Today, I can say that the highlight of my day was getting highlights.

It was a very nerve-wracking experience since I’ve seen lots and lots of Dominican women walking around with very bad and fake dye-jobs. Many try to be way blonder than their skin and complexion allows for. Others just have random colors streaked through. Even the woman working at the salon I went to had hair dyed a color that just didn’t work for them. That made me really scared as they were getting me set up. These were the people choosing the fate of my hair?

I did feel a bit more comforted since I had to go in two days ago for them to check out my hair and the owner (the one actually doing the dying) told me specifically that he was not going to make it too blond and just put a honey tint to it. He seemed like he knew exactly what to do with it so I trusted him without even seeing a list of colors or anything. As I was sitting in the chair today I had no idea if I would even look like myself when I left. My discomfort wasn’t helped by the fact that the air conditioning had just broken which means that 1) I was sweating since I was covered in towels, people drying my hair, and a robe-like thing that was meant to keep my clothes from staining and 2) he was distracted dealing with this issue while he was doing the highlights. Lovely.

Only once they washed and blowdryed my hair for the second time did I finally get to see how the color came out. It was exactly how he promised; definitely not overdone and with a bit of a honey tint to it. In fact, I didn’t know if it would be noticeable but my host mom assured me that it was different (in a good way). He says that they’ll lighten out as I shower (can anyone explain that to me?) and as I spend more time in the sun. So I’ll deem the risky Dominican hair-dying experience as worthwhile, especially since it probably would have cost at least half again as much in the US. Now the only problem is that it will grow out darker and I’ll get to make the decision if I want to redye the roots. But I’ll deal with that as I come to it.

The only other notable excursion of the day was a trip with my class to Museo Bellapart, an art museum that is located in the upper level of a car dealership. Yep, you actually have to walk by the new Hondas to get up to this one-room museum. First of all, I’m pretty sure after my semester here I’m not going to need to see another art museum in about a year (I’m still up for history ones though… those seem more worthwhile to me). Secondly, why in the world would our teacher pick for us to visit this museum of all of the interesting museums in Santo Domingo? There are lots more art museums that I’m sure have many more artists and paintings where we´d actually learn lots more about the culture. But the upside is that we finished it in about 20 minutes so we got back earlier than we would otherwise.

During my internship today people from my internship class decided to show up and surprise me to make sure that 1) I actually show up to my internship when I say I will and 2) evaluating my work there. Good thing that I planned a Wednesday visit this week since I’ve been trying to switch it up recently and hit up other Banks of Hopes that meet on Thursdays and Tuesdays. Anyway, I had no idea how Hector (from my program) and Jordan (my supervisor) were going to be able to find us in the middle of a barrio in Villa Mella since there definitely weren’t street signs and I’m pretty sure some of the paths that we took weren’t streets. After about three phone calls and a stalled and interrupted meeting, they were finally able to come. Turns out that this meeting wasn’t even a meeting that I needed to do a Kiva interview for and I was just going to it so it would be easier for me to go with Ramona to the next meeting. But I did an interview anyway so that they could see how it goes and apparently Hector was impressed and awkwardly took pictures of me with the woman I interviewed. Perhaps I’ll get my hands on that and share it with you if it’s not too bad.

I also decided that I really should not wear that green shirt I wore unless I’m pregnant. It’s formed pretty much for a baby to grow beneath and when I was sitting down with the Dominican food from these past three months gathering in my stomach a woman in the group asked if I was pregnant. I’m not. That’s always a mood-lifter… not. She also then asked if I was married (nope), then how old I am (20), and then told me that I was very “expired.” If I were Haitian I would definitely be married by now, Dominican maybe, American no way. Interesting how physically we mature more or less the same, but how socioeconomic conditions effect our cultural assumptions of proper ages to experience certain events. I’m also becoming much better at picking out Haitians by their accent when they speak Spanish (sometimes you can tell by sight, but it’s easy to be wrong).

