On being home for the holidays!

First this selfie happened:

Made it home to this guy after 18 months apart! ¡Que hombrecito!

And I was so happy that I did a little dance!

Then I got really excited about SNOW:

But before all that, I got to spend a precious 21 hours with:

Time with college BFFs = beer, coffee, chocolate and bagels!

Where's the selfie stick?

And I finally got to partake in the Raff's new tradition of chopping down our very own tree:

Champions of the tree hunt!

Dragging our prized tree out of the woods on a snowy day.

Tree dragging continues

Finished product, what a beaut!

And I also did a lot of this:

Cross country skiing!

And no holiday would be complete without some of this:

Did somebody say pomegranate martinis?

I also made a pit stop to my old high school to give presentations about Peace Corps:

All-school assembly, where in the world?

Spanish 5 class

Then I got to tour our new middle school at the Community School where I went to high school. If you can imagine the best learning environment ever, this is it. If you can imagine the worst, it's what I teach in.

And then the famous Perch employee Roger Mankus was doing his 1,000th ascent up 3,000 feet of Bald Mountain and so Henry and I did it with him:

Car's ready!

Shredding (too hard) in the fresh pow on the way down

Sunrise...nothing prettier. 

And then the Raffs all got together for one family shot to wish you a very Merry Christmas:

Merry Christmas from the Raffs!

And suddenly I was saying goodbye :( it was tough leaving home sweet home, but I've got a job to finish!

Bye bye 206 Crazy Horse! Until October!

On Peace Corps by the numbers

By the numbers: 

405: Days in country

44: Hogares Saludables women health promoters graduated

36: Escojo Mi Vida youth peer educators graduated

50: Books read

6: Haircuts

12: Ant infestations dealt with

6: Collection of dead and named cockroaches

3: Cellphones I've ruined

8: People who have visited my site

24: People in my immediate Dominican family after having lived with 5 host families

32: Cookstoves built / 38: Cookstoves to go

428: Days since I've seen my mom, dad and brother

On rain and broken aqueducts

They say that everything is connected. I can attest. Before my service, if you told me that a strike in a nearby town affected kids ability to attend school in a nearby campo, I wouldn’t have understood. But ha ha, I'm learning, such is the way of life here, everything is connected.

Last week, there was massive rainstorms throughout the country. There was flooding in some parts and uncrossable rivers in others. Up here in my part, the aqueduct in the nearest town of Montecristi broke from all the flooding and was damaged, hence the town didn’t have water. This also meant that there were strikes against the water company, including people burning tires in the streets, and public shootouts and wreckage in the town. My friend who lives in town didn’t leave his house for days. Because there was no water and crazy strikes, this meant that buses couldn’t cross through the town making travel to other parts of the country basically impossible. Then there was the fact that without water, people were not able to cook.

Let’s back up. Starting this year, President Danilo Medina mandated 4% of GDP to be spent on education. This meant extending the school day from four hours to seven hours. Bravo. They have also started giving lunch to all schoolchildren, which is great, but of course the school’s kitchen was not ready by the start of school so they outsourced their cooking to the town of Montecristi. In the three months that they’ve been bringing food to my campo, I’ve heard rumors of hair, cockroaches and worms being found in the food. Gross. And daily there are teachers and students who are sick and don’t show up to school. Almost no one I know eats it. Without water, queue worsening of the food.

So, without water, the outsourcing kitchen in Montecristi was unable to cook rice for the 1,000 schoolchildren in Manzanillo and the surrounding region. So, what happened? Kids just didn’t go to school for a week. What? Yes, everything is connected. Here’s a recap: rain > flooding > broken aqueduct > no water > strikes > no rice > no food > no school > no learning. This chain of events makes me think of that catchy country song, “Rain Is a Good Thing” It goes "Rain makes corn, corn makes whiskey, whiskey makes my baby get a little frisky." However, in this instance, rain is a very very bad thing.

In other news this week:

- I just got over the nastiest case of an allergic reaction ever. Splotchy hivey rash all over my face and neck. No idea where it came from, but hell was it gross. I also had my eye swollen shut for three days. I went to the hospital and got an anti-allergy shot on top of bloody sheets from the guy who cut his foot on a pickax before me. #neveragain

- People told me to drink onion tea to cure my allergies. #nothanks

- You can’t wash clothes when you’re sick or it will make you worse.

