The teachers asked me to stop by my landlord’s house (he lives right below me) and talk with both of the parents and their daughter Arianny, who is in 6th grade. The dad leaves the house early every morning to work, leaving the mom in charge getting their two girls ready for school. Well lately, Pedro has noticed that when he comes home for lunch at noon, the oldest daughter hasn’t been to school. So he stopped by the school, talked with the teachers, and left me with the job to find out what’s been going on.

Here’s how the conference went:

As I enter the house, Pedro and his wife Johanny are yelling at each other. I knock and shout out “SALUDOS” to make my presence known in the hopes that they would calm down in front of me. Johanny told me to sit in the kitchen and they continued yelling at each other, so I just had to butt in.

Lauren: Excuse me, but the teachers asked me to talk to you all. They’ve noticed that Arianny has missed a lot of days of school and that she’s not really doing her homework.

Pedro: That’s exactly what I’m f***ing talking about. She’s such a bad mother, doesn’t even send these dumb girls to school. They’re going to grow up to be even dumber than their mother.

Johanny: Hmph! I do my job. I wake her up. I send her to school. I can’t make her learn. That’s her own d*** problem.

Lauren: Well I don’t really know the details because I’m not Arianny’s teacher. But –

Pedro: See here you dumb b****. Now the whole school knows you’re a bad mother and they’re telling everyone about it.

Johanny: Ask him why they miss school. He needs to buy her a notebook. She can’t go learn without a notebook. And the other one needs shoes. How is she supposed to go to school without shoes??

Pedro: Oh no! I bought her shoes and you gave them to your sister. I work hard for this family. They’re never lacking food. What do you do?? You don’t even have my dinner ready when I come home at 10 p.m.

Lauren: Ok, going back to the issue with Arianny; it’s important that she has the support of her parents. Maybe you can decide on an hour every day to sit down and do homework, and both of you can be available in case she has problems.

Pedro: Yeah, that’s what the gringos do. But my wife doesn’t care about that –

Lauren: I know it’s difficult with both of you working and y’all are very active and busy with the church, but it’s important that both of you become involved in scholastic issues.

Pedro: She can’t even learn a church hymn. Dumb. Just like her mother. These girls are going to grow up and be poor because they won’t ever get a job. They’re so dumb.

Lauren: Well Rosanny (the youngest daughter, who’s in fourth grade) is doing great. Her teachers say she is one of the best in her class.

Pedro: No thanks to her mother. Last year Arianny flunked and you know what that b**** of a wife of mine did? She hid Arianny’s grades from me so I wouldn’t know.

Johanny: That wasn’t me!

Pedro: So I threw the g**d*** television out the window to give her more time to study.

Johanny: You don’t even f***ing care about their studies. They’ve been in school for (she pauses and starts calculating the amount of years in her head) many tears and you’ve stepped foot in the school once. Or never.

Pedro: Just because you go to meetings doesn’t mean you learn anything from them. Dumb b****. Can’t even learn a church hymn. Next time I WILL go to the meetings.

Lauren: Ok, well I hope we can resolve this soon. Girls, you know I’m always around if you need help with homework or anything else.

And I fled. That night Johanny and the girls moved out of the house. And now three days later, they still haven’t returned. Did I just break up their family????

In Baoba, I simply paid a doña, my neighbor, to wash my clothes weekly. Sure the clothes came back with bleach stains and barbwire holes, but I had no washing machine and this arrangement was easy. Plus now I simply fit it with all the rest of my campo friends with their bleach-stained clothes.

When I moved to Baoba, a fellow volunteer gave me her laundry machine since she was COS-ing and heading back to the United States (thanks Iris!). So now I do my own laundry, and I have learned that it is nothing at all like doing laundry in the states.

To wash clothes here, you need three things: electricity, water, and sun. It is difficult to find a day when all three off those necessities are available. When dirty laundry starts piling up, I start looking for the perfect day. I wake up at 7 when I hear the click of the refrigerator turning on – llegó la luz! I now have approximately 5 hours to finish before the electricity goes out again. Now you’re probably thinking, “oh 5 hours…that’s more than enough time to wash a week’s worth of clothes.” Ha, you’re so wrong.

Luckily, in Abreu there is always water. Unluckily, in Abreu, the water comes from the river. So if it has been raining a lot lately, the water is filthy. I recently had to call Dad and ask him if my clothes would get clean if I washed them in water as dirty as Lake Wiley. He said no, but I had no other option.

So I start filling up buckets: 2 buckets of water go into the laundry machine with detergent. Then I set out two poncheras (large, wide buckets) and fill those with water as well. The laundry machine does not have a rinse cycle, so one of those poncheras is used to hand-rinse the clothes. The other is used to soak the clothes in fabric softener.

Now there is a certain order to the clothes that need to be washed. Whites go first with a little bit of bleach, then sheets and towels because the water is clean. Then go the other clothes, according to their place on the dark color scale. After every second or third load, I have to change out all of the water to keep it clean.

After the clothes soak in a bit of suavetel, I run them through the dryer, which in fact does not dry the clothes. It is more like a wringer. It gets out all of the excess water, but does not actually dry the clothes. That’s when the sun comes in to play. The clothes then get hung out to line-dry. My clothesline is actually the electricity cable strung outside the house. Once all of the clothes are hung on the line, I still am not technically free from the chore. I have to stay in the house all day because if a storm sweeps in, as they often do on the north coast of this Caribbean island, I have to run out and collect all the clothes before the rain starts. Then I wait for the sun to appear again, and repeat the process until the day ends, night falls and I finally have clean (although a little dingy from the river water), dry clothes.

We just had our COS (close of service) conference. We came into this country as a group of 53, and we ended with 34. And our group has done amazing things: built aquaducts, taught HIV/AIDS and sexual education, registered Dominicans with birth certificates, taught children and adults how to read and write, built stoves and gardens and chicken coops.

At the conference, we learned how to readjust back to life in the US, where there is an overwhelming variety of things: foods in the supermarket, clothes in the department stores, and where kids need toys and aren’t happy just playing with a tire and a stick. But the best part of the conference was just to talk with the other volunteers. We told stories and we could all relate and understand each other’s experiences because no matter how many times we talk to people back in the US or how many times they read our blogs (no offense), people who have not done Peace Corps in the DR will not understand Peace Corps in the DR.

After three days of talking about resumes and filling out closing paperwork, we all went out to Bavaró to celebrate at an all-inclusive resort. The white sand, the endless buffets of hot dogs and hamburgers and pizza, and the air conditioning hotel rooms were a welcome change to the past two years.

After two years living in Baoba, I have developed such strong bonds with the community. It truly does feel like I belong here, like I have a home and a family here. I have decided to extend my service for an additional 8 months. In Abreu, a small town about 20 miles from Baoba, I will work to set up a children’s library in the local elementary school. I chose this extension project because of its closeness to Baoba. Hopefully I will be able to help my kids transition from me leading all of the youth meetings to them taking control and initiative. I will be far enough away where they will have to learn not to rely on me to make things happen, but I will still be close enough to visit frequently and to help out if any problems should arrive.

I’m really excited about the library project. After working in such an unstructured environment with the various youth groups, it will be nice to have a well-structured project and hopefully a visible outcome when the library is completed. I promise to come home in July, no more extensions! And just because I’m extending does not mean that I do not love you all and miss you (please pass that message along to Jordan). I’m extremely anxious to come home, but I feel that in order to really complete my service here in the Dominican Republic successfully I need to do this project.

Although I’ve made friends and developed strong relationships here in the DR, it’s still extremely hard to live so far away from you all. Please continue to send cards; they really mean a lot to me. And a big thanks to Gina for sending me the numerous children’s books- they have been such a huge hit!

I did it. Well, I guess I should say we did it because it was definitely a group effort. I, along with 7 other Peace Corps volunteers, hiked Pico Duarte. Standing at 3,087 meters, Pico Duarte is not only the tallest mountain in the Dominican Republic; it’s the tallest mountain in the Caribbean. How many of you can say that you have stood on top of a country?

In the five days it took to hike up and down the mountain, we walked in total 96 kilometers. At the end of the trip, I was exhausted, my body was sore, my knees ached…but I had conquered the mountain. Hiking in the Cordillera Central was a little bit of a surreal experience. It wasn’t the Dominican Republic that I was used to. There was no loud music blasting from the colmado, there were no chickens crowing or dogs barking, there were no motors revving their engines, and there was no Dominicans yelling at the top of their lungs. I could actually hear and appreciate nature. And (although at the end of the trip, I still hadn’t decided) it gave me plenty of time to think about what I’m planning to do after my Peace Corps adventure ends in October. And it was absolutely beautiful. There were pine trees (but no palm trees) and crystal clear rivers in which we both drank the water and then bathed in.

Of course it wasn’t all paradise. We slept on the floor of little cabins in our sleeping bags and tried to ignore the rats running around us. I had forgotten what it felt like to be truly cold until this trip because it was quite chilly high on that mountaintop. And there were a few injuries. One girl fell down and banged her knee pretty badly, and then a few hours later she got stung by a wasp. Another girl was bathing in the river and she stumped her big toe on a rock, which caused the entire nail to lift up, just barely staying connected. But we were all troopers. I’m glad I did the trip, that I conquered Señor Duarte’s little moñtana, but it’s not a hike I am likely to venture out on again.

My neighbor’s daughter married a Norwegian tourist who was visiting the Dominican Republic about 6 years. They moved to Norway, had two kids, and now come back to visit Baoba every summer. They spent the month of June here in Baoba, and I was so excited because they brought with them three Norwegians who speak English! Finally, I wasn’t so isolated in this Spanish-speaking country.

An interesting thing occurred within the three weeks they were here. Andrea (24-year-old Norwegian male) “fell in love” with Marlene (20-year-old Dominican girl who I absolutely adore). He does not speak any Spanish. She does not speak English or Norwegian. I found myself wondering, how could they fall in love if they can’t even communicate with each other?

The more time I spent with them, the more confused and disappointed I became in their relationship. He took her to various hotels, promised to buy her a computer, and then came the shocker. They are going to get married in October and she is going to move to Norway. I went with them to her house to act as translator when he wanted to talk to Marlene’s mom. He didn’t so much as ask permission to marry her daughter, but said “hey, in October I want Marlene to come live with me in Norway and then within three months we’ll get married.” And Marlene’s mom’s response: “Sure! If it’s ok with Marlene, it’s ok with me!”

They have known each other for 3 weeks (and how much getting to know each other did they do when they couldn’t even talk to each other??) and now they’re already making plans to get married?? Ay Dios Mio. I had a couple of talks with Marlene, how I wanted her to really think about this. “It’s a life-changing decision. Don’t get married just because he has money or because you want to travel.” And of course she got offended, saying “I would never do that!” But I know that almost all Dominicans want to leave this country, are constantly searching for a better, easier life, and this seems like a temptation that she just can’t pass up.

And what’s in it for Andrea? I’m not too sure. But I do know that Dominican women make great housewives. They cook, clean, mop…basically these doñas know how to run a house and play that typical “woman” role well. And Andrea, who has worked and lived by himself since he was 16, is possibly now ready to settle down and find someone to take care of him.

Andrea has left for Norway by now. He didn’t buy Marlene a computer, but he did leave her with a good amount of money for her to buy whatever she wants. They’ve applied for her passport and starting filling out visa paperwork, and he says he’ll come back at the end of September to travel with her. A lot could happen within these next three months, but I certainly hope Marlene makes the decision that is best for her.

Political season has arrived. For the past two months, every Sunday there has been a caravana in Baoba and the neighboring communities. A caravana occurs when all of the supporters for one political party ride on their motors or in their pick up trucks honking horns, yelling and waving flags. These caravanas last for a couple of hours, with the politicians providing free gas to anyone who participates and dresses in that party’s designated color (one party is purple; the other is white). Unfortunately, at least one person dies in almost every caravana due to too many drunken, excited people riding on motors and not paying attention to what’s going on around them.

Baoba is especially excited to get a new mayor because ours left to live in the US about two months ago. So everyone’s ready to elect a new one, one that hopefully will stay in town throughout his entire term. Houses have hosted rallies, and the two candidates have been busy giving out money, fixing motors, and doing whatever else they think is necessary to win votes (a.k.a. bribery). People can submit wish lists to their desired candidates, and the candidates will buy them pretty much whatever they want in order to win more votes.

This is an actual conversation that I overheard:

Person A: “My candidate hasn’t given me anything. I asked for him to help me build my house.”

Person B: “I’ll talk to the other candidate. He’ll buy you 15 bags of cement for your house if you promise to vote for him.”

Person A: “Deal. I’ll switch political parties. Bring me the cement within two days.”

And there is no secrecy to the voting process. Sure, it’s all supposed to be private. However everyone knows who belongs to which party, and therefore they are able to literally count the votes and project the results 100% correctly. On Election Day, the politicians even pay drivers to take citizens to the polls, but only if they belong to their particular party. And when the people leave the polls, they are asked who they voted for and then paid money accordingly.

May 16 is Election Day. Our Peace Corps Director has ordered everyone to stay in the sites until he gives the all clear because of expected riots and random acts of violence. And this is just for local elections. Imagine how the country will be in 2012 when it is time for the presidential election. For the last presidential election, one candidate dropped pounds of salami from a helicopter around various communities. The one good thing about Election Day is that it is one of three days (Election Day, Christmas Day and Easter) in the entire year when the entire country has electricity for twenty-four hours straight.

What a difference a year makes. Last April, I took my first two jóvenes to the regional Escojo conference. And just this past weekend I took another two jóvenes to the 2010 Regional Escojo Conference. Instead of having an application process to choose who the lucky travelers would be, I picked the last two members of my youth group who have yet to travel with me. Now every single one of my twenty Escojo kids can say that I took them to a conference where they met new friends and got to see a part of their country that they might not ever have had the opportunity to see. Last year I had to beg and plead with the kids’ parents for them to grant permission for them to leave with me. This year the parents didn’t ask me a single question. They completely trusted me to travel with their children and to arrive back safely in Baoba.

This Escojo conference was amazing. And it was mainly due to the effort of the regional coordinators. Regional coordinators are Dominican youth who have already graduated from Escojo and now they take on the volunteers’ role as group leaders. This is a great example of a Peace Corps success story because the main goal of Peace Corps is sustainability. We want our projects to continue after the volunteers leave. We want Dominicans to take charge of their own future and lead their own.

In this conference there were about 75 people: 10 volunteers, 10 regional coordinators, and 50 teenagers. The regional coordinators were in charge of giving all of the charlas (the theme of the conference was how to prevent early pregnancy), of animating the kids so they wouldn’t get bored, of serving the food, and of keeping the kids well-behaved and they did a great job. We volunteers were able to just sit back and relax because everything ran so smoothly.

At the conference, there was barely any free time for the kids. They heard charlas on teenage pregnancy, condoms, protecting the environment, conflict resolution, creativity, and communication. The kids were also given an egg that they had to take care of during the weekend like it was their baby. They couldn’t leave the egg alone, and of course they couldn’t let the egg break. Out of 25 pairs, only 9 eggs died, which I thought was pretty impressive. We also had a talent show and a bonfire, complete with roasted marshmallows and s’mores.

In November, I took 18 of my Escojo Mi Vida kids (along with Lily’s Escojo group in La Capilla) to a famous waterfall in the Samaná peninsula, called “el salto del Limón.” It was certainly an adventure, although it was more trouble planning the trip than actually hiking up to the waterfall.

With the peaje money that we raised in August, we wanted to take a trip somewhere. The kids wanted to go to Puerto Plata, Santo Domingo, or Constanza, but all of those trips were too expensive. We would use up all of our money on transport and not have any money for food or activities. So I talked with Lily, who wanted to take one last trip with her group before she left the country (she’s done with her 2 years already!), and we decided to pool our money and go to El Limón.