So as I was just about to leave my internship after having briefly returned to the office to write up the journal entry a woman from the central office calls me and gives me a task that I really did not have time to do before tomorrow. It was one of those “Can you help me with something? Good… now do all this random stuff that you really don’t have time to do” sorts of things. In order to finish it in time I ended up skipping lunch and skipping a batidas (fruit shakes, remember?) run with Amy. Let’s hope Esperanza appreciates it. It also took so long that I didn’t have time to return home to get my computer so I had to live through my class called Identidad without it. Basically to get through all three hours I completely went through my purse and took apart or played with everything in there for as long as I could get it to interest me. The top three items were 1) my water bottle which I discovered was ridiculously dirty 2) my hand sanitizer which I used to make many smiley faces on my hands and arms to try and cheer up about the class and 3) Amy’s purple Twistable colored pencil. Oh, and the teacher decided that the movie we were watching about some Haitian Radio channel was so enthralling and important that we had to stay 45 minutes after class (yes, this is already a 3 hour class) to finish the movie. Let’s just say we were not amused.

Tomorrow morning I get to wake up to talk to my ginger Lauren. I’m excited. It’s good to have a support system of people who know what it’s like to study abroad. It’ll be great to live with her next year… it would be so hard to try to explain this all to someone who has no idea what it’s like.

How the heck is it already November? Who gave permission for time to go this fast? Last thing I remember it was mid-September and I was thinking about how I was going to have so much more time here to explore this beautiful country… and now there’s only a month and 4 days left.

This weekend was awesome. I went on another weekend adventure with CIEE and this time it was all based around nature. Our first stop on Saturday was the Cueva de las Maravillas, which is a huge cave outside of San Pedro. Inside were Taino (indigenous Dominican) pictographs and gorgeous rock formations (see picture above). The passageways were lightly lit so you could see where you were walking and in the dark it looked like an awesome maze. They had sensors (probably along the ground) that illuminated lights on the cave walls. They did a great job lighting up the cave and highlighting some of its most beautiful aspects. The pictographs seriously looked like a five year old was given a black crayon and told to draw his family and pets on the wall. The drawn people had large, round heads with simple smiley faces. They were stick figures of sorts with very simple limb representations. It’s fascinating that that’s how they represented themselves and their gods so long ago. They had to climb all the way down there with fire and the animal fat (and deal with bats, rats, spiders, etc) to be able to make these markings. Seeing things like this really makes art real to me.

After a long, bumpy bus ride we finally arrived to Sabana del Mar where we stayed at a hotel called Caño Hondo right by the Parque Nacional de los Haitises. This hotel was unlike I’d ever seen before; it was very eco-friendly meaning that all the pools were made from a river flowing through the area. They had built it so that there were many different levels and the water flowed off in the form of waterfalls to continue downstream. The rooms all had two levels and Hannah and Alex’s room even had a balcony with a hammock. Lisa and Amarillys’ room had a Jacuzzi-like shower. Allison and my room’s only distinguishing feature was that there was no door to the bathroom. In fact, it wasn’t even really a separate room, so if I was laying on my bed I had a clear view of the toilet. They gave us breakfast, lunch, and dinner in the form of delicious (and filling) buffets. They had a pasta bar where you could choose whatever you wanted and they’d mix it with your pasta and sauce of choice. I got that for lunch and dinner on Saturday since I’m quite pasta deprived here (and honestly, I didn’t really have much desire for the other options which were the typical Dominican dishes I’ve been eating for the past three months).

After lunch, we headed out on a walk through the national park. We walked about 4 km (maybe 2.5 miles?) and stopped along the way to learn about new plants and try the fruit of the coffee bean and cacao (where chocolate comes from). The chocolate fruit (a white, sticky pod surrounding the bean) was sweet and absolutely delicious (and no, it tasted nothing like chocolate). The coffee bean was also sweet, but there wasn’t much to the fruit to distinguish it. At the end of the hike there was a speed boat waiting to pick us up which then took us to two different caves in little inlets of the national park, one of which had more Taíno drawings and the other had sand on the bottom as opposed to rock. They were both significantly smaller than the ones from earlier in the day, but they were pretty also.

We returned to the hotel, took a quick swim in the natural pools (the water was cold; we had forgotten what it felt like to be cold) and then headed off to a buffet in the hotel. The buffet was located in a restaurant with open walls (they can do that here since they don’t have to worry about snow and all that) with a view of the national park. After eating we headed up a small hill and had a bonfire with s’mores and traditional “palo” music (percussion, pretty much, played in a typical Dominican style; there’s a bunch of cultural significance behind it that I would be able to explain to you if I had listened during any of the three movies that we’ve watched about it). It was great being out there, roasting marshmallows (although the Dominicans didn’t understand what we were doing, apparently s’mores aren’t an international concept), listening to the music, and chatting with my friends under such a clear sky and surrounded by this peaceful natural park.

