French Consulate Day

Just to warn you, this is an epicly long post.

So today was the day I’ve been waiting for forEVER. Well, waiting for/dreading. Today I went to my visa appointment at the French consulate in New York City. This is the final step of the REALLY REALLY REALLY LONG PROCESS that is Getting A Long Stay French Visa.

In case you haven’t been following along this whole time, kiddies, let me sum this all up for you. I’ll Sparknote it for you.

Early August- got bagels (mmm bagels) with my friend Tori, who is also spending her year split between two countries. She mentions how she’s stressed over getting a visa for her second country. I think, “oh, how lucky am I, neither of my study abroad countries require visas la la la.” Then I go home and, just for fun, shoot “French student visa” into Google. Ohhhhhh damn. Proceed to freak out and call everyone I know who could potentially help me with this.

Mid August- leave for the Dominican Republic

Late August- go to the French embassy in the Dominican Republic, wondering if I could apply from there. Get turned away pretty much the second I walk in the door. See lovely recap of this incident here.

September-mid October- wait, wait, wait until I can get officially accepted to the program.

Late October- got officially accepted to my program. Started the French visa process.

Early November?- apply to CampusFrance. CampusFrance is a seemly pointless step in this process that involves putting basic info about yourself and your plans online and then sending a $70 money order to Washington DC. Schedule visa appointment for December 17th, two days after I am to come back from the DR. Original plan was for me to cancel my final leg (JFK to Syracuse) and just stay in NYC with my sister and go to my appointment from there.

November- gather papers gather papers gather papers. SO MANY DOCUMENTS.

Late November- my mother sends all of the papers that she has (some I have with me in the DR) with my sister after Thanksgiving, so she can give them to me before my appointment. These papers include everything from one-of-a-kind acceptance letters from France to my birth certificate.

Early December- due to the outbreak of Cholera in Haiti and its spread to the DR, as well as my rising stress level about my visa appointment, my parents ask/suggest/highly recommend that I come back early. My flight is changed for two days earlier, and we try to move my visa appointment earlier too. Unfortunately, there aren’t any earlier dates.

Mon, December 13th- fly home. Get in a bit after midnight.

Tues, December 14th- realize that the only bus down to NYC on Thursday is at 1am. Decide that it’d probably be better for me to take the bus the next day (Wednesday).

December 15th- 16th- NYC.
Okay, that enough of a recap? Sorry that’s kind of long. So that brings me to today. Today was a fun day! no it wasn’t. the only good parts of today were that I ate two salads and a really good mini-hot pretzel. and oatmeal for breakfast. food always makes everything better.

So this morning I got up way too early for someone on winter break to get up- 730- and headed out. Went to UPS to make copies of a few things (these things weren’t on the list of things that I needed, but it really can’t hurt) and buy a pre-addressed envelope. The envelope is for the consulate to send me my visa after it’s been processed. Or so I had thought. Dun dun dunnn. $26 for a stupid overnight envelope. GEEZ .

Got some oatmeal and took the 1 down to 70-something. Walked across Central Park and found the Visa Section of the French consulate. It was only 9am, and the security guard won’t let you in until it’s exactly the time on your sheet (mine said 10), so I killed an hour walking up and down Madison Avenue and window shopping things that I could never, ever afford.


French Consulate @ NYC. The Visa Section was actually around the corner.

At 10 I head into the consulate. I go through security, am given a number, and head up a staircase. There are four booth-y things on the left- kind of like at a doctor’s office? with numbers hung above each of them, and a sheet of glass dividing the visa-seeker from the French consulate worker. Et c’est bien necessaire. Anyway.

I head to the right, where there are about thirty people- a few of them standing- waiting to be called. I eventually get a seat and wait. and wait. and wait. for my number to be called. As I’m waiting, I hear one French woman just yelling and complaining and speaking in a condescending tone to everyone who gets called up. So this is the woman I’ve heard about. Greatttttt. Some girl’s papers were too wrinkled. Other people took too long to search through their documents. Another girl didn’t have her school ID. Etc etc etc.