When I announced the trip, not one of the kids was excited. I knew it was a great opportunity or the kids, so I really pressured everyone to go. But as we got closer to the actual date, I just stopped caring. I would enjoy the trip with the few that actually wanted to go and stop worrying about the others. So I told everyone who wanted to go to show up at the bus stop early in the morning with their lunch packed…and 18 showed up! Basically just the few older (and more stubborn) group members decided against going on the trip.

The two-hour ride up to the El Limón was fairly uneventful. We stopped the bus a couple of times for bathroom breaks and when one of my girls got bus sick. But overall everyone was excited to travel to the Samaná Peninsula because they had never seen that part of the Dominican Republic before.

There are two ways to get to El Limón. The easier way is by horseback. The harder (and cheaper) way is by hiking. So we hiked. The day was a beautiful day to hike – no rain and the trail was shaded by trees, so it wasn’t too hot either. However the weeks leading up to our hiking date had been full of rain so the trail was incredibly muddy. At times I put my foot down and the mud reached up to my shin. I didn’t mind, but my Dominican teenagers who were dressed to impress were not happy.

Eventually we arrived, the kids swam in the freezing cold water, we ate our lunch (everyone had packed rice, salami and spaghetti), and then we hiked back. We stopped at a famous beach called Las Terrenas on the way back home, but the kids didn’t like it because the ocean water was “too salty.”

The people say that Dominican is a language all its own, that it’s so different from Spanish (for confirmation, ask Megan who came to visit me after living in Spain). So here are some special Dominican colloquialisms.

• “Yo vivo pa’lla.” – “I live over there.” This can mean anywhere between two houses down the street or in the neighboring community. Apparently there is no need to be specific in the Dominican Republic.

• “Estoy buscando una cosa.” – “I am looking for something.” Once again, specificity is not a valued conversation piece.

• “Mi amor, mi corazon, mi vida, mi reina, mi princesa.” – “My love, my heart, my life, my queen, my princess.” Used to refer to your significant other, your child, your friend, your neighbor, or just the random stranger walking down the street.

• Nonverbal forearm in a horizontal position and then a fist pump. – “I’m doing well, how are you?”

• Nonverbal arm stretched out, palm raised. – “What’s up?”

• “PSSSSSSSSSST” – “Hey, look over here!”

• “Nueva Yol” – Puerto Rico, the United States, New York, Boston or any other slightly related country/city.

• “Bañarse” – In normal Spanish, this means “to bathe.” In Dominican, this also means “to swim.” On trips to the beach and river, this can be extremely confusing.

• “Si Dios quiere.” Literally translates to “God willing,” but used in the context “I don’t want to go to that meeting, so I’ll go if it’s God’s will” (if someone says this, don’t expect them to show up).

• Nonverbal scrunching up the nose – “I didn’t hear you. Please repeat what you just said.”

• Nonverbal pursing your lips together in a specific direction, more commonly known as the lip point – Just as it sounds, pointing to a person or thing without using your finger.

• “Coño, Diablo” – cuss words. One of these is probably used in every single sentence spoken by every single person in the DR. There’s a two year boy in Baoba and these are the only two words that he knows how to say.

• “Dame” – “Give me.” There is no “Lauren, can I please borrow your straightening iron?” or “Lauren, I’m thirsty. Can I please have a glass of water.” It’s “Give me your hair dryer. Give me water. Give me $500 pesos.”

• “¿Qué me trajiste?” – “What did you bring me?” I get asked this anytime I leave and then return to Baoba. Everyone wants me to bring them back gifts. At first I felt guilty, like I should’ve brought back all 1,500 people a gift every time I left for a day trip to the neighboring town. But now I simply respond with “el mismo que tú me guardaste.” (the same thing you saved for me) aka nothing.

There are also random US brand names that have been adopted into the Dominican vocabulary:

• Pahmpeh: diapers/Pampers

• Pezi: Pepsi

• Cloro: bleach/Clorox

• Jogu: yogurt

• Tepi: masking tape

• Polo che: t-shirt (and confusingly enough, a “tee-che” means polo shirt with a collar)

• Steeekeh: sticker

The Dominican Republic is a beautiful place. With Lauren as my superb Dominican guide, I experienced much more of the República Dominicana than the regular all-inclusive seeking tourist. It was surreal to stay in her town and meet her neighbors and friends after reading and hearing so much about them. Boaba was both bigger and smaller than I had imagined. It spans a sizable area bisected by one incredibly bumpy road but the "center" of town is marked only by the existence of a store, which when I called it a store Lauren laughed. More accurately I guess, it is a shopping stall -but it carries everything from graham crackers to toilet paper...so you tell me.

Lauren's house is very nice, with gleaming white floors and a lot of windows that let in both light and mosquitoes. At first I was worried about the lack of steady power and promise of bucket baths, but after a day or so it felt normal. Though I know the timing of my trip was probably inconvenient for Lauren because of her busy schedule, I really feel like I got to see Lauren in action in many parts of her DR life.

My first full day I experienced the many forms of public transportation in the DR- the daily 6:30 town pickup, a público-shared car, a gua-gua-local bus, and finally a motoconcho-motorcycle back to Boaba. All an adventure! I met two young girls in Lauren's girl scout-type group and several other Peace Corps Volunteers (PVCs) at the Women Empowerment/ Future planning conference held at the beautiful Matacitas beach. The conference turned out to be a hit with the young girls, they discussed their futures, danced, did crafts, played on the beach and had pizza and soda. After hearing that DR teen girls are often married and having kids, it was nice seeing the girls run around having carefree fun like all 13-15 year old girls love to do.

I also treated myself to one of the best pedicures of my life rendered by Lauren's neighbor for an astonishing $5. Upon encouragement from Lauren's boyfriend Javier, we took a scenic road trip around the Samaná peninsula to the Samaná and Las Terrenas beaches, both breathtaking. (see pictures) I will say though, the DR is a tough place to live if you get car sick easily- most roads, paved or unpaved, contain a plethora of pot holes, hills and curves! Unfortunately, I came with a bout of stomach sickness so I did not get to sample much of Lauren's rumored superb cooking or even much of the typical Dominican fare, but I did eat some rice and beans cooked by Javier's mom and they were delicioso! I might come back just so I can try some of her fried chicken.

A trip to Juan Dolio, a southern beach town provided us with a day at the beach, unlimited Internet (much to Lauren's delight) and some splotchy sunburn on my part. I then got to go with Lauren to La Capital, Santo Domingo, where a two-day Peace Corps conference was being held. I saw the Peace Corps office bustling with PCVs and was even able to stroll around the colonial zone for a few hours. It was great meeting so many of Lauren's PCV friends, they seem like a great bunch--all very fun, creative and supportive people. I was sad to leave before the anticipated Peace Corp Prom night, but happy to be on my way before the possible riots of the approaching election day.

Seeing Lauren in her element as led me to believe that she really is becoming more Dominican every day. Proof lies in a few of my observations below:

She speaks Spanish like a true Dominican, I could hardly understand her sometimes! She refuses to leave her house if it is raining outside (even though she has an umbrella)no power? no problem. She just lights her oil lamp, goes out and sits on one of her plastic chairsShe is rumored to be a master domino playerShe buys Halls cough drops as after dinner mintsShe would rather wear shorts and a tank top than her bathing suit on the beach She does not walk to the store, instead she yells up the street and one of her neighbor kids goes to the store for her...they also collect fresh mangos for her!

Paying more than $15 for a hostel is expensive...she thinks in pesos.All in all, my time with Lauren in the DR was awesome. Thanks for taking such great care of me Lauren! If you haven't already made plans to go visit, all I can say is what are you waiting for?!

** Written by the lovely red-headed Megan **

Holy Week has begun. Last year, I believe I mentioned the various drunken beach parties that “holy week” is known for here in the Dominican Republic. However since the majority of the country is Catholic, there are of course various religious services during this week as well, so I’ll focus on those these year.

Last Sunday was Palm Sunday, or Dia de los Ramos. Everyone took some sort of tree branch (not necessarily a palm, although mine was) to the baseball field at 6:30 in the morning. We all crowded in a circle around the priest, holding our branches high in the air. The priest then came and sprayed (noticed the verb term is not sprinkled, but sprayed) holy water on us and the tree branches. Then we sang and walked to the church, and started the normal Sunday mass. We’re all supposed to save our branches since they are now holy, but I have no idea what I’m saving it for.

I was looking forward to the Maundy Thursday service because Concord Presbyterian back in Statesville usually does a drama of the last supper and since Dominicans LOVE acting in dramas, I assumed they would do the same thing. They didn’t. It was just a normal Catholic mass (scheduled to start at 8 p.m., but the priest arrived at 8:45), with one exception. The church reserved the first two pews for all the men in attendance, and then the priest washed their feet just as Jesus washed the feet of his disciples. I thought it was just a little gender-inappropriate that only the men were allowed to participate in this part of the service when the majority of the people in attendance were women (I’d say the men-to-women ration was 1-to-5), but no one else seemed to notice.

Holy Friday was an interesting day. The national laws on this day are that: 1) people are not allowed to eat meat (but they can eat fish); the big food tradition is to make habichuelas con dulces (or sweetened red beans). In my refrigerator, there is about four pounds of sweet beans that all the various neighbors have given me. 2) No music is allowed to be played (the police can confiscate the radios if they hear it), and 3) there is not to be a Catholic mass. The congregation did meet at the church in the afternoon, where they had informal prayers and then walked around Baoba visiting the sick and elderly.

Apparently the Saturday before Resurrection Sunday is the big church service here in the Dominican Republic. There were probably 100 people (which is about double the normal attendance) who participated in the service. We all met in the basketball court and lit candles. Then walked to the church, blew out the candles and had a 2 hour Catholic mass. The service was pretty basic – the priest read the bible, we prayed, the choir sang, and communion was passed – except for one thing: the blessing of the water. Everyone had brought 2-liter plastic bottles filled with basic (amoebic) water and placed the bottles on the alter in the front of the sanctuary. The priest then blessed the water, converting it into holy water, and then he walked around and sprinkled the congregation with holy water as well. After the service, everyone rushed up to grab their bottle of water (and like with my blessed palm branch), I have no idea what people do with their own personal bottle of holy water.

The Easter Sunday service turnout was surprisingly pitiful. The mass was at the normal hour (7:15 a.m.), and I was about one of twenty people who went. I guess the congregation figured that if they went to church the night before, why go the following morning?

Yo soy la jefa.

I am the chief, the boss, the head honcho in my youth group of 30 preteens and teenagers. And unfortunately, that also makes me the disciplinarian when my orders and mandates go unheeded.

With my youth group, I have been lucky in that they know me and respect me, so I can get away with punishing them by simply telling them how disappointed I am in their behavior (the technique more commonly known as the guilt trip) or by making them write apology letters or defining respect and responsibility. I can glare at them and they know to stop whatever bad behavior in which they are currently involved.

But these “alternative” disciplinary methods don’t usually work in the Dominican Republic. This is a culture where the teachers are still allowed to take off their belt in the middle of class to hit a student who is “too stupid” to learn the material. This is a culture where the older siblings are sent to pluck a splintering branch from the closest tree to hit the toddler who is throwing a temper tantrum. Therefore my non-violent disciplinarian techniques often lack the necessary “uuumph” to get the job done.

I realized this today during the town’s celebration of International Youth Day. We loaded up the pickup truck (20 of us total) and headed to the church in the closest large pueblo, Payitas. They had invited youth groups from all over region, so there were about 200 kids total. And 4 adults. Including me. I have no idea how all of the other kids got to Payitas, but it seemed as if their parents threw them all in trucks and told the drivers just to let them off wherever.

The event, which lasted for 4 hours, started off well. We sang a few songs, I did a few silly games and Montreat-like energizers, and then each group gave a little presentation. Some of the kids from my group did a 1 minute drama on how we shouldn’t discriminate against senior citizens; other groups sang, read poetry, and told jokes.

After about 2 hours the kids started getting antsy. And they started leaving the church to play outside, so I had to stand guard. I spent the next two hours interrogating everyone who wanted to leave, then letting them leave one-by-one to go to the bathroom, and then chasing the ones who escaped, leaving through the other 6 doors in the sanctuary. It was a nightmare (and the most annoying part was when of the other adults came over to me after about an hour of me chasing around the little rugrats and said in a sickeningly sweet voice “it would really help us out if didn’t let the kids leave the church.” Um yeah, maybe if she would’ve helped me stand guard, instead of her staying seated, drinking her glass of orange soda, the kids would be under a little more control.) Luckily my group was well-behaved enough that I didn’t have to worry about them. I just had to worry about the other 180 rambunctious kids.

I (along with seven other community members) was invited to the high school the other day as an honored guest and judge of Franco-Phonía, a festival where the kids celebrated “all” of the countries that speak French. Why does Baoba choose to celebrate France and its language?? I have absolutely no idea.

Various groups of students presented a country, telling about its culture and food, native dress, geography and politics. The countries represented were France, Luxembourg, Vietnam, Italy, Switzerland, Canada, and Africa (apparently I’m the only judge who seemed to notice that Africa is not a country). And surprisingly, the one country that I naturally assumed would be represented – Haiti – was not even mentioned.

As a judge, it was my job to choose the country that was best represented in the various presentations. It was hard to choose a winner – mainly because every presentation blurred together. I learned that in France, Africa, Luxembourg, Italy, and Canada, the national food dishes are white rice, fish, and spaghetti (I think because these foods were easy for the kids to bring to class). As a judge I was supposed to try the foods, but by the time I got to the table to get my taste, all of the kids had already eaten everything. Although I did get to drink some wine with the high school students, since every country’s national beverage is a cheap red wine called “La Fuerza,” meaning “the strength” and on the bottle is a picture of a muscle builder flexing his biceps…mmm classy.

The native dress in all of the countries was jeans and sunglasses. Although the group from Switzerland added a jacket because of the cold weather. Most of the countries just did a basic model runway walk to show the clothes, but the group from Vietnam added three reggaeton dances so that the models could show how well the clothes fit when they booty-danced.

And the winner??? France. I actually liked Africa’s presentation best, but I just couldn’t announce them the winner since Africa is in fact a continent full of various countries, each with their own unique culture and geography. Apparently the kids are going to do the same thing in about a month or so, but they’re going to celebrate the countries that speak English, and I’m very much looking forward to those presentations.

Regina and I just led a three day camp for young Dominican girls ages 12-17. The camp, called Campamento Mariposas, is the start of a year-long all girls Peace Corps initiative. I have participated in various camps before (including the weeklong Camp GLOW (girls leading our world) last July), but this was the first one that I was actually in charge of coordinating and organizing. And let me tell you, planning large scale events in a third-world country without internet access and with little cell phone service is difficult!

We picked a gorgeous venue for the camp, a retreat center called Blue Moon, located in Sabaneta de Yásica. Instead of the normal dormitory setup, the girls slept in small cabañas. The space was very intimate (with room for only 20 girls and 10 volunteers), but on a mountaintop surrounded by lush greenery. It was away from the noise of the highway, and we thought it would be a great place for reflection. The only difficulty with the small space was that our eating area was also the only area to give charlas and do activities. So before and after every meal, Regina and I were busy pushing together tables and setting up chairs.

I was a little nervous about our agenda because I had heard about the success of the previous regional conference in the south. All of the volunteers raved about the amazing camp they gave based on gender roles, and even my boss suggested we copy their whole agenda. Since her idea came approximately four days before our conference was scheduled to start, we already had our agenda, which was based on self-esteem and self-confidence, organized.

Regina and I set up the three-day agenda based on the volunteers’ strengths. Jenie (a tai-kwan-do competitor) gave a self-defense demonstration. Iris (a youth volunteer in Sanchez) has an HIV-support group in her site, so she and a member of the support group gave a charla on HIV/AIDS. This charla was a huge success because the girls could relate to this woman’s real life experience living with the illness. Eva (a youth volunteer in Rincon Hondo and an amazing artist) led the girls in making plaster-of-paris masks of their faces so the girls could talk about the uniqueness of everyone’s faces. Our two male volunteers Andrew and Jacob gave a charla on gender roles, and I think it was more effective for the girls to hear males say that its ok for men to work in the kitchen and do chores than if just us female volunteers gave the same charla. And Regina (the dancer of the group) gave a great charla on nutrition and then led the girls in yoga and dance-exercise.