- One of my most trusty and hardworking youth was selected as a youth ambassador to attend a three-week conference in America this January! I am so proud and excited for her chance to see America all-expenses paid. She deserves it and I am so proud of her! #proudmom

And on the agenda for next week:

- I am heading to the capital to be a trusty BAKER! Yup, that’s right. It’s Peace Corps’ Thanksgiving and I am in making some food for our annual volunteer get together. I will be staying in the house of the director of USAID in the capital to make green bean casserole and mac n’ cheese for 200 people. For four days, I’ll be living in a mini-America complete with hot water and flushing toilets. YAHOO!

- Then on Thursday it’s TURKEY DAY! At least that’s how people here see it. I say Día de Acción de Gracias and they just say, “oh yes, where you Americans eat turkey!” Nom nom nom. 

- When I get back to the ‘Zillo on Friday, I’ll finish preparing for my Escojo Youth Leadership Camp in conjunction with fellow PCV/BFF Gray. We’ve got a full two-day leadership camp invented for our brightest superstar youth.

- Then the countdown to America begins! I leave on December 6^th so I’ll be finishing up my stoves project, closing out grants, writing up some end of the year reports and saying bye-bye to the ‘Zillo for a whole month! #idahome

Sending muchas gracias!

B

This is what happens where there's too much rain...Roachie comes out to play!

On resilience

I’m at this really awesome in-between point in my service. I’m over the hump of my first year and well into my second year. It’s particularly awesome because I’m at this crazy moment where the old volunteers (who swore in a year before me) have left and now the new volunteers (who swore in a year after me) have moved to their sites and are starting the long daunting process of integrating, starting groups, teaching women and youth, and navigating professionally in totally distinct culture.

One of the best parts of my service was being placed in a location with volunteers nearby. One in particular, my best friend Julie, a soon-to-be-nurse from Chicago, taught me most everything I know about being a good Peace Corps Volunteer. Julie lived in a campo called Palo Verde about an hour and a half away. Our nearest mutual town was Montecristi so we would often have afternoon reunions in the pueblo, eat pica pollo and tostones, and head to El Morro beach with our other BFF Andy. More than just being good friends, however, Julie’s location close by helped me professionally. She was a fellow health volunteer who arrived the year before I did. She was an excellent volunteer, winning “Volunteer of the Month” and being an overall superstar. I was able to watch what she did and try (sometimes failing) at replicating her successes as my months of service went ticking by. I have Julie to thank for the fact that I can now plan a successful youth workshop, maintain professional relationships with Dominican project partners, and motivate groups of women. She gave me advice, helpful tips, and a toolbox of games, ideas, and tactics for completing my work with women and children. Yes I learned from her, but we also bounced ideas off each other, lamented our challenges together, solved problems, and invented new recipes when we couldn't stand to plan another charla. I admired her so much and would often wonder how the hell am I ever going to get to where she was at the end of her service? But somehow it happens and here I am, just as successful as Julie was at the same point in her service that I am in now at in mine.

Now, there is a follow-up volunteer in Julie’s site and another one in a nearby site called Castañuelas. These girls, Tenni and Veronica, were invited to an Escojo youth workshop that we planned and held in Montecristi last weekend. At the workshop, I coordinated with Domingo and Josue (Dominican leaders) to help plan for the coming year with 50 Escojo leaders. I was able to talk and meet Tenni and Veronica for the first time, but more than that, I got to see how far I’ve come in my year here. A year ago, exactly, I was new in my site, a stranger in a foreign land, confused and scared, challenged in so many ways. I didn’t know who the mayor was, what neighbor I could trust, where to get the best juice in town, or who would cook for me. To be honest, I was so scared and thought, “How the HELL am I supposed to do this?” And my favorite doe-eyed new volunteers asked me the same questions I asked Julie one day long long ago.

What this all helped me realize is that humans are pretty darn resilient. It’s incredible to me how all “this” seems so easy now when 12 months ago, if you asked me to plan a youth workshop and invite 50 kids, I would have burst into tears. Maybe it doesn’t seem all that remarkable that in one year I’ve only made that much progress, but listening to their questions, fears and concerns that were the exact feelings I had a year ago, those overwhelming and yucky feelings came rushing back. And here I am, how far I’ve come, still standing (I might even add kicking ass). I no longer feel fear when I walk out my front door, I now know who will help me and who wont, I know where to buy the best chicken, eat the best tostones, etc.