This morning we woke up, ate (too much, of course), and headed off to plant mangrove trees that had been destroyed by Hurricane George in 2003 (or 2000?). It required getting a bit wet and muddy since you’re walking around in water and mud that’s up to your mid calf. We went in barefoot and figured out the easiest way to make a big enough hole to plant the trees was by sticking your foot far into the mud and then shoving it down the hole you just made, and trying to cover it back up with your feet or your hands. I didn’t get quite as mud covered as I’d expected, but it certainly was fun walking around in that squishy mud! They boated us to a small beach to swim and clean off the mud for about 20 minutes and then we headed back to eat lunch and headed back to Santo Domingo. So, like I said, it was a beautiful weekend full of gorgeous natural scenery; I just wish that I had a few more minutes of free time to sit at that hotel and just look silently at the landscape in front of me. However, trip planners don’t usually schedule staring time into trips which I suppose I understand.

Tomorrow I get to wake up whenever I want for the first time in a week. Tuesday through Saturday last week required me to wake up at about 6:20 am every day, so you can be sure I’ll be taking advantage of my sleep in the morning.

Some of the more complex drawings in the cave.

Today I spent the day in the maximum security prison for the entire Dominican Republic. There are over 4 thousand prisoners in this jail. Now, when I first heard that I didn’t figure it would be that bad. I know that four thousand people can be manageable since that’s the number of people at my high school. However, that’s only possible if there are enough arrangements and resources to take care of all of them. And let’s just say this country doesn’t even have the resources to take care of those who haven’t committed murder, rape, drug trafficking, etc. At this prison there were about 450 prisoners in one room that’s about the size of a quarter of a football field. There are not beds for everyone, meaning some have to sleep on the floor. They might have blankets if they have money to buy one (or if they steal it from another inmate). How in the world to the guards actually claim to have control over such a large quantity of people? Especially trying to control the people who are one of the most likely sects of society to get in trouble. The police guarding the cells walk around with baseball bats or other large wooden sticks to beat those who challenge their authority. There were lots today who had been hit multiple times by the guards and have very little medical treatment to deal with it.

Interesting fact: the way that they distinguish who are the prisoners in the men´s jails is by making the men wear shorts as opposed to pants. They can be shorts of any color and can wear whatever shirt they would like, so upon arriving to the jail it looked like everyone was just walking around in street clothes (well, actually, they were) as opposed to uniforms. Their family has to come and bring them these clothes and they have a small space to store it in their huge, shared cell.

Patients today also had a wide host of problems. I talked to two in a row who are HIV positive. Two had had and possibly still have tuberculosis. There was a man who was describing his kidney stone and showing us the results of the tests they ran on him (he was one of the lucky ones who actually got to leave jail for an afternoon to see a real doctor) and then he pulled out a pill bottle and I assumed that it would contain the pills the doctor had given him for this. Turns out, he had kept the stone and decided it was necessary to show it to us. It was rather large (even according to the doctors) and was brown and grey and not too pleasant looking (especially when you´re expecting nice white tablets). Another man had what I think started off as a bug bite or a small scratch on his left middle finger and had grown to the size of a 10 peso coin (I´ve forgotten the approximate sizes of US currency). It was open and very infected. The doctor who took the bullet out yesterday had to basically scrape all that infected area away (and Amy and I happened to be there at that point so you know that we watched).

Turns out the prison has their own pastoral system headed up by prisoners. They tended to be around triage for much of the day since that´s where the church we came in with set up the worship (which means for about half of the day I had to scream over the music to ask the questions, making it intensely difficult to understand what their complaints were). Amy and I got to talking to one of these prisoners in charge of the church there. Ten years ago him and another person killed a man and were sent to prison. While in prison he changed his life and decided to start studying to become a pastor. Now he´s only 4 months away from finishing his pastoral studies and is hoping to work in a church when he gets back out.

While we were talking to him another prisoner who was quite small and definitely had shifty face came up and, being in the midst of that conversation, I asked him what he was in for. “Violación,” he said matter-of-factly. Rape. Uhhhh… yeah. Definitely did not want to know that. I looked away right away and a few seconds of extremely awkward silence followed. Somehow we started talking to the pastor again, trying to ignore that moment that had just passed. I couldn´t make eye contact with the other guy for the rest of the day. It’s strange to be in the midst (and have at your command) a group of male murderers, drug traffickers, and rapists. It´s also ironic that the name of the jail means “The Victory” when the people we saw were most certainly not the most victorious of society.

