Whenever I met a new volunteer in Peace Corps, the introductory question would always be “Where are you from?” I always found myself hesitating because I’ve lived in so many places—where am I from? Sometimes I would say New York City because that was the last place I lived. Other times, I would say North Carolina, and would usually follow up with a short explanation of my life because the person would assume that I moved directly from N.C. to the D.R. Other times, I would just name all the cities in one breath—North Carolina-Florida-L.A.-Washington, D.C.-New York!

In the month since I finished my service, I’ve been thinking about “home.” First, I went to Florida to visit my siblings and parents. Then, I went to North Carolina to visit my extended family. I’ve spent one month catching up on the two years I missed. One month figuring out my life for the rest of 2011. And one month revisiting my roots and family history.

And now, I’m sitting at the Raleigh-Durham airport about to board a plane for New York so that I may start a new chapter and finally get on with it, so to speak.

I’ve really relished my time in North Carolina. I’ve visited the places I remember as a child. I laughed with my grandmother and learned new things about our family history, about her feelings. In just one week, we grew closer. And I got my Southern accent back! Whereas I was ashamed of it back in middle school when I first moved to South Florida (not really a part of a South, but instead the home of relocated families from the North), now I wish I had never modified it. I love the drawn out words, the honey sweet intonation. So I’m going back to the lions’ den of New York, home of fast-walking, fast-talking people, and I hope I keep my accent intact.

So where is “home” for me? I think it’s North Carolina. I felt most at ease here. People are always kind. Things happen at a slow pace, which I’ve come to appreciate. And it is where my ancestors laid roots, worked the soil, and built a legacy.

I will miss being home, and I hope that wherever I go in New York, I keep Carolina on my mind. I’m a Tarheel for sure, and my heart is stuck in North Carolina.

This post is over two weeks overdue. I’m back home in the States, but I wanted to share my trip to Haiti.The day of my official close of service, four girlfriends and I embarked on journey to the other side of Hispaniola. Throughout my service in the Dominican Republic, I heard legends about the “other side.” Many people made racist comments, saying that Haitians eat cats during voodoo rituals and such. Yet, I only knew the Haitians that came to the DR to labor in order to eek out a living for themselves and their loved ones. They were always reserved and stayed out of trouble. Yet the DR and Haiti have an intense history of conflict. After Haiti earned its independence from the French in 1804, they sought to reunify the island under their rule and they occupied the Dominican Republic until the Dominicans gained their independence in 1844. Though the DR has since been occupied by Spain and then the United States (2 times), they still maintain their resentment toward the Haitians. Part of our Peace Corps work in the DR has been to facilitate understanding between the Haitians and Dominicans.Therefore, I felt in order to get a more complete picture of Hispaniola, I had to go to Haiti and see for myself how it really is.Our friend, Stephanie, was moving there to join her American boyfriend who had been living in Port-au-Prince for a year at a microfinance NGO. We agreed to help her move all of her stuff, including a mini semi-automatic washing machine. So at 8 in the morning, we went to the bus station in Santo Domingo with Stephanie’s stuff and bought our tickets to Port-au-Prince. About two hours into the journey, our bus broke down and we had to wait on the side of the road for a replacement—except the replacement already had people on it and couldn’t fit all the passengers from the previous bus. After much negotiating and arguing (and being laughed at because we wanted a refund for this inconvenience), we got on the bus and sat on the floor for the next six hours. At the border, we noticed that on both sides, the lake was starting to flood the government buildings. Once we crossed the border at sunset, the bus took us to the unknown—a thin stretch of dirt road bordering a rising lake. After a 12-hour journey, we arrived in Port-au-Prince and unloaded all of Stephanie’s stuff. Her boyfriend, David, came to meet us and all at once, we knew we were in a different world. Boys came up to us asking if they could flag down a taxi; David responded in fluent Creole that would we would all fit in his Toyota Corolla. The rest of us felt muzzled and realized our second-language abilities wouldn’t serve us in this land. I didn’t even know how to say the standard, “Hi. How are you?” I felt so ashamed that I couldn’t be polite and greet people.The city of Port-au-Prince wasn’t our concept of a city. There was only one tall building (maybe 10 or 15 stories?) in the city. There was no impressive freeway, only two- or four-lane streets. The buildings were mostly made of concrete, just like in the DR, but there were still several collapsed buildings from the earthquake and thousands of tents.The first day of our stay in Haiti we drove through the hills surrounding Port-au-Prince. In the hills, over looking the city, are vast, majestic mansions. It is unbelievable how many rich people there are in direct contrast to the poverty of the city below. After our drive, we came to the trailhead of a path into the mountains. We hiked thirty minutes uphill, past a few villagers, and came to a breathtaking view of a few distant Haitian communities.Afterward, we went to a café in Petionville, a town outside of Port-au-Prince where most of the international aid agencies are based, and had some burgers and Cokes. That evening, we went to an expat party at a ritzy apartment complex. After speaking with some of the guests about their jobs in Haiti (journalism, prosthetic limbs organization, Salvation Army), we realized that our Peace Corps experience was significantly different. Whereas many expats aren’t required to learn Creole because they have their own drivers and/or translators, we lived at the level of the Dominican people. We spoke their language, we complained about the same things (there’s no luz!), we struggled like they did. Many international aid workers live in luxurious (by Haitian standards) housing separated from the people. We felt strange that we couldn’t speak Creole and that we were attending a classy party.The next day we took a driving tour of Port-au-Prince. We visited an artisan village where they specialize in metal art. After spending a lot of time admiring the artwork and observing the artisans creating it, we drove to downtown Port-au-Prince. We drove past the largest open area park in the Caribbean—now a tent city—and then we saw the Presidential Palace, still in shambles. Though we’ve all seen the devastating photos of the palace, seeing it in real life was something quite different. It was sobering and symbolic of the struggles of the Haitian people under a broken government. The palace was an incredible site.That afternoon, we had lunch at the Oloffson Hotel, a famous wooden hotel built as a private mansion in the late 19th century. We sampled some Haitian food and reflected on our trip of the last two days.That evening, a Haitian friend came to visit us at David’s and Stephanie’s apartment. He was a translator at a hospital on the Dominican-Haitian border right after the earthquake. He had a brilliant smile, an inspiring attitude, and spoke perfect English. We knew he and his family had been through so much, more than any of us could ever comprehend, but he was still proud of his country, his Haiti. On the last day of my trip, a few of the girls left for Santo Domingo, while Ruth and I hung out at Stephanie’s apartment. Since David was working, we had to fend for ourselves that afternoon. We went out to buy food at the nearest supermarket and then we bought vegetables from the local women merchants on the street. Most goods are bought and sold on the street by ti machan, or “little merchants,” mostly women who set up their wares outside. None of us knew Creole so we let Ruth serve as semi-translator with her broken French. After using hand signals and French numbers, we were able to purchase what we wanted. I feel so privileged that I had the chance to go to Haiti. It has such a negative stigma—from the Dominicans’ prejudiced remarks to constant catastrophe in the media. But as my friends and I realized, Haiti is a country of SURVIVORS. They’ve recently endured an earthquake, a hurricane, and a cholera epidemic. But they are proud of who they are. In the Dominican Republic, it seemed as if people are always looking to the United States; the Dominican dream is to move to the U.S. But Haiti felt different. They were Haitian, and they expressed that in their language, their art, and their proud posture. They don’t have much, but they have their culture. Haiti moved me. It was the perfect ending to my amazing experience on Hispaniola.

*Photos courtesy of Mary

On the bus to Haiti--without seats.

Over the border in Haiti. Obviously their roads are in disrepair.

Sunset in Haiti

The hike up a mountain. Many of the locals carry goods on their heads.

View from a mountain top.

Mountain top

Enjoying burgers and Cokes

Hanging out at David's house

The gang on David's rooftop

One of many tent cities. Supposedly, 800,000 people still live in tent cities a year and a half later

Little girl in the window

At the metal shopDriving through Port au Prince

On Sunday, I sold all my furniture to a local family, packed up my belongings, and gave the landlord the key to my house.

Then I hugged her tightly as she was saying how she will miss me, that may God protect me, and then I just started crying.

We broke the embrace and I saw her frowning as tears trickled down her cheeks. I waved goodbye, said, “Te quiero” and got into the car.

Doña Victoria stood on my porch and watched me go.

As I sat in the front seat, I sobbed as the driver was telling me I would see her again. I sure hope so.It wasn’t until the final days that I realized how the people of my community had really touched me. My neighbors became my second family. Everyday, I visited their house to drink café con leche, to eat lunch, and just spend time with them. My jóvenes looked to me for guidance.

For some time before, I had felt jaded that I couldn’t really accomplish anything. But then the Wednesday before, the people at my center threw me a surprise goodbye party. They said how they appreciated my service and dedication to their community, and they presented me with a plaque. They really had noticed my efforts.

The days before leaving, I said my final goodbyes to my host family, my group of jóvenes, and friends. People prayed for me and wished me a good trip. I felt so honored.

The hard part has started. I said goodbye to my community and to my life there. Now I must say goodbye to all my close volunteer friends who have supported me these two years. I’m trying to cherish every single moment before everything changes.

I can’t begin to verbalize how this experience has affected me, but I can say that it has changed my life. I now have a new home in the Dominican Republic, and I have made the most amazing friends who inspire me with their courage, brilliance, and kindness.

I never thought leaving this Island could be so hard.

Mami Esperanza and me Mi hermanita Ambar

The street where I used to live with a host family before I moved into my own house

The picture I gave to my neighbors so I would always be "eating" with them at lunch time.

My family - Esperanza, her brother Luca and Victoria. It was a tough day.

At my despedida (goodbye party).

They were singing to me. So sweet.

Me with the administration of the tech center

Everyone from the tech center

This past week, I did a very cliché thing—I painted bedrooms at an orphanage.A couple weeks ago, one of my friends, Brittany, worked with the local authorities to remove a child from his home because he was being abused and not properly fed. So she did what she had to do—she rescued him and placed him in an all-boys orphanage that is supported by donations from a church in the States. The orphanage is hardly luxurious, but at least this child, a short nine-year-old with a brilliant smile, is safe. He can now grow up to learn different values, that people deserve love and abuse is not normal. And he is being fed and educated and looked after.While Brittany was there, the administrator talked to her about painting the bedrooms. They were painted a bleak yellow that is the standard color of all the public schools and a slime green. So we decided to brighten the rooms with calming colors and murals about values and protecting the environment.I had never been at an orphanage before, but I think my visit there will be one of the most memorable. I couldn’t help but think that these boys have lost their parents to death or abandonment. For most of us, this is not something we could ever imagine. Most of us have families who care for us, but these boys are alone in the world. At least they have each other. We were amazed by their intelligence, their eagerness to participate, their quickness to answer our questions; in our normal Peace Corps lives, we have a hard time eliciting answers or motivating the youth, but these boys were sharp. The loved the attention, and they were so sweet. We weren’t sure if we would finish painting the rooms, but each one of us took charge and went to work, and I am so proud of what we produced. As another volunteer Amanda mused, we each have our own unique talents to contribute so we should have our own consulting firm, helping developing nations. I agree. I feel so privileged to have met so many amazing Peace Corps volunteers, so many amazing PEOPLE.Perhaps this is a shameless plug for Peace Corps, but honestly, I’m glad I did this whole thing. Just weeks left now, and everyday I’m nostalgic. I’m afraid to let go of it all, to let go of this life-changing experience.But at least I can smile and remember those great volunteers I know, those eager boys at the orphanage, those grateful patients at the medical mission, and those empowered young women at the girls summer camp. They will be my inspiration, my motivation to continue serving others.