And of the course the girls loved all of the extra activities. There was plenty of time for the girls to relax and enjoy being away from the stresses of doing household chores and studying for classes and plenty of time for the girls to get to know each other. They loved swimming in the pool, and the last night we had a dance party and a bonfire (complete with s’mores). On Sunday morning, none of the girls wanted to leave and everyone was exchanging phone numbers and making plans to keep in touch.

With the success of Campamento Mariposas, I have decided to help lead the weeklong Camp GLOW this July. Alison and Mariel (two youth volunteers from the south) and I are planning everything, so Ill be sure to let you all know how that goes. Hopefully it all runs smoothly and we don’t have any flashfloods like last year!

A group of American doctors (the Geheraty Medical Mission) recently came to Santo Domingo to perform free plastic surgeries on both kids and adults. The patients had problems ranging from cleft lips to extra digits to burn scars. These amazing doctors come every year to the Dominican Republic to stay two weeks helping those who are less fortunate.

Darlene is a 7-year-old girl in my site who has an extra finger and a extra toe. The extra finger doesn’t bother her. But the extra toe makes it difficult and painful for her to wear tennis shoes (which are required as part of the school uniform). When I heard about the medical mission, I thought that she would be a perfect candidate.

I found out about the medical mission when I was in the capital on Friday. Patient registration was the following Sunday. So I rushed back to Baoba to talk to Darlene’s mom. Darlene’s mom is a single mother who has two jobs: cleaning and cooking for a private home and working in a nail salon. When she heard about the opportunity, she told me that she would love for Darlene to have the surgery but unfortunately with the short notice, she couldn’t afford the trip or get off work. So I volunteered to take Darlene by myself.

We had to be at the hospital at 7 am on Sunday, so Darlene and I left Baoba on Saturday night. There was no way we could arrive on time if we left Sunday morning. This was only Darlene’s second trip to the capital, and she clung to me every second of the way. I traveled prepared for anything. I brought Dramamine, band-aids, Tylenol, mosquito repellent and anything else I could think of that she might need. Luckily she needed none of that. What she did enjoy however were my various forms of entertainment. I brought with us a deck of playing cards, a coloring book and crayons, the story Curious George and my ipod full of Dominican music. We got to the capital around 6 pm and went straight to dinner. I took her out for pizza because she had never eaten it before and she loved it! Afterwards, we just went back to the hostel and went to bed.

We woke up early on Sunday. I brushed and braided her hair, and we headed to the hospital. We arrived at 6:30, were given a ticket (number 68) and sent to stand in a line outside. I found the doctors, told them I was a Peace Corps volunteer, and they quickly changed my ticket to number 1 and moved us to a more comfortable waiting room. The doctors confirmed that they could perform the surgery on Darlene and scheduled us to return on Thursday.

We left Baoba early on Thursday morning (6:30 am) and arrived at the hospital around 11. For this trip, Darlene’s mom, Alexandra, also came with us. Once they put Darlene in the hospital gown, she became to cry because she was so nervous. So I went and put on hospital scrubs and told Darlene that I would go with her in the operating room and not leave her side until it was over. This seemed to calm her down.

We walked into the operating room and everything was going well. About two minutes after she received the anesthesia and fell asleep, I started feeling woozy (did you all see this coming?) so I tried to leave the operating room. But on my way out a nurse stopped me and asked me to open up a packet of gauze for her. This seemed to push me over the edge. My vision narrowed, I started sweating…and BOOM! I passed out on the operating room floor. So instead of taking care of Darlene, the doctors now had to worry about me. I woke up about 15 seconds later, lying on a hospital bed with a doctor holding my legs up in the air. Once everyone saw that I was ok and that I didn’t hit my head during the fall, the surgeons went back to the operating room. The Dominican nurses however stayed around me, offering me candy and Gatorade, and telling me that I was dumb for skipping breakfast that morning.

I stayed on my own little hospital bed until Darlene’s surgery was done and she was coming out of the anesthesia. Because I was at her side when she fell asleep and when she woke up, she thinks I stayed right there the whole time. She stayed in the recovery room for about 30 minutes, played with all of her gifts that the doctors gave her (a Barbie doll, 2 stuffed animals, stickers, coloring book, ball, jewelry), and then we returned to Baoba. Everyone keeps asking me how Darlene did in the surgery, and I can only reply “she did better than I.”

My doña refuses to give me a glass of water to drink whenever I’m eating food that is served hot, like soup or rice pudding. When I asked her about it, she said it was because she knew someone who had gotten cancer and died from drinking something cold after eating something hot. In the same token, whenever I come back from running to the beach or doing some type of exercise, I am not allowed to open the refrigerator myself to get a glass of water. Because my body temperature is so hot, if I stand in front of something cold, like the fridge, I will die.

All Dominicans love the lottery. Every host family I’ve been in stops what they are doing every night at 9 p.m. to watch the lottery on television. Yet not one of those times has anyone ever bought a lottery ticket. They also repeatedly yell out the numbers in case anyone who happened to turn away from the tv for half a second missed the revealing of the numbers. The next day, everyone talks about the numbers that were selected.

I brought two photo albums with me to the DR: one full of pictures of my friends and me, and one with pictures of Jordan and me. These two photo albums sit on my counter for everyone to look at and marvel at how beautiful Americans are. I was feeling homesick the other day, so I went to look at the pictures. As I flipped through the photos, hundreds of tiny termites came running out of the album. Apparently they had nested in the felt background of the photo albums. So I sprayed the photo album and all of its plastic coverings with RAID in the hopes to kill the bugs (and not ruin the pictures!)

As I mentioned before in my journal entry on Baoba’s Patronales, a few of my girls were asked to dance at the town’s celebration. In the original dance, there were 5 girls, but for Patronales, only four of them were able to dance. Leidi’s mom wouldn’t let her dance because the sponsors at our little town’s festival were not going to pay the girls. So Leidi had to sit out on the sidelines simply because her mom was greedy and wanted some sort of compensation for her daughter to do what she loves.

Alvino had been bothering me for 2 months to start another English course so he could enlist. After all of pleading, I finally consented and signed people up for the course. The course lasted 4 months, and he only went to two classes. This made me so mad. I hadn’t wanted to teach another English class, and then the one person who convinced me to do it didn’t even attend the class regularly. After the course ended, I asked him why he never attended. His response: he was in love with me and being so close to me during the class made him nervous and gave him an upset stomach.

When John Carlos (my 17-year-old handyman) came over to take care of my house’s termite problem, I got a little more than I had bargained for. I had been hounding this kid for 4 months to come over and kill all of the termites. I had the poison and the spray bottle, and all I needed was a muchacho to do the dirty work for me.

So I finally convinced him to come over by baking a chocolate cake and promising him two pieces as payment. He showed up, climbed up into my “attic” (which is really just like an open crawl space above my living room) and started spraying the insecticide. Just as he was about to finish, I heard him say “Whoa!”

“What is it??” I asked.

“Lauren, it’s nothing,” he replied. “Pero busca un colin rápido.” (translation: run and get a machete!)

I was a little confused as why he told me there was nothing, yet sent me to find a machete. But I quickly complied without asking more questions. As Frank once taught me, if everyone behind you starts to run, don’t stop to ask them why they are running; just run with them.

I gave him the machete, and went outside. Whatever was going on up in that attic, I did not want to be near it. After about two solid minutes of hearing the metal repeatedly clink against the wooden beams, I heard a soft thud. In my living room floor was a 3 foot long black snake (now a beheaded and bloody mess).

John Carlos threw the snake outside in the community trash pile, threw some bleach on my bloodstained floor, washed his hands and asked for his cake, while I stood there in shock, creeped out by the fact that a snake had been living in my house for who-knows-how-long.

When I went to return the machete back to my neighbor, I explained about the snake and she asked me what we did with it. I told her that we had thrown it in the trash pile and she informed me that (the superstition is) we have to burn the snake as a warning to all other snakes in the area. Otherwise more will come. So then she and spent the next hour going through the trash to find and burn the snake. We never found it, so I’m just hoping that the other snakes will see their buddy beheaded and get the message even without setting it afire.

Tomorrow I head back to the beauty and warmth of the Dominican Republic. While I am definitely not ready to leave the luxuries of America quite yet, I am ready to leave this cold weather. Right now (at 9 p.m.) it is 73 degrees in Santo Domingo.

I just want to thank everyone who made the time to visit with me and hear about my travels; everyone who bought me a drink or dinner (or a bowl game ticket!); everyone who cooked and baked me delicious food; and everyone who gave me books or art supplies to take back to Baoba. I truly would not be able to do this job without the love and support of all of you.

I am blessed to have such amazing family and friends and to live in a country where running water, showers and electricity are the norm. Can't wait to see you all again in November 2010, and don't forget that I am always welcoming visitors.

I went to a quinceañera on Saturday night. Quinceañeras is like the Spanish equivalent of a Sweet Sixteen birthday party, except for 15 year olds. Boys don’t really have them, and the girls use them as an excuse to dress up and dance with all of their friends. This was my first one in Baoba (birthday parties are extremely rare because the families here don’t have enough money to spend it frivolously on a party), so I was excited to attend.

Yaritza, the birthday girl, told us the party was to start at 4 in the afternoon. This was a little depressing because I teach my English class at 5 so I gave her my regrets and told her that I couldn’t make it. Yamel and Elizabeth (two girls, who were also invited to the party, yet were in my English class) and I stopped by Yaritza’s house at 4:15 on the way to the English class. Yaritza, decked out in a full-length gown, was getting her hair and makeup done by a friend and the rest of the family was busy putting up pink and white balloons all over the house. We wished Yaritza good luck and then went to class.

After the English class, at 6:30 pm, we passed by Yaritza’s house. The party still hadn’t started! So we decided to stick around and wait to celebrate the quinceañera. It was dark outside, and there was no electricity this night, but the Yaritza’s family had borrowed a generator. About 15 kids had gathered at the house, all eager to dance and eat cake, but the generator wouldn’t start. So everyone just sat there complaining about the fact that there was no music for at least 30 minutes. Then I kicked into volunteer/party host and announced that we should play a game while we waited for either the generator to work or the lights to come back on.

I had no idea what game we could all play, but luckily they had already planned one. The game was kind of like a sexier version of high school superlatives. There were two bags (one for the boys and one for the girls) full of various characteristics like “prettiest smile” or “smartest.” A boy and a girl had to each pull out a characteristic from the bag and then kiss (preferably on the cheek since I was playing as well) a member of the opposite sex that fit that particular description. I won for “best hair” (I was the only blonde), “best eyes” (they were the only blue ones), “person who likes to be alone the most” and “person who dresses the most old-fashioned.” I also voluntarily won for “ugliest” because I simply couldn’t believe that someone was going to get called out for that, so I quickly told the boys to choose me for that one.

After the game, which lasted about an hour, they lights still hadn’t come back on. So we all gathered around the candles to eat a snack of two saltine crackers, a glass of soda and a lollipop per person (that’s a little different than the food at our American birthday parties, right??) There was also a cake, but the custom generally is to cut the cake the next day and pass it out to everyone who came to the party. I happened to get gypped and Yaritza never brought me cake, which to be honest, made me a little upset.

By this time, the boys had figured out how to make the generator work, so we cranked up the reggaeton music and everyone danced until about 9:30 p.m., and then everyone left.

Kirsi está mala. My neighbor, Kirsi, is sick. She’s 26 years old and just had her first child this past March. About 3 months ago, Kirsi began to feel sick. Her entire body hurt, she was nauseas and dizzy and tired all day. Basically she didn’t feel like doing anything, but luckily she lives with her parents and younger siblings so they all help take care of baby Yunilka.

They have taken her to the clinic in Nagua numerous times, and each time the doctors run all sorts of bloodwork and analysis and can’t ever find anything wrong with her. The last time she went to the clinic, the doctor told her that it was a mental thing, a problem with anxiety, and they should take her to see a psychiatrist.

My (un)professional opinion is that she has post-partum depression. While she has her family’s help in taking care of the baby, she lacks support from the baby’s father, Yunior. She and Yunior have been together for 3 years. However he still lives in Nagua with his wife and children. He comes to visit Kirsi about two days a week, but this wouldn’t really be my ideal relationship, and I’m sure it’s not hers either. And having children and taking good care of them is such an important part of a woman’s life here that I imagine it can be stressful if a woman feels like she’s not quite up to the job.

She, her family and the town of Baoba think she has been possessed by an evil spirit (a spell cast by her boyfriend’s wife). I went, along with four older women, to Kirsi’s house to pray for her. It was basically an informal exorcism, where we all prayed for the evil spirit to leave Kirsi’s body. It was very moving, and after the prayers, she seemed to be healed. The women said that their exorcism worked. However I think it was just helpful for Kirsi to know that these women were praying for her and loving her and supporting her.

But now Kirsi is feeling the same symptoms again. The family doesn’t want to take the doctor’s advice and take her to see a psychiatrist because “ella no está loca.” I tried to explain that sending her to a psychiatrist does not mean that she’s crazy, that even I have been to see a psychiatrist because of a problem with anxiety, but they are not interested. What they are interested in is taking her to see a witch so that she will cure the evil spirit that haunts Kirsi’s soul.

The belief in la brujeria (witchcraft) is extremely common here in the Dominican Republic, especially in the small campos, like Baoba. Just today, one of my kids pointed out an older woman to me. “Ella es una bruja,” she told me. I asked how she knew that this woman was a witch, and her response was that her feet were burned. Apparently the rumor is that this woman was flying in the night and someone was cooking on the fogon (outdoor stove) and when the woman flew over the fogon, she burned her feet.

Hopefully Kirsi will feel better soon. Although if she is cured soon after visiting the witch, everyone in Baoba is going to tell me “I told you so” because I have been so vocal in my non-belief in witchcraft and superstitions.

I had to go to Santo Domingo on Wednesday morning for an appointment with the American embassy to get my green card (I’m one step closer to coming home! Yay!). However the trip meant that I would miss my Wednesday night Escojo meeting. Four of the girls were going to teach the rest of the kids about sexually transmitted diseases and HIV/AIDS, and I had faith that everything would go smoothly without me there. Remember, my goal is that the group continues even after I leave here, so this would be great practice to see if the group really could function on its own. Upon my return, the girls immediately pounced on me, eager to tell me about all of the drama that happened while I was away. I now have my doubts about the longevity of the group. Ok, here’s what happened:

Four girls were scheduled to give the charla on HIV/AIDS and sexually transmitted diseases. I have a manual with all of the information and they had supposedly been studying the material all week. Before I left I went to Marlene’s house to give her all of the supplies she needed and answer any questions that she might’ve had. She told me not to worry, that she had it completely under control.

The charla was at 7 pm. Every Wednesday night our Escojo meetings start right on time. After me being here a year, the kids have now learned that I am punctual and still work on American time. I don’t believe in this silly Dominican schedule where everything starts about an hour after it’s supposed to. About a handful of Escojo members showed up at 7, and the four girls who were in charge of the presentation in my absence, told them that tonight there would be no charla, that I had canceled it. So those people left. Sandy (my co-leader) showed up around 7:30 and told the girls that of course there would be a charla tonight and that it was up to them to give it. The girls later told me that they thought Sandy was jealous of my leadership, and he wanted to prove to me that he could hold a successful Escojo meeting without me.

So the girls started giving the charla. Although they have known about this presentation for over a month and have had all of the materials to study for a week, not one of them practiced beforehand. So they read from the book. Elizabeth (11 years old) is a slow reader, and the kids in the group weren’t paying attention to her reading. So Marlene (19) ripped the book from Elizabeth’s hands and told her “Lauren said you don’t know how to read, so I’m going to read it for you.” Elizabeth ran to her house crying. About five minutes later, Elizabeth’s mom Nila marches up to the group, grabs her son Brian and says “You’re going home Brian. These whores(!!!) don’t know how to properly give a charla and you’re not going to stay and listen to this disaster.”