Day two in prison.

Not gonna lie, I was quite nervous for this morning. We were heading into a group of men (Dominican machista men who are hard enough to deal with in regular society, none the less) who we were told haven’t seen women in years. I expected to be extremely uncomfortable the entire day and have to turn down lots of aggressive moves. I thought I would feel in at least minor danger being surrounded by these “hardened criminals.” Turns out, the men are surprisingly well behaved. Sure, there were the few who stared at me for about 30 minutes straight, well after I was done talking to them, but if that’s the worst thing I can definitely handle that!

 I spent all day translating between Spanish and English in triage (where the general medicine patients came before seeing the doctor). We wrote down their presenting complaints, took their blood pressure (which is quite difficult in such a busy and loud room), and weighed them. It was fascinating/terrifying/disgusting/interesting to see their wide array of medical issues. There were men with sores and rashes, lots with headaches and “gripe” (flu-like symptoms), one with a arm broken by a gunshot wound over a year ago that needs to be re-operated on, infected cuts and holes, hernias, hemorrhoids, kidney pain, etc. There were at least four or five who had been beaten by the guards at the jail to the point where they needed medical attention for the hits. There were two or so men who we believe might have tuberculosis (yep, I was about 2 feet away from this airborne disease). Almost all of them had many scars of some sort and tattoos. Seeing as the medical care here is not as private nor as quality as it is in the US, Amy and I had quite the opportunity to watch and learn today. There was one man who needed a bullet extracted from his upper left chest, and I watched one of the doctors from our group take it out. I don’t think she gave him anesthesia or anything before cutting into him. He was definitely in pain, and had an entire audience of 6-10 people watching this going down. There was a photographer snapping away for the Dominican church’s newsletter.

On the other bed right near where we were working there was a man who had come in this morning with a cast. Turns out the cast was on too tight and the skin, muscle, and tissue underneath had started wearing away. They took the cast off and there was a 2 inch by 8 inch square of raw muscle or tissue or something. There was lots of blood and it was definitely infected. This problem is so easy to prevent and even if the cast was put on too tight, easy to fix if gotten to early on. But since he was a prisoner in a Dominican jail, he did not receive treatment for it  (maybe there was no money, but more likely the system just didn’t care enough to get him to a hospital). Now if the infection spreads into the blood, which has an unfortunately high chance of occurring in that place, it could kill him.

A third man had prostate cancer and kidney problems. He was attached to a catheter which released his urine in a bag since he couldn’t pee on his own. In the same place as the man with the bullet would, they performed a minor surgery. I decided not to look in on that one since it required him to take his pants off and I had seen enough naked genitals yesterday in the women’s ward. Amy, being the curious nursing student that she is, went in and at one point stuck her finger up the guy’s butt to feel his fourth state prostate cancer growth. Let’s just say you don’t just do these things randomly like this in the US. Even in US prisons.

Another thing strange about today was the power structure. These men are big, tough, and you could definitely tell many of them  commanded authority while off on the streets. Here, however, they are at the disposal of American nurses and doctors. They are completely under their control. These controlling Dominican men had to yield their power to physically much weaker (and much less “street savvy”) people. They even had to give up control to the Dominican women evangelizing to them. They sat through Evangecube lessons. Now during things like this where mission work is being done, I often wonder if the “conversions” that they claim are real. My guess would be that a lot of people, especially these guys with a street reputation to protect, wouldn’t want to hear about (nevertheless accept)  Jesus especially from a preachy Dominican woman. However, I had the opportunity to witness one conversation that the two of them were having and at the end after the woman prayed for him, he had the biggest smile on his face that I’d seen all day. He even came over and shook my hand. Seriously, he was beaming after a 10 minute Evangecube lesson. How the heck did that happen? God never ceases to surprise me.

Maximum security prison tomorrow. This will be hardcore.

I forgot to add… there was one man in there for killing four Haitian children. He killed them when he was 17 years old simply because he hates Haitians. Doesn’t that just break your heart?

I went to prison today.

