Is This Really My Life?

It is almost 11pm, I am sitting at the edge of my bed, about to fall off because my mosquito net is taking over. Reflecting on today I can't help but think that this is my life. I woke up today at 7am. Spent the day on the water deep sea fishing with one of my uncles and his ten year old son for mahi mahi. Sat in awe at the amazing coastline that consists of untouched land, cliffs with such dramatic drops that make you think that there really has to be some higher power that constructed this world because they are breathe taking. You feel consumed by the coast looking up at these cliffs with such powerful waves crashing into them-words can't even describe. The water is bluer than any blue you can imagine. Then there is us on our little wooden boat, cruising along in the open water, miles from the coast. The water is rough. We tilt side to side and the boat jumps over the waves as we try to get further and further from shore, heading towards the birds in the open water. They too are out there to hunt and we use them to guide us towards the fish. We fish using line, but not with fishing poles. The line is wrapped around their hands. When there is a tug, watch out- a fish is on the line and if you are not careful and the fish is very big, you can be pulled off the boat, or worse, have the line slice through your hand.

Today I was taken by my surroundings-by nature. It was so powerful. Surreal. Being out on the water is a whole other world. A world that many people here know very well. A place where some spend more time in than in their own homes-one that I am developing a relationship with. The water, just like any of us, has a mind of its own-it has good days where the water is calm and shares it's treasures with it's visitors. Other days where is breathes heavy and can eat you alive, crashing sporadically with a natural force that is more powerful than two cars colliding. Unlike us, it has no restrictions and doesn't have to play by any rules.

I am learning so much about something that I knew absolutely nothing about. How to sail a boat, fish in different ways, fishing terminology, how to cut and prepare fish, etc. etc... Anything and everything about what is out there in the open water. Might have been easier if I studied Marine Biology, but never too late to learn.

After a day out at sea, my friend's father who is in town and is a fishing expert in the states (works for Santa Monica Seafood Company) came and spoke with my fishermen about sustainable fishing. He goes around the world seeing how other cultures fish, trying to promote sustainable fishing-something I am working on. It was sad to hear stories about fishing communities who have exhausted and cleaned out their waters. A sad reality for too many places around the world, including the United States. Some of his stories were so moving that it brought tears to my eyes thinking that in ten, fifteen years from now my new home could be living in a place completely depleted from what they survive on. We talked about conserving not only the bay and the life in it, but also the livelihood of the community. Will they be able to get the joy of seeing their children take on the family business in the future if they don't change their ways? Will their children even have that opportunity or will they have to move to the capital to find work elsewhere because the fish will be no more? The answer is as clear as the waters-which right now, is pretty crystal clear. If they don't take it upon themselves to change, then they will have nothing left. They must be the example, they must set the foundation and create a code of conduct and not wait until the government decides to put their foot down and step in. If they don't stop killing lobster that are pregnant and fish that are as big as their pinky that have no meat, the water will cease to provide, the reefs will die and as a community we will lose our most precious resource.

My fishermen know the dangers, they understand what is happening. They are already feeling the consequences as the ocean is going through an ecological meltdown. They say it is hard to change what you depend on for survival with no resources for change. This is true, but they must set themselves apart from the others or else it is one deadly cycle. If we (and I say we because as a human race, we are all contributors, we share this responsibility) continue to point fingers and blame others for what is the reality, no one will ever be able to restore the sea's bounty. Just thinking about it gets me upset. Especially when I am out on the water and I think that my children might never have the opportunity to see anything like this. We will be left with ghost habitats, reef-less waters, and poisoned seas. Hopefully, we will be able to determine the worth of our waters before the well is dry.

Days like these remind me why I am here. There is so much to do. So much to share. So much to learn. The fishermen here have a great deal of knowledge, lack all financial resources for change, but at the end of the day, have the motivation and a passion for fishing that I (positive thinking) feel will spark change. In my opinion, we have accomplished one of the hardest things and that is admitting that there is a problem and obtaining the knowledge to know how to fix the situation. We will work from here. It is a long process, but as I remind them at the end of all our meetings, as long as we stay strong, podemos lograr cualquier cosa (we can accomplish anything).

I guess I should stop here for today. These entries sometimes go on forever. It is hard to stay on topic when I am constantly experiencing new and incredible things. Never would I have thought that I would be making fishing contraptions, learning local lingo for all four types of tuna, scaling and preparing fresh fish [ate a grilled (don't worry, fully grown) red snapper for dinner tonight and yellowfin sashimi yesterday. Life is rough]. But as I am learning, life is just full of unpredictability. Just like the sea, life can change directions unexpectedly.

Inspirational Words To Bring In The New Year

An Inspirational Short Story
I Wanted To Change The World
By Unknown Monk, 1100 A.D.

When I was a young man, I wanted to change the world.

I found it was difficult to change the world, so I tried to change my nation.