Being present has become more relevant to me as my days in the DR are numbered. I can already feel the stress and pressures of American society tugging on me as I’m mired in grad school decisions, financial considerations, and questions of the future. But I have to keep reminding myself, “Stay here. You are here now, so relish every last moment.“

I look forward to the exciting life I have ahead of me—reconnecting with old friends and family, starting graduate studies with a new “worldly” perspective, searching for my life partner, eating good food, looking good and wearing fashionable clothes, going to museums and concerts and professional panels.

But I’m going to miss a lot here—the food, the warmth of the people, all my amazing Peace Corps friends, bachata, la pasión, Spanish all the time, the beautiful untouched beaches, smoke from a fogón, climbing mountains, horses and chickens, swimming in the ocean, making up stuff, reading and drinking tea in the afternoon, enjoying the sunset, and taking it easy everyday. I’m not looking forward to a stressful, hectic life.

This experience has been transformative for me. I’m more open-minded, less scared of looking foolish, used to failing then trying again, and more realistic. I want to maintain the idealism I had when I started service, but I now know that things don’t change overnight; they don’t even change over two years, but you have to be persistent and not let anything get the best of you. You must be strong but kind. You must be present and appreciate what you DO have. You must enjoy your life and breathe and laugh. Peace Corps has indeed changed my life, and I’m so glad I did it.

I imagine I’ll be stuck between two worlds when I return to the States. It’ll take some time getting used to the rigidity, the notion of timeliness, the over-stimulation of American culture. I’m glad to go back, but it’ll be awkward--again. But I’m an expert at embracing the awkward.

Stephanie and I enjoying the beach -- while we still can.

This is real and not a postcard. We went to the beach on horseback. This is Camaron, or "Shrimp." We had to ride (slowly) for an hour through the campo and it was gorgeous.

One of the harsh realities of serving in Peace Corps is that you're disconnected from the world p'alla ("over there" in the U.S.). Life goes on without you in the States, and sometimes, what happens "over there" is life-changing. My grandfather died on Monday before I had a chance to really say goodbye. Therefore, this post is dedicated to his memory. He was a generous man who demonstrated service for others in his daily life.

Grandaddy was all heart. His heart just radiated from his being. You just couldn’t escape it – that gentle smile, those caring eyes. You felt at home when you were with him. He was an upstanding man, proud of his family and his roots, and kind, so incredibly kind.

He wasn’t happy unless you were happy. You didn’t take care of him; oh no, he took care of you. That’s how he wanted it. And he made you feel loved, truly loved, as he would tear up when you would depart on the next fight. And here, as I sit writing this, I’m doing the same thing –crying because you have departed from this world, Grandaddy.

It’s going to be hard to return to North Carolina knowing that you won’t be there to pick me up at RDU as you had so many times before. The idea of “home” has changed for me now that you’re not there. You see, you were part of home for me, but now there’s a piece missing.

I can’t possibly say everything, the words escape me now, so elusive they are in my time of need, but perhaps in the simplest terms possible, Grandaddy, I love you, I always have and always will. I’m so proud to be your granddaughter. And I miss you. I will always miss you, Grandaddio.

And if he was reading this now, he would say, "Oh, Lanna, don't make any fuss over me!" Well, I am, Grandaddy. I want the world to know how proud of you I am.

I spent last week translating for and working with American plastic surgeons, and it was amazing.

Perhaps the best part about the whole experience is that I felt like I was actually helping people.

The purpose of this medical mission was to correct cleft lips and palates (many children are born here with this genetic defect in which their lips or palates aren’t fully fused, inhibiting speech, eating and breathing, not to mention affecting their appearance) as well as to reattach nerves, tendons, and skin on patients with machete wounds or burns so their joints may once again have complete functionality.

I’ve never been a part of a medical team before, so of course, there was a learning curve. I had to learn how to maintain a sterile environment in the operating room by wearing appropriate protective materials and refraining from touching surgeons, their equipment, and the patients. They spoke a language I didn’t understand, but my job was to communicate their ideas to the patients and to make the patients feel more comfortable. Surrounded by English-speaking, surgically dressed doctors, the patients were uneasy.

It felt great to take care of people. I stood with children and comforted them as they went to sleep via anesthesia. I was there when patients were waking up after surgery. I did what I could to make them feel better.

Yet there were some people we couldn’t help, and we had to turn them away, regrettably. Through this medical mission, I also experienced the health care system here. While we treated our patients as they would have been treated in the U.S., we had to witness the treatment of patients in other rooms.

Before this mission, I had never entered a public hospital. I remember my first impression of the public hospital in my town. On my first day in site, one of my community members drove me around town and we went to the parking lot of our town hospital. The premises looked eerie –there were no cars in the parking lot and no one coming in or out of the hospital. Certainly this was not like an American hospital. I asked my friend about the hospital’s appearance, and she said, “Oh no, no one ever wants to come here. There are never any adequate supplies or personnel. People come here to die.” That really struck me; people don’t go to our hospital to get well, but they go there to give up.

Therefore, if you want proper care, you must go to a private clinic, which offer services that the average person can’t afford. When people have a severe accident, they are forced to go to a public hospital.So flash forward to last week, and the first time I had entered a public hospital, a TRAUMA public hospital at that. The conditions at this hospital were depressing. The last of its kind in Santo Domingo, this hospital was always busy with emergencies, with few resources and overworked doctors and nurses. And I saw some things I never expected to see.

Though the work we did last week was draining, I considered it very fulfilling and life changing. The Friday after the week’s surgeries was designated as a clinic day in which we changed the bandages and examined the patients to see how they were healing. The bus pulled up to the hospital that morning, and there was a crowd of smiling, happy patients, waiting outside. I lit up as I recognized a man, and I waved at him (later on, he gave me a chocolate bar to thank me for helping him.). Everyone was so grateful for what we did, and I just felt so good inside. I was really humbled.

I had connected with people.

Dear blog readers, I have not forsaken you. Regrettably, I’ve been tangled in academic rhetoric of late. Learning to speak and write again in erudite English has been my most recent obsession. I’ve been planning my future, post-Peace Corps, and in preparation, I’ve been applying to international affairs graduate programs in the Northeast.

A recap of the past few weeks:

I spent the holidays in country. Though, I really missed my family, I actually enjoyed my holidays here. I went to the campo to spend Christmas with my friends Amanda, Jean, and Lindsey – and four dogs (Amanda’s dog OB, Jean’s dog Wally, and two visiting dogs Blue and Lechosa). We all stayed at Amanda’s cozy, little house.

For Noche Buena (i.e., Christmas Eve), we went to her host family’s house. Her host mom laid a feast before us – close to 20 large dishes: two types of lasagna, puerco asado, roast chicken, five different types of salad, pastelones en hoja (like tamales – mashed green plantain with meat wrapped in banana leaves), two types of rice. Lets just say I took a couple of spoonfuls of each dish and my plate quickly became a mountain of food. After savoring our meal, the ladies and I went outside to see what the neighborhood kids were doing. As is tradition, they had bought Brillo pads and were lighting them on fire to make sparklers. Yes, there were tons of children in the street playing with fire. To entertain the kids, the ladies and I sang English Christmas carols. The children were quite delighted by our little show, so they requested more. Then we asked them to sing Spanish Christmas carols. One little girl just made up her own song, and a boy sang a traditional Dominican carol. But then I realized that these kids don’t sing carols as part of their tradition (though there is a tradition in that everyday, eight days before Christmas, people parade through town at 6 am, singing a song that invites people to get up and sing with them). Then one of my new little friends asked me if the kids in the U.S. stay up all night, like they do, during Noche Buena. Without thinking, I responded, “No, they have to go to bed early so Santa Claus can visit them.” All the children fell silent, not understanding. And then I realized that Santa doesn’t visit the children here. They appreciate the mythology, but the children never actually believe Santa visits; perhaps it is because most parents can’t afford to shower their children with gifts on Christmas morning. Even on Christmas, every culture has its own traditions. For a moment, I had forgotten that.

That evening, because we didn’t go to mass, the ladies and I did an Advent and Christmas Eve service at Amanda’s house. We lit candles, sang carols, and read Scripture. It was really moving.

For Christmas day, we decided we wanted to do a traditional American Christmas. Two more Volunteers came to visit, and we cooked a Southern-style feast: biscuits, mac n cheese, green beans, mashed potatoes, squash casserole, and BBQ chicken. In Amanda’s tiny house, we set up a classy dining table, and like ladies, sat down to eat and enjoy each other’s company. It was truly a memorable Christmas.

We spent New Years in the beach town close to my house. We rang in the New Year dancing in a club, and without any warning or countdown, the DJ suddenly shouted “Happy New Year” and we all hugged each other, happily. This year, 2011, will be one of change for me. I will start a new life after May. Interestingly, this is the fourth year of change for me in the past 6 years. I’m rather excited.

I’ve been spending these first couple of weeks of the New Year, working away on grad applications. I feel like I’m in school again.

A happy and healthy 2011 to you all. This year I’m coming home!

Photos below courtesy of Jean, Lindsey, and Amanda!

Yummy s'more brownies that Jean and Andrea made. Since most of us don't have ovens, we bakes by using a Dutch oven on the stove. It works pretty well: I've made cake, brownies, cookies, biscuits, and cornbread on my stove!Preparing for Noche Buena dinner- Jean and I picking rocks and bad pieces out of the rice.Our Noche Buena Feast! Lindsey and meLighting a "sparkler"Prettyyyy! This kid was one of my favorites. He was so cute.Family portraitEven though it was the holidays, I was still working on my grad applications. This is my "stressed out" face.The ladies and me before our Christmas dinnerChristmas dinner!After our Christmas feast, we took a walk with all the dogs. Eventually we set them loose to frolic in the hills for a little bit. That is, until one of them was naughty and tried to kill a chicken.

