moved the invincible plastic bags into the fridge (minus the knots which were a pain in the ass to deal with when I was actually trying to get the food OUT for Cana). Hey, I have a masters' degree, I can figure this out right. HA I thought, "I beat you now cat/rat/Nutcracker mouse!"  Feeling pretty darn good with myself at the thought of successful completion of the war, I thought, why not enjoy the drop in temperature on the patio and give a call to Chicago to talk with the family about my glorious success?

Cana’s food was out, as always, for her to consume as she pleased (that dear readers is a different story).  Due to the crappy nature of my internet, the call was cut short and I did not have the time to brag about outsmarting whatever it was that was invading my kitchen. Depressed and angry at the internet (as always) I got up, turned the corner of my patio/kitchen door... and what did I see?  Oh wait for it…. wait for it… THE CAT, EATING OUT OF CANA'S FOOD BOWL. I mean, the NERVE of her/him!  It's like one of those world's dumbest criminals stories you see on TV, robbing a person when they are 15 times bigger, stronger and fatter than you. Stealing the food from the bag when I'm not around to fight back is one thing, but eating the food out of the bowl, in front of me, while I'm trying to enjoy the weather is a whole other thing!  I give the cat some credit, she/him must have some serious gull to try that one out.  I wonder if it's because I'm a "gringa," wait, aren't they color blind.. or is that dogs?

I went after her, Cana was just waking up from her nap and had no idea why her crazy owner started running and hissing down the hallway. Let's face it, Cana was useless here. I swear, I thought I was done with the cat. I had faced it straight on and I had won.  Round 3 goes to me.

Wars are usually, of course, more than 3 simple battles... but common, I'm dealing with a known enemy cat at this point.  I thought I was done, I didn't think she/he would have the gull to attempt such a bold attack again.  Oh yeah, I thought I was smooth and smart, basking in a victorious glow, until this morning.  With the treat of rain (oh god, please let it rain, the humidity is killing me) I went out to pull my clothes off the line. I just happened to look longly at the patio of my downstairs neighbor and what do I see?  The Cat. Sitting there. Watching. Waiting. Oh I know what she wanted, she was waiting for Cana and I to leave for the day before trying to sneak back in and have another attempt at the food.  She's adapting her strategy, with no sign of giving up, interesting. The human hissing started again and she just started at me.  Not like I could run towards her, I am shut in by robber bars covering my back porch.  Nothing that I can do.  Hey, maybe Cana will work, I pick her up and put her face through the bars hoping that she would growl, or bark, or something.  Turns out that we need some more work on those commands. Sidekick Cana again fails.

I finally chased her off using Cana's bad girl spray bottle with water and vinegar in it.  Turns out that I have pretty good aim with a spray bottle.... and those things can shoot like 15 feet if you get the spray level right! So to the dirty, ghost looking street cat that is haunting my dog’s food…. watch out.  I’m on to you. You might think you’ve can retaliate, but I know something about you.  You HATE water… and I have a lot of it J

The Beginning of it all... a brief history of my life so far

Welcome to my blog! Let me say that this blog is first and foremost an attempt to extract the hilarious and sometimes outrages events that I have come across in my time abroad.

I am in the 2^nd month of a 6-month stretch living in the Dominican Republic doing HIV/AIDS prevention work in gay communities. This is not my first time in a 3^rd world country; I have previously traveled to India, Chile, Honduras, Poland and the majority of Western Europe.

There is no way that I can absolutely call myself an expert on 3^rd worlds, there are many, many more who have had a greater amount of time abroad, but I would definitely not consider myself a beginner in travel. I come from a very international background. I was put through a bilingual grammar school where 90% of my classes were taught in Spanish.  In high school I received a good catholic education from one of Chicago’s best all girls schools.  My early education provided a wealth of experience in international cultures, the majority of those I was around came from around the world… with the most being from different parts of Latin America.

In college I choose a completely alternative path in attending a university in one of the least diverse states in the United States, Iowa. I loved my education there and I had the opportunity to grow into my “minority” identity.  Instead of being the half white girl among my Latino friends, I was now the Latina girl in a sea of Caucasians.

I won’t bore you the reader with the how’s and why’s of how I have come to do my current work.  I will say that I went off and joined American politics, realized that I wasn’t doing what I really wanted to do, moved back to Chicago where I obtained my masters degree and began an internship at a non-profit that focused on minority populations within Chicago and within the past 10 years has moved into working with most-at-risk-populations around the world.

At the end of my schooling I took a position in the Dominican Republic office of this Chicago non-profit. I moved down in late February 2012 and will be here until early September 2012. So there you have it. The background (although admittedly brief and generalized as it may be) as to how I have come to this point in my life.

I only hope to convey to the reader the many very funny stories that a life abroad of a spoiled American “minority” is. Enjoy J!