At 1045- 45 minutes after I got there- my number gets called. However, it’s not to speak to the French lady. Nope, not yet. I go to the first window, where there is a seemingly nicer French man. I present my CampusFrance documents, application (which I screwed up a little bit… I filled in my university in France where I was supposed to fill in my home university. I made up an address for Pitt because I couldn’t remember the actual address. Whatever. 3500 Fifth Ave is close enough to Alumni), and pay for the visa. 50 Euros. Aka 66 dollars or 2454 pesos (ayyy that’s a lot of concho rides). After that I sat back down and waited for the French lady to beckon.

About 10 minutes later, she calls my name. I go up to the window, my heartbeat noticeably faster, and try to be nice. Fail. I don’t even really remember exactly the order things happened- so I’ll do my best... I guess my mind has already decided that this is one memory worth forgetting- but I do remember that I was terrified. She asks me for my receipt from Window 1. There were two receipts, and first I gave her the one she didn’t want. Yell. I give her the other one. Better. I also give her a copy of my passport and my OFII form.

She then asks me to put my fingers on this fingerprinter machine thing. I’m pretty positive that the last time I was fingerprinted I was four, and I was in Jersey (not sure why that’s relevant), and I used ink. I didn’t really understand how to use it and tried to put all fingers on at once, which is apparently what you’re really not supposed to do… got yelled at… eventually figured it out.
Then she needed to take my photo. I took off my coat and scarf and stood against a white backdrop. However, I was standing too far to the right. She told me to move over a bit… apparently I didn’t move over enough… got yelled at.


A fingerprinting machine. not at all like the one that I'm talking about. this one looks easy.

She then asked me for a bank statement. WHAT THE HECK. I’ve heard NOTHING but freak-outs from other kids who say that they went to their appointment with a bank statement and were turned away because they didn’t have a letter from their bank. So, obviously, I got a letter from my bank before I came. Thankfully, my mom also included a bank statement in with my papers.

She then asked for my flight confirmation, which I thankfully had EVEN THOUGH ON THE NY FRENCH CONSULATE WEBSITE IT CLEARLY SAYS DO NOT BUY YOUR PLANE TICKETS BEFORE RECEIVING YOUR VISA. But I’ve learned not to pay attention to a single thing that stupid webpage says.

Lastly, she asks for a letter from my home university. Which had not been mentioned ANYWHERE. “Uh. What letter. I have a letter from my study abroad program?” “NO, from your university in the STATES.” “Hmmm… university in France?” “NO, MA’AM, HOME UNIVERSITY.” “Uhhh well I have a copy of my school ID?” Apparently that was good enough. Thank GOD.

So she then stamps the payment receipt, puts it in my passport, and slides it under the glass at me. “Come back in a week.” “Er… I bought an envelope, I heard that the consulate can send…” “NO, MA’AM, WE DO NOT DO THAT.” “Oh… okay… so I come back in a week…” (Thinking: Christmas Eve is in a week.) “YES, MA’AM. BETWEEN 9-10AM.”

And then I run away, forgetting my scarf. I don’t go back for it. It was only $7.

So I’m perplexed. I still have my passport. And I also have a $26 envelope, addressed to my house, that I’m really not planning on doing anything with. But I want that $26 back. And more importantly, I really, really do not want to have to come back here on Christmas Eve. And also, one more time, why the hell do I still have my passport?!?! That’s where they’re supposed to put this stupid visa.

I start to walk across the park, think for a minute, then turn around and walk back to the consulate. I ask the security guard when I’m supposed to come back, can I have anyone else come back for me, and why do I still have my passport? He says “Between 9-10am Friday”, “Yes, as long as they have this receipt”, and “They know what they’re doing.”

Uh, okay. So I keep on thinking for a few hours that I’m going to need to come back down here on Friday morning… screw that… but then I talk to someone else from my group who tells me that I can come back Friday at the earliest. As in, I can