It was a women’s prison located about an hour west of Santo Domingo. Most of the women in there are for drug trafficking or robberies. I met one woman accused of homicide. I, as you might be able to guess, was not an inmate. I went with a group called GHO (Global Health Organization) which is a group of Christian doctors who travel around the world and go to prisons and poor communities giving health advice and assistance to the people who need it. Amy did a trip with them last spring in Nicaragua and saw that they were doing a trip here in Santo Domingo so she decided to sign up. And I decided to tag along and use my skills as a translator to get me in. The group of doctors, nurses, pharmacologists, dentists, etc. is from all over the US and most don’t know each other before coming (except for those who have been on this trip before). Most of them are middle-aged or older, so Amy and I comprised a very different dynamic. They’re all pretty sweet people though, and it’s been fun getting to hear all their different stories.

Anyway, Amy had gone Monday and told me that the right thing to wear was something comfortable (like a t-shirt or something) and jeans. So I throw on a plain green t-shirt (you know, the ones that fall under the “culturally sensitive” but boring description) and head out of my house at 7. We get to the prison and after a bit of devotional time, we’re off working. Since I wasn’t there yesterday I had to find the lady in charge to place me. As she was assigning me, a doctor came up and said that there was someone else who needed a woman to sit in the room with them, so we figure that’s a good place for me. Turns out, I’m needed by the male gynecologist to be a female presence in the room so that the women don’t worry about being alone in a room with him. How ironic is it that my first gynecologist exam isn’t my own? Let’s just say I saw more (a lot more) of about 10 Dominican woman that I’d never met before. Privacy truly does not exist in prison. And now I know what to expect whenever I have to get one, and let’s just say that does not look fun. None of the girls complained about cold hands though so I suppose that’s good.

Anyway, as I’m not doing much since this doctor speaks Spanish and does not need my translation skills, he found that I could be more useful doing small errands for him like emptying the trash, finding information, looking for a flashlight for him to use, etc. The last thing he asked me to look for was a tablet of paper to write more prescriptions on. I use the same route to look for the paper as I had for the flashlight and as I was walking back from the pharmacy we’d set up after finally finding this paper, the guard stops me. I’m confused and ask her what’s going on. She tells me I can’t pass without authorization. What do you mean? I’m bringing this to the gynecologist./ Well you can’t go past this point./Why not?/That’s the shirt the prisoners wear./ What?!? Here’s my id! Look, I’m not a prisoner!!!… At this point she looks me up on the list that they had created yesterday of everyone who entered with our group. Remember I didn’t come in yesterday and am definitely on that list. And being able to speak Spanish and somewhat looking like a Dominican did not help my situation. I try telling her that which failed. She tells me to sit down and pretty sure there’s a swarm of guards checking out this situation. I tried explaining it to them but they kept asking me where my red shirt was (the Dominicans helping us out were wearing red; the people I came with were not)… I had to wait until they got the directors (yes, plural) of the Dominican group to come see me, figure out what was going on, go back and tell the gynecologist I was working with what was going on and bring his lab coat back for me to wear so I’m not mistaken for a prisoner. Never did I think I’d be so happy to be back to gynecology exams! A few minutes later I’m brought a red shirt that is definitely not my style (rhinestones plastered across the front), but I could have cared less at that point!

The afternoon, thankfully, was much less eventful. I moved to triage and translated for one of the nurses. We also had the opportunity to talk with one of the prisoners in depth since she was from the US and understood our curiosity. She came to the DR to smuggle drugs back to the US since she had no money and didn’t know another way to raise her daughter. They caught her in this airport and she was sentenced to 10 years in the DR prison. If they had caught her in on American soil she would be out by now, but there’s nothing the government or anyone can do to help her here and she’s stuck for this. She speaks no Spanish and was only planning on being here for one week. In talking with her and the other ladies, it’s amazing to think that one bad decision can change your life to such a degree. In prison you have years and years to relive those moments of your life. She has no money and no Dominican family to send her necessities nor to vouch for her patrol. I know it was her fault to get in there in the first place. No doubt. But wow, that’s a lot of life just wasted away. Prison… what a strange (yet fascinating) system. We’re going to the men’s prison tomorrow. That should be interesting.

Mom flew out this morning from her one week stay here. Lots happened. It’s strange to think that she was actually here despite the fact that less than 12 hours ago we were waiting on the hot street corner waiting for the taxi driver to come to drive us to the airport after a week of adventures.