When I found I couldn't change the nation, I began to focus on my town.

I couldn't change the town and as an older man, I tried to change my family.

Now, as an old man, I realize the only thing I can change is myself, and suddenly I realize that if long ago I had changed myself, I could have made an impact on my family. My family and I could have made an impact on our town. Their impact could have changed the nation and I could indeed have changed the world."

'Twas the Night Before Christmas

...when all through the house, not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse." Whoever wrote that never experienced a Christmas on this island. It is always loud here. Remember, I live in the second loudest country in the world. My Night before Christmas played out a little different than Mr. Moore and Livingstons traditional story.

Holidays here came and are going fast. Didn’t feel too much like the holidays, although we did get a couple days of “chilly weather.” By their standards-high 60s, and they think that they are experiencing the cold winter of Nueva Yol (New York, as my doña calls it). When I try to explain that it is as cold in New York as sticking yourself in our freezer, which doesn’t get too cold, I get a blank stare. She thinks I am lying. Lost cause. I have to simply assure her that “burr, yes it is cold here.” She smiles, excited to be able to experience the cold that she thinks she can relate to the Big Apple, the city of all cities for them- the city where all Americans live, because all other forty-nine states don’t exist. Except maybe Florida because Miami is where the other Americans live who don’t live in New York City. And although they know I am from California, to them, it is all part of New York. Needless to say, I can’t wait until sister comes with a world map. Geography 101.

Back to Christmas. Christmas Eve consisted of a hodge podge of all the ingredients one can possibly find in our town, which don’t get too excited, it isn’t much. It is the only day of the year that families use their oven to cook chicken and pork instead of as a shed to store dishes (reason: gas is $$). Our dinner table consisted of an array of chicken and pork, rice, Russian potato salad (I have yet to find out what is Russian about it), spaghetti, cabbage salad, bread, apples, almonds, raisins and grapes (the four traditional Christmas treats-they only appear at Christmas), what I call my cookie attempt (the oven just doesn’t work properly and killed my snickerdoodles) and an equivalent to a pumpkin pie that I made that was very successful. The family prepared a plate of food for the neighbors so that they could have a taste. We ate together around the table after giving away half of the feast and talked. My sister snickered at my pie, smelled it and refused to eat it. I wanted to reach across the table grab her head and stick it in the not-so- Russian salad. I gave her a smirk when everyone told me how delicious it was. I even prepared one for my fishermen at our meeting on Christmas Day-definite win. Some people here are just so opposed to trying anything new. Some are too set in their ways, never divvying from what they know. It is a whole other story that their minds in school are never worked to be creative and think outside of the box and do something different than the rest of the group. Don’t even get me started.

So my first Dominican Christmas… I survived the mockery of my cooking, what else can I say…The holidays here can’t compare to the States. Dinner was nice, but that was it, nothing else. O wait, forgot to mention one thing. Remember I live in an evangelical community? Well, they have a tradition that the week leading up to Christmas they go caroling. Real cute right. O, just wait. They “carol” more like sing loud somewhat angry sounding church songs from 2am until 6am going through the streets to people’s homes to “save” (convert) people. I think I prefer some good old fashioned Jingle Bells.

2011 is right around the corner. My community is basically paralyzed until after the 6th of January when they will celebrate Three Kings Day. I asked what they customarily do, but I was told nothing. Apparently, a good excuse to extend the holidays and relax. I’ll take it. It is nice to be able to take a few days to myself, put work aside and just talk to people (which is basically what I have been doing anyways), enjoy the beach, clear my mind and find a place to live (cross your fingers things work out). My dad even pulled out some machines that the artisans use and showed me how to make some coconut jewelry. Final product still in the making.

I am excited to start the New Year. Pretty symbolic in the sense that I am going to really begin my projects here. I will be proposing a lot of New Year’s resolutions to my fishermen, which include hopefully constructing and opening our cooperative this coming year. Who knows what this year has in store, but I know I am in for a wild ride.

Wishing everyone a healthy and happy New Year. Let this one be sweeter than the last.

You Don't Say

Written: December 21

I was interviewing one of my favorite doñas in the community the other day. My interviews never consist of just going through a survey. That would freak them out. Too official for them and let’s be real-you can’t really get to know people by doing that anyways. It is all about conversating, drinking coffee, burping babies, sometimes helping peel fresh peas that they are working on for dinner. You get my drift. So, we are “conversating.” She is explaining to me why her grandson lives with her. His mother left him when he was a baby. Why? She didn’t like to cook. I hope that is what they told their grandson. Apparently an aversion for cooking is fair game for leaving your family. It does take up a lot of time, but really?

They say when you can cook, you better find yourself a man if you haven’t already because you are ready to get married. It appears that when you are sick of it, you are also ready for a divorce.