If I play my cards right, I can be the resource and help that Julie was for me. I don’t want to seem presumptuous and say that my way of integrating and doing it was the right way but I want to try and pay it forward. Us PCVs are our own best resources. We watch the cycles of volunteers every day before our very eyes and seeing others at different points of service helps me think, I have come so far, I have so far to go, and yes, I will get it done. Plenty have done it before me, and I will too. I am resilient and can bounce back from anything. Literally. If this year has taught me anything, it is resilience. A word meaning flexibility, grit, hardiness, strength, power. I am resilient. Keep saying it, keep repeating it when needed, because it’s true, PCVs are the definition of resilience. Collectively, my group has undergone one burglary, seen one person get macheted to death, attending countless wakes, failed at starting groups hundreds of times, changed sites and started over, dated and broken up with host-country nationals (jokingly labeled as tigueres), had loved ones from home get engaged or married and been unable to attend, lamented losses in their American families, been beaten down, pushed around, and somehow, everytime we get back up.

Peace Corps is a game of messing up, learning from those mistakes, teaching others, and chugging along; it is probably the most accurate test of resilience you could ever give a person. You never get to do it over again. To any new volunteer just starting in site, fly free my friend! Take the leap of faith and know that somehow, someday, you’re gonna be alright. You’ll be the one kicking ass, teaching others, organizing workshops, etc. It seems so impossible from this vantage point, but it’s not...it really is possible my friends! And you will do it with flying colors. We are the little tank engines that can! 

Here's some good quotes to help us remember:

“The greatest glory in living

lies not in never falling,

but in rising every time we fall.” 

― Nelson Mandela

“There’s no such thing as ruining your

life. Life’s a pretty resilient thing, it turns out.” 

― Sophie Kinsella, The Undomestic Goddess

“The oak fought the wind and was broken, the willow bent when it must and survived.” 

― Robert Jordan, The Fires of Heaven

“My scars remind me that I did indeed survive my deepest wounds. That in itself is an accomplishment. And they bring to mind something else, too. They remind me that the damage life has inflicted on me has, in many places, left me stronger and more resilient. What hurt me in the past has actually made me better equipped to face the present.” 

― Steve Goodier

“This has been my vocation to make music of what remains.” 

― Itzhak Perlman

On the adventures of Bea and Aria

!Ojo!

About a month ago, my bestest friend Arlen came for a quick visit. On our way to the airport at the end of her whirlwind DR adventure, we started talking about all the things that have become so “normal” to me. I asked her if she would like to write a little something and she happily obliged. Sit back and take a ride from a new vantage point!

So I know that Bronwen has touched on a lot of these themes over her year+ in the Dominican Republic, but I want to talk about some of the unique and interesting things I observed on my very short trip.

On trust and community:

When I first arrived in Santiago, I learned that I needed $10 for a tourist card to get through customs. Of course, being the millennial that I am, I only had a credit card. And, given that I was in a tiny airport in Santiago, they only accepted cash. At first, the man at immigration said he would let me go outside, take out cash from the ATM, and return for the tourist card. Then he changed his mind and said, “Just go through, you’ll pay double when you come back.”  

This was my first confrontation with the high level of trust Dominicans have with strangers. The man just trusted that I would come back and pay it at some point. Never would that ever happen at immigration in the U.S. (then again, they would accept credit cards).

Upon reuniting with Bronwen, she immediately whisked me away into a group car (with two bodies squished in the front passenger seat and four smushed in the back) that picks people up and drops them off along the road wherever they want on a previously designated route. It was like a cross between Uber and hitchhiking: less high-tech than Uber and probably just about as accountable to accidents or issues as hitchhiking. But never once did the “worst-case scenario” play in my head like it would have had I done something similar in the U.S. This is just how people get around.

View of Santiago at sunset

I am woman hear me roar!

Santiago monument.

Throughout the weekend, I trusted my suitcase to strangers on buses - I didn’t see where it was being stored for the two hour ride, how many times it had been moved and removed by people entering and exiting, or know who had access to it. But not once did I ever think that my suitcase would be stolen or misplaced on these long rides. When I mentioned to Bronwen that I hate putting my suitcase under buses in the U.S. because I’m always worried it’ll be gone when I get off, she told me that there’s an unwritten rule in the DR: people just don’t touch your shit on buses. 

As we were walking about "compartir-ing" in Manzanillo, a man in a truck (who Bronwen did not know) pulled up and started talking to us as we walked down the street. In the U.S., I would have mumbled something inaudible and walked away. But in the DR, we obviously stopped to talk. Turns out he was the son of a Manzanillo legend, Lulu, and was visiting from Nashville. After a few minutes of chatting, Franco told us to stop by his house later. At home, we would smile, say “yea, that sounds great,” with no intention of ever actually going to this person’s home. In Manzanillo, we said “yea, that sounds great,” and then on our walk home later, walked into his house unannounced and chatted on the couch for two hours. 

