Woodley's World

Garbage

Oh, this beautiful country never ceases to amaze and confound me. I don't know if I've mentioned it before, but I'm sure I'll mention it again, the garbage trip here is ridiculous. For the most part the garbage collection system is non-existent. In the cities supposedly garbage collection exists but it's spotty service at best. They're supposed to come once a week and they come once every other week. Outside of the city in some places they're supposed to come but never do. And I don't know what happened, but the concept of garbage cans is a foreign concept around here. So, I'll give you one guess as to where the garbage goes. That's right, on the ground. Sometimes in one place, but definitely on the ground. For example, my friend had bought an ice cream from a street vendor in Santo Domingo and was trying to figure out where to throw the wrapper, not seeing a zafacon (garbage can) nearby. A guy, seeing her confusion, came up and took the wrapper out of her hand and threw it on the ground and told her "that's where garbage goes." Another example, I saw some students walking home from school the other day. They give them a merienda (snack) at school during their recess and some of them save it for the walk home. So...these girls were walking home and had 3 bags of chips. They split one bag into the other two and then the empty bag got thrown into the irrigation ditch that runs alongside the road. Or there's the other school girls that were walking by my house yesterday and chucked their milk containers down in the middle of the road.

Or there's this example of a place where a lot of garbage gets thrown. This spot is right beside the Rio Guanaré that runs through my town. Eventually, if this garbage gets collected, which is questionable, it will get put in one spot and burned. The tragic thing is that most of it (almost 80%) is organic and could be used for compost here in this agricultural region. And making compost here is pretty easy because it's hot and humid so things break down rather quickly. I'm hoping this is a project I can work on while I'm here. Keep your fingers crossed for me!

Washing Day

My host mom does most of the washing thank goodness. All I'm responsible for is washing my underwear (which here in the DR are called pantis). However, as many of you know I like to procrastinate. Luckily I brought an extraordinary amount of underwear with me just for that reason and they told us that underwear take a beating around here. So what I should be doing is washing my underwear when I take my bucket bath every day because it's a heck of a lot easier. Instead of doing this I've been accumulating underwear for the last couple weeks. Today, my doña pretty much told me I better get to it and today was as good a day as any! So she set me up with a bucket full of detergent and water and I tossed in my underwear and she tossed in some soap. After letting them soak for a while I had to scrub them together, then scrub soap on them, then scrub them some more, then rinse them, then toss them on this plant to dry. My doña was nice enough to give me instructions on what I should be doing, although she was laughing at me the whole time. Here's a picture of my clean underwear drying on the bush out back. Doña Francisca was nice enough to pick a bush where they couldn't be seen from the road!! Maybe too much information for some of you but I couldn't resist sharing. I wish I had a picture of me washing to go along with it, because it had to look hysterical. Although I think the pantis make a pretty decoration on the tree! Maybe when they start to wear out I save the pretty ones and make Christmas tree decorations out of them.

My Road

So technically they call my road a carretera which literally means a highway. I think that's a gross exaggeration of what it really is considering that it's just dirt, even though they did throw some rocks from the river on it last week. However, I can't tell you how much pleasure I derive from sitting in my front patio (yes, in, it's kind of like being in a bird cage and I sometimes feel about that much on display as well) watching what passes by my house. Here's a picture from this morning and a little video I thought you might enjoy to give you just a clue of what I see during the day.

My Loma

At first I was a little disappointed that I didn't get reception in my house or pretty much anywhere in my pueblo, but I've quickly gotten over that. Now, I look forward to climbing up the loma (hill) behind my soon to be house so that I can make phone calls. (The house where the previous volunteer lived and where I will most likely be living.) It's a steep climb up the hill, in a field full of sheep and goats, but the climb is worth it. The view is incredible. I can see the whole valley and pick out houses and buildings in my pueblo spread out below. I can follow the river by the trees that line it's sides. I can see the green hills that surround us. And if I go all the way to the top I can peek through the fence and see the valley that spreads out to the other side. I included a picture in my last blog of the view from the loma, but I may well include it again because it's spectacular. It's so nice to spend some time sitting up there talking to friends and family, watching the clouds roll in. Monday I took a sombrilla (umbrella) with me which was fortunate because I got caught in a rainstorm up there. Luckily it was a big umbrella and I sat down with my bag on my lap, my phone is one hand and on my ear of course, and my umbrella in the other hand (see picture below) and only my feet got wet, which of course were in my Keen chancletas (sandals) and capable of getting wet as they often do around here. Getting down is actually the hardest part as I found out today when I was bajando (going down) the loma and slipped in the loose rocks and landed on my behind. I don't think I bruised anything but my pride! I still love that loma though!!

This is the view! It´s even prettier than in the picture!