The girls that Nila called whores are her nieces (by marriage), so basically this started a family feud with about everyone in my neighborhood since everyone is related. I went house to house, explaining that it was my fault, that I shouldn’t have left the group alone without a leader. I talked to Elizabeth and Nila and explained that maybe it would’ve been better if Nila talked to the girls in private and not called them whores in front of every other member of the Escojo group. And I explained to the other girls that everyone is in the group to learn, so maybe it would’ve been better if they were more patient with Elizabeth and helped her with her reading. Everyone apologized, and the family is now reunited.

Have I mentioned how almost every guy here in Baoba “is in love with me.” I am not being vain. It’s the truth. Of course most of them haven’t even said one word to me, but they see a blonde haired, blue-eyed American running in her knee-length shorts in the morning, and they are immediately hooked. Basically I ignore all of the catcalls and whistles because the guys who I really care about and who know me, they know I don’t like the attention. And sometimes I resort to my sassiness and tell the tigueres why their behavior is disrespectful. It’s easy to be sassy when the guys are cocky and rude, but I have now been faced with an even more difficult situation: there are nice guys that like me too, and I can’t bring myself to be rude to them. This leads to the courting process as they try to get me to fall in love with them. I have an example.

Yovani is 21. He’s a really nice guy. He knows a few English words and is in my latest English course. He also has a 2 year old daughter (sidenote: the daughter is a hermaphrodite and just recently went to the capital to remove her boy genitalia to officially make her a girl). He left high school before graduating and occasionally works harvesting coconuts. He’s not really my type (but that I mean I’m not into guys who are younger—and shorter—than me, have kids, did not graduate from high school and lack a reliable source of income).

The courting process started with him crashing my dominoes game and kicking out whoever my partner was so that we could be partners. This actually happens a lot. A guy sees me playing and wants to be my partner so that in the case that we win, he can say something cheesy like “we just understand each other, we make a great team, etc, etc.”). I didn’t really make anything of it until he started visiting me in my house. He would always visit in the early evening, around 6 pm, and there would always be other kids hanging out in my house, but there was a huge signal that perhaps he was looking for something more. Sitting on the front porch at night with someone of the opposite sex basically means that the couple is dating or about to date. And he would always bring me a little gift. During the courting, the boy always brings the girl some little gift to accompany the porch sitting time. Yovani would bring me gum and ice cream, and coconuts….lots and lots of coconuts.

I didn’t want him visiting me at night because I didn’t want the community to talk about “my new boyfriend” and also didn’t want to give the wrong impression and lead him on. So I asked a couple of 18 year old boys what I should do. I didn’t want to offend Yovani by telling him that I didn’t want him to visit me. He was a student in my English class and my job as a Peace Corps volunteer is to not shun anyone away. The boys told me that I should lie and tell him that I have a boyfriend. But if I used that lie, I would have to say that the boyfriend was someone in Baoba because if the boyfriend doesn’t live here, Yovani (like all Dominicans) wouldn’t feel threatened and would of course continue his visits. I think the boys I was talking to just wanted me to use one of them as my fake boyfriend so that they could tell people we were dating.

So Yovani came over one night with one of his friends. I was playing cards with Brandy, my 8-year-old neighbor. Because he was with his friend, I wasn’t going to say anything about him not visiting me because I didn’t want to embarrass him. But then Yovani started asking me if he could bring over this wine for us to drink. And later when some of my girls were over here, we were all talking about condoms and how to use them because I had just given them the presentation for Escojo. And Yovani asked me how old I was when I first used a condom. I was speechless. But Dominicans are blunt, and he is no different (sidenote: I was at a funeral once and the lady who was sitting next to me – who I did not know – asked me if I was a virgin. Dominicans say what they are thinking with no respect to whether it is appropriate or not).

So after the wine and condom comments, I felt like this game could not continue. I told Yovani that he was welcome to visit me anytime he wanted during the morning or afternoon, but he could not come visit me at night. I said that people were gossiping about me (which may or may not have been true- I hadn’t heard anything, but that doesn’t mean much), and that I had to protect my reputation. He told me that he understood and since then has stopped by a few times to say hi, but never at night. And he’s still in my English course, so everything seems to have worked out okay. His feelings weren’t hurt, and I no longer have to feel uncomfortable with him visiting me.

I mentioned briefly in my last entry that I have been doing some traveling with Dominicans lately. For some reason, various families keep inviting me to spend the day with them as they travel the country. And of course I keep accepting the invitations.

Las Galeras, Samaná

The first invitation I received was from Sofia and Miguel. They’re my 50-year-old neighbors, and both of them grew up and met in Las Galeras, Samaná. They have four children (26, 24, 22, 16, and 14 years old) and all of them were born in Las Galeras before Sofia and Miguel moved to Baoba. Up until this trip, 13 years had passed since the entire family had returned to Las Galeras. 15 (children, grandchildren, and a few family friends) of us piled into a pickup truck and we made the 3-hour trip to Miguel and Sofia’s hometown.

One of the most interesting things about the trip I noticed was how everyone was dressed. For those of you who don’t know you, Dominicans absolutely love to look their best. I was dressed comfortably in jeans, flip flops and a sleeveless shirt, but all of them were dressed to impress with stilettos and tight, sexy outfits. However the minute we arrived, they all went to change into more comfortable, everyday clothes. So the only people who saw them all dressed up were the same ones who were traveling with us. This seemed a little ridiculous to me, but oh well.

During the day, Sofia toted me around to all of her family members and old friends, bragging that she was now friends with the Americana. I didn’t mind this because people kept wanting to impress me so they kept giving me stuff: rice, beans, milkshakes, oranges, peanuts and a bunch of bananas. It was great. And around 4 o’clock we all piled back into the truck to get back to Baoba in time for them to watch their telenovelas (nighttime Dominican soap operas).

Santo Domingo

The next paseo was to the capital, Santo Domingo, with Valerio and his family. (Sidenote: Valerio is the guy that shot off his gun at the Patronales festival in one of my previous blog entries.) I have been to the capital many times and I always dread the long trip, but this was my first time going in a private car. Not having to deal with public transportation for the first time here seriously changed my whole perspective of the city.

We took the scenic route, stopping at various “attractions,” one of them being a Catholic church that has the statue of a Jesus that apparently does miracles. I took pictures of the statue and of a Jesus on the crucifix because they told me to. It was then that I realized that I was invited to share this family vacation with them because I own a camera.

Once arriving in the city, we went straight to the zoo. We ate lunch standing in the parking lot (chicken and various vegetables that Sylveria, Valerio’s wife, had cooked the night before), and then were ready to go. The zoo was okay. It was a much smaller zoo than most of the ones in the US, and a lot of the animal’s cages seemed too small for them. But we got to see about 15 different animals, so that was cool. Seriously, the animals in the zoo were: 2 lions, 3 tigers, a bear, 2 rhinoceroses, 3 monkeys, 2 chimpanzees, 5 snakes, 4 hippopotamuses, 3 ostriches, 2 crocodiles and a bunch of pigeons, flamingos and water buffalo (or as Valerio called them- “weird-looking cows”).

After the zoo, we went to the aquarium, which was basically just a bunch of fishbowls. There were two sharks and two turtles, but every other animal in the aquarium was some type of fish. And I believe that if you’ve seen one fish, you’ve seen them all. Valerio and his family were all amazed by a rare species called the “Pescado Gato” and they were even more amazed when I told them that Dad used to fish for them in my grandparent’s lake house and then eat them.

One interesting thing about both the zoo and the aquarium was that they each had two separate entrance fees: one for Dominicans and one for foreigners. For the zoo, the price for the foreigners was three times the local price, and the price was double for the aquarium. So I basically just hid in a corner while Valerio bought all the tickets, so people wouldn’t know I was a foreigner. I don’t know if you all are aware, but my pasty white skin tone tends to stand out in this country of beautifully tan brown people.

And the last attraction before heading back to Baoba: riding the metro! President Leonel Fernandez apparently decided that the one thing his developing country was lacking was a metro. He spends only 2% of the national budget on education (this includes paying teachers salaries, building new and repairing old schools, buying books, etc.), yet he has somehow found billions of dollars to fund this cool transportation system in the capital.

This was my first time riding the Dominican metro, and it was definitely the first time riding “el tren” for Valerio and his family. (It was also the first time they had ever ridden an escalator, and watching them hesitantly step onto the moving platform was a very amusing experience for me.) Before all of the girls got on the metro, they all sprayed themselves with perfume and touched up their lipstick, powder and eye liner. They all wanted to look GOOD before this big adventure. And they absolutely loved it. We bought one ticket (40 pesos= $1.25 US) and just did a round trip and rode through all of the stops until we arrived back to where the pickup truck was parked. After the metro trip, it was 5 o’clock, so we called it a day and headed back to Baoba.

Broken families are such a common occurrence here in Baoba. They’re common in all parts of the country, but even more so in Baoba because it is a coastal town. When Dominicans think of the United States or of Puerto Rico, they think of a better life for them and their families. Therefore many people leave in yola (illegal boat crammed full of Dominicans) to get to the US and send money back to their families here in Baoba.

One of those people is Fabiana, the mother of three of the kids in my youth group: Meri (19 years old, went with me to the Escojo Regional Conference in Jarabacoa last May), Yan Carlos (17 years old, has a crush on my sister Jordan) and Yoansi (16 years old, troublemaker). Meri is finishing high school in a special program that puts her junior and senior year together. Yan Carlos is a sophomore and I can tell he is just itching to leave school and start working. And Yoansi is in 7th grade…imagine 16 years old and in seventh grade! He has a lot of problems with school and with bad behavior and I think it’s due to his mom leaving when he was 11. He was the youngest when she left so he’s had to deal with basically growing up without a mom. Fabiana lives and works in New York City, and has been there for the past 5 years old.

It’s very hard to find work here in Baoba, and Fabiana left because she thought she could better provide for her family if she was getting paid in dollars. When I look at Yoansi’s problems with school, I often wonder if it’s worth it. Which is better- to have your kids grow up with parental love, support and discipline or send money to them?? It’s such a hard choice, and it’s a choice that almost all of the families here have to make. They almost always choose the money.

The three kids live with their grandmother (and my domino partner) Chavela. And I actually live in Fabiana’s house (if she ever gets caught and sent back here by US immigration). Let’s all hope she doesn’t get sent back here until after next November because otherwise I will be needing a new place to stay.

Piolin, the kids’ father, lives here in the Dominican Republic, in Puerto Plata. But as Yan Carlos explained to me, he is their father and not their dad. He helped to conceive the kids, but after that he has not done anything to support them. Fabiana sends them about $50 each month (sometimes less, depending on how her tips working in a bar are that month) and all of that money goes to Chavela to pay for the food. If the kids want anything special- shoes, clothes, school supplies – they call their mom and hope she sends them more money or they hit up their aunts or uncles for spare cash.

There have been a couple of times where they have been unable to go with me on a trip because they can’t afford the 50 pesos (about $1.50). I have offered to pay for them to go, but their pride and stubbornness refuses to let them accept the money. (It’s actually very ironic here that the people to whom I want to give money never accept it, and the people to whom I refuse to give money never stop asking.) I do however constantly send over whatever platanos or bananas grow in my front yard. Technically, as the renter, the plants and trees are mine. But I don’t eat that much, so I feel better sending food their way.

Another reason why Fabiana left was because she was dating a yola-captain. I’m not sure if she was dating him because he could give her a free ride (passage on a yola is usually extremely expensive) or if he gave her a free ride because she was dating him, but either way, they started dating and then left for a better life in the US. After about two months in New York, she broke up with him. And here’s the shocker…he sent an assassin to kill her! She found out about the plan, paid off the assassin when he came asking “where is Fabiana,” and everything turned out alright, but geeez what drama!

I'm here at a internet center and don't have much time. However I feel guilty if I'm every on the computer and don't update my blog, so here's a quick rundown on what's going on in my life right now.

I still have my Escojo (sex-ed course) group, meeting every Wednesday night. Now there are a lot more kids that want to join the group, so I'm reteaching the course. But there's a catch: I, personally, am not teaching the course again. The kids who have already graduated from the course are going to teach the entire course to the newbies. We'll see how that goes. And in October, I'm taking two kids (Frank and Nanci) to Santo Domingo for the 5th Annual National Escojo Conference.

I am tutoring about 8 kids (one hour a day, two days a week) in basic reading and math skills. This is going a lot better than my summer school because I only have to deal with one kid at a time.

And English class has restarted. I really did not want to teach english again, but the people here have not stopped bugging me. So it's another basic english class. It's set to last two months, and the kids probably won't learn anything except "hello. how are you?" And judging from how the last course went, I'll be very frustrated by the time the course is over. But luckily, the course ends just one week before I am headed on a plane to the US! YAY!!

And I have been traveling. I went down south to Barahona with about 15 girls to celebrate another volunteer's upcoming wedding. We had a makeshift bachelorette party, peace-corps style, and lots of time at the beach. It was the first time here that I've really felt like I was on vacation, so that was nice. And I also went out to Samana with a few of my Dominican neighbors. About 20 of us climbed in the back of a pickup truck to meet Sofia and Miguel's family, who live in Las Galeras. Pictures of both of these events are posted online.

Yuliana, Henri and I just returned from spending three days in Jarabacoa at the Celebrando el Cibao camp (August 24-26), and everything ran smoothly. A lot of what we taught the kids seems like common sense, things that Americans learn at an early age, but here the whole “thinking-outside-the-box (or in this case, island) doesn’t really exist. Here is a quick rundown of what we did and what the kids (hopefully) learned:

A presentation on water contamination. We talked about all of the pollutants that can be in a river, even in a river that looks clean and clear (washing motors in the river, dumping laundry and dishwashing detergent, trash, flea-ridden dogs swimming, etc.) and how we can prevent those things from occurring. Then we all went down to a river and swam for a couple of hours.A gameshow called “Quien es ese Americano?” (who is this american?). The kids were given descriptions of one of the 22 volunteers that were there and had to guess who it was. An example: this volunteer was born in Tennessee, her parents were born in China, she studied social work, and wants to be a doctor when she leaves Peace Corps…who is this American??? Afterwards, we all pointed out in what state we lived and what countries our families are from. Everyone in the Dominican Republic thinks that America equals “Nueva Yol” (New York), so it was good to explain that the United States is a lot bigger than just that one part. And after explaining that our families all emigrated from different countries and we all therefore have different backgrounds, one girl asked us if we were satisfied with the diversity in the country. We all explained that yes, it is one of the things we are most proud of about the US.Guest speakers came to tell about the religions of Judaism and Islam, which most of the kids never even knew existed. The only religions that people usually know about here, especially in the smaller campos, are Catholicism and Evangelicalism.A group of Koreans who are in the Dominican Republic volunteering came to teach us how they greet each other in Korea. All of the kids practiced bowing and then saying “Ahnyahng!” (For you Arrested Development fans, it was hilarious to see 50 Dominican youth yelling “Ahnyahng” over and over again.)All of the volunteers did a short presentation on a country, and the kids had passports and traveled around the world, learning interesting facts about all of the countries. I taught the kids about Finland (in honor of Ms. Noora Lento) and the facts that everyone liked were that they have a female president and that in part of the country there are 50-plus days of no sun in the winter, and in the summer that are 70-plus days of constant sunlight, and that all males have to serve in the army once they turn 18. Kung Fu experts came and gave a martial arts demonstration.We toasted s’mores (or in Spanish- s’mas) over a bonfire. My kids had never even eaten a marshmallow before so that was a totally new experience.And of course we had a talent show, complete with a limbo contest. It is basically a requirement to have a talent show at these camps because the kids absolutely love to show off their singing, dancing, and poetry reciting skills. And they all loved doing the limbo, which I don’t think any of them had done before.