The last month has been a whirlwind -- taking the GRE, spending pre-Thanksgiving in my friend's campo, baking loads and loads of pies for real Thanksgiving (and living in an American-style Embassy family house. We had hot water, DVR, air conditioning, a full refrigerator, washer and dryer -- it was so awesome. I felt like I was in Florida for a few days), advanced dive class, now our annual IT youth conference. Whew!

This month is grad school application month. I'm finally going to finish my applications, si Dios quiere. Also, a few visitors at my house this month, then spending Christmas with some friends in the Dominican countryside, and New Year's on the beach.

Everything is happening so fast. Only 5 months left of service. I can't believe 2011 is upon us...

Best wishes for the holiday season! Stay warm!

In the News…* I took the GRE a few weeks ago, after months of studying, eating and breathing vocabulary, analogies, percentages, triangles, train problems. Another lesson in failure… A week of no sleep and then a nasty cold distracted me during test day and I just couldn’t focus. I didn’t score terribly, but I did worse than any practice test I took. I'm going to take it again this month. Wish me luck.* Another Stateside, long-time (over 11 years!) friend, Sergio, came to visit. He got the real Peace Corps experience – no water (see next update), frequent black-outs, uncomfortable transportation, the beach, and a youth conference.* So I spoke too soon in my previous post – the water that finally came only lasted two days and then the pump to the aqueduct broke again. My town finally got water 2 weeks later. One night I tried to bathe in the rain (to conserve water b/c there was none – why not take advantage of nature??) in my clothes of course, but my neighbors were questioning me, laughing, watching me like I was in a circus sideshow. I made Sergio jump in the street with me so I wouldn’t be the only crazy American doing it, but my spontaneous gesture was ruined by everyone getting in my business.* Brigada Verde youth conference! Yes, another conference, but this time we went to this beautiful eco-tourist hotel near a national park called Los Haitises. The park is a series of large rock landscapes with trees and foliage mysteriously growing on top that jut out of the Samaná bay; only four places in the world have terrain like this. We took a boat tour of the park, visited some Taino (the indigenous people, completely eradicated by the Spanish invasion that started with Columbus’s first colony here in 1490-something) caves that had sculpture and paintings, and admired the many different birds soaring elegantly above the large rock formations.* Went to a Peace Corps mandated training about cholera. It’s in Haiti for the first time in several decades, and supposedly Dominicans have little or no experience with it. According to the CDC, it will inevitably come to the DR because all the rivers, which are our main sources for water, are linked. However, Peace Corps gave us very thorough instructions on how to take precautions, basically things we should be already doing because the water isn’t clean in the first place, but they really drilled into us the importance of these precautions. The fortunate thing about this very nasty disease is that it is completely curable with rehydration salts and antibiotics. The key to preventing the spread of this disease is education. Also, cholera is all over the world, including many Peace Corps countries – I just have to be careful to protect myself and I must tell people how to prevent it.* I finally got a refrigerator – after over a year of living without one!! My friend, Iris, who just finished her service, gave it to me and it’s wonderful. Cold water, how I appreciate thee. Now I can actually have yogurt, milk, leftovers, and chocolate in my house. I also bought a Dutch oven for baking (since I don't have a real oven) so I've been baking a lot: brownies, chocolate cake, banana bread, chocolate chip cookies, and my greatest feat, homemade pizza with my awesome friend, Stephanie! Therefore, eating has gotten a little bit better. * Break-up Anniversary. A year later, I’m still here and happy to say that this October was way better than the last. I’m feeling good and I’m happy concentrating on me. I feel strong, wise, optimistic, and I look forward to falling in love again – probably, in America. This time is for me.* A group of volunteers just finished their service at the end of October, some of them, dear friends of mine. I was sad to see them go, but excited for them. They were ready. Now my group is next to leave. We are the “seniors.” Brigada Verde conference photos, courtesy of Sergio. (P.S. These photos took about an hour to upload, thanks to my .001 kb/s internet connection.)

We had to take an hour-and-a-half ferry ride across the Samaná Bay to go to the BV conference. Sergio and I at the dock.

We finally arrive on land!

Explaining the conference registration process to my joven.

Presenting our community

Doing an ice-breaker with the kids.

Dancing around a bonfire!

Giving a motivational lesson on project planning. Any good business or project has to have a vision and mission statement!

Sergio and I in a Taino cave

The national park had the largest mangrove forest I've ever seen. They even have a mangrove crop.

A Taino cave statue. The guide said that they are usually at the entrance of caves, standing guard.

I only have 7 months left, so I’ve begun to think about my future. Been working on the GRE and researching graduate programs in the Northeast. I think I want to pursue a Master’s in International Affairs with a focus on communications and gender rights (Yes! Equality for men AND women!). Also, it’s conference season. I have Brigada Verde, girls, and IT conferences coming up this fall. I’m planning more lessons and activities with my volunteer colleagues. I’m also thinking about what projects I may start before I leave: a sex-ed class, reading group, and maybe a radio show (?!). We are still working on the Telenovela.

Today is a glorious day. My town finally got water after a week of not having it. Yes, that’s right. We didn’t have running water for more than a week.You may think that’s surprising, unthinkable, but for us, it’s totally realistic. About 2 years ago, before my time, my town lived without running water for 3 months.When I found out our aqueduct was broken and that we were waiting for a replacement piece from another town, I began to think about that legendary time of no water that everyone in town speaks about. I began to mentally brace myself for the possibility of living without water – again (I may have mentioned this in a blog a year ago, but I lived without running water in my house for 6 weeks. I had to fill a large trash can with water from my neighbor’s faucet. It was pretty hard core.). But even when we have “regular” running water, we don’t have water 24 hours a day. Usually I will have running water from 7 AM until 1 PM every day except Sundays. So I usually replenish my water reserves (two large trash cans) every morning when there is running water. Many other people survive this way of life by installing water storage tanks on their roofs, so they can at least have water running through their pipes; those of us who can’t afford such a “luxury” fill up large barrels. Yep, that means bucket bathing.Such a simple thing for many of you, but something incredibly important to us.Whenever I go to the capital, I’m excited to just take a shower, to have a strong gush of water pouring over my head from a faucet; it doesn’t matter that it’s cold.Electricity is also something we cherish. I get electricity about 60 to 65% of the time. If I need to charge something or use my computer in my house, I have to plan for it. It is a wonderful thing to just have a fan blowing in your face – when there is luz of course.Many of us play the “what would you rather have game?” Would you rather have electricity or water? Water, hands down. I didn’t realize how necessary it is. I couldn’t bathe, flush my toilet, clean the house without it (Don’t worry about drinking water. I buy huge water jugs and those are usually in abundance. I haven’t had to ration that, at least not yet.). One of my volunteer friends lived without electricity for several months. She just got it back. Another of my friends has never had it in his community. Living without electricity is doable, living without water is not.It is such a wondrous occasion when either of the utilities arrive that you will hear people shouting from all around “Llegó la luz” or “Llegó el agua” (“The electricity arrived” or “the water arrived.”). It’s like a siren. Many of you probably didn’t realize how much I relish the simple things when I visit the States – how I take extra long hot showers just because I can, how I watch the water running from a faucet and then drink out of it just because I can, how I just enjoy sitting on the couch staring at the TV with my internet-capable computer in my lap—just because I can.I’ve learned to really appreciate the simple things. Just imagine if the water stopped running one day or you had a 24-hour blackout. People in the States would be in an uproar. Not here. We are at the mercy of city and utility officials. Here, it’s just daily life. And we deal with it.

Wonderful running waterMy "reserves"Drinking water!Apparently there was no luz.

I spent last week editing our biannual Volunteer magazine. Here's a piece I submitted... Finding Peace in Yourself Summer heat in the Caribbean!! The excessive sweat. Painfully loud motos, screaming children, music vibrating your house. La luz se fue. Lack of decent chocolate and ice cream. Chisme. Being over-committed. Being under-committed. Incompetency in Spanish -- still. Heartbreak. Missing someone from home. Machismo. Failure. Always the awkwardness. Being misunderstood.One by one, these stressors aggrieve[1] you and compound into one giant nightmare until one day you’re just not feeling yourself. You’re feeling disconnected, unmotivated, lost, lethargic and depressed. Welcome to the “one year y pico blues.” (These symptoms also indicate the “Crap! I’m living alone! Blues” or your standard case of homesickness as well.)You think you’re alone, but you’re not. I’ve found in my (un-empirical) study of the subject that when you talk to someone of your cohort, you find that they indeed are also suffering from the symptoms of one-year blues.So how do we remedy this nasty disease? You can try the usual Vitamin C, Echinacea, green tea combo to boost your immune system (We don’t want you to get physically sick also… That just exacerbates the matter.). But what else? How can someone find peace amid all this uncomfortable chaos?According to the experts (citing Thich Nhat Hanh and Dr. Boriana here), simple breathing exercises help reduce stress. The breath is your life force, so re-energize yourself! First sigh, exhaling everything. Just empty your lungs and at the same time expel all those negative, worrisome thoughts. Then breathe in deeply through your nose, making sure you’re breathing with your diaphragm and not your chest. While breathing in, say to yourself, “I’m breathing in, I’m calming my body.” Then breathe out through your nose and say to yourself, “I’m breathing out, and I’m smiling.” Even if you don’t want to say all that to yourself, just simply saying, “in” and “out” to yourself will help you focus on your breath.[2] Maybe you can focus on how you’re inhaling all the goodness in the world, extracting every benevolent molecule and exhaling all the waste, the worry, the negativity that bogs you down. Lessen that weight, my friend, and feel yourself becoming lighter.In Peace is Every Step, Nhat Hanh says that practicing different types of meditation such as walking meditation, driving meditation, and telephone meditation are useful ways to bring you out of the past or future back to the present moment. That is, they encourage mindfulness. I particularly like his description of walking meditation. When you walk, you should walk with just the intention of walking, not with the destination in mind. As you walk, slow down your pace and concentrate on your steps. Step carefully, delicately so you’re gentle to the earth. Don’t kick the earth in haste, but be kind to it. Pretend that with each step, you are planting seeds and flowers sprout. I find that I’m able to practice this type of mindfulness when I’m walking home from work at sunset. The air is cooler, the sky is a delightful pink-orange, the white gulls fly gracefully, the hills behind my town look so majestic and serene. When I concentrate on this sublime panorama, time stops, and I instantly feel calm and happy.The Earth has a great power. Not trying to be a “tree hugger” here (though I think most of us are), but I remember resorting to nature when I used to experience stressful days in New York City. I was constantly worried about money and finding a freelance job back then that I would begin to feel so out of sorts. So I would take a blanket and go to an expansive park near my house. It was big enough so that if you went to the center, you could barely hear the regular city noises. I would find a large shady tree, place my blanket under it, and just take a nap on the soft earth. Sometimes if I didn’t have a blanket, I would just plop down in the grass. I was closer to the earth that way anyway. I could feel the energy of the earth renewing me, and when I woke up, I would be optimistic again. Simple yet healing.Also, look for energy within. When you feel down on yourself, stop concentrating on what you’re not doing and start thinking about what you are doing. Concentrate on what you’re good at (hint: it may not be obvious to you, but really try to ponder this). I just tried this method today. I said to myself, “What am I good at?” And then I remembered some friends, on separate occasions, telling me that I make them happy. So I’m good at making people happy, and I know I definitely make people laugh because I’m good at being awkward. What a great feeling to know that you can elicit a smile from someone. Other suggestions for finding peace? Seriously, talk. Talk with all your might. Talk to your doña (or if you’re like me, try a “sitting-in-silence-with-the-host-family meditation”). Talk with your peers. Talk to yourself – out loud, in a journal, in song. Furthermore, set aside some time every day to do some meditating and/or yoga. You can download free podcasts from Yoga to the People (based in NYC yay! http://www.yogatothepeople.com/tryOnlineClass.shtml) and YogaDownload.com. Or run! Run away! I did a running meditation while I was running the half-marathon in June. I highly recommend you do the same. I considered the race a metaphor for this experience. At first, I was energetic, wide-eyed and optimistic, but by the time I made it to the halfway mark (11 km!), I felt my stamina waning. But there was no way I was going to stop. I had to endure the pain, the utter distress, and the immense desire to give up! Like Peace Corps, I needed to finish – and I did! I crossed the finish line relieved and ecstatic, my arms flying, my smile protruding. So visualize your finish line, but don’t forget about the experience of getting there. I knew my goal, but I also found myself enjoying the quirky running styles of others, the cool water trickling down my throat, and the bountiful, robust clouds hovering in a sunset sky. Moreover, I’ve found quite a bit of inspiration from reading. Of course, I’m referring to Thich Nhat Hanh’s Peace is Every Step, but there’s also: The Way of the Peaceful Warrior by Dan Millman, Three Cups of Tea by Greg Mortenson and David Oliver Relin, the Mastery of Love by Don Miguel Ruiz, and Eat, Pray, Love by Elizabeth Gilbert.And of course, hanging with the bros or chilling with ladies, a jumbo bien fria in your lap, doesn’t hurt either. If you spend most of that time laughing, even better! Laughing cures everything.Yes, you’re in a lucha. We all are. But guess what, you should be proud. How many of your Stateside friends and family have lived in a developing country in less than attractive conditions among the gente for two years? I would venture to say only a few. Consider yourself successful! You know what it takes to make yourself happy. So get off that plastic silla and get to it! Get movin’ on making some positive change in your life. Go out and find YOUR peace.