Blast into the Past

Rainy day. Stuck inside unless I want to drown in puddles and slip and slide on our muddy dirt road. I must say, these days are really nice. The air is even a little chilly today. That’s a first.

I’ve had a lot of time during my diagnostic and interviewing time to really observe the people in my community. I’ve developed strong relationships with certain people in the community. One person that I want to share with you worth mentioning is my 76 year old grandfather. This man works like a caballo-it is written all over his sun kissed wrinkled skin. Three times a day he walks to and from his farm where he grows all the food that the family eats. He also walks his five massive cows (yes with a leash made of rope) around the community to bring them to the places where they feed on the land. I went with him one day to see part of the land that he farms. We walked over tons of plants and bushes. Thinking that we were just crossing through overgrown weeds, he explained to me that each plant actually was a crop. Great, I am stepping all over the family’s food. No te preocupes (don’t worry)-they all run over their crops apparently. Most of his crops are viveres, or starchy vegetables like potatoes, what is equivalent to sweet potato, pumpkin, and yucca. I would’ve never known that these plants actually bear food or that each one was a different type of plant as most of them looked the same.

There is something that draws me to my abuelito. Maybe it is his knowledge of the land, knowing every leaf to pick from our yard that can be used to make tea, using the direction of the sun to tell what time it is, his ability to trek up a mountain faster than me, how he walks through the streets with his machete in hand- I don’t know. There is a sense of peace that shines from him that must come from living his simple, stress free, yet laborious life. And although he is an elder in the community who is still really living by our times, in like the early 1900s or something (and not the city in the early 1900s, think middle of Kansas), he just understands me. When my uncles are around asking me questions about life in the states and they just refuse to believe certain things I say, like how when a man marries a woman, it is not socially acceptable for that man to be with other women, my abuelo will speak up “Things are different there, it isn’t like here. Men and women are faithful right?” He just genuinely understands. And by understand, by no means can he comprehend the life of someone who lives in the States, who drives to the grocery store to choose from an entire aisle what type of cereal they want for breakfast (“cereal for breakfast, what’s that?” he would say). But there is something about him that I just connect with. We are opposites -black and white, but there is some gray where we have come to develop a relationship different from anything I have ever had. I sit for hours with him underneath the big mango tree talking about everything from how the house I live in here used to be fields to grow tobacco or explaining that in California it is really four hours earlier than it is here, learning how he could never eat the cows that he raises, how he is convinced I will be sick of mangos during mango season, together trying to explain anything at all to my very senile grandmother... And sometimes we just sit in silence. But that is okay here. You don’t need to fill silence with conversation. There is no “awkward silence” and I am getting used to this. When I just don’t have anything to say, it’s nice to know that I don’t need to say anything at all.

So I hope you feel like you got a snapshot of Abuelito. He is an intelligent man- not from a University education (he cannot read or write, there was no school here when he was young)- but smart nonetheless. A University education is not the type of intelligence he can use in his daily life. It is his experience and understanding of his surroundings that is his survival kit. Intelligence isn’t necessarily packaged in the form of a book or a classroom education where I live-it is all relative.

But there is something about my abuelito. I wish I could explain in words, but I think you just need to sit with him under the mango tree to really understand.

-picture coming soon. (I know you are intrigued, don't lie) My hand held digital camera broke and with it went the photo of abuelo-

New Appreciation for Canned Cranberry Sauce

Turkey, stuffing, mashed potatoes and gravy, pies, even your classic canned cranberry sauce. I had it all Thanksgiving Day despite being far from American soil. Get almost 200 PC volunteers together, and we make it happen. I travelled to the capital for Thanksgiving to spend a few days with my fellow Americans to celebrate our gringo holiday. After reuniting with my fellow PC friends, I realized how much I really needed to get away for a couple days to clear my head. Thanksgiving Day was filled with everything American. My day began at 7 am with the traditional Turkey Trot, a 6K Run around the Botanical Gardens. Not going to toot my own horn, but I rocked it- 31 minutes. The rest of the day was spent at a Country Club filled with sports activities (soccer, basketball, volleyball, football, swimming relays) and other events, plus a priceless talent show. Only mistake was that the swimming relay was after our Thanksgiving lunch feast and I almost puked while taking off in the water. I almost won, so it was worth it. Needless to say, our Peace Corps family did a great job at easing the homesickness during the holiday time. Being at my site eating platanos and rice for the umpteenth day in a row melting in what feels like summer heat just wouldn’t have sufficed. There was a lot to be thankful for as we all gathered together for our gluttonous feast. I am thankful for all the families and volunteers that sent overseas classic treats for the holiday including our canned cranberry sauce, Trader Joes walnuts for incredible pecan pie and boxed stuffing even though I am gluten intolerant and couldn't enjoy it, it was nice to see it on our big round table. I am thankful for being a strong woman when at times it is easier to toss in the towel. And when things get tough here I am thankful for having support from my family and friends. I am thankful for only being twenty-three years old and being able to have the opportunity to do this. There is a lot to be thankful for. Toilets, running water, I can go on for pages.