A new group of youth volunteers (well, as of now, they are just trainees) arrived in the Dominican Republic two weeks ago, and as part of their 3-month training, all of them went to spend 4 days visiting one of us old volunteers. The purpose of the trip was for them to learn how to use public transportation, and basically just to find out what youth volunteers do and how we live.

Andrew showed up at my house on Thursday afternoon. I had been eagerly awaiting his visit, as had every single teenage girl (and some of the adult women- one woman told me that she would ditch her husband and marry Andrew) in Baoba. Up to this point, I have only had girl visitors, which made all of my teenage boys happy. But now the roles reversed, and it was my teenage girls who had the opportunity to flirt with an Americano.

It took only a few minutes after Andrew’s arrival for the visitors to start arriving. First came all of the little kids, ready to play with the new kid. And then came the teenage girls, eager for me to introduce them.

Basically I used the weekend to show Andrew how extremely tranquilo my campo life is. We sat on my porch and chatted; then we went to the neighbor’s porch to sit and chat some more. On Thursday night, we went over to Sandy’s house (the lawyer who is helping me lead the Escojo group) and he cooked dinner for us us and all of the Escojo kids. Andrew was a hit that night, teaching all of the kids a new game called Zoomie Zoomie.

On Friday, we went to the high school in the morning and wrote a few country names on the map mural that the kids and I did earlier in the summer. Andrew got to hear the school principal basically ask me for every single technological thing he could ever want. (“Lauren, could you ask America if they could send me a laptop and a printer and a scanner and a copy machine and a projector and big screen.”) In the afternoon, we met up with some other volunteers and their trainees at DuDu, the freshwater lagoon that is close to Baoba. The easier way to get there is by motor, so I asked Yan Carlos, a 16-year-old kid to take us there. He had never been, so I paid the 50 peso entrance fee for him, and he was happy to hang out with us for a couple of hours. And then on Saturday, Andrew and I trekked down to the beach with all 15 of the Escojo kids (and about 6 dogs because the boys wanted to wash them in the river/ocean), which was a TON of fun. I was a little hesitant to take all 15 kids and be responsible for all of them down at the beach, but it was definitely one of the most fun things I’ve done here in Baoba.

I don’t really work on weekends, but about 80% of my job is just hanging out with the people in Baoba, especially the youth, so I’m glad Andrew got the opportunity to see that aspect of my job. Although I think after 4 days, he was probably getting pretty bored. He said he would prefer to live and work in a larger city, and while I feel that the slow campo life is perfect for me, I definitely understand how someone else might need to live at a little faster pace.

Unfortunately, I got a stomach virus on Saturday night before Andrew left (Brandy, the 8 year boy who I shared my birthday with later told me that he had the same stomach virus on Friday, so I’m pretty sure that’s where I got it.) And Andrew called me on Sunday night to tell me that he was sick with the same stomach flu. Poor kid. But I guess I gave him a pretty accurate description of my life here – sit on porches, visit with neighbors, go to the beach, hang out with teenagers, and get the occasional illness.

And of course now I’m getting the aftermath of my first male visitor. Lots of questions about if Andrew and are dating or even married, and lots of gossip about where he slept those three nights (on a borrowed mattress on the floor in a totally separate bedroom). Pero así es la vida.

I'm taking two kids to another 3-day conference. This conference, called Celebrando el Cibao, is to teach Dominican youth abot other cultures and social ideas. I decided to take Henri (22 years old) and Yuliana (15 years old) because they got the highest grades on my final Escojo exam that I gave to the group way back in May. The conference is not directly related to Escojo Mi Vida, but hopefully Yuliana and Henri will come back and be able to teach the rest of the Escojo kids what they learned.

Because it's a conference run entirely by volunteers, we have had to do a lot of fundraising. And like most volunteer-run camps, each community has to bring $1000 pesos. This money should not come out of the volunteers' pockets, but the kids should fundraise so that they are invested in the conference. This also is a good excuse to teach the youth group how to fundraise so that they can raise money themselves once I leave Baoba. We did a raffle to raise money for Cmp G.L.O.W., so for this camp, we decided to do a peaje.

A peaje (pronounced "pay-ah-hey") is tecnically a toll booth. With the permission of the mayor, we held a long rope across the highway with signs saying that we were doing a fundraiser, and when the cars would stop, the girls would go out and collect the money. This is apparently a very common fundraising method in the Dominican Republic, and surprisingly we raised a lot of money. In total, we raised $3525 pesos (about $100), not including the various drinks and snacks we bought during the 8 hours of standing in the hot sun. So with the extra $2525 pesos the kids want to plan a trip.

The outcome of the peaje was great. We collected more than enough money. However, actually doing the peaje was a headache. We were out on the highway at 7:30 amm because we got a bola (free ride). And we worked through lunch and stayed out there until 4 pm. We would've left a lot sooner, but because we arrived to the highway via bola, we were stranded until someone else came to get us. And let me tell you, by 4 pm these kids were hot, hungry, tired and GRUMPY.

And I got sunburned. During the heat of the day, there were 14 kids sitting down on the shady side of the highway and me and one guy standing on the sunny side of the highway. The kids kept telling me, "Lauren, why are you standing in the sun? Come sist in the shade with us." But if I went over to that side, there would be no one to collect money on the sunny side. So I stayed.

Also the kids thought we wouldn't raise money if the people knew were collecting money to send only two kids to a camp in Jarabacoa. So we lied and told everyone that it was for their graduation from Escojo Mi Vida. Most people didn't even read the signs or ask why we were raising money; they simply threw coins at us as they drove by, so I don't know if that would've mattered or not. But it wasn't worth arguing about with them. If they thought we would get more money for a graduation, so be it. And also, just so y'all know, not only did I lie to get people to donate money, I was very much promoting my girls to act and dress as sexy as possible to coax money from all of these male Dominicans. And I believe that is why we were as successful as we were.

Here in Baoba, we are in the midst of celebrating our Patronales. Patronales is a 9-day party with live music and of course lots of drinking. Technically, Patronales is supposed to be 9 days of religious services for us to celebrate Baoba’s patron saint. But like with all Dominican religious holidays (see previous entry on Semana Santa), it’s just another excuse to get drunk.

Patronales started on Friday the 14th and ended on Sunday the 23rd. As a general rule, I try to stay away from the Patronales. Since I’m supposed to be a role model for the kids here, I don’t like to become associated with parties with alcohol, drugs, and dirty dancing. So I usually go to the religious services and then head home before the real partying starts.

On Wednesday night, I made an exception. The girls in my Escojo group wanted to do two of their choreographed dances in front of everyone at Patronales. I have seen these dances a million times and even danced with them a few times, so I wanted to be there at Patronales to support my girls. The church service ended at 9 pm, Patronales started at 9:01, and the girls danced at 9:30. They did a great job, and afterwards we all stayed and enjoyed listening to the music.

Around 10 pm, I was talking with Valerio, the father of one of my girls, and he pointed out a group of people, mostly teenagers, that were all crowded in a circle, smoking drugs. He came in a pickup truck, so we decided that he and his daughter and I would head on home before any trouble started. As we started walking to the truck, a huge fight broke up between the people who were smoking. I knew that Valerio always carried a gun with him, and when I saw him reach for it on his belt, I very calmly walked far away from him and the fight.

The fight was getting intense- one kid had a baseball bat- and Valerio shot his gun into the air to break up the fight. This of course caused panic with all of the other Dominicans, yet did nothing to break up the fight. Two more shots were fired by someone else, and everyone started running. I didn’t run. I was partially hidden behind a tent so I just stayed there and watched the action, ready to flee if necessary. But I thought that running hysterically would just cause more panic.

Valerio came and got me and told me we had to leave right then. I had planned on going with him and his daughter and leaving the rest of the kids at the party to enjoy the Patronales. But after the fight broke out, there was no way I was going to leave my kids alone. So I told Valerio that he had to wait, and walked around and found every single one of my 20 teenagers and sent them all home in the pick up truck.

We all arrived home safely, and when I got home, it finally occurred to me how dangerous that situation could have been. The next night, we all went to the Catholic mass, and went straight home. No one was going to stick around Patronales to see if another fight would break out.

I was doing a teambuilding activity with my Escojo group the other day. They all had to grab each others' hands, making a knot, and then unravel the knot without letting go of the hands. So ater everyone was tangled into this huge human knot, I told them all to "desnudar." I did not know the word for untangle, but "des" is a prefix that means undo, and "nudo" means knot, so in my mind, it all made sense. However when the kids gave me wierd looks and the boys started jokingly taking off the clothes of the girls, I soon realized that "desnudar" means to undress. Oops.

Along with learning Spanish, I have also had to learn Dominican Spanish. Dominican Spanish is a language all its own. Instead of saying "poco" meaning little, they say "chin." Another example: In Spanish, the word "guapo" means cute or handsome. But here, it means angry. So whenevver one of the girls in my girls' club would tell me about her boyfriend, I would ask her if he was guapo, if he was handsome. They all told me no. I thought they were all telling me me that their boyfriends were ugly, but they thought I kept asking them if their boyfriends were angry. Oops.

When I first arrived in Baoba, the question that everyone asked me was if I had lived with a man before. I was confused as to why this question was so important, and I answered yes, I had lived with my dad for 18 years, before I left for college, and for some reason, this answer was not socially acceptable here in the Dominican Republic. Later I found out that to live with a man means to have sexual relations. It does not simply mean what the words say - to live in the same house a man. No wonder everyone thought I was wierd when I said that I had lived with my dad. Oops.

Camp G.L.O.W. (Girls Leading Our World) is a 5-day, all-girl camp. And it was intense, for both the volunteers and the girls. All of the other Peace Corps-run camps are only 3 days, and we sleep in comfortable dorm rooms. But at this camp, we all slept on the groun in tents with our girls.

I brought 4 girls- Marlene (19-years-old), Maria (17), Leidi (16) and Valeria (12). And they were all great. They participated in all of the activities and had positive attitudes throughout the stressful week. I was so protective over all of them, especially when traveling. I really just felt like a mom with my 4 daughters. I'm just going to skip over the charlas and lectures and presentations that they all learned and tell the interesting parts of the camp.

These girls are all used to sleeping in beds with pillows, and for all of them it was their first time sleeping outside and camping out. Also, there were only 4 bathrooms/showers or 60+ girls, so that was a difficult experience as well. Especially for Dominican girls who like to bathe at least twice a day.

And the rain started. And didn't stop. Our tent was the only tent didn't flood. During the storm, the other girls slept in a roofed shelter (although it didn't have walls, so the girls still ended up getting soaked), but we stayed mostly dry. However due to the intense thunder, lightning and wind no one slept that night. The next day, nearly all of the girls wanted to pack up and go home. But not my girls. They were troopers and wanted to stay to finish out the week.

On the last day, there was a little drama. Regina had brought three girls from Matancitas, and Regina and I thought that our girls all got along. They've met each other at Escojo conferences and various trips between Matancitas and Baoba. But apparently that was not the case. My girls came to me upset that the girls from Matancitas were spreading gossip about them and telling people not to clap for them when it was time for them to get their certificates or when their pictures came up on the last day's slideshow.

During the last night, we had a bonfire. One of the Matancitas girls had to be removed because she started fighting with another girl (not from Baoba, thank goodness). During the bonfire, a few girls stood up to thank the volunteers and tell what part of the camp they liked best. My girls stood up and thanked me for bringing them there, and then added "We liked the presentation on how to resolve conflicts because in Baoba we want to resolve conflicts and not cause them," which I think was a deliberate stab at the Matancitas group. I have no idea what really happened between the two groups, but it is safe to say that they will not be going to Matancitas anytime soon.

On returning home, we ended up waiting at the bus stop in Santo Domingo or two hours. Buses kept coming, but Dominicans don't believe in lines, so there would be a mad rush and the bus would fill up before I could get all of my girls on. At this point, we were all sick (thanks to sleeping outside in the rain), and Marlene had a fever. So I went up to the bus driver and told him in my bossiest tone that I am in charge of bringing these 4 girls home and one of them has a fever and he better let us go home. And TADA! The next bus came and the driver excorted us all to our seats before he let any of the other people on.

I have now run out of (free) space on my other picture Web Site. More updated, awesomer pictures are now at:

http://picasaweb.google.com/LRintheDR

On July 28th, I turned 23 years old. Here is how I celebrated my birthday in la Republica Dominicana:

Fiesta Numero Uno

On Monday, July 27th, I went to Regina's site in Matancitas and met up with a couple of volunteers there. We cooked tacos (it sounds simple, but ground beef is a huge luxury here), made guacamole, and had a great dinner. After dinner, we all went down to the beach to a big discoteca and danced merengue with the locals. When the merengue music stopped, we hopped in a car with a group of (rich- they had a car!) Dominicans and went to the park in Nagua and hung out for awhile, watching Michael Jackson videos on a huge outdoor screen. And around 11, we went to the sports bar in Regina's site for ice cream and asopao (a Dominican mixture of rice, tomato sauce and chicken), and then we called in a night.

Fiesta Numero Dos

I arrived in Baoba around noon, and immediately all of the girls came over to my house to wish me a happy birthday and to tell me what to wear to the night's party. We were going to have a party to celebrate my birthday, Jose's birthday (he was turning 23 also) and Brandy's birthday (he was turning 8). I wanted to wear jeans and a tank top, but the girls told me I had to wear a dress and high heels, so that's what I did.

I then went to the colmado to buy everything I needed for the party. Even though it was to celebrate the three birthdays together, I was the one paying for the majority of the food. Brandy's mom, Nila, was going to make the asopao for the estimated 50 guests. To make the asopao, I bought six pounds of rice, 8 pounds of chicken, and various seasonings.

Throughout the day, the various little kids gave me presents and cards they had written. Leo, an 8-year-old boy, gave me a 2-liter bottle of soda; Jerry, my 11-year-old neighbor, gave me bracelets, earrings and a hair clip; Yamel, my 13-year-old neighbor, gave me a silver chain purse and hair clips; and Danielito, a 9-year-old boy, wrote me a note that simply said "Te amo." And a couple of my older boys cleaned my front yard, cut the grass (by hand, with a machete), and chopped of old, dry banana tree leaves as their gift to me.

I started getting ready for the party around 6 p.m., but was interrupted by Marlene and Yuliana. "Who told you that we got you a birthday cake?" they yelled at me. They day before, Brandy had told me that all of the kids in my Escojo group had been saving money for the past three weeks to buy me a birthday cake as their present to me, but it was supposed to be a surprise. "You got me a cake?? That's great! I had no idea, thanks so much!" I said, feigning surprise. But they knew that someone had told me. "You're a horrible liar," they told me. So I confessed that Brandy had let the surprise slip out, not knowing the repercussions of this statement. Once Nila found out that it was her son that had "ruined" the kids' surprise for me, she spanked him and then forbid him to go to the birthday party - his own bitrhday party. I went and talked to them and explained that just because I knew about the cake, doesn't take away from the generosity of the gift, but everyone was still upset.

So the party started around 7. We all danced - bachata, merengue and reggaeton. The cake the kids bought for me was beautiful, and everyone that I cared about here in Baoba came out to celebrate. About an hour into the party, Javier (for those of you who have read the blog entry entitled "Javier se va," he postponed his moving to Bavaro so that he could be here or my birthday. Aawww.) called me up in front of everyone and told me that the group had another surprise for me hidden beneath the cake. They had written me a card and made me read it aloud, which was difficult because I almost started to cry, the gesture was so sweet.

The card said: Happy birthday Lauren. On this special day, we want to tell you - although your family isn't here to be with you and support you - this day is an important day for you. Wwe hope that the day goes well and that you feel good celebrating it with your youth and your neighbors. Today we want you to know that we are your family. And in the little time that we have known each other other, we are so proud that you are our volunteer. We hope that you aren't lonely or sad today; only that you are happy. Happy birthday, from your jovenes.