[1] If you’re studying for the GRE like I am, this word may jump out at you. I’ll try to include a few more to assist with your studying regimen. [2] Nhat Hanh, Thich, Peace is Every Step, New York: Bantam, 1992.

Dear Readers, here are a few fabulous photos from our telenovela shoot last month. Photos by Jean Erickson.

Walking to set, Beatles styleImprovising on setOn set: shooting a pregnancy test scene

About to shoot a scene; we improvised all of our production equipment: a mic on a broomstick became a boom and aluminum foil on a poster board became a bounce board... Here is my makeshift slate.

Let's get to work. Battle global warming on 10/10/10 by doing a community event.

I'm totally going to do it in my pueblo. Are you?

It is inevitable – the low point. It’s late August, in the Caribbean. The heat is unbearable. It seems to take great energy to walk outside. And then by the time I make it to work, I’m drenched in sweat, my eyes burning from the bright sun.Everything irritates me now – the daily blackouts (can’t use my fan when the electricity isn’t working!), the short periods of running water, taking cold bucket baths, the lack of refrigeration, the struggle just to get anywhere, speaking Spanish (why can’t people try to understand my language for once?!), my town’s expectations of me, my feelings of guilt that I’m not doing enough, the general lack of motivation. I find myself daydreaming about going home, about New York City, wandering the streets, seeing a good movie, eating chocolate cupcakes, closing myself up in my air-conditioned apartment. I guess I’m getting that “itch” because a group of Volunteers are preparing for their end of service in October. They’re talking excitedly about their plans afterward – traveling, job searching, moving to different cities, grad school. I find myself feeling impatient, counting down the months and days I have left – 8 months, 20 days to be exact.I have a lot going on… maybe too much. My head is spinning with Peace Corps and personal projects. But I’m lacking a little inspiration. I’m feeling sluggish. It has been hard getting out of bed every morning. Maybe it’s because the heat has zapped my energy. I wake up sweaty and disappointed that my fan isn’t spinning.I need to clear my head, make a plan. But where to start? I’m praying for a cool breeze to reenergize me.

It all started last September at the U.S. Embassy Pool. My colleagues and I were having our first IT Committee meeting in style. Some of us hung out on the side, some floated, while the President presided from the pool steps. The floor was open for suggestions... How about a telenovela, a very popular soap opera format, that combines the Peace Corps directed national sexual health initiative (i.e., Escojo Mi Vida) and IT?

Brilliant! People applauded the idea, approached us asking how they could help, volunteered their knowledge. We had started something, but where to begin?

We began with ideas based on Escojo themes (e.g., self-esteem, HIV/AIDS prevention, family planning, teen pregnancy, etc.) and then we put them into scripts. Then we enlisted the talents of a fellow Volunteer to produce a very catchy theme song. After that, we approached Peace Corps staff to inquire about funding. We spent many months setting meetings to develop and promote this project.

This whole thing has been a long, arduous process consisting of organizing, negotiating, creating, compromising, deciding, budgeting, leading. Sometimes we had the momentum, sometimes we didn’t.

Then we received a small grant, and we decided to film an episode and create a trailer in order to stir up some excitement over the project.

Last week, we did our experiment, and we finished it with great enthusiasm and motivation to continue. The Dominican kid actors were excited and dedicated; the crew consisting of Volunteers was unified, eager to learn, and proactive.

Our talented cinematographer and editor quickly put together a teaser. Here it is.

Me Toca A Mi - Telenovela Teaser from Elisa Paltenghe on Vimeo.

About a year before I came to the country, when I was scouring the internet for volunteer blogs, researching possible countries where I would be sent, I read about a girls’ empowerment summer camp. I knew then that I wanted to do a camp like that one during my service. Then, when I came to country, I heard about the Camp GLOW (Girls Leading Our World) initiative – a five-day summer camp that teachers girls how to be leaders. By the time I had sworn in as a Volunteer, I learned that Camp GLOW 2009 was already full. I would have to wait a year.In November, just after Thanksgiving, the coordinators held a meeting for people interested in the camp. In February, they sent out applications. I filled one out almost immediately, stating my enthusiasm for this camp.We had Camp GLOW last week, and it was probably the best project I’ve done here so far. The week leading up to camp, I was running around trying to get my girls group together, finding a group of eager muchachas to invite, working on projects for the camp, and researching and writing my charlas (I did one on media and gender stereotypes and teen pregnancy). Then last week, it all came together beautifully. Not only did we have a core group of awesome Volunteers (only one male Volunteer, who was an excellent example of a male proponent of gender equality), we had a group of sixty motivated, perceptive, respectful young ladies.We danced. We laughed. We asked questions. We shared very personal stories. We gave motivational speeches in front of a campfire. We created art. We exercised. We cheered. We listened.During the preparation for the camp and the actual camp itself, I realized that I want to incorporate female empowerment into my work. I was already passionate about feminism. The camp gave me some purpose. Why don’t I make it my career? We still have a lot of work to do in the field of gender equality. At least in this country, sexism still flourishes. I get angry about it, but at least I have an outlet in which I can put that passion toward something positive. I’m still working on kick-starting my girls group. Things here are slow going. But going to camp was really inspirational. I met some cohesive girls groups and after seeing the Volunteers interact with these bright young women, these future leaders, I felt motivated to start a MOVEMENT in my community. Sí, se puede.

My brother is moving to California today. He's getting out of town. Kinda reminds me of when I was 19 and I fled to from Florida to California in a hurry. We live for adventure, always dreaming of it, needing it. And now the California sunshine is calling him. I'm proud of him. I think he's doing a good thing. He's doing what he wants and he's living.

As I mentioned a few posts ago, things are changing back home. My brother's move was recent news. I know when I go back, things won't be the same. I'm excited but also a little sad, thinking about how things once were. My life two years ago was so very different.

And now... anything can happen.

As I was writing the blog below, I heard a funeral procession in the distance. I went to my front porch to observe it. A typical procession includes a marching band in front, then the family (this time they were in a truck, other times they’re on foot) carrying the casket, followed by a large group of people, some wailing out, some wiping tears from their eyes, and all is somber. It seems that every week I hear of someone dying. Death here is a daily part of life. I’m not sure why it’s so prevalent here. Maybe it’s because life expectancy is lower because of the sub-standard medical treatment (my neighbor’s friend died of appendicitis over a month ago. Appendicitis!! So totally preventable). Maybe it’s because everyone is more tight-knit, more intimate and friendly with his or her neighbors, friends, and relatives. Everyone values his or her extended family all the way up to the 10th cousin, 4th removed (or whatever, you get it). My host family has lost various family members, friends, and neighbors since I’ve been here. My neighbor and other mother, Victoria, who lives upstairs is always attending a velorio (funeral service). There is mourning for 9 days and then on the ninth day, there is another service or occasion to commemorate the deceased. I never know what to say when Victoria announces another death. I always say “I’m sorry” or “how horrible” or something like that. But all this death makes me feel strange. I’ve only attended a velorio one time way back when I was in training, and I don’t want to attend one again. There is a lot of sitting around, gossiping, playing dominoes as if it’s a normal day and then in the corner, the family of the deceased is sobbing loudly, screaming as people try to comfort them.Over a year ago, I wrote a posting about my strong doña Esperanza and how she lost two of her three children, one during his training in the military and another in a fiery bus crash with her granddaughter. I also asked doña Victoria about her children. She too has lost a child. Her son died ten years ago, leaving two young kids and a wife. I’m a little unclear on how he died, but it sounded like he passed because of a medical condition. I also remember during training, I asked my host mother about her children and she told me she had lost her grown son a year ago to illness. And then she started crying.As a member of a few Dominican families here, it’s only respectful that I ask about their families, but my questions are always met with tragic answers – the death of their children.I think that’s something we fortunate Americans need to think about. We are so separated from death in the U.S. Losing children is not our reality. But here, apparently, it is.