Now, I don’t want to sound like that naïve traveler who thinks everything is hunky dory in the place she is visiting and that all the people in this foreign country have good intentions. Definitely not the case, and I made sure to keep my myself and my valuables safe. That said, the atmosphere seemed to lack the fear that I experience almost everyday living in the U.S. People just had more faith in one another. 

And I know that the reason for this is not that the DR is safer than the U.S. or that people in the DR are nicer. There just seemed to be an inherent trust in the air, which I think stems from a strong sense of community that seems to be lacking at home. Instead of people walking down the street, eyes glued to the sidewalk, there were conversations between strangers and shouts across the street just to say hi. In the U.S. people do background checks on their nannies. In the DR, people hand their babies to near-strangers while they head across the street to run an errand. At home, people have expensive hi-tech security systems on their homes. In the DR, people leave their doors open all day as people come and go. 

I tried to tie this difference to culture. I tried to tie it to poverty versus wealth. Big town versus small town. el Diablo. Who knows? I began to think: is all the fear we have in the U.S. simply due to fear mongering and ultra-sensitization in the news and on TV? Have we become totally detached from reality because we are convinced that we will be that one case in a million? Who knows? But what I do know is that it was a refreshing change of pace to be in the DR where people trust each other. 

On finding joy in the small things: 

The third day of my trip, Bronwen and I joined her women’s group in Manzanillo to go on a river trip in Dajabon. So, we woke up at 7am after a night of drinking and dancing, and got on a bus full of 30 shrieking women. Cue worsening of our hangovers. 

Delicious breakfast that we should have eaten to get us going for the river trip.

But the day just continued to get better (not because of the coffee I spilled all over myself that Bronwen made the bus stop to get on the side of the road; or because of the not-quite-a-river-but-more-mud-pit that we arrived at first and then had to turn around). All of that - as well as the spaghetti sandwiches (literally spaghetti stuffed into a hotdog bun) and getting stuck in the rapids - were wonderful and charming experiences. But the real fun began when we played an icebreaker in which each person was assigned an ingredient in a stew, be it potatoes, meat, carrots, onions, or salt. One person would yell to the group that an ingredient was missing from the stew. The person who was that ingredient (say, the carrot) would say, “Oh no no no, the carrot isn’t missing!” The group would ask, “Then what’s missing?!” and the carrot would have to choose someone/something else to be lacking from this imaginary stew. The first person to falter (or not be paying attention when their assigned ingredient was called out) would lose. They would then be shamed with splashes of water. Oh, let me add that this game was obviously in Spanish – a language in which my proficiency is elementary school level at best. So that added an extra level of hilarity, but surprisingly, I rarely lost. 

Icebreakers in the icy river!

What I loved the best about this game was the pure joy the women got out of it. I honestly haven’t seen that kind of excitement over something so seemingly inane since I was a junior counselor at summer camp. I don’t even think my 4th graders at Hebrew school would have been as excited as these women were about this game. 

We found the chocolate river!

Trip to the river

Nothing tastes better than a spaghetti sandwich.

But that was another thing I noticed throughout my trip: people got enjoyment and entertainment out of things that we would find boring in our world of complicated video games, 24-hour Netflix, and gallivants in big cities with endless things to do. It was refreshing that on a Sunday evening, families would sit together on their porches, listening to music and occasionally getting up to dance. It was energizing to play icebreaker games I haven’t enjoyed since I was a kid. It was enjoyment in the small stuff that I think makes Manzanillo the welcoming and vibrant community it is. Well, that and eating coconuts and fried everything with Mama Julia. 

Arlen with Mama Julia

My trip was primarily to play around with my best bud Bronwen. But I learned a lot from my short stint in the DR, and I have to say that I would definitely go back. If not for the reasons mentioned above, maybe solely because this loud-mouthed, share-every-intimidate-detail-of-your-life-with-anyone-who-will-listen New Yorker may have been a Dominican in a past life.

Sometimes it's really nice to get a new perspective on the place I'm no longer struggling to live in and where things like watching weird videos with my host mom, being hissed at on the street, going "out" and just sitting as a plastic table without saying a word, and not having reliable Internet or electricity aren't really that weird anymore. Arlen's visit helped me to re-see how great and friendly everyone is and why it is that I subject myself to living in the middle of nowhere DR. Her visit helped me re-motivate so thanks for your fresh perspective, Arlen! Come back soon!