Around 9:30, a special guest arrived: one of Baoba's mayoral candidates. Lala (strange name, huh?) and three of his campaign buddies came by with a huge bag of rum, beer and wine. I have no idea how he heard about the party, but I guess he thought the Americana's fiest would be a great campaign stop. He passed out the alcohol, shook hands with everyone, and even sponsored a reggaeton dance contest between the girls, giving the winner $200 pesos. I was a little annoyed that he came because some of the older women who should've been attending to the party were more concerned with what Lala needed. "Let me know if you need a glass of water, " they told him. Meanwhile I'm sick with a slight fever and a cough (I had gripe) and culd've used a glass of water. But the next day, Lala came over to my house with three bottles of antibiotics, so that was pretty nice of him.

Around 11 p..m., we passed out the asopao and a lot of people left. Then the kids lit the candles on the cakes. Yes, there was more than one cake. When the kids were being sneaky and planning the surprise, they asked me what kind of cake I liked better - chocoalte or vanilla. I knew they wanted to get me one, so I said that I liked both so that it would be easier for them. Therefore, they bought a vanilla cake for the party. But they also gave me two pieces of chocolate cake since I had said that I "wanted" both. Just as I was about to blow out the candles, Javier put some icing from the cake onto the tip of my nose. This started a chain reaction, and all of the kids in the youth group ended up covering my face with icing.

After I blew out the candles, everyone left the party except for me and the youth group. We stayed until midnight, dancing reggaeton, and then we all left. Everyone was too full from eating the asopao to eat cake, so we saved the cake until the next day to pass it out to everyone who came to the party.

It's been awhile since I've been lonely, so I guess the time is overdue. I just heard (not from the primary source, but from people in the barrio) that Javier is leaving. He's leaving Baoba - he's leaving me - to go work in Bavaro. I understand that it's a great opportunity; there aren't many work options available in Baoba, and it will definitely be good for him. But selfishly, I want him to stay. I want him to stay here and go to school and go with me to Escojo conferences.

What makes this news especially sad is that John Carlos and Meri left today to live with their father in Puerto Plata. And while Meri is only planning on staying there for 15 days, until school begins again, John Carlos is going to live and work there. Once again, it's a great opportunity for him - to work during the day and go to school at night - but I want him here with me.

I think it's common knowledge here in Baoba that I like the boys more than the girls. I can just sit and talk with the guys. They tell me like it is, and there's no drama. With the guys, I can watch baseball on tv and don't have to pretend to be all involved in the Dominican soap operas. And of course, the endless flirting with them doesn't hurt my ego. And out of all of the guys here in Baoba and in my Escojo group, Javier and John Carlos are my favorites.

They visit me in my house. They help me with whatever I need (killing termites; driving me around Baoba; hammering nails in the house). They participate in Escojo meetings and make and make sure that everyone is listening to me. They dance with me at parties. And they tell other guys that I don't like the constant "pssssst gringa" when I walk past. In short, they take care of me. And even though they're both younger than me (Javier is 18 and John Carlos is 17), they're probably my best friends here. I highly doubt that they realize how much I appreciate them, but they are two of the reasons why I look forward to returning to Baoba whenever I am in the capital.

It's so hard for me to make good friends here. Sure, I have people who want to use my stuf (ipod, straightening iron, blow dryer, computer, dvds, books, etc.) and I have my "students" who are in my English class and summer school. But friends - real riends, who I can trust and who have the patience to listen to me slowly work out what I want to say in Spanish - are hard to come by. So when I find those people who I can talk to and be myself around, I attach myself to them. And now my two best friends - my two brothers - are leaving, and the loneliness is returning.

Last night I hosted a pijamata at my house. In the United States, a pijamata is a simple concept known to everyone – a slumber party. I think by the age of 10, all Americans (especially the girls) have been to a slumber party and the majority have probably hosted one. Well here in the Dominican Republic, that is not the case. La pijamata is a rarity, and I think I can count on one hand the number of girls here in Baoba that have been to one.

Yesterday was the 14th birthday of my neighbor Nancy, the little sister I never had (ha-just kidding Jordan), and I wanted to do something special to celebrate the occasion. Birthdays are not a big deal here either, and often people are lucky if they get a special dinner, much less a party with gifts from family and friends. So I hosted a slumber party for her and 4 of her friends.

First let me tell you that it was a hassle just to get the parents to let their daughters stay at my house, and I had to promise that I would lock the girls in the house so that they wouldn’t leave. But once all of that was settled, we started the planning. The girls arrived at my house around 10 pm, after a special mass in the Catholic church. I made popcorn (stove top, of course), poured soda and we all settled down to watch a Dominican horror movie called Andrea. After about 40 minutes in the movie, the girls were too scared and made me turn off Andrea and put in one of my favorites- Love Actually. One of the girls fell asleep during the movie, so the other girls painted her face with blue tempera paint.

The movie ended around 1 am, and then the real party became. The girls danced, listened to music, and modeled in their underwear in my full length mirror for about 2 hours, and then we all crashed around 3 am. I slept in my bed, and they all slept on the floor. And around 6:30 the next morning, they all left.

All 5 girls told me that they all loved the pijamata, and surprisingly it wasn’t as stressful as I thought it would be. Although I hardly slept because I kept listening for them to see if they were going to try and leave in the middle of the night, but alas nothing scandalous occurred. We did have two male visitors stop by around 12:30 am, but those guys (Javier and Fausto) are more my friends than the girls, so that didn’t worry me too much. And now the girls are asking me to have a pijamata for my birthday, but that is definitely not going to happen. I enjoyed the pijamata, but it is definitely not how I want to celebrate my birthday. (FYI: I want to celebrate my birthday by dancing bachata and merengue on the beach.)

Thirteen weeks ago, I began a course to teach the youth here in Baoba how to make healthy decisions with the hope that one day they could stand in front of their peers and teach them the same themes. And after thirteen weeks of coaxing the kids to come to the course on time and to pay attention, the kids have finally graduated. Kids here don’t often get the chance to graduate from something, so I wanted this to be really special. We made invitations and gave them to all of the family members and friends that lived in our neighborhood, and up until the graduation began, I was constantly harassing all of the parents to make their way to the church to support their kids in the graduation (I seriously mean harassing- it was extremely difficult to get these parents to show up). And to my delight, we had a great turnout, with about 30 family members and friends in the audience.

The kids all arrived at the church at 3:30 to prep for the graduation, which was set to begin at 4 (and in reality, began at 4:30). I didn’t want the graduation to just be me talking in front of everyone for two reasons: 1) I don’t speak Spanish that well and didn’t want to have to write a long speech, and 2) this course was for them to learn how to give lectures to the community so it would be good practice for the kids to speak in front of their parents at their own graduation. So that’s what we did.The program for the graduation:Meri and Marlene gave the welcome and opening remarks, along with a guest appearance by Sandy for a little dinámica. (A dinamica is a short little song that gets the audience up on their feet singing and dancing. Dominicans love these, and I will teach them all to you when I get back home.)Brian and Franklin spoke on what we learned during the course- values and self-esteem; sexually transmitted diseases, including HIV/AIDS and how to prevent them; teen pregnancy and how to prevent it; abstinence; drugs and alcohol; and how to use condoms.Henri and John Carlos spoke on what we did during the 13 weeks- went to La Capilla to participate in a march for International Women’s Day; hosted the group from La Capilla for a presentation on discrimination; went to Jarabacoa for a 3-day regional conference; and went to Matancitas for an all-day conference with 4 other Escojo groups.Andy and Leidi spoke on the groups plan for the future- to give presentations and lectures to the community; to have a talent show; to have a community march; and to present dramas to the schools and churches in Baoba and surrounding communities.The two regional coordinators, Joamver and Felix, then spoke more about Escojo and the benefits to being in the group. I invited these guys, who live about 2 hours away, to come and say some encouraging words to my kids for the graduation.Nanci and Yamel then presented the drama that the kids did in Matancitas, and the kids then repeated the drama so that all of the parents could see it as well.Then I said a short little speech telling the kids how much I enjoyed teaching them and presented all of the certificates.Javier and Elizabeth then gave closing remarks and invited everyone back to my house for cake and juice.The After Party:

The after party was a huge hit. I had spent all morning making 5 gallons of juice with melon, apples, bananas, coconut and pineapples. And the day before I went into the closest large city to buy and decorate (yes I actually decorated the cake. They called me into the back kitchen of the bakery to draw my Escojo design with the icing because the bakers didn’t know how to do it) a 3 pound cake.

After serving the cake and juice, we all spent the next 3 hours dancing bachata and merengue. And towards the end of the evening, my kids were even able to drag me onto the dance floor to booty-dance with them to Dominican rap music.

I was extremely proud of how well the graduation and after party went. During the graduation, all of the kids spoke loudly and articulately, and at the after party, everyone behaved. I had told them beforehand that this would be the one party where alcohol would not be allowed, and surprisingly they stuck to this rule. I was also proud of all of the parents who showed up to support their kids. I feel like we take it for granted that our parents would show up at our graduation or a sporting event, but here the kids are pretty much on their own for that sort of thing. I could tell it really meant a lot to the kids for them to stand up in front of their friends and family and present what they have been doing for the past 3 months.

As a basic generalization, Dominicans are extremely observant. And they love comparisons. When Jordan was here visiting, almost every single person that we passed by told me that Jordan was taller than me. Then they went to look at the pictures in my photo album and they told me that Jordan has always been taller than me. I was already aware of this fact, but they love to state the obvious. After Jordan left, a 6-year-old girl came up to me and told me that Jordan and I have the same feet. When I asked what she meant, she replied that we both use red nail polish and our toenails rise up. Another example of their observant nature: Everyday I get an update on my weight from all of my neighbors. “Lauren, tu eres más gorda hoy.” (You’re fatter today) or “Lauren, tu eres demasiado flaca. Tu estás moriendo.” (You’re too skinny. You’re wasting away.) And while it’s nice to know that all of my neighbors are paying close attention to my eating habits and my health, hearing about how fat I’ve gotten in the past 24 hours gets a little old. Other comments that I’ve recently gotten: “Wow Lauren, you sure are sweating a lot.” (I heard this from multiple people as I returned from my morning run.) “Lauren’s nose is very thin and pointy.” (This was not said directly to me, but was said as if I was not even in the room. I was in fact sitting next to the person talking.) “Lauren, did you know that you have love handles?” (Yes, I did know this.)“Lauren, you didn’t wash your hair today.” (No, I didn’t. Is it that obvious?) Seriously, when recruiting Peace Corps volunteers for the Dominican Republic, there should be a disclaimer: Self-conscious people need not apply. Ok, so Dominicans are observant. But ironically, they think all blonde-haired, fair-skinned people look exactly the same: like me. I was watching a movie that had Claudia Schiffer in it, and they told me that I could be Claudia Schiffer’s twin. This was extremely flattering, especially since they just got done telling me that I’ve gained weight. And they think all Americans look the same: blonde-haired, blue-eyed. They are shocked when they come across a picture of an American with African or Asian heritage, and it’s impossible to convince them that they are American. Or even just extremely tan people (like Shannon and Liz), they don’t believe are Americans because they don’t look like me.

Mango season has finally arrived. From the moment that I arrived in Baoba (back in November), everyone has been telling me to just wait until mango season, and so I have been anticipating it’s arrival. Everyday kids in my neighborhood bring me at least one mango, and I cannot eat them fast enough. On my run this morning, a little 8-year-old boy that I didn’t even know just stuck out a mango in his hand as I passed by for me to grab mid-stride. Unfortunately, with the arrival of mango season comes the arrival of rainy season (and with rainy season, comes mosquito season). Apparently May is the rainy month in the Dominican Republic, and June begins hurricane season. Hurricane season will last until November, and people are already talking about whose sturdy-block house we’ll go to once a “cyclone” comes through. Because of its dirt roads and its proximity to three large rivers, Baoba has the tendency to flood, or at least to make the roads impassable. However I’m not too worried about it. Peace Corps has consolidation points for us, and if a bad hurricane is getting ready to hit, I will be called into San Francisco, a large city about 1 ½ hours away. And while Baoba will be fending for itself, I will be relaxing in a nice hotel where rumor has it has tennis courts, a swimming pool, and room service. Depending on when I get the call to come into San Francisco, it might be difficult to travel to the city, but if Baoba is really flooded and I can’t leave, they will (like, they have in the past) send a helicopter to fly me out to safety. And to be quite honest, I’m kinda hoping for the helicopter ride.

I am exhausted. Yesterday I had the overwhelming task of taking 18 kids (ages 12 - 22) to Matancitas, about an hour away from Baoba, for a huge Escojo Mi Vida event. Regina (the volunteer in Matancitas) and Laticia (the volunteer in Los Limones, about 2 hours away) and I had planned an all day conference for our Escojo groups. The plan started out with us three having about 40 kids, and then it grew to include 2 more Escojo groups, so there were about 70 kids total.

Unlike the regional Escojo conference in Jarabacoa (which had a 70 kid-12 volunteer ratio), it was up to us 5 volunteers to plan and pay for all of the activities. My group left Baoba around 8:15, as soon as church was over. I climbed in the back of the pickup truck with all 10 of the boys, while the 8 girls sat up front so that their hair wouldn't get messed up. We arrived in Matancitas at about 9:15, the last group to arrive.

At 9:30, the activities began. The Escojo group from Los Limones gave two charlas: one on how to use a condom and another on the consequences of pregnancy in adolescents. Two of my kids, Franklin and Melvito, were called up front to show that they learned how to successfully put on a condom (on a plantain).

Next, 10 of my kids acted in a 10-minute drama. In the drama, there were three couples. All three had sex, however only one couple used of condom. Thus, one couple ended up getting HIV and the other couple ended up pregnant. Moral of the drama: use condoms.

After the drama, the group from Salcedo gave a charla on sexually transmitted diseases and HIV/AIDS. The group from Matancitas acted in a dance/drama. And I concluded the educational activities with a Jeopardy-style game on all of the topics that they had previously learned.

Then the fun began. We had a talent show, which basically turned into a dance-off. My girls had spent the past week practicing a dance and came prepared with costumes (jean shirts, tank tops and neckties). After about 4 dances, we had to cut the talent show off because one of the girls (now in my group!) started stripping and waving her shirt in the air. She had on a sports bra, but we decided that wasn't really acceptable behavior at a conference that emphasizes health decision-making.

We then ate lunch, which was buffet style and included (50 pounds of) rice, chicken, pasta salad, spaghetti, and potato salad. We paid women in Matancitas to cook all of the food, and ended up spending $7000 pesos (about $200 US dollars) to feed all 80 people. We played a few games after lunch, then corralled everyone out to the beach. We tried to have structured activities on the beach, but it started raining so we just gave them the afternoon full of free time. I spent the time sitting in the rain watching my kids who were swimming to make sure they didn't drown. So by the time 5 p.m. rolled around, I was cold and tired and couldn't think in Spanish anymore, and that's when I knew it was our time to head home.

Overall the day was a huge success. I love taking my kids places because they are so well-behaved. They participated in all of the activities, they helped clean up after lunch, they listened to all of the charlas, and most importantly they listened and respected me. Not all of the volunteers can say that about their group, and I feel very lucky to have such a good group of kids in Baoba.