Last week I saw a beautiful side of my region. Sure, my pueblo is sandwiched between the hills of the Cibao and a rough coastal habitat complete with wild mangroves and palm forests, invoking images of natural beauty. Obviously, it’s a very rich environment. However, I forget about that side when I’m in the grind in my busy, loud, polluted, congested pueblo, which reminds me of a city out of control, though it lacks the advantages and resources of a city (aside from a few radio stations and a TV station; as far as cultural activity such as museums and festivals go – it’s severely lacking).My Brigada Verde participated in a two-day summer camp at a ranch owned by a family who I know. Though we planned it for a couple months, it was certainly an impromptu camp. Kids wanted to participate, then they dropped out. We had proposed charlas that never came to fruition. We went without a schedule (a big Peace Corps faux pas—every camp we host here in PC has a tight schedule). But I think it was a success overall.I arrived at the ranch on horseback. The trail was bumpy and we had to cross a stream 6 times. I was a little nervous since this was only my third time horseback riding. But the trail was beautiful and I relished the journey into the hills where we had camp.Overall, six kids came – two eighteen-year-old boys, five preteen girls, and two girls whose ranch we were using. We ate lunch and then we went to the nearby natural mineral pool, fed by a small waterfall. The kids were jumping around, laughing and enjoying the freshness of the water. It was there I proceeded to give a small lecture about water pollution and how it’s important that we keep the purity intact. I reminded them that our actions can affect the water, and if we want to continue bathing in the rivers here and drinking freshwater, we have to be aware of this. That night, we had a campfire and I introduced them to the game of telephone, which they absolutely loved! (They ended up mentioning that game all the next day and played it again that evening.) As exemplified by the game, I reminded them how many rumors can be untrue and harmful to those people about whom they’re speaking.The next day was the best. We climbed a loma (a large hill) to find an even more beautiful waterfall and swimming hole. The view from the top of the hill was gorgeous with a view of the ocean in the distance. We encountered some horses and cows grazing, which followed us downhill eventually to take a drink from the stream. We enjoyed some wild grapefruit and limoncillos (not sure of the English name). The girls acted as pros mostly. Dominicans aren’t really accustomed to climbing or walking, for that matter, but some of the girls were leading our expedition and actually enjoyed it. After the hike, we had lunch and I rested! I woke up to find my youth leader playing games with the rest of group. She was teaching them games she had learned at the Brigada Verde National Conference I took her to in April! It feels so good to see the youth learning and teaching others.That evening, I enjoyed some limoncillos and had a long talk with the owner of the ranch about meditation. Apparently, some natives lived there a long time ago and their spirits are still very much part of the place. Because of my lack of awareness and intuition, I couldn’t feel them. But I hope to fix that one day.I also watched some of the youth cooking dinner for us. The family uses a fogón (a traditional stove made out of clay with a hole in the center to contain a fire and hold a pot. A lot of Dominicans still use them even though they have gas stoves for the smoky flavor it adds to the food.). I loved the smell of the burning wood filling the kitchen.On the last day, we walked to a small fishing village. There were several boats parked on the beach. Unfortunately the beach had a lot of trash, presumably caused by the careless littering of the people living upriver. Dumping trash in the river is a huge problem here and something that is not likely to get better anytime soon. Without the infrastructure to provide sanitation trucks to the small towns upriver, people will continue to dump trash and then forget about it once the river sweeps it away when there are heavy rains.With Brigada Verde, we’re going to work on it. This past Saturday, I was invited to talk about the environmental situation here on the radio. The same guy who invited me also has connections to churches in small towns, and he told me they are eagerly awaiting my environmental lectures. I’m going to bring some of my Brigada Verde members and together we’re going to concientizar (make aware) the pueblo and the surrounding campos.Also, I just received exciting news. We were approved to receive a grant for our club’s activities. With that money, I’m optimistic we’ll be able to do some good work in the pueblo!

On Sunday, I did something I thought I would never do – I ran (and finished!!) a half marathon, 13.1 miles, 21 km. And it was amazing. There were 900 runners, about 15 of them were fellow Volunteers. There were so many people of different types: Kenyans, high school students from Florida, a mother pushing her child in a stroller, wheelchair experts, old ladies with stiff legs, fat old men. It was inspiring. We ran through the city, and though I usually need my ipod music to power me, I actually ran the first half without it. I simply admired the people running beside me, the honking traffic, the various buildings. My friend’s sister ran with me, checking on my pace and telling stories. The weather was perfect – cloudy and breezy. Just before the race it was pouring rain (not preferable), but magically it stopped before the race. I think God was with me that day.I considered this half marathon a metaphor for this journey I’m on. That’s why I did it. It felt good at first. I had so much energy, so much adrenaline. I was optimistic and having fun. Then after the first half, we ran through a boring park, and I could feel my energy leaking out. However, when I tried to walk, my leg muscles hurt so much I had to keep running or power walk. The race became hard. I had a hard time breathing, I was thirsty, and I had to talk to my body to keep it moving no matter what. It felt like breaking up with someone you love. Or being in the Peace Corps and trying to motivate people. It took a lot of work and talking to myself to finish. I knew I was suddenly alone in this race, and only I could finish it. I had to depend on myself. So I did what I could to survive. I alternated power walking and running, blasted motivational music in my ear (thanks to my little sister for “Daylight”… it saved me), sipped on a water bag which hung from my mouth, relaxed my arms, looked at the ocean view.I finished in 2 hours, 45 minutes. Definitely not the time I wanted, not what I would have gotten in my racing hey-day ten years ago. But I finished and that was my goal. And when I crossed the finish line, there was barely anyone there looking on. But I sprinted as I always do and gave it my all until the very end. Afterward, people handed me water and crackers, placed a medal around my neck (for participating), cut the digital chip that was attached to my running shoe. I joined my fellow racing Volunteers and they congratulated me, hugged me. It felt so good to finish. I was happy.So another thing to check off my list of “Things I Thought I Would Never Do.” What does it mean to be happy? Surprise yourself. Seriously, it works wonders for your self-esteem.P.S. I’m sure there are some (un-flattering) racing pics of me floating around out there. When I get my hands on some, I’ll share them with you all. Peace, love, run.

On Tuesday morning, I'm leaving on a jet plane to go back to the Island.

When I come back home next May, things will be quite different for me and my family. My baby sister will be graduating high school. My parents will be moving to a new town. I will be almost 30. And what will I be doing? Traveling I hope and starting anew.

This trip here has been crazy and illuminating. I came back to the "past" to realize that things have to move on. There have to be changes. We gotta keep moving in this crazy world, otherwise, we'll be stuck, feeding off memories, living in the past, when everyone else is in the future.

Ten years of changing, moving around, building relationships, ending things -- all of this to get here to NOW.

It is certainly the end of an era. Time to walk out into the daylight.

"Rowing Song" by Patty Griffin (thanks for the recommendation, Jean!)

Rowing Song by Patty Griffin from Alanna Savage on Vimeo.

I’ve been in the U.S., rediscovering my past.First, I went to New York City to pick up some things, sell my furniture, and to say goodbye – to my old “home,” to HIM, and to my old life. It was strange being back. Nothing had changed except there were more hipsters populating my old neighborhood. But people were still rushing about, trying to get somewhere. The air was refreshing (a cool 70 degrees), and there was that good ol’ NY tension in the air. A little brisk, to be sure. I experienced a bit of culture shock too. No one came to my rescue to help me with my heavy bag. The buildings were so large, and there were so many stimuli. It was overwhelming being back. But I came to a realization: my place is in the D.R. Everything was the same, but I had changed, and I felt that I didn’t quite belong there.

It was definitely hard being back in NYC. I learned I had to let go of love. Just let it go. Sasha had moved on and he's looking forward to a new chapter in his life. I have my very own life in the DR now, one that I have created tabula-rasa style. Our past together is just that - our past. The present and the future beckon me. But first, I needed closure with him and the life I so hastily left behind. I got just that.After New York, I flew to Florida for my ten-year high school reunion. I saw a lot of vaguely familiar faces, and we each gave a synopsis of the past ten years of our lives. I explained to people, "I'm in the Peace Corps." Then, I would get an "awesome!" in response and that was it... Or people already knew what I was doing (and ditto for me) because of Facebook. My favorite part of the reunion was spending quality time with my best friends.So now that I’ve spent time going back to the past, I’ve been considering my future lately. Grad school? A government job? Backpacking abroad? I really don’t know. I want to start a family, of that I’m sure, but that will be several years down the road.All I know now is that I have eleven months left, and I’m going to spend them getting to know myself. I’m finally alone, without any attachments. And this will be the only time I’ll have to figure out what it means to be alone.I spent a few hours having dinner with a good friend the other night. I hadn’t seen her in years, and we were talking about spirituality. Surprisingly, we became so engrossed in the conversation that the hours just melted away. She told me about the service she did in Israel at a religious pilgrimage welcome center. She said she arrived to Israel with a big hole in her heart, a hole that had been bored by recent heartbreak, stress, uncertainty and other external factors. And it was in her service, serving humanity, where she found God. Finally, she said, the hole has been filled, and for the first time in years, she feels whole. I found that prospect inspiring.Serving, being a good person, aspiring to be greater, and appreciating beauty are all steps to finding God. I think I want to spend the second part of my service getting to know myself and working on my relationship with God. Perhaps part of the search for spirituality starts with me and my own self-discovery. So very soon, I will be going back to the island, ready to move on. Alone. Alone with God.

And now....

Some pics from yesterday and today. 9th grade, 1997 10th grade, 1998

11th grade, 1999

12th grade, 2000

Today, 2010

BFF's, 2010

My Brigada Verde group is so much fun! We want to do so much! Can y'all help us out with some of the items listed below?

Thanks so much. My BV group thanks you. The environment thanks you. I thank you!

P.S. I just sent out my first grant proposal hoping to get some funds for my little group. Wish me luck! :)

Hey everyone! I'm getting really excited about my projects... the great ideas are just coming to me! But I need your help! I need the following items to do some of the activities I've planned. Please let me know if you can donate any of the following items:

-Mini DV tapes

-Camera cable to digitize video in a computer (specs TBD)

-External speakers (the more portable the better, but they should have good, strong sound)

-Blank CDs/DVDs

-Markers

-Colored pencils

-Pencil sharpener

I'm coming to the States in June, so I can get this stuff from you. Please send me a message/comment and let me know if you can help me out.

Thanks, y'all! :)

Lessons Learned Presentation from Alanna Savage on Vimeo.

This week we had our one-year In-Service Training, in which we all shared the projects we've done over the year, challenges, ideas for new projects, and tools for success. Here is the power point presentation I gave about the lessons I've learned this year.