¡Uepa!

Bea

On my really cool stoves project

Hey there copadres/comadres, 

As y'all well know, I am in the middle of an awesome and intense improved cookstove construction project. I currently am managing a generous grant from World Connect, an amazing organization in Massachusetts that sponsors and funds Peace Corps Volunteers' projects around the world. To give background information, here's a short summary that I wrote for my original grant application: 

Copey is a rural community located on the northern coast of the Dominican Republic with a population of 4,000 people and an average of five persons per household. Most women in Copey still use traditional cooking techniques that are detrimental to their and their families’ health. This project will lead to the installation of improved cookstoves in 40 Copey households. The project will be managed by a local stove committee, comprised of women heads of households and overseen by the Copey women’s center. Beneficiary families will be trained in the use and maintenance of their new stoves by local community health promoters, and will participate in cooking classes led by their local Peace Corps Volunteer. Project leaders will be monitoring use of the cookstoves over time and aim for beneficiary households to use the new, improved cookstoves for at least 90% of their cooking needs.

A house of a beneficiary family. 

Recap, these cookstoves are beneficial because: 

1) This project removes smoke from women's cooking areas, reducing the risk of respiratory illnesses for both women and children. Respiratory illnesses are the leading cause of death in developing nations. 

Helps kids like Oliver!

2) The stoves use less fuel than other models currently used in Copey. The stoves use firewood, but are so efficient that you can make a pot of stew for an entire family with just two small pieces of wood. This decreases the reliance on burning charcoal and is a safe, environmentally friendly fuel source.  

Eliminates this type of stove...a dangerous smoke producing three-stone fire.

3) These stoves are culturally appropriate, designed to give women the ability to cook rice and beans at the same time on burners large enough for big rice cookers. Women will use these improved cookstoves for 90% of their regular cooking needs. 

Check out those beautiful burners, one for rice, one for beans!

4) At least five of my women use their stoves to cook food or make tea and coffee to sell in town. This increases their economic independence and autonomy and allows them to have a means of making money. 

Margot making stew

5) The project was designed by our women's center, increasing sustainability and autonomy over the project and further follow up. Yes, I am the facilitator, but the women have made the majority of the decisions for how this project runs. 

These women are in charge!

So there ya have it, all the amazing benefits beyond just constructing environmentally friendly cookstoves. We've also sprinkled in some women's empowerment, economic development, and leadership and capacity-building. But that's not all, here's some interesting stove numbers: 

- 30: number stoves to be completed

- 14: stoves completed to date

- $8800 pesos ($250): How much a stove costs in total

- $1600 pesos ($40 or 20%): the amount a family has to give for the mason’s labor

- 3: bags of cement used for each fogón

- 24: ceramic parts used to build the stove

- 18: cement blocks used to make the table

- 8: hours total it takes to make a stove

- 9: feet of chicken wire in each stove

- 3: people who do the constructing, Lin (master mason), Pepe (awesome helper) and me (la jefa)! 

- $2,895: amount of my World Connect grant 

I really believe in this project and it's been a pleasure to take part in this with my community. 

Love and beans, 
Bronwen 

Before 

During

After!

On (not) committing visa fraud

Hey there! 

This week I wanna talk about my family. I have three brothers. There’s Henry, Dawin and Luis Enrique. Henry’s my biological brother, a fifteen-year-old high school freshman and total rockstar. He is athletic, smart, kind and motivated. He rocks. I miss him everyday. But thankfully, I have two more. They’re the adopted kind, the kind I was lucky enough to be given in Peace Corps.

My older younger brother, 23-year-old Dawin, is a character. He is a natural leader and a total goof ball who also is somehow a total tiguere(think bro). People respect him and get his opinion for everything. He’s the most animated and energetic Dominican I’ve ever met (and that’s seriously saying something). I also joke around that he’s the only Dominican I would ever commit visa fraud for because if we had to go to interviews together and people asked all sorts of personal questions, he’d be the only one with the answers. He knows how I drink my coffee, what time I go to bed, what I like to do on the weekends, what I eat for dinner, the vegetables I like and don't like, etc. He could also tell them he cooks for me, that we spend hours on the porch talking about life, and that I love his mother like my own (cause she is). Don't worry though, it's a joke. I am not actually thinking about committing visa fraud because 1) that's illegal, 2) you should marry for love not money and 3) that's so cliché. 