I suppose our stories should be chronicled from the beginning. When I got to the airport to pick her up last Wednesday, only then did I realize how truly large the airport was. When I arrived a few months ago there were hundreds of people crowding the exit and I thought they filled up the entirety of the bottom level. Turns out there was tons more room than I thought along with many shops, a courtyard, and a huge staircase. That was certainly interesting. So we got her to the first hotel, which nicely correlated with my first night in the country since it was the first place I stayed and happened to be the exact room I was in. After getting her checked in we headed over to my class which started half an hour earlier, and of course I had to get her (and myself) a fresh empanada before going into class. I don’t know what I’m going to do when I don’t have made to order empanadas in throwing distance from my classroom. After class I took her to meet my host mom which seemed to go over well despite the fact that neither of them had any idea what the other was saying. Gestures and laughing was pretty much the communication level between the two, apart from what I chose to translate. Mom and I then went to dinner at a restaurant right on the Caribbean Sea just a few blocks down from my house. They had seats right above the water so it was cool to look out and see the waves coming in. Mom started her Caribbean adventure early and ordered something the waiter described to me as pork in sauce. Turned out to be some strange part of the pig (feet? Intestines? Bone marrow?) in a soup. It was quite a large bowlful too. The meat parts were mostly fat and it was hard to find meat to eat. Fortunately we had already had the empanadas and she wasn’t too hungry.

The next morning we headed out to Las Terrenas which is a small European-esque town on the northern coast of the Samaná peninsula. We took the Caribe Tour bus (kind of like Greyhound) that left at 10 am since it got in about 30 minutes before the one that left at 9:30 am (yay for new highways) until Sanchez, where we were whisked away quickly on motoconchos (motorcycles). Good thing I had warned her that this might happened and suggested bringing a bag besides the large, boxy luggage which is typical for weeklong travel. The ride was gorgeous and being on the back of the motoconchos made it all the better. We stopped along the way and took pictures of the gorgeous countryside and arrived to our hotel with our hair blown like crazy but with smiles on our face. We stayed at a hotel recommended by Hannah on her trip out here with her boyfriend a few weeks earlier. It was called Hotel La Tortuga and it was quaint, relaxed, and the owner and his wife were pretty awesome. They were Spanish (like, from Spain) and she made us a breakfast of mixed fresh fruit, scrambled eggs, toast, juice, and hot chocolate both mornings we were there. Since it was not tourist season everything in the town was pretty much dead and deserted and we were the only guests at the hotel. It was nice having so much space and not having to deal with crowds, but at the same time it meant that people were trying to rip you off more.

During our first full day in Las Terrenas we headed out to Cascada de Limon (Limon Waterfall) which is a freshwater waterfall, dropping cold water many meters into a natural pool at the bottom. To get there we took a guagua (in Samana these are pick-up trucks with wooden benches constructed around the edges) to Limon and then a 45 minute horseback-ride up to the top of the waterfall and then walked down to the bottom to swim. It was really pretty and the water felt really refreshing after that ride. On the way, our guide stopped us at a local shop that sold recently picked coffee and cacao (for hot chocolate). We bought a brick of the pure chocolate which Mom can grind up and drink when she gets back (if the air security didn’t confiscate it as being an “agricultural product”).

I finished with INTEC today! Now I only have to go back to meet with a tutor three times for my internship final paper. I’m not looking forward to that, but hopefully I can at least get the meetings to not be in the middle of the day so I don’t have to be stuck in a guagua during lunch time traffic (and heat). My final exam did not go well; I even had a really hard time making up words to write in the fill-in-the-blank section. I studied too, but they were all questions based off of intense readings that the Dominican students in the class had a hard time comprehending as well. I was reading for basic concepts and did not expect to be given blank lines with sentences from the articles and no word bank. That was not enjoyable. We also had our last presentation on the book we read, and no one in our group took any initiative to make it engaging what-so-ever, as opposed to the two groups that presented before us. Lovely. We just went up and each person said a few things. As if the class wasn’t long and painful enough, it turns out that I didn’t give the guy in my group back his memory stick and instead of having him get it tomorrow at INTEC, he chose to come all the way back home with me. This is the guy who kept poking me in class today to stare at me and say hola and kept staring. So for the hour and twenty minute commute (which included getting on an incorrect guagua since his guitar, which he does not know how to play, would not fit in a carro public) I was stuck with him, meaning that for each of those minutes INTEC and the awful time I’d just had in class was stuck with me as well.