I’ve gotten a lot of emails from you recently about what I actually do on a day-to-day basis, so here is what I did on Monday, April 27, 2009 7:30 am: Wake up, take bucket bath really quick because there’s light! Am able to blow dry my hair, and already the day is off to a great start. 8 am: Brandy, my 7 year old neighbor shows up. I brew us a pot of coffee and we sit on the front porch and share my breakfast of pan y café (bread and coffee) 8:30 am: There are now 5 kids on my front porch playing card games. I ignore them and read my book, “The Canterbury Tales” 9:30 am: I force all of the kids to leave except for Brandy. It’s time for our tutoring session. Today we work on writing the alphabet and saying the correct letters. 10:15 am: Brandy leaves and Leo arrives. It’s time for his tutoring session, and we work on reading words with the “ch” sound. 10:30 am: The lights go out. No big deal, except now the water in my refrigerator won’t be as cold as I would like. 10:45 am: sweep and mop the house. The kids return immediately after the house is clean to color in my coloring books. My house now needs to be swept and mopped again. 11:30 am: time to eat! Take out the rice and guandules from the fridge. Mix that with a salad of lettuce, tomato, bacon bits (thanks mom!) and oil and vinegar, and it’s “a buen tiempo.” Noon: wash dishes immediately after eating so that the ants won’t swarm my kitchen 12:30 pm: Nancy, my 13-year-old neighbor, comes to visit and chat. We sit on the front porch and discuss why she didn’t go to school today (headache) as we eat honey straight from the honeycomb. 2 pm: It’s time to make the rounds. I walk down the street to visit Manolo and his family. I help him and his wife shell guandules for tomorrow’s lunch, and as a thank you they give me some to cook tomorrow. 2:50 pm: Rachele, another volunteer, calls me to plan out her next Escojo meeting. We decide that STDs and HIV/AIDS is a lot of information for one 1-hour lecture, but neither one of us wants to break up the information and teach an extra class. So we both decide to just cram it all into one hour. I’ll let you know how that goes. 3:30 pm: Walking home from Manolo’s, I see about 6 of my Escojo kids sitting outside. I go sit with them. 3:45 pm: Trenita, another volunteer, calls me. She has to give a lecture on conflict resolution at the next Escojo regional conference, and needs some real-life conflict scenarios. She decides to use two from my group (our little fundraising problem and my catty teenage girls who always arrive late to my meetings). It’s a good thing my Escojo group is very conflicted so that I could help her out so easily. 4 pm: I go play dominoes with the old people of the neighborhood. I lose. 5 pm: I go visit Mingo and his wife Alessandra. They sell cleaning and bath products, and I want to buy a bar of soap. But they don’t have anymore, and I’ll have to wait for the next shipment to come in. 5:30 pm: I go visit Sofia (Nancy’s mom) who just arrived from out of town. 6:15 pm: I go to the colmado to buy 1 pound of sugar (to make coffee tomorrow morning), and to refill my 50-gallon botellón of water. This costs 50 pesos (about 2 US dollars). Frank, the 13-year-old son of the colmado owner, mopeds the water over to my house. (I bet y’all didn’t know that I could turn moped into a verb). 6:45 pm: Dinner is peanut butter and crackers. Yum! 7:00 pm: The lights come back on! Shut the front door and hide out in my back bedroom so that I can actually get some work done. Get ready for my English graduation party tomorrow. Write the student’s names on their certificates, and write their final exam. 7:30 pm: Finished with work for my English class. Now start studying for Wednesday’s lecture on sexually transmitted diseases and HIV/AIDS. 8 pm: Try to de-clog my shower drain by pouring boiling water down it. This does not work. 8:10 pm: The lights go out. Listen to music and type this journal entry on my computer until the battery dies. 9 pm: Double check that the doors and windows are locked and that the gas tank is turned off. Go to bed, say my prayers, and try to sleep without a fan in this sweltering heat.

Wanna know the latest Peace Corps DR happenings?? Well, here they are:

One of the volunteers was in a bad motorcycle accident. Lori, who had just finished her two years here and decided to extend her service for a few more months to finish up a project in Puerto Plata, was riding a motor with her boyfriend at night. They crashed into a dog that was in the middle of the street, and her helmet wasn't fastened well and flew off. She was conscious but not in stable condition (she was only speaking in Spanish) at a hospital in Santo Domingo. She stayed there for about a week until she was stable enough to medical evacuate her to a hospital in the U.S. Please keep her in your prayers.On a much lighter note, one of the volunteers who came here with me in August is already engaged to her Dominican boyfriend! They met in November when she first arrived to her site, and immediately started dating. Peace Corps is currently doing the required paperwork and background check on the guy, and if all goes well they will be married by August.

I have already booked a flight back home December 15-January 5. Write those dates down because I want to see everyone in those three short weeks!!

Dear Friends and Family!

It’s our pleasure to be writing to you today. Imagine the Dominican

Republic, strengthened, empowered and succeeding in the hands of

powerful, young female leaders. Peace Corps Volunteers committed to

Camp GLOW, a world-wide Peace Corps initiative, are preparing this

year’s event. GLOW is short for 'Girls Leading Our World,' and here

in the DR, we call our event '¡Campamiento Estrellas de Hoy!" (Camp

Stars of Today). As volunteers involved in this year’s Camp GLOW

event, we’re planning talks, workshops, games, and bonding activities

for over 50 young Dominican women.

All this takes place during a weeklong camp where the girls have the

opportunity to hear and talk openly and honestly about life goals,

life planning, healthy sex and relationships and much more. From yoga

to HIV awareness, the camp will be life-affirming for all our

participants, and a much needed respite from social and economic

pressures. Many young women in the Dominican Republic have children

and are married or otherwise involved in a domestic partnership far

before age 18. Camp GLOW aims to introduce and reinforce their power

to make healthy choices.

The girls themselves raise funds to participate, and the PCV’s seek

corporate sponsorships, as well. Yet, it’s still the generous

contributions of our Stateside communities that make ends meet. Your

contribution will pay for lodging, food, materials, and convey to

these young ladies that the world cares about their well-being!

If you’re able, please consider sponsoring a camper by securely

donating money at the Peace Corps-sponsored link below and send this

email on to at one other person. Donations from $5 or more are warmly

welcomed one and all. If your auxiliery club is interested in making a

donation, we encourage you to contact your volunteer before using the

website.

https://www.peacecorps.gov/index.cfm?shell=resources.donors.contribute.projDetail&projdesc=517-303

We would love to send donors Thank-You cards and a photo from camp in

appreciation of your generosity. If you would like to receive one,

please be sure to fill out all the contact information on the donation

web form. Thanks so much for taking the time to consider it!

Warm Regards,

Your Volunteer, the girls, and the whole Camp GLOW family

Lily, the Peace Corps volunteer in La Capilla (about 30 minutes north of Baoba) has an Escojo group in her site as well. Lily came to the Dominican Republic the August before I arrived so her group has already graduated and they are now giving lectures to the community. My Escojo group went to her site to help with a parade and a presentation on March 8 for International Women’s Day, and this past Saturday her group came to Baoba to repay the visit. Her group gave an hour long presentation to my kids about discrimination and diversity, which helped me out because it’s one less theme that I need to teach my kids before they graduate. After the lecture and the snacks (crackers, salami, cheese and soda), we had a scavenger hunt, which was a huge success. Let me explain about the scavenger hunt. We divided all of the kids (36 total) into 2 groups: one group went with me and the other with Lily. Each team had a list of things they either had to search for or actions that they had to do, and we had to take pictures of each activity. Each activity completed earned the group a specific amount of points, and the team with the most points won. Here are the activities: Find the oldest person in Baoba and take his/her picture. -The team earns 1 point for each decade the person has lived.Hold a doña in your arms. Her feet cannot touch the ground. - 3 pointsForm a pyramid with beer bottles – 1 point for each level of the pyramidPut on your school uniforms – 2 points for each person in the photo wearing his/her uniformFind the stray dogs of Baoba – 3 points for each stray dog in the photoFill bags with trash from the ground – 2 points for each full bag. If the bag is filled with leaves, it doesn’t count.One person has to hold live chickens – 4 points for each chicken held at the same timeFly a kite. – 10 points for each flight flying in the photo.One Peace Corps volunteer has to ride a horse – 5 pointsClimb a tree. Feet cannot touch the ground – 3 points for each member of the group who is in the tree.Put rollers in the hair of a man. – 3 points for each roller.One Peace Corps volunteer has to ride a pig. – 8 pointsGather the most family members together at one time and take their picture – 2 points for each person. My team lost by 5 points. We didn’t fly a kite because we didn’t have time to make one, and for the school uniforms, they only put on their shirts, not their complete uniform therefore we didn’t get any points for those questions. But the kids loved the activity, mainly because they got to see me ride a pig. And I liked the activity because they collected trash from the ground (and then burned it), learned to work as a team, and it gave me the opportunity to play with the kids. Sometimes I feel like all I’m doing is acting like their teacher or their mom, so it’s nice to be able to goof around and relax with them. The group from La Capilla only stayed in Baoba for a couple of hours (2 – 5 p.m.), but afternoons like these are great for the kids here. They get to visit old friends and meet new ones, and it really breaks up the monotony of the campo life. Their days normally consist of school, work, and chores. And so this gave them an excuse to simply play and act their own age for the day.

My Escojo group has been working on fundraising so the group will have money. We have a lot of things coming up in the month of May that we need to pay for. The Escojo group from the neighboring town of La Capilla is coming to give us a lecture on discrimination and then the two groups are going to compete in a scavenger hunt, so it is our responsibility to buy snacks for the meeting. We also have our big graduation party coming up at the end of May, so the group needs money to buy a cake, refreshments, and graduation certificates. Thirdly, we’re planning on going to Matancitas, a town about an hour away, to visit the Escojo group there, so we need to pay for the transportation of the group. AND the group wants t-shirts made so that we can all look cool. The group does not know that I have applied for a $16,000 peso grant (about $500 US dollars) to use for the Escojo group. I refuse to tell them until absolutely necessary because they need to learn how to raise the funds themselves. Once I leave, they aren’t going to be able to get grants from the US government, so they need to learn how they can raise money. So in the regional Escojo conference, Andy and Meri learned how to make bracelets out of string and beads. We decided that a fun and simple fundraiser would be to make the bracelets and sell them to the students in the school. So I went to Nagua, bought $1000 pesos worth of materials, and spent 1 hour teaching the 20 kids in the group how to make them. Everyone made 3 or 4 bracelets and left the meeting excited to sell them. In larger towns, Escojo groups are selling the same bracelets for $40 pesos, so we decided since Baoba is a smaller, more rural campo, we were going to sell them for $35. A week passed, and at our weekly Escojo meeting, I asked everyone to pass forward the money they got from selling the bracelets. The grand total of our fundraising efforts: $50 pesos or less than $2 US dollars. I was hoping that we would make enough money for me to make my $1000 and then the rest would be the group’s profits. But as the results were a little less than expected, I decided I would be fine with losing my $1000 pesos and all of the money that the group got from selling the bracelets would be their profits. Because I was angry and disappointed, I then turned my normal sex-ed class into a basic business lesson and led a discussion into what went wrong with selling the bracelets. The lessons learned? Our price of 35 pesos was too high, and we would’ve sold more if the price was at 25 pesos. We cannot sell the bracelets on credit, especially to little kids. They will never pay the money owed.We cannot teach the kids how to make the bracelets themselves because then they will make their own bracelets and won’t buy them from us.If we sell a bracelet, we cannot spend the money on snacks or other things sold in the school. This completely defeats the purpose of group fundraising and is in fact like stealing money for the group. I then asked the group how we could solve the problem. The group from La Capilla arrives in Baoba in one week and we only have 50 pesos to use to buy snacks for the meeting. So the group decided that everyone will bring 50 pesos to the next meeting. So now the group has a little bit of money, yet they still have absolutely no idea how to fundraise.

Well I think its safe to say this post might be a little different from my last visit to Lauren. No resort luxuries this trip, I think that's safe to say - quite the understatement actually. Although for some reason, I think I enjoyed this visit much much more...probably because Mom and Dad didn't come with me this time (just kidding, Barn and Vick..)

Here's how the week began:

Sunday 10am: First flight out to Miami. Managed to battle the airport by myself! I am proud to say that I am officially an established traveler and LOVE flying solo.

2:30pm: Flight to Puerto Plata.

4:00pm: Arrive in the Dominican Republic where I am greeted by Latin musicians and photographers that look like Vegas showgirls? (that's the closest analogy I can think of to compare). Lauren plus a few friends arrive to pick me up and take me to Baoba!

Side note: I absolutely love the ride to Baoba. It takes about two hours and the ride consists of swerving to miss potholes, pedestrians, cows, motors, other cars, etc. but the view along the coast is gorgeous!

Dinner on Sunday consisted of arroz y habituelas (rice and beans) which was actually really really good. I'm not sure if I was just so hungry or if Lauren's cooking skills have improved drastically but it was not as bland as it sounds. (LR tells me that people in the town think that her meals are too spicy).

After dinner a few kids came over from the youth group (people will just visit throughout the day), ranging from 4+ and played cards, chatted (with Lauren) and tried to chat with me until they realized that this americana did not speak the language as well as her sister. The lights eventually go out and kids go home, while Lauren I get ready for bed by candlelight and gas lamp.

Not real sure of the time but sometime throughout Sunday night/early Monday morning this rooster kept crowing outside the house and I don't know who ever came up with that "fact" about roosters crowing at daybreak, because that is a MYTH! This one crowed about every hour. Although I'm sure it didn't help that most of the night I was tossing and turning due to the heat, mosquitoes and biting flies, and then the fact that Lauren and I were sharing a pillow.

Monday 6:45am: Run with some of the jovenes to the beach

7:45am: Breakfast of sausage cheese balls (Thank goodness for Mom packing those in my suitcase!)

10am: Then the dreaded bucket bath. Lauren often referred to this as a shower. No, no. No shower. Well there's a shower head. That will drip water into a bucket, that you will pour over your head. The water was so cold and after that first 5 seconds after I poured it, I honestly considered not bathing for the rest of the week. Luckily for Lauren and the residents of Baoba I managed to brave it through Thursday.

12pm: Had a lunch of peanut butter and crackers. (FYI: they make really good pb in the DR!)

For the remainder of the day, visitors dropped by or we went and visited with some of the families there. Lauren was my personal translator for the week and most of the time I was just trying to comprehend what was being discussed in conversation. As many years of Spanish I have had and it is still EXTREMELY difficult to speak the language. Not only are regional dialects different, but it's spoken so fast! Alot of the time I could figure out what was being said, just not smaller details and then how to respond. Lauren and I would talk at the end of the day about how exhausted we were! All we had done that day was literally sit around. We came to the conclusion that your brain is constantly trying to comprehend the conversation around you - even when I would be reading a book, I would look up and still be trying to figure out the topic of discussion around me.

Other meals we ate during the week included platanos fritos (fried plantains which tasted just like french fries), bean soup, more peanut butter crackers, etc. Some of the kids would bring us their flavored milk from school (tasted just like a milkshake!)

On Tuesday Lauren's neighbor took us on his moto to the lagoon down the road. It was unbelievable! It was like a scene out of Lost. It's a lake surrounded by tall rocks and vines, all covered in shade so the water is a really cool temperature. (We took pictures on LR's camera so hopefully she will put up a picture on here, but even a picture won't do it justice.) They have ropes running across it since the water is so deep. After we went swimming for a while, he took us to get yogu (yogurt). Again, delicious! (I think part of the reason why all the food was so good was because everything was full-fat - this yogurt was not Mom's Weight Watchers yogurt that I'm used to getting out of our refrigerator). I even loved the moto ride - I've been saying for a while that I want to ride a motorcycle so maybe this will satisfy that fix for a while.

On Wednesday, I went with Lauren to her sex ed class where she taught on abstinence. Afterwards, there was a surprise birthday party for Valeria, one of the girls there. I finally was starting to get closer to the younger kids there - (they love rock paper scissors!) and then all of the older kids in LR's jovenes group wanted to ask me questions - the girls wanted to know whether I liked it there, the boys wanted to know if I was single, and the little kids just wanted to play more games.

It may seem like Lauren and I didn't do much during the week, but I very much wanted to see the life that she lives from day to day. I understand how she gets so exhausted with the kids not going to school (one girl didn't go to school because she washed her hair; another boy didn't go to school because he was helping his mom clean the house; and then another boy decided not to go to school for an unknown reason, yet came over to Lauren's house to visit in his school uniform just so she would think he had gone!) and I realize that so much of her job is to form relationships with the people in the town. They are already beginning to talk about when she has to go back to the US and how sad they will be. They joke and say how she is never going to come back once she leaves. I know this isn't true because I spent less than a full week there and I already want to return before the end of summer. (If you would like to contribute to the "Take JR to the DR" fund, it would be greatly appreciated.)