Here´s me hiding from the rainstorm under the umbrella!

Hopefully my house!!

Looking up the loma from the bottom

This is from behind my hopefully soon to be house up the hill and no home in the campo would be complete without it´s own letrine.

In the Name of Progress

This week in El Batey they’ve been going crazy working on the roads and sidewalks. They say it’s because it’s been needed, and it has, but there’s the added impetus that on June 1st there will be hundreds if not thousands of people here in town for a Catholic festival where they bring a figurine of a saint from here in El Batey to San Juan. It’s supposed to be quite the party. I’m looking forward to it. But back to the roads. So in order to mejorar (improve) the roads they brought in some huge machinery. A road grader to level out the road and then they brought a ton of gravel (well, gravel is an overstatement, it’s more like a bunch of dirt with rocks in it) from down by the river Guanaré which runs through my pueblo. This means that they found a place in the river that had a fair amount of rocks in it and on the side and they filled dump truck after dump truck full of the dirts and rocks and hauled them away from the river. They cleared away trees in the way as need be to make sure they could get more. They hauled loads all day yesterday and all day today. And I think it will continue for the rest of the week at least. Here’s a couple pictures so you can get the idea.

Peace Corps Moment

Yesterday I had one of those moments. One of those moments where you have a realization, a recognition of the reality of where you are and what you're doing. I had arrived about 5:00ish on a bus from Santo Domingo to San Juan de la Maguana, the city closest to my campo of El Batey where I am now living for the next two years. In San Juan I found a motoconchista (motorcycle taxi driver) that knew the previous volunteer (and found out later that the man was a little in love with her) and offered to take me to my site. However, I had a slight dilemma. I needed money desperately. I had borrowed money for my bus ticket from another volunteer that happened to be there because the ATMs at the nearest branch of our bank to the bus depot were broken, and the ATMs from the other bank wouldn't let me take out money. I didn't even have enough money to pay the motoconcho driver unless I went to the bank. So I had to trust the guy to take me to the ATM to take out my money. Meanwhile I had two backpacks filled with all my most important belongings and my guitar with me, which let me tell you it is not easy to manage all that on a motorcycle. So I strapped on my casco (helmet), handed him one of my bags, put the other one on my back and looped my guitar over that, and wrapped my arms around this guy's waist. Well, I got my money and then we did this loop to a gas station so the driver could get gas put into his motorcycle, which he didn't turn off of course. No one I have yet seen turns off their vehicle while gassing up. A worrisome practice but I have yet to see anyone blow up thank goodness. Then we proceeded to take several more turns onto the "highway" (I use the term loosely) that heads towards my campo. And no, I still haven't gotten to that moment of realization that I was talking about.

So off we go, one of my bags in front of him, the other and my guitar strapped to my back, money and cell phones in my pockets. The "highway" that quickly goes from broken pavement to a rutted dirt road is already muddy from earlier rains. There's a drizzle coming down which leaves beads on the visor of my casco (helmet). We slide out now and again in the mud but my driver quickly regains control. I can see the hills, vibrant and green all around me. Chickens, goats, cows, sheep, and pigs look up as we speed by. Dark clouds fill the sky, threatening to open up and drench us at any moment. Thunder roars and lightning claps ahead of us, moving in our direction, definitely too close for comfort. And I smiled...

I keep trying to find a way to sum it up, but it's the mixture of emotions that's hard to explain. It's not that I wasn't scared because I was, and it's not that I wasn't apprehensive because I was that as well. It was just this moment of clarity when I realized that despite my fear and apprehension, I loved it. I loved every minute of it.

I did however, want to kiss the ground when I made it home safely, although slightly muddy from spinning out, as well as the fact that I had to get off and walk up a hill at one point so the driver could get the motorcycle up it. I paid $100 pesos for the ride although I have to say it is priceless as a memory.

Not me on a motoconcho obviously but just so you get an idea of what it looks like!

Swearing In

We finally made it. After 10 weeks of training and tests, we made it. Wednesday, May 13th we were sworn in as official Peace Corps Volunteers. That´s right we are now officially employed by the U.S. government. We sang the national anthems of the Dominican Republic and the United States. We swore oaths in English and Spanish. We listened to speeches by the Director of Entrena, the Director of Peace Corps, our bosses Alberto and Domingo, the Minister of Environment and Natural Resources (who is the grandson of one of the Mirabal sisters), someone from the Primer Dama’s (First Lady’s) office, someone from the Ministry of Education, the Doña of our friend Tamara, and our compañero Jared. We introduced ourselves and shook everyone’s hands and got a Peace Corps DR pin. And we took lots of pictures!! I wore my dress from Enchanted Alpaca and got lots of compliments! Thanks Carol and Rick!