Anyhow, I took Dawin to a sports camp with me at the end of August and he immediately became the ringleader of a group of Dominican youth. The moment when we truly became brother and sister was during an icebreaker for this sports camp. It was a game where someone makes a statement and if you agree with the statement you change places with someone else in the circle. When the person in the middle of the circle said, “Change places if you have an older sister,” without a pause he ran to the middle and changes places. I looked him in the eyes and he was beaming at me with a finger pointed at me and a Blue Steel Zoolander model face that said “ya tu sabes, you know it girl.” I recounted the story to our mom Luisa and she shed a tear. It was precious.

Luis Enrique is my younger younger 20-year-old brother and lives in Santiago so he’s not around all the time. When he is, I appreciate his company, except when he turns into the grammar police. Most people have given up on correcting my Spanish mistakes because they’re used to my accent and can understand me for the most part. Luis Enrique, however, cracks down. He is always making me repeat words, learn the proper pronunciation and start over. It’s annoying but I can absolutely appreciate his efforts. I like to think that these grammar lessons are what brings me and Luis Enrique closer. Unfortunately, I know it’s not the case; there was one moment, many moons ago, that solidified our fate as siblings. One Sunday afternoon I wanted to do laundry so I asked my dad to turn on the water pump and he just screamed back, “Go in the room, no one’s there. So, I walked in on Luis Enrique naked laying spread eagle in bed. Instead of retreating embarrassed out of the room, I walked past the bed, flipping the switch and said, “I didn’t know you were coming home today.” His response was an awkward grumble. What doesn’t kill you makes a brother/sister bond stronger was absolutely true in this situation. We’re tighter than ever.

The best part of feeling like they are actually my brothers is all the shit we can shoot. When we all sit down to eat dinner together, Luisa sees an opening and asks, “Which one of you will be giving me the first grandkid?” At first she started out pretty covertly, but now she’s really anxious for a kid. She said, “If one of you doesn’t give me a grandkid by the end of next year, you’re all kicked out of the house!” I sassily replied, “Fine, kick me out in October when my time’s up cause you’re not getting one from me.” To which she retorted, “Well, figure it out with the boys then and start encouraging them.” We all just laugh at her cause none of us are close to that yet. 

My mom, Luisa, is a catch. We spend evenings gossiping and playing Candy Crush together on the porch. She’s my perfect companion, never needy and always funny. Sometimes she makes me watch weird Jesus-preaching YouTube videos with her and even though she streams off my internet and inevitably eats up 80% of the data, I love her. She makes me soup when I’m sick, does my laundry when I am really busy, and fries me cheese. We are also in the market for a new telenovela to watch together, but haven’t quite found one that sticks. Which is fine, though, because Candy Crushing, porch sitting and girl gabbing is good enough for me!

My dad, Enriquito, is the Dominican version of my biological dad. Enriquito is a total bad ass. He wears fishnet tanktops when it’s hot out, spends time playing with electrical things, fixes motorcycles, and wears glitter pocketed jeans. He is a luz genius, fabulous rice-maker and coffee-aholic. He works at the banana factory from 8pm-4am so he’s not around at nights. But even though he comes home and passes out at 4:30am every morning, he still wakes up at 7:30am to share a cup of coffee with Luisa and I before we head off for work at 8am. He sleeps less than an over-worked college student and still has more energy than I get from ten hours a night. And he treats Luisa like the queen she is, giving me confidence that there are some truly wonderful Dominican relationships built on kindness, respect and love. 

The moral of these stories is to tell you that you're invited to come visit me! Luisa is an amazing host and has extended a general invitation to all of you. My bff Arlen just came to visit and Luisa said, “I loved her. I can see why she’s your best friend. And the other visitors you’ve had are amazing too, invite them all and we’ll make a sambumbio!" So there you have it, an invitation is extended! Me and my brothers will show you a good time, Luisa will whip you up a delicious meal and give you a Shirley Temple cocktail, and Enriquito will make sure the lights stay on your whole stay!

¡Siempre a sus ordenes!

On finding yourself "A Peace Corps Day"

Heyo!

A while back, I wrote a post about what I’ve come to call “A Peace Corps Day.” It's a day I'm sure every PCV can relate to, a day in which you manage to feel a wild combination of overwhelmed, happy, sad, proud, confused, powerful and more in a mere twelve hours. It's a day in which, even if the sum of the day’s parts feels negative, on the whole it’s a net positive and you've learned and grown in some way, big or small.   