I didn't take very many pictures (sorry Mom), but the few that Lauren and I did take I will try to put up here ASAP!

That's all for now! :)

-Jordan

I just got back from participating in the Peace Corps DR’s 4th annual bola race. A bola is a free ride to a destination, the equivalent of hitchhiking. In the US, bolas (or hitchhiking) is frowned upon and illegal, but here in the good ole Dominican Republic, bolas are an everyday occurrence. (Did you know that in Cuba if someone asks you for a bola, it is illegal to tell them no?) Now that you know what a bola is, I bet you are still wondering what exactly a bola race is, so let me explain. Bola Race 2009: On Saturday morning, beginning in Santiago (a large city in the north of the country), 25 teams (boy-girl pairs) of Peace Corps volunteers competed to arrive to an unknown destination first. Five minutes before we were allowed to leave Santiago, they told us our final destination: Rio San Juan, a touristy beach site about one hour north of Boaba. So the bola race sounds easy, right? Here are the rules: The teams can only use bolas. They can not pay for a ride to the final destination. Even though bolas are common, this is extremely difficult for us white Americans. The Dominicans see us, assume we are tourists with lots of money, and therefore they don’t want to give us free rides.The teams have to dress in costume and come up with a background story. My partner, Ben, wrapped his ankle and walked around on crutches, and I wrapped my arm in a makeshift sling. Our story? We are brothers and sisters (if we were husband and wife, I couldn’t flirt with the male drivers to ease the bola-ing process) vacationing in the Dominican Republic. We were riding horses in the mountains, and both fell. We used up all of our money to pay for he hospital bills and now we have to get to Rio San Juan for our cousin’s wedding. We were trying to get some sympathy, but other teams just had ridiculous outfits. Two teams dressed in scrubs as doctors, two teams were members of athletic teams (one volleyball and one baseball), and there were a couple of teams who dressed as traveling singers.Each team is given a large quantity of some sort of liquor or mixed drink. The liquor has to be completely gone by the time the team arrives at the final destination. This does not necessarily mean the two volunteers have to drink the liquor. The alcohol can be shared with the bola driver as a gift of gratitude. Many teams had normal liquor, such as rum or gin or whiskey. Ben and I had a bottle of Crème de Café, which tastes fine as a nice after-dinner drink. However, it is not the best alcohol to drink midday in the hot sun while you are riding in the back of a pick up truck, so we gave a lot away to people who helped us along the way. The results?? Ben and I made it to Rio San Juan within 4 hours, coming in 10th place out of 25 teams. The first place team arrived to the hotel 45 minutes before we did. We got a bola from a guy in a large 16-wheeler truck. Then this nice old man paid for us to ride in a guagua (even though the guagua was public transportation, this was legal because we didn’t pay for the ticket). And lastly a guagua driver told us he would take us the last leg just to show us that nice Dominicans do exist. So after about 4 car transfers, we arrived in Rio San Juan, ditched our crutches and slings and just started running to the hotel. And I’m sure all of the locals loved watching random groups of Americans dressed in silly costumes because as we were running one Dominican yelled out, “I’m glad your leg is better, but you lost the race! The others already arrived!” It was a lot of fun and a good way to see different parts of the country. And since we arrived to the hotel by 1 p.m., we had the whole afternoon to relax by the beach. And the best part of this bola race?? Because my site is so close to Rio San Juan, three volunteers just decided to come to Baoba and stay Sunday night with me. So we played dominoes, walked around town, went to my beach, and then played card games with my youth group, who of course were excited (especially the teenage boys) to spend the evening with 4 blonde American girls.

I have been so frustrated lately. For the past month, actually. And maybe it’s because I’m homesick, or maybe it’s because I have now been here for 6 months (and counting!) and have yet to see a difference in these kids’ behavior. I am not a patient person, and I want to see results now! I told mom the other day that I wish that she and dad had been more of slacker parents, that they didn’t hold me to such high standards when I was growing up (and now) because then I wouldn’t hold the kids here – my kids – to such high standards. Every day I realize that my standards are way too high for them, but I refuse to lower my standards. I want them to try harder and reach them. This is all abstract talk, so let me give a few examples. I started my English class because everyone wanted to learn English. Seriously, every single person that I talked to in Baoba told me that they wanted to be in the class. I didn’t even want to teach English (I joined the Peace Corps to save the world, not to teach Dominicans how to flirt with the American tourists that come to the beaches), but to make them happy, I started three classes with 20 students in each class. The course was supposed to last 16 weeks. I am now on week 21, and have yet to finish it. We had a month-long break in December, and I spend so much time repeating classes for the people that didn’t come to the previous class, that not much new teaching gets done. And I am down to just two classes of 10 students. If they wanted to learn English so bad, why are they not putting any effort? The students don’t come when it rains, or when they know that I was out of town the day before, and when they do come, they arrive 30 minutes late, don’t do their homework or copy the notes and vocabulary lists. Some of them sleep or chat or talk on the phone, and all of this drives me nuts. The frustrating part is that all of these kids know that this behavior makes me upset, yet that doesn’t seem to stop them. Which just re-emphasizes for me what a disaster the education system is here. They are in school for 4 hours a day, and one of those hours is recess. And since arriving in Baoba, I have yet to see a student go to school all 5 days of the week. The teachers have weekly meetings, and when there is a teacher’s meeting, they cancel school. God forbid, the teachers to have to meet outside of their 4-hour workday. So to clarify, the students here have class 3 hours a day for 4 days a week. And yet they still skip school, and their parents just don’t seem to care. (side note: You know how our grandparents always say, “back when I was your age, I had to walk 10 miles in the snow to go to school.” Well I now tell my kids “back when I was your age, I had to go to school 8 hours a day, 5 days a week” and the kids’ jaws drop every time they hear this.) So every time one of my kids does not go to school, I march directly over to the parents and ask them “why didn’t Fulana go to school,” and the response always is “oh, she didn’t want to.” I’m just going to let you all imagine what would have happened if I had told my dad that I didn’t want to go to school that day. (In case you don’t know my dad, here is what would’ve happened: he would have pulled me out of bed and said ‘I don’t care if you don’t want to go. You are going to school.’ End of discussion.) Or the parent may tell me that the kid had a headache. But it is my belief (my dad taught me this also) that if a kid is too sick to go to school, then the kid is also too sick to ride his/her bicycle to the beach and spend the afternoon sunbathing. These kids don’t even try to fake their illnesses. Or the latest excuse, which I heard just this morning, was that the grandmother told her three kids not to go to school today because they had to clean the house to get ready for visitors. The visitors arrived at 6:30 p.m. The kids could have easily gone to school, returned by noon and cleaned the house, but apparently that idea didn’t even cross their minds. So then I get upset and tell the parents “of course Fulana doesn’t want to go to school. No one likes to go to school, but it is YOUR responsibility as mother/father/grandmother to make your kid go. How is Fulana going to learn if she never goes to school??” The parent always agrees, I leave, and then the following week the exact same scenario happens with the same exact kid. Everyone here in Baoba thinks I am totally crazy because at one point or another I have yelled at them for not sending their kid to school. And while I don’t believe anyone has learned anything about the importance of education, I do believe that they have all learned to stay out of my line of vision if they are skipping school because no one wants the crazy Americana yelling at them outside their house. The education system doesn’t make things any easier. All students have to wear a uniform to attend the public schools (khaki pants or skirts and a light blue polo shirt). And for some of the poorer families, the kids only have one pair of khaki pants and one shirt. So many times the excuse the family gives me for why Fulana didn’t go to school today was because her uniform was dirty. And it’s so hard to argue with that reason when we don’t have water, no one can do laundry, and of course kids are going to get their clothes dirty when they have to walk 2 miles to the school every day. What is especially frustrating is that school won’t accept any student without a uniform, and often if the student is wearing a dirty uniform, the school sends them back home. And the teachers here are a whole different problem all together. They cuss in class, they tell the students “you are stupid. You are worthless. You can’t do anything,” and corporal punishment is very much accepted. If I was a student, I wouldn’t want to attend a class like that either. So moving on to my sex-ed class, my Escojo kids, who I love dearly and who at the same time I want to strangle their necks. These kids are my neighbors, my friends, and whenever I refer to “my kids” (such as in the previous paragraphs about those that never go to school), it is my Escojo kids who I am referring to. It’s a tough job because I want to be their mentor and their friend, and yet at the same time, sometime I feel the need to discipline them and act as their mom. And these kids are generally good kids. I have seen other Escojo groups, and my kids are by far the best. But the thing that I am realizing is that those early teenage years are tough, tough years, especially with the girls. (side note: I now realize what a hard job mom and dad had raising two girls, and I am so very sorry for all that I put you through when I was a teenager myself. I now understand completely how you felt.) When I started the Escojo group, I thought I would feel more comfortable around the girls, but the reality is that I really enjoy the boys better. The boys ask me relevant questions, they pay close attention to my lectures, and they don’t laugh and correct all of my Spanish. Also if the boys begin to misbehave, I can shoot them a look (Thomas and Pete know the type of look I am talking about), and they immediately stop what they’re doing and pay attention to the activity. The girls however, are constantly squealing and laughing in their high-pitched voices. They are too embarrassed to participate, they want to sit in the back of the class and chat with each other or send text messages to friends (side note: I’m going to go out on a limb and say that the reason why the poverty level in Baoba is so low is because everyone spends all of their money on the latest cell phone. I am such a loser because my phone does not have a camera or video recorder; it only has 2 games; and I can’t use it to access the Internet or to download music). These girls also laugh at my Spanish pronunciation and correct almost every single word that I say. And while I appreciate the helpful tips, I am extremely grateful for the boys in the group who tell the girls to shut up because they all understood what I meant. I think the reason why I have such high standards for these kids is because the majority of the time, they act (and look) so much older than they really are. Girls in this country get married and start having babies when they’re 13. Girls who are 11 are teaching me how to cook and clean my house properly. The guys who are 15 and 16 are constantly flirting with me. And the older guys (above the age of 25) in Baoba are dating the 13 year old girls. So it’s hard for me to remember that these kids are just babies. I’m sure if I was being taught about condoms and birth control when I was 13-years-old by a silly-looking foreigner, I would laugh nervously as well.

It's officially Easter, or Pascua, or el domingo de la resureccion, as the Dominicans call it. And since this morning I was able to talk to both Mom and Thomas, and both of them asked me how Dominicans celebrate Easter, I thought another update was due.

The entire week before Easter is called Semana Santa, or holy week. However there is not many things that are holy about it. All of the Dominicans use this opportunity to leave the city and travel to the campo and to the beach to visit family. And since I live in both the campo and the beach, there has been a huge influx of visitors to Baoba. All kids are out of school for the week, and all business are closed from Wednesday to Sunday (there are 0 businesses in Baoba so this actually does not affect me or my shopping habits at all). Dominicans also use this holiest of weeks to celebrate by drinking rum. Lots and lots of rum. They drink this rum while they're at the beach, therefore fights occur because Dominicans always carry pistols with them, and car crashes occur because when leaving the beach, they drive drunk. It's a mess, and I was probably the only person in Baoba who didn't go to the beach this week. But I preferred to stay in my safe, comfy house.

They do have religious services on Thursday, Friday, Saturday and of course Sunday. However I didn't get to go to any of them because I was teaching my English class on Thursday during the mass, and then I left for the capital on Friday. I really didn't need to be in the capital until Monday morning, but I didn't want to be on the road on Saturday and Sunday when all of these crazy Dominican drunkards were driving home from their vacations in the campo/beach.

Just a couple of random thoughts:

They officially changed the name Baoba to Baova on our road sign. I however, refuse to change the spelling of my town, so you guys can continue to call it Baoba as well.UNC WON THE NATIONAL CHAMPIONSHIP!! One of the volunteers who lives about an hour from my site actually has a sport bar in her site, so I spent the night with her and was able to watch the game. We forced all the Dominicans to change the station of the baseball game to the college championships, and they were only happy to oblige the two americanas. It was so exciting just to be able to see the game and pretend like I was back in the States.Happy early Easter, and thank you all for your cards and packages. I have been extremely homesick lately, so it was a pleasant surprise to arrive in the capital today with tons of mail and well wishes from you guys.Pictures are (finally) updated!! Check them out at: http://picasaweb.google.com/LRams728Since moving into my own house, I have had to learn how to cook-Dominican style, and it has not been easy. I'm inserting this video of my 11-year-old neighbor teaching me how to peel a platano:

A couple of Fridays ago, I took a 19-year-old girl out from Baoba to Mantancitas, a larger city about one hour away. Marlene and I went to stay three days with Regina, another youth Peace Corps volunteer. Regina was giving a workshop for her Escojo group, and she invited me and one of the members of my group. After receiving the invitation, I immediately knew that I was going to ask Marlene to accompany me. Marlene has the ability to really be a leader in the Escojo group and with the youth in general. Although she left the high school just a few months before graduating, she is extremely smart and sassy and always one of the first ones to participate in my activities. So she and I went to Matancitas, gave a lecture on the consequences of alcohol and drugs, and she is now officially an Escojo graduate and multiplier! And I just returned from a weekend long trip to the regional Escojo conference with two of my youths. The conference was in Jarabacoa, about 2 hours from Baoba, and neither one of the kids who went with me had ever been there before. Because the conference is a huge privilege, I made everyone who wanted to go write an essay on why they deserved to go this conference. I then chose the two people to go based on their essays, their attendance to past Escojo meetings and their participation in the meetings. The two that I chose to go were Meri, a 19-year-old (the cousin of Marlene), who is very responsible and has the potential to be a leader in the group, and Andy, a 15-year-old who is incredibly smart (he graduates from high school this year!). Both of them live with their grandmothers and are kept on a pretty tight leash, so this gave them the opportunity to get out of Baoba and travel and meet other kids their age. The conference went amazingly well. I was nervous about using public transportation in a country that I don’t know using a language that I don’t know (I don’t like traveling to unknown areas when I’m alone, much less when I am in charge of two teenagers), but luckily we made it to Jarabacoa safely. (SIDENOTE: On the return trip, Regina, the volunteer from Matancitas, got on the wrong bus with her youth and ended up in Santo Domingo, about 4 hours from her site. She then had to travel directly back to Matancitas that night, and arrived at her site after 9 p.m., whereas my kids and I arrived in Baoba (which is one hour further than Regina’s site) at 4:30 p.m. yikes!) There were 75 youth at the conference, all from the central region of the country, and 12 other Peace Corps volunteers. During the three days, the kids acted in dramas, performed in a talent show, and learned about HIV/AIDS, the consequences of adolescents being pregnant, mental health, how to raise funds for the group, and how to give effective lectures. They played volleyball, made bracelets out of string and beads, and ate way too much food. And at the end of the conference, Andy, Meri and I sat down to plan what activities our Escojo group will do in the upcoming months. We are going to have a couple of fundraisers (a raffle, a movie night, sell homemade bracelets) to raise enough money to travel to Matancitas for a little day trip. The group will graduate in May, so in June the kids will plan and give their first lecture to the community of Baoba. We are also inviting the Escojo group that is in La Capilla to come visit us for the day. And now Meri and Andy (and Marlene too since she technically already graduated from the course) have the responsibility to help me finish giving the lectures to the rest of the group, which they are excited about. After taking them to the conference, I think I now know how my mom felt when she accompanied me on all of those field trips in elementary school. I made sure that the kids always were where they were supposed to be, that they went to bed on time, that their suitcases were packed, that they were on the same bus as me, that they ate all of their dinner, and that they called home to tell their parents they were safe and having a good time. Andy had a bad cold, so I was also in charge of taking care of him and holding his dirty Kleenex when it was time for him to participate in an activity. It was a great weekend, and I think it really increased their confidence and trust in me, and I certainly learned a lot about how great both of them are.