I am not going to lie. These last few weeks have been really tough. If anything that I have learned is that you don’t really experience much of a spectrum of emotions here. At least not at the beginning. Your highs are really high and well your lows, well they are lowwww, like you are buried 6 feet under. Imagine being on a roller coaster simply with big inclines and you know, what goes up must come down right? Ok I am realizing that this sounds really bad and don’t worry people, I am ok. On a good note, I had a very successful meeting with the Fishermen’s Association on Saturday. Working with them has been a lot better than I thought it was going to be. There’s me-young independent American woman (hear me roar) and twenty plus grungy machismo fishermen (which never smell like fish surprisingly) most of which have only seen a woman do work in a kitchen. But, they actually listen to me and are motivated to work with me. Next week I will be giving them a charla on the basics of starting an association and we will definitely be covering the importance of an agenda. The meetings sound like a Sports Bar during the Super Bowl-people shouting over one another, say the wrong thing and someone might get up and throw a punch. Let’s just say we will be working on group strengthening for awhile. I spoke during the meeting which was a big deal because I have been the fly on the wall trying to observe the group dynamic simply nodding when things are said that I agree with and standing to pray with the group at the beginning and end of each meeting. I think some of them were starting to wonder if I was mute or just dumb. After I was done talking, a man cleared his throat, stood up and reminded everybody that by the grace of g-d I was there to help them and that the words that come out of my mouth are wise and that on behalf of everyone that they feel that we should move forward together to create a strong organization because together, si dios quiere (of course) we can accomplish anything. –Everyone mutters in agreement- Feeling of success. Check. I’ll take each little win as they come. So the roller coaster does have some loops.

This week I will hopefully be prioritizing the projects I plan to work on here in Las Galeras. Tomorrow I have a meeting with the Development Association where I am going to work with the group on SWOT analysis of the community (strengths, weaknesses, opportunities, threats) so we can set up some of my responsibilities and possibly a plan for the next couple years.

Confianza Over A Cup of Coffee

I have been in Las Galeras for a week and a half and days are going by fast. I am still the new kid on the block, but I am finally able to put names to more faces. The importance of my first three months at my site is to build confianza, translating to building trust, with my community-building relationships and an understanding of one another.What exactly does that entail? Walking around talking to everyone in the streets, going to people’s homes and having coffee with doñas, stopping by the school to talk with teachers, watching dramatic telenovelas with my family, listening to music with some neighborhood kids, going for a quick dip in the ocean with my sister and cousins, helping kids with their homework, taking a jewelry making course with local artisans, sitting through intense evangelist church services, attending every community meeting for every organization, meeting with the mayor, making small talk with the farmer that always rides past me on his horse on my run, etc. etc. Thus far, it has been a great way to compartir, to share who I am and why I am here, but also to get to know other people and understand the members of my community. Needless to say, I have been very busy. And although some days are harder than others (sitting through church gatherings are very intense and not exactly my cup of tea), I am starting to feel more comfortable with my surroundings.

Yesterday I hosted my first, somewhat official event, a Veterinary Medical Mission. Veterinarians from the United States came to give free services for the animals in my community. It was a great turnout with about 150-200 animals receiving care from vaccinations, operations, neutering and consultations. I was in charge of finding a location for them to work, setting it up and translating for the veterinarians during the event. This was a quick win in my community-a great way for members of the community to see that I will be opening the doors to many opportunities that they can take advantage of.

Today I have been inside all day due to the unruly rain. Keeping busy doing my own research and homework and passing time with my family as they watch TV at an audible level to drain out the sound of the rain. This morning when I had a little time to myself (this never happens). I found ABC and NBC television channels (didn’t even know we had them). We get the news from South Florida, so I spent a little time watching Good Morning America. I feel so out of the loop and to be honest watching English television, seeing familiar places, getting the update on who was kicked off Dancing with the Stars last night, made me home sick. Maybe it’s better to keep the distance that I have developed. Don’t get me wrong, I love being here, but there are days where you just miss a piece of America. Whether it is being able to drive somewhere, have a choice of what I want to eat (miss the chain restaurants), talking to people that I can relate to, hearing the same teenie bop song on the radio every fifteen minutes, Monday night football, efficiency-okay, you get my point. So I guess for the best, I was lucky to only have about ten minutes of the TV to myself before my host dad came in to watch the very graphic local news. Nothing like watching a dead gang member murdered on the street-live, no censoring. Just another cultural difference. I might not get used to that in two years, but I can definitely get used to using rain as an excuse to pass the day inside since the town shuts down when there is rain.


A rainbow on my street after some of the rains

Some pics from the Vet Med Mission