It's official: I've completed one year of service. On May 13 of next year, I will be leaving this island on a plane to pursue a new life. Where I'm going, I just don't know yet... I'm thinking I'll travel a little bit, try out living in a new city for a while and go to grad school. I'm still thinking about what I'll study.

I guess the realization of my one year mark really hit me when I said my final goodbyes to some very good friends who recently finished their service. All the talk about their plans after service really got me thinking...

This whole experience has been interesting. It represents its own novel in a series that composes the story of my life. I consider the time before Peace Corps my "old life." The last week before I came to this island was all a blur. And when I look back to what I was doing before I came here, I feel like I was a different person. Something has changed within me, and I can't completely define what it is... All I know is that I feel new and my path beyond this remains unclear. I can do anything after this. It's rather exciting.

I've been busy lately. May has been a month filled with visitors from the States (my BFF's Angela and Rebecca), sad goodbyes to some amazing, irreplaceable friends, conferences, telenovela project tasks, and my Brigada Verde group's activities. I have a lot going on this summer.

(And I would like to say that the elections are finally over!! Maybe normal life can resume again without all the loud campaign songs, posters, and general craziness.)

So yeah, I'm "in between." In between my old life and my brand-new life... One year in, one year left... I don't consider this a hiatus from life, but rather a transition. I'm metamorphasizing.

Also, this means that you all have less than a year to come visit me! As we say, hay que aprovecharme! (Take advantage that I'm living here!)

Come visit, already!! I'm keeping a mental list of all the beautiful sites we can see!

Now, some pics from Ange's and Reba's visit (photos courtesy of Ange):

Ange and Reba treated me to an all-inclusive hotel stay near my house!

Fine dining on the beach

Ahhh, this is the life

Reba and I chillin' on the beach

Waterslide!

Mexican night!

Teaching Ange how to merengue

Teaching Reba too

One morning before our "adventure" to my crazy pueblo

This past weekend, I took a couple young ladies to the Brigada Verde (my environmental awareness club) National Conference. We had charlas on human impact, water contamination, respecting the environment, endemic species, organic pesticides, and HIV/AIDS (some of our funds came from an HIV awareness/prevention grant endowment so we had to do an awareness charla). We went to the national aquarium and a national park. I was really proud of my girls. They participated in all the activities, and they shared some of their environmental knowledge with the rest of the youth. My oldest youth and co-leader of our group, eighteen-year-old Alexa, did some investigating to find out how we can strengthen our club and recruit new members. I really admire her motivation!I’ve included some photos for your enjoyment!My youth Sofia and I (no, she's not American... she's Dominican with Austrian parents)

Alexa, Sofia, and me

Volunteer Mica and a youth performing the "Onion dance"

Co-teaching the HIV/AIDS charla. First we discussed stats and the basic info, then we showed a short film featuring a woman living with HIV, and afterward, we broke the youth into groups and gave them each a situation to discuss.

A group of youth with Volunteer Kathy discussing their HIV/AIDS situation

Walking through the national park with the park "Ingeniero" (Engineer - Dominicans use formal titles a lot here... For instance, I'm "Licensiada" or "Profe")

Fun with boats!

And of course, cake!!!!

Accepting our certificates for participation

Yesterday, my newly formed Brigada Verde group (an environmental awareness club) and I went on a expedition to find a path to the beach from my town - and we were successful! What's funny is that everyone in town knows the beach is nearby, but not many people know how to get to it by foot. Normally people congregate at a popular local beach 10 minutes up the highway by car.

To get to the beach, we walked a half hour through beautiful fields and forests. Below are some photos from our journey.



I really liked this lone tree in the middle of the field.

In a field, we found some cotton-like stuff in the grass. We think it originated from some pods in a nearby tree.

We arrived!

There were a lot of broken tree limbs and debris strewn along the beach (not to mention lots of trash... an idea of a beach cleanup came to mind!). These eerie relics suggested a recent hurricane, though I know we didn't have one last year. Really weird to see a lot of dead trees along the beach. Looked tragic actually. Looking for a hidden crab

Another tragic tree carcass

Watching little sea critters burrow into the sand

Heading back to the pueblo, we saw several resting cattle along the path.

The IT Committee and I are working on a proposal for a telenovela-themed video series for adolescent audiences. The series will complement a national health education initiative called "Escojo Mi Vida" and will feature important issues such as teen pregnancy, contraception, HIV/AIDS, self-esteem, ideas of beauty, Dominican-Haitian relations, etc.

I'm working hard on getting this proposal and budget just right so we can begin soliciting funds from Peace Corps grant endowments and private donors. Expect to see an official solicitation through the Peace Corps website within a few weeks.

But great news! We've already received a grant from an institution called Kids 2 Kids! Check out the project profile on the Kids 2 Kids website!

Keep me in mind... I will be asking for money very soon!

Thanks y'all!

It’s election time all over the DR. In a few weeks Dominican citizens will be voting for their municipal mayors, senators and representatives in the congress.

All over the country, incumbent candidates are in a frenzy to repair their district’s roads and complete promised public works (though they’ve had almost four years to do it), so that these fabulous new improvements will be fresh in the voters’ minds on election day.Candidates eager for votes are giving away paraphernalia as well as appliances, holding large parties, and blasting their merengue-style campaign songs on a loop on each street corner.Politics is an interesting phenomenon here. People will pick their candidate, usually one affiliated with their party (there are about 4 political parties here), and yell passionately at one another, proclaiming why their candidate is the best choice. To make politicians seem more familiar, more from the pueblo, the people call politicians by their first names. The President of the Republic is not President Fernandez. He is Leonel. The mayor of my town is not Mayor Ovalles. She is Fatima. Campaign posters are plastered everywhere and party affiliations are indicated by their respective colors: purple, white, blue, red. Every political poster features the candidate in a frontal pose, beginning just below the shoulders and they either have a serious expression or the typical cheesy smile. All the slogans are similar: Trabajo por ti. Para el progreso. Prestame tu vota. Te doy la cara. Para el publo. Pa’lante. The lack of creativity in campaign slogans and posters really fascinates me. So when I saw that one candidate had a sophisticated series of posters with stylistic black-and-white photos of the people and a decent graphic design (and surprisingly, no photos of the candidate), I was quite impressed.While politics in the States may at times be a sensitive/private subject or of little interest to some people, politics here is an important pastime. Everyone is involved, and everyone has something to say about it. Most likely, the vast majority of the pueblo will be lined up to vote.Certainly, Election Day will be quite an event, and I’m not looking forward to it. I’m expecting it to be madness. Already the excessive parades and fuerte music that shakes my house’s foundation are getting on my nerves. There will be no peace until all this is over. ¡Pa' lante!

Today is the day I launch my youth groups: an environmental awareness group and a girls group.

I am sitting in an empty classroom. It is 6:15 PM. The girls group was supposed to start at 5:30. Fail.

The environment group earlier was a little better. I had 4 people show up (but 3 of them were kids I already had class with and they always come in a package together… only 1 student was new to me. However, we’ve planned our first activity for Monday – finding a path to the beach closest to my town, a little expedition of sorts. That’ll help me promote for my club.)

I haven’t quite experienced the “no one shows up for my meetings” phenomenon about which every Volunteer laments – until now. I’m the real thing now. I’m a real Volunteer, and I’m experiencing my first real failure. It’s okay. I expected this would happen to me someday. I’m not invincible. And optimistically, I wanted it. I want to know what it’s like to fail because I’ve never truly experienced it before.

That’s what this experience is all about – trying new things. Trying new, SCARY things. I’ve had my share of “just jump in and get it over with” moments since coming to this country. I made the club meeting announcements. I put myself out there. I was so nervous, but I jumped into the frigid water. The hardest part is over. Now I just have to swim and keep things going.

So now I’m strategizing my next plan of attack. I’m going to do a lot of word-of-mouth, print some more invitations, and make a radio announcement. Guilt trip kids into coming – maybe.

So what else is on my plate? I’ve been away from the blog for a while, mostly because I’ve been preoccupied with a lot of things. At the end of March, I worked on the Volunteer magazine for Peace Corps DR. I’m going to be the editor-in-chief of the next issue! Also, I’m working on getting a proposal together for a telenovela-style video series based on a nation-wide sex ed initiative. I will be soliciting funds for this project very soon. Moreover, I’m on the planning committee for an awesome girls summer camp called GLOW (Girls Leading Our World), in which we will have various charlas and activities to promote female empowerment. And finally, I’m trying to launch these youth groups as well as a conversational English class for advanced students. In the meantime, at the center, I’ve been tech support, helping to update the systems and solving basic computer issues.

I feel busy, but I feel I’m not doing enough. Yet, when I think of taking on another task, my head starts to spin. So I hope to work on these few things and make them really awesome. I really have some great ideas for the youth, and I hope to focus the rest of my service on them.

Below are some photos from my Reef Check dive certification course. Underwater dive pics to come soon....

Photos courtesy of Amy.

Our SCUBA tanks

Debrief before the dive

Another debrief and assignment of dive tasks. I was assigned to count fish. Other teams counted invertebrates and noted substrates (environmental conditions).

These guys had been fishing illegally. They caught a lot of the species of fish we were charged to count! They were hurting the reefs by fishing for these particular kinds of fish!

Fish that wouldn't be included in my survey... :(

A blue parrotfish among a pile of grunts

Weighing of the captured fish

Preparing to go under... Can you find me?

Hey Y'all,

After testing my town address with three different packages, I've decided that the best address to send correspondence is through the Santo Domingo address I have listed on my sidebar. Two of the three packages I've had sent directly to my town have been held up in other towns and it's more inconvenient to pick them up than to go to the Capital (where I go frequently anyway) and find your lovely package in my mailbox at the Peace Corps office.

Sorry for all the confusion with addresses, but to reiterate, please USE THE SANTO DOMINGO ADDRESS in my sidebar.

Thanks so much for everything you all have "donated" to my "poor Volunteer cause." I feel so honored to have such caring friends and family.

Abrazos y besos.

My new favorite thing to do when I come home: flop on my bed and take a power nap – until my neighbor and landlord, Doña Victoria, calls me from outside my door, asking me if I want to eat. Those little moments of shut-eye, forgetting about the day and letting my mind wander, are priceless and quite comfortable. Even the people yelling outside or the motors don’t bother me because I’m in my little haven, under my protective mosquitero, shut inside my yellow walls, as the day slowly turns to night.

Yes, I’ve been a little perdida (literally means “lost,” but people say it when you haven’t been around) lately. At the end of last month, I did a scientific survey SCUBA dive course in which we learned to identify and count certain kinds of fish, invertebrates and environmental factors, data which we report to an agency that assesses the conditions of international coral reefs. The reefs are dying worldwide, so we as certified Reef Check divers are collecting data to learn the extent of the damage.