I've been here for over a year and it’s been a while since I’ve had “A Peace Corps Day.” They say (I’m assuming “they” refers to some psychologists who studies Peace Corps Volunteers emotions) that there is a totally normal “one-year slump” for PCVs. I've been feeling particularly “slumpy” lately and I definitely haven’t been feeling totally gung-ho. (There I said it, I admit it, I'm struggling, phew it feels good to get off my chest!) I find myself in this toxic place, that dreaded time spent alone with my thoughts when I can’t sleep because a) it’s too damn hot b) the mosquitoes are attacking en masse and c) Peace Corps turned me into an insomniac. In said toxic place, I keep questioning myself “Have I done enough here?” or “Does what I’m doing matter?” and the worst “Am I helping anyone?” Yeah yeah yeah, I’ve heard it all before – “Of course you’re helping, don’t be so hard on yourself, so much of the work your doing can never been seen but it’s real, don’t doubt that.” I know, I know, I try to remember. But unlike before when things were new and exciting to me, I am now accustomed to this place, lifestyle, work and culture and finding it hard to break the monotony.  

In all my lamenting the rough patch, I’ve forgotten to look at all the beautiful things that make my experience here so special. I feel that those reassuring moments of “Oh yeah, this is why I signed up for the Peace Corps” have been few and far between. So I’m committing myself to finding “ A Peace Corps Day” and rediscover the “why.” This means, I have to say yes to all those wakes, praying parties, birthdays and church meetings that I have (as of late) been excusing myself from. Just because I’m a year into my service doesn’t mean the integration stops...I have to keep saying “yes” because integration doesn’t take three months, six months or one year. It takes forever. It’s going to take my whole service and then some. I gotta keep pushing to reach it, lest I go crazy. So here are my own tips for how to find yourself "A Peace Corps Day."

1) Set a schedule, but don’t stick to it.

One of the hardest parts of the Peace Corps is not having a routine. So I’ve tried to make myself one. I get up every morning at 6:30 to go for a run and do yoga. Then I eat breakfast and make 1, 2, or 3 cups of coffee while reading the news, catching up on emails (not that I have many) and organizing grant papers or making charlas. At 10:30, I hop on my bike and make the rounds, seeing all the people I need to before they leave for lunch. I come back home for lunch and set out again for groups, rounds or meetings at 3. I’m back home by 7 when I make dinner, hang with Luisa and finally excuse myself for my own quiet time around 9. However, in the Peace Corps world, you can try try try to set a schedule, and something always comes up. And it’s in that “something” that you’re going to find the net positive. So when you’re feeling down, say “yes” to that funeral, the game of dominos, the free cups of coffee and the weird prayer groups even if you’ve been in your site one month, twelve or twenty-four. Saying “yes” will remind you why you came.

2) Eat the food – literally and figuratively.

I was offered two giant cow feet the other day at Mama Julia’s, the woman who has taken care of me and adopted me as her own since Day One. I felt bad saying no, but I just couldn’t stomach the tenderness of the cow nerve. I was imagining the poor spotted creature who walked in his own s*&$ mere hours before landing on my plate. It was all just too much, but somehow I did it. And even though the next day was the worst case of diarrhea I’ve had in this country, eating that cow foot stew gave me an extra hour of bonding with Mama Julia who I learned (while forcing down gooey, tender cow foot nerve) had prayed for someone to fill the void her daughter left when she moved to America last October. Three weeks later, I came into her life. She honestly felt that God answered her prayers by sending me to her and with tears welling up in her eyes as she recounted this moment, I was deeply humbled and reminded again why I am here. I eat with her because she nourishes me with her stories even if her food does not.

3) Teach children their manners.

In the DR, it is not custom to say “please” and “thank you” and it frustrates me so much when I go to the ends of the earth for someone and I only get an “ok.” It’s such a let down when a kid I haven’t seen in weeks runs up to me only to say “What do you have for me?” without a hello. To combat this, I started teaching my kids and youth to use their manners and it's catching on! In those soul crushing days when nothing goes right, you might just come home to find your favorite little girl saying “please can I play with you?” There is no better feeling, you’ll just want to squeeze her and you'll be reminded that yes, you are changing lives. It’ll be fulfilling even if the entire day felt like a bust. 

4) Reflect often, but not too much.