I finally got home though, returned the memory stick, and found Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants dubbed in Spanish on the TV. I figured that was a good wind-down movie so I watched that and had a dinner of mashed potatoes and the same chicken from lunch. After dinner, Hannah, Alex, Amber and I went to go see Time Traveler’s Wife (which they translated into Spanish as I’ll Love You Forever). It was a good movie and hard to predict due to the fact that he could travel through time (duh) so you never knew when he’d show up and how old he’d be. Now I’m packing for my week with the mother! We’re going to be heading to the Samaná peninsula to the town of Las Terrenas and the island of Cayo Levantado. It should be gorgeous and I’m looking forward to taking lots of pictures. I think it’s bedtime now though since I’ve got to wake up at 6 am once again to get to my internship on time and I’m coming down with a cold so sleep is good.

Somebody told me today that there was nothing we could to do actually help poor people and I started crying in the middle of class. I suppose that’s a pretty clear sign of what I’m passionate about. She said that since the government is so screwed up and corrupted in this country and others like it that there’s nothing NGOs or large international aid organizations can do to change anything in more than just the short term. I was already annoyed since the rest of her diatribe was about “gender,” and you all know how much I love that topic (I still felt the strong desire to head straight to the gym after that class or at least play a few hours of racquetball, but unfortunately that was not possible). I left class and head across the street to the colmado where I somehow let her pessimism get to me and I started crying while eating soda crackers and complaining to a few classmates. They reminded me that small change still is change and that while I can’t fix the entire problem of poverty (it’s still hard for me to grasp that, but it’s catching up to me) I can actually make a long-term difference in the lives of a family or community or two. As they were saying these things I realized I already knew all that, I had just made the mistake of being sucked into the words of the guest “expert” who visited the class. With her words, I felt the entire purpose of my life caving in. Poverty is such a huge and complex problem that it’s easy to get drawn into believing it’s a useless struggle, but I suppose I just have to take it in reasonable chunks.

On Sunday I brought my computer to the pool to tap into some wireless and get my paper done that I had to send in that day. (Side note: in three days I read 71 pages in Spanish and wrote an in-depth five page paper on it and didn’t feel stressed at all… that’s progress). I was sitting under the shade area since it was way too hot under the sun and I felt like my computer was melting in my lap when I hear the people at the table next to me talking about “asking him for an autograph” or “at least getting a picture with him.” I look over and see them motioning to a big black man walking around by himself in a vacant part of the deck with a script in hand. Then I remember that that was the man who had stood next to me a few days earlier and said “Hola” (yes, in Spanish not English) who looked mightily familiar. I finally figured out his name: Mike Tyson. I googled his picture and called my friend Amy over to confirm and it was definitely him. He was walking around in just his underwear practicing for what looked like was a movie. He had a pitcher of ice that he kept drinking. I moved to the seat next to me so I could look forward instead of behind me to look at him. I was extremely distracted from that point forward, even after he sat down and I could only see his foot. (“Sarah, stop looking at him. You can only see his foot. It’s pointless. Look away. Oh! The foot’s moving. Mike Tyson is moving his foot! You’re ridiculous… write your paper. Wow, his ice is running low… I wish I could go bring him more ice…”). I happened to look over at him once he stood back up again and let’s just say his underwear didn’t come up at quite the same speed as the rest of him and I got a nice view of his bare backside. I might have given a small scream and he might have looked over. I don’t know if I covered it up well enough by quickly becoming absorbed in my computer screen…

The rest of the weekend was extremely low key. Like previously mentioned, I had that paper to write, a final exam tomorrow, and other readings and papers to write along with plans to be made for when my mommy comes (two days!). Friday night I was beginning to feel sick (after only getting 5 hours of sleep after the casino the night before and having to wake up at 6 am for my internship) so I went to bed at 10:30 pm which I think is a record for me here. I slept a good ten hours and woke up well-rested Saturday (which I also spent at the pool). Saturday night I went with Amy and her Dominican boy Freddy to his friend’s house where a bunch of people were hanging out on the roof (there were high railings though, don’t worry!). It was a gorgeous Dominican night with a nice breeze, Spanish music blasting, and we made a few new friends. I consider that a successful evening. Sunday afternoon I went to the ice cream store twice, although I only got ice cream once since I was really full and the second time just went for the walk and company. But I went and got ice cream again today, and could easily eat some tomorrow. I try not to think about how much money and calories I spend on the ice cream (well, technically frozen yogurt which I suppose is better for you). But you know what? They definitely don’t have this stuff in the US so I’ve got to make the best of it now. At least that’s what I tell myself.