After finishing the course, I went to visit an environment volunteer to see how the “other group” lives. Being an IT Volunteer, I knew that our projects would be vastly different. Cliff lives in a very secluded part of the country, surrounded by mountains and very close to the Haitian border. His site is starkly different than mine in that the community is very small and has no regular means of electricity (aside from a few donated solar panels that some households are lucky enough to have – he’s not), no indoor plumbing, and very sketchy cell phone service. For the first time, I used a latrine, an outdoor toilet in which you build a very deep hole and then a large cement floor on top. It was quite nice and considering the nationwide water and plumbing problems, it’s a more desirable toilet option actually. While my site is lush and green and beach side, his is situated among the large, dusty hills of the west. We went hiking a few times through the nearby pine forests and we visited the farming plots of plantains, coffee and yucca owned by some of the local farmers. Cliff showed me his garden from which we picked a couple heads of cauliflower and green peppers! He is using his garden to teach the locals that they can grow a variety of vegetables to supplement their diets (Also note that there are no general stores in this community. All of the food they eat is either raised locally or they have to travel an hour by car or two hours by foot to the nearest market). We spent a lot of time visiting and we traveled an hour by foot to an elementary school to teach a class about the environment. Compared to my busy and congested pueblo, Cliff’s community was so relaxing. Though the pace in my community is not quick and productive by any means, life in his is definitely slower. The lifestyle there is the same everyday, the conversations and activities limited by the isolated location. In his community, no one really wants to work for change, so people are content with just “being.”

After my trip to Cliff’s site, we went to the southern part of the island to meet other Volunteers and celebrate our one year in country! We spent the weekend reminiscing about our one year here and we realized how we have grown and changed so much. One day, though it was quite cloudy (boo!), we went to a beach where the ocean meets a river coming from the mountains. After swimming in the aqua waters of the Caribbean and eating fried fish, we all bathed in the river. Yes, bathed! Shampoo and all… because the water had run out at the house where we were staying and we had to take advantage of the fresh water. Imagine 11 gringos shampooing their hair in the river, Dominican style (Because water can be scarce here, Dominicans always bathe when they visit the rivers for recreation. ¡Hay que aprovecharlo!). I wish I had a picture, but unfortunately we failed to capture this moment.

Work is picking up. I finally finished my first English class last week. I started with 30 students, and ended with 6. Only 5 passed. Asi es la vida. Through this experience, I’ve learned that I’m going to fail, and things will never turn out as I expect. I just have to be flexible and content with whatever happens. At least I found 6 dedicated students who were willing to show up every week and participate. These kids are really great and we had a good time, so the experience and weeding process was well worth it. I hope they come to my next class which will focus on English conversation. Also, I’m working on starting a girls’ empowerment group and an environmental protection group. We’ll see how it all turns out. I find that the most intimidating thing about these projects is starting them… so I really just have to jump in!

Tomorrow a Volunteer-in-training will visit me for the weekend to see how we live. I’m excited about showing her around. Apparently, we’re experienced Volunteers now, though I’m not sure I have much to show her as far as work goes… I spend most of my time just pondering and planning projects.

So here's to one year. It went by fast, but I fear the next year may go by faster... and there is still so much to do.

Need a little inspiration? Hungry for a dose of hard-hitting reality? Then you need to read my friend's, Stacie's blog about her work at a relief hospital on the Haitian-Dominican border... She's just one of the AMAZING people I work with, and it's spirit and dedication like hers that keep me going...

http://blcstace.blogspot.com/2010/02/from-jimani.html

I spent this weekend with 20 lovely young ladies and 10 other Volunteers at a girls empowerment camp. We had a lot of fun doing charlas about teen pregnancy, HIV/AIDS, gender roles, gossip as well as a mask painting art activity, dancing, swimming, and singing around a campfire while cooking S’mores. Yum!I was inspired by the camp. I taught the charla on teen pregnancy, emphasizing to these girls that they have the power to say “No,” to demand contraceptives, to wait to have sex. I gave each girl a “pregnancy test” (a popsicle stick with either a plus or minus) and told them that their lives were about to change. What are they going to do if they’re pregnant? After the results were handed out, we had a discussion about the consequences of one mistake, one night, and we discussed how they would care for a baby, how their futures would change, and then we discussed how they can prevent pregnancy for real. As I was telling them how strong they are, how beautiful and powerful they are, I realized that this is what I want to do. I want to start some youth groups and really help inspire teenagers in my community to make healthy decisions. I brought two girls, and I asked them if they had fun after the camp. They both smiled widely. I asked my host-cousin, who was a little reluctant about going because she's so shy, if she made any new friends. She said she made 18 good, new friends... Mission accomplished. I had spent the weekend laughing and feeling a sense of purpose. I really cared, and it was magical.

(Pics to come soon, I hope! Si Dios quiere...)

In Santiago and Playa Grande.







Photos by Sasha Santiago

February is the month for change, for making decisions, for getting back to work, so say I! I spent January reconnecting with my Dominican and Peace Corps friends, celebrating my birthday, and restarting my fledgling English class. I feel like I’m starting over again. I need to reassess my project and decide what’s going to fulfill me for the next 15 months. My head is full of project ideas, but where to begin?I was anxious about coming back to this little island. Perhaps I was frustrated, tired of feeling alienated and alone – alone in my social network, alone in my work here. But I’ve been thinking a lot lately, and I think I just have to let it all go and have fun with it. I can’t worry about what others think of me, whether I’m going to fail, and I can’t let my shyness get the better of me. Gotta get out there and do it, already! Yah!So I’m trying to be more observant. It really is therapeutic when you just admire your surroundings. When I am squished in a guagua (think of sardines in a can… can you imagine it? Yep, that’s how it is when they pack you in a guagua or public car), I look out the window, and wow, the drives are so stunning – the rolling green hills, the tranquil palms, the white cranes fluttering about, the cows grazing. Sometimes I smile to myself, and though people are talking loudly and the guagua poorly navigates the uncomfortably bumpy roads, I can’t help but feel at ease when I look out those windows. When ever in my life again will I have this much freedom? I can change my schedule from one day to the next. I can get up and go. I can decide what I want to work on and with whom. And I can just say whatever I want. Everyone else does. The DR is just one big intimate mess of people, tangled up in each other’s lives. You know about everything, and people know about you, and there is never this divide among people. Everyone is one and the same. Conformists most of them, and at times, that can be disabling, especially from a development perspective.And though there is so much routine – beans, rice and meat for lunch almost always, 12 – 2 pm siestas, the same kind of clothing, the same way of entering and exiting a car, the same party drinks, the same music, the same dance steps and always with a partner, the same cheesy political slogans and posters – there is quite a bit of spontaneity and chaos as well because things happen si Dios quiere (if God wills it). I say I’ll be back tomorrow, but the person I’m leaving always says the same thing – si Dios quiere – giving me that opportunity to be spontaneous. Who in the U.S. lives and thinks like that?? It’s really refreshing.Always there are oddities. A couple that come to mind: Last night I was in front of a colmado with some friends and in walks this little boy of about 3 years with a shirt, shoes, and no pants! Naked babies are quite common here, but I was stunned that the kid had enough sense to put on his shoes, but what about his pants? It was quite funny. Or there was another time when I had a bunch of visitors spending the night at my house for my birthday, and at four in the morning, a marching band (which actually sounded quite good) paraded through my town. I was not hallucinating it, because my visitors confirmed the occurrence as well. This experience is a lifestyle change for sure. I didn’t realize how much I had adjusted to life here until I went back to America. ¡Imaginate! I could walk the sidewalks there without worrying I would fall in a manhole! I have a specific way about doing things now, a special routine, and I will be interested to see how my American visitors react to such changes when they visit. Times are a changing. Things are beginning to move. It’s political season here in the DR. In my town, the mayor wants to be re-elected in May so she’s working feverishly now to improve the structural problems of town – new roads, a renovated hospital (that’s another story. Let’s just say the hospital here is scary to people and is thought of a place to go and die…). The dust is rising, the trucks are out, and everybody is trabajando, and so should I.

I walked to my center yesterday driven by my new idea: we should start a collection for Haiti relief and advertise it using the center radio station. I informed the encargado of this and he told me that at that very moment, the local TV station and radio station were holding a telemarathon to raise funds and solicit in-kind donations. I couldn't believe it!

I went online to check all the community blogs, and sure enough, there were photos and announcements of the telemarathon. I called the TV station to get some more details and one of my project partners answered the phone. I felt so proud.

I left the center soon after to go down to the station to see what was happening and to make a donation myself. There at the station were all the community leaders, people hanging around outside, and a huge van being packed with supplies. The community members had formed a commission to head the telemarathon and the collection.

During the entire weekend, the community members involved in the "Haiti Commission" will be going around to collect the pledged funds and in-kind donations. All the local churches have united as well and will be soliciting donations during their weekend services.

Yesterday was a great day. I felt so proud to be a part of this fine community.

It was Tuesday evening. I was at my tech center, waiting for my 5 o’clock English class to arrive. It was pouring rain outside. Looked like class would be cancelled because no one had showed yet…. It was 5:30 pm.

I was perusing the internet while waiting, chatting with my friends, complaining that none of my students had come. And then I felt it. This strange movement of the ground, making circular motions beneath my feet. Was I crazy? I looked behind me and saw the large conference table swaying back and forth. The center was quiet. None of the other employees were commenting on it.

I sent an IM to my friend online, another Volunteer: “Um, the ground is shaking now.” Nothing from him.

And then it stopped. Silence. My phone started ringing: my Volunteer neighbor who lives in the next town over. “Did you feel that?!”

I replied, “Yes! I thought I was hallucinating!”

Then my friend online sent a message back, “What was that??”

I left shortly afterward. Walked home in the rain. It was dusk. I thought it was just a small, strange occurrence. Nothing major.

I made dinner, prepared my computer to watch a television show, and sat down to eat. Then I received a couple phone calls from some Peace Corps people, checking in on me. Standard practice when something happens. Peace Corps just wants to make sure we’re safe.

Then a friend called me a little while later. “Did you feel the earthquake? The epicenter was in Haiti’s capital. They’ve suffered incredible destruction. The presidential palace has collapsed, many other buildings….”

The next day at work when I could access the internet, I checked the news. Unspeakable horror. Crushing destruction. Thousands feared dead. The photographs, the stories… And so close to home.

Reporters and aid workers are flying into Santo Domingo to start their trip to Haiti. Haitians are being transported to this country for medical attention. Many in the Dominican population are fearing for the fates of their loved ones. Fortunately, I have not heard any racist remarks by Dominicans yet. I have been expecting them since Dominican-Haitian relations are strained, but at this time I don’t think I could handle it. For the most part, people seem sympathetic.