There is a fine balance between reflection and obsession. Us PCVs have many hours to think and be the only company in our own head. Do not use those moments to look in the mirror and lament your adult onset acne or developing double chin. Do not use these moments to invent ailments or convince yourself you have cankles. Use it wisely. It is often only in reflection (writing in a journal, talking on the phone to friend back home, doing yoga, meditating, etc.) that you will find those Peace Corps tidbits, those diamonds in the rough. To accomplish this, at the end of everyday, I try to write in my journal the answer to four simple questions. They are:

            - What did I learn today?

            - What made me laugh?

            - Who did I help?

            - What important thing(s) did I accomplish today?

These questions allow me to reflect, dig up and recover significant moments from my day, and document the precious gems we all too easily lose sight of. 

5) Exercise!

It’s good for the mind and body, but it’s also good to show your neighbors that you are alive and well. They might call you an Olympic athlete, join in the fun with you, or start an exercise regimen themselves since you’re such an amazing role model. And it's reciprocal; you never know what beautiful sunrises, amazing views, wild animals or new burning trash piles you’ll find on a morning run.

6) Remind yourself to keep keeping an open-mind.

Most of us signed up for Peace Corps because we said, “I’m flexible, worldly and open-minded, why not?” Well, a year into service, we can forget to keep an open-mind and will start using scapegoats for our sour puss attitude. “I hate religion, this country is too Catholic, these people are so weird...” But let me remind you that you didn’t sign up for Peace Corps because you’re a judgmental bigot, so why start now? Keep reminding yourself how amazing learning and living in a new culture is, even if your community truly is full of the craziest churchgoers and Jesus preachers you’ve ever met. Something good might come of it. Yesterday I went to an ora santa to bless my cousin Rosalva’s new baby. I sat in the back to catch a breeze as an old doña started chanting. I wasn’t really paying attention to the words, but something strange overtook me and I felt at ease. Just watching dozens of children and women pray, listening to the rhythmic sounds reciting the rosary, I was at peace. Maybe this is how religion is supposed to feel; I was shocked because I’ve never ever felt anything like before. I had a moment of pure clarity when I realized: a) none of my friends in America are doing this right now, b) how crazy is it that this is my job, and c) we should all be so lucky to be here right now. I spent so much time waiting for a moment to reassure me that I made the right decision to spend 27 months of my life in a small Dominican town in the middle of nowhere and in that moment, I was reassured that I was doing it "right." Had I brushed off Rosalva’s invitation, I would have missed the “Peace Corps moment” that gave me just the spark I needed to get out of my rut and keep going.  

7) Call your mom. 

Or your dad. Or your grandma, best friend, brother, sister, aunt, neighbor, etc. Talking to people from home who "get you" but don't necessarily "get it" (your experience and life in some far off land) let's you take time to ramble about the goat that you killed on the bus that afternoon, a great deal you got on on clothes from your favorite Haitian vendor, or a sweet invention you cooked up with your doña. They will say, "That is so strange, what did you just say?" or "You ate a what?" or "That sounds nuts, how did you escape alive?" and you'll realize how damn cool life in the Peace Corps is. You'll find yourself recalling "A Peace Corps Day" you didn't even know you had.

8) Don’t feel bad if you aren’t having the experience you thought you’d have.

What are the odds that your Peace Corps experience would actually play out like the romantic version you drafted in your head before staging? Of course you’re not going to change the world in 27 months, you might not even change your entire community. But you will change yourself and my advice is to try and change at least one other person. Then, you will have done your job. Invest in the people who “get it” or at least those people who care. They’re the ones who will keep your legacy going long after you’ve left. They’re the ones who will make all the difference for your sanity and well-being. Also, don't feel bad if you don't live in horrible conditions without basic amenities like I’m sure we all thought we would have when we signed ourselves up for this crazy job. Some people get tile floors with indoor toilets and it doesn't mean they'll be better or worse volunteers than those roughing it in mud huts with scarily deep latrine pits out you have to cross pigsties to reach. Only in being your best “you” can you truly help. A quote I love by Esther Abraham-Hicks goes like this: “You cannot get sick enough to help sick people get better. You cannot get poor enough to help poor people thrive. It is only in your thriving that you have anything to offer anyone. If you’re wanting to be of an advantage to others, be as tapped in, turned in, turned on as you can possibly be.” When you find yourself complaining that it isn’t the experience you thought it would be, check yo’self. As long as you’re really trying, saying yes, diving in, digging deep and going big, you’re doing it right.

The best parts of Peace Corps and the answer to the “why” can be found in those all too precious “Peace Corps Days.” Go live them.