Tonight we had a 4 way Skype call between me, Lauren, Tina, and Maz about possibly living together next year. Kerry was there too talking on Tina’s computer with her and it was great to hear the chaos of us all being together again for a few minutes. It’s looking like the four of us and Gabbie are going to be living in the apartment they have now, making a room of two and a room of three people. Should be interesting, crowded, and fun. And luckily I have lots of places to escape to if I find that I’m needing more space or a break from the drama (cause let’s be honest, put Gabs and Laur together and you’re bound to get some occasional drama). But hey, I’m not living on campus by myself as a senior so this is a definite plus.

I just filled a toilet tank one cupful at a time.

It flushed this morning. I even turned on the sink to make sure the water worked. It did. Yet somehow as soon as the fiber decides to depart from my body the water changes its mind. And seeing as it takes a long time for the water to come back, and the fact that it´s Friday and the office here at my internship will be closed for the weekend, my only considerate option was to fill the tank by hand. I emptied the soap from the half plastic bottle it was in and began to walk the sink water (which mysteriously still worked…) over to the toilet. It took a full 15 minutes to fill it up enough to make the water go down. Oh my. Craziness.

Yesterday I spent pretty much all day at INTEC since we were supposed to have a group meeting at 10 am and despite the fact that the whole group was there we got nothing done since no one had read the book yet. I was the farthest in and I had gotten it less than 20 hours before. Sometimes I wonder about the work ethic… I did finish my other homework though and got a very filling lunch for 35 pesos! (That´s slightly under a dollar). I got a full-sized bagel dog and a long breadstick filled with cheese. After my first class got out early, I also went and bought a morisoñando (“to dy dreaming”) which is freshly squeezed orange juice blended together with ice, sugar, and Carnation instant milk. Delicious. But while I was ordering it the vender asked me 3-5 times if he could take my picture. I told him no, despite the fact that he let me take a few sips and then refilled it with some more and the fact that he gave me a strawberry (only special people get the strawberry on the straw). I told him maybe next time. My second class was completely pointless and took and hour and a half just because people were there doing the homework that was due that day. The teacher told us that she would email us (probably about 4-10 hours before) if we have to take the final, and if not then that was our last class. Chia Hao insisted on giving a speech, including how much he loved the class and the classmates and the teacher. It was hilarious since the teacher kept butting in and correcting his speech. So funny, in fact that Lydia started laughing so hard she was crying, which the teacher of course thought were tears of saddness since the class was over. Not quite.

Yesterday night we wanted to celebrate the end of that maldita clase so we all met up at the colmado for a while. After that, a group of us girls decided to go to the casino for the first time. They give you free food and drinks at the casino as an incentive to spend your money. I came in with 500 pesos (a bit less than $15) and left with none, but seeing as I knew the odds of this was rather high and it was something I´ve always wanted to try, I really wasn´t disappointed and it was a fun way to spend the evening. I played it all at blackjack alongside the other girls. After blackjack was done (along with my money) a few other girls played poker for a while. It was definitely amusing.

This morning I went out with two loan officers (that´s the first time that´s happened!). When we arrived at the first group I realized that I didn´t actually have to be there. The second group that I went to was one I had already visited but hadn´t conducted enough interviews. This time I did three and only needed one. Oh well, at least the stories are interesting and I´ve gotten a lot better at  conducting the interviews and understanding the responses. I went with Rosa Isis after the second one to her boyfriend´s house where he gave us a delicious lunch of mangu, avocado, pork, fried cheese, onions, and a guineo batida (banana shake). He´s a great cook, which is strange since I´ve never seen or heard of another man here who has any idea how to cook.

The afternoon I figured out more about th groups I still have to visit and made the reservation for the hotel that mom and I will be staying at on Cayo Levantado. Of course I ended up making it for the wrong day and had to make her call and change it since calling from here would be expensive (despite the fact that it´s a Dominican number somehow). But that´s all resolved so I can still look forward to that vacation in peace.