Haiti’s history is characterized by cruel acts, constant instability, immense poverty… things Americans have never experienced. And now this. Their people, now more than ever, need hope.

Please help give them some light. Donate to the many relief efforts. It’s a small price to pay for you, but a huge gift to them.

Red Cross

Donation by Cell Phone - MSNBC Report

Donate $10 to the Red Cross to be charged to your cell phone bill by texting "HAITI" to "90999."

White House Blog

The White House's suggestions to help.

Salvation Army Haiti Earthquake Relief

Yele Haiti

So I know most of you americanos stateside are suffering from a cold front. We aren’t necessarily “cold” here, but we are wet and chilly. I actually put a blanket on my bed (normally, Dominicans sleep with only a sheet because it’s so hot)!

For the past week, there has been a dreary rainstorm, day and night. It’s certainly not helping with the motivation. It's killing my mood. Where are you, happy sun? Normally, when it rains here, people leave work early or don’t attend class. Today’s my first day back teaching English class, so we will see how it all turns out.

It’s a new year, and now it’s time to implement new projects. The last couple months were lax for me because of the holidays and the personal time I needed to get through my rough period. But now I’m back, and I have ideas, tons of them.

I’m adjusting back to pueblo life gradually. The Spanish is slow in coming. Doesn’t help that I spoke only English for the past month. So I’ll need some time to get myself back into the groove, but right now, I’m a confused mess in the linguistics department. I’ve been hanging out with my host family a little more, catching up with them.

I’m getting used to the food again – rice, beans, salad, and chicken. While spending some time with other Volunteers after my return from the States, I learned some new exciting recipes. So I’m going to experiment with my food a little. I want to eat healthier. Maybe once I finish my service, I’ll be a great chef. As we say here, vamos a ver (we shall see…).

Regarding relations, things are much warmer here. People have been glad to see me. My host family hugged me tightly, going on about how they missed me, and asking about my family allá (over there). While I was in the States, I noticed a certain kind of rigidity among people who are mere acquaintances. Though it is our cultural standard, I was a little surprised. I think I’ve integrated in the Dominican culture more than I originally though. When you meet someone here or when you greet a friend, you exchange cheek kisses and a half-embrace. Dominican people accept you immediately. All the introductory handshakes I did in the States seemed so unnatural to me.

Here goes to readjusting and reintegrating…. It’s a new year, the perfect opportunity to start anew. Sixteen months left… Let’s see where this adventure will take me.

**Also, my fine friends, notice that I put up a translator gadget in my sidebar for your translating convenience. **

Fabulous pancake breakfast with good friends in Cabarete, New Year's Day



Helen and I, New Year's Day

Mini Coral Springs High School Reunion at Panera. I went home to Florida for Christmas. It was awesome. I indulged in the wonderful comforts of America and spent quality time with my family and good friends.

Out with the ladies - my best friends for more than 13 years!

Interpretive dance to Arya's rendition of Foo Fighters "Everlong" on bass, Peace Corps Thanksgiving Celebration 2009

Our IT Spring '09 Group "Cross Country Team" at the PC Turkey Trot, Thanksgiving Day. Yes, we were very sweaty! It was soooo hot that day!

Our cross country team won best dressed at the Thanksgiving Celebration. Here we are all cleaned up!

Cooking dinner at Stacie's house. The weekend before Thanksgiving, her doña invited us over to her house to prepare a Thanksgiving dinner. It was a lot of fun being with close friends.

Walking through Stacie's campo

In Stacie's campo, her host uncle owns a large house and infinity pool built into the side of a large hill. We had to pinch ourselves. This is Peace Corps? Swimming in a luxurious infinity pool?

Helen and I enjoying the pool...

Group pic of us at Stacie's pre-Thanksgiving party

*Photos courtesy of Helen, Andrea, Angela, Geoffrey, and Lindsey

First of all, happy new year, everyone! I hope 2010 is full of exciting experiences for you all.

For Christmas, I went back to Florida to indulge in the luxuries of American life. And indulge, I did. I basically slept, ate, hung out with friends and family, ate, watched TV while using the internet on my laptop, ate, took long hot showers, and ate. I felt like I was on "vacation" even though I was really at home with my family.

Food was the highlight of my trip. I remember the very first thing I ate in America - a yummy Publix roast beef sub. I even remember the glorious first bite..... Ahhh. I made a mental food checklist that I had to fulfill, and thanks to my wonderful friends and family, I completed it! Caesar arugula salad, BBQ ribs, steak and potatoes, Mexican, Thai, Japanese Hibachi, roasted garlic hummus, lots of chocolate, Mountain Dew, sweet tea, pizza, Chick-fil-A... Yes, these things may be old news to you, my Stateside readers, but to me, every meal was memorable. Now that I'm back on the island, I must consume the usual rice, beans, chicken, yucca, platano, etc... America really does have a variety of flavors and cuisines, and I hadn't realize how food-deprived I had felt until I took that first bite in that scrumptious Publix sub.

I was a little worried about how I would feel returning to the States with my new single woman status. Sasha and I had spent a lot of time in Florida (we were from the same town), so of course there are a lot of memories there. However, I am proud to say that I felt good overall. It was great to spend time with my friends and family. I spoke to him a couple times on the phone while I was there. It felt good, a little strange, but good to talk to him. Maybe I felt a little closure... and now I feel that I'm ready to move on. More adventures await me... Who knows what will happen on this little island.

I came back to the Island (as I came to call it while at home) four days ago. I left my house at 4 in the morning. It was a little chilly by Florida standards. My family stood outside shivering and hugging me. I cried. I wasn't ready to leave. Life was just so good there. But I got on the plane and spent the entire day making my way to my site. When I arrived, I was greeted by several friends waiting at my house, cooking dinner. It was the best homecoming ever.

I spent a magical New Year's on the beach with my awesome friends (though we were missing quite a few people who remained in the States. Ustedes me hacen falta). I'm very honored to have such great friends. I feel loved here.

While I was in Florida, I got so wrapped up in the easy life. I wanted Florida, the USA, to be my reality. But it wasn't right. It's not meant to be at this moment.

The U.S. was just a dream. My reality is here.

Helen lent me this wonderful book entitled, “The Mastery of Love” by don Miguel Ruiz, a nagual (shaman) of the Toltec tradition.

I found it to be rather enlightening, but simple at the same time. Essentially, the secret to love is deep within us, in our cells, our molecules. The key to loving another is to love yourself first. Once you love yourself, you will be free to love others unconditionally – meaning that there will be no “if’s” to your love. You will be able to love infinitely and abundantly.

Also, when you love yourself truly, you can let go of all the negative feelings that are usually present in “relationships.” With self-love, you will be able to shed poisonous feelings stemmed from insecurity and fear such as jealousy and anger. You realize that the actions of others are not personal, but are motivated by their own problems.

So the key is self-love. Can you honestly expect someone to love you if you don’t love yourself? You are all you’ve got, so love yourself, open up and share your love with the world, and then when others fall in love with you, well, that’s just magical.

We had our annual Youth IT Conference last week. Each Volunteer brought one or two jovenes to the conference, which consisted of three days of computer classes, life planning classes, and team building activities. I brought two jovenes and at first, I wasn't sure if they were going to enjoy the conference. They were a little shy and hung out with each other, but eventually they opened up and had a blast.

I co-taught a couple computer classes (Windows Movie Maker and bloggins) and participated in some of the activities (a digital scavenger hunt and superlatives). We all worked together to put on a great conference. I am proud to work with such a cohesive, hardworking group of Volunteers.

What amazed me most about the conference was how grateful the youth were for the opportunity. In the U.S. we travel a lot, we go to several events in high school, but that's not always the case here. Most people stay within their community and rarely get the opportunity to attend an inspirational event.

During the conference, we had a table with envelopes - "mailboxes" essentially. If someone inspired you, if you admired someone, you could write a note to that person and leave it in their mailbox. The young lady I brought to the conference wrote me three separate notes thanking me. She was so excited after the conference and so very grateful.

At the end of the conference, the youth organized their own “superlatives” for outstanding Volunteers. They nominated me for nicest and best smile. I didn’t even realize they noticed me…. It was a wonderful feeling to know that we were able to organize something that motivated the youth.

Some pics from the conference... (Photo creds: Lindsey and Roberto)

These past few weeks since Sasha left have been a journey, and I think I’ve come out of this whole thing all the more richer. I’ve learned that I can be truly happy, truly myself without him, and I’ve never been so free to be myself. Finally.

Three wonderful ladies have been taking care of me these past 3 weeks, and I’m so very grateful. With each one of them, I’ve shared something special, and I think now I’m more ME than I’ve ever been. I don’t think I would have had such special experiences if Sasha and I hadn’t broken up, and now I’m learning that this was meant to be. My time is now.

I’ve visited three different campos. I’ve learned different lessons along this journey, but most importantly, I’ve seen true beauty.

During my time with Stacie, I learned how to reconcile with myself. I learned that this wasn’t my fault, and that we just aren’t right for each other. My favorite memory was running around the community lake at sunset. Her dogs followed us. They were so carefree, frolicking around, swimming, rolling in the grass. I felt free.

My visit with Helen was my time for building strength. Her town is so quaint, so tranquil, set in the hills of the Cibao region. She took me on a hike up this massive hill, which is usually a once-a-year spiritual event for her community. I gathered all my strength and conquered the hill. At the top, I could see the town all around me, the hills, the grazing cattle. It was beautiful. I learned I was strong enough to appreciate it.

Last weekend, I went to visit Stephanie in her pueblo in Samaná, and it was there where I found some peace. The experience was just breathtaking. We rode in the back of a truck through the hills at sunset, the wind blowing our hair… We visited a huge waterfall. I laid on my back in the lagoon to admire it, and my breath was just stolen from me. I couldn’t believe how beautiful it all was. Later that afternoon, we went to a deserted beach and napped. I just admired the calm sea, the pale orange clouds moving along the horizon.

Each of these experiences with each of these strong, unique women has helped me on my journey to heal my heart. With each, I’ve connected, had tremendous conversations and learned something new about myself.

I’m just letting it all go. Appreciating the good memories I had with him, and letting them fly away. They were my other life. My past life. But now I’m new and beginning again. Great things will happen. They are my destiny, and I’m ready to walk towards them.

--For Stephanie, Helen, and Stacie – a million thanks and lots of love.

--And for Sasha, I will always love you.

With Stephanie's dog, Fermina

(photo credit: Helen)

Running through the Dominican countryside, dogs trailing behind, with a good friend at sunset, listening to powerful music, and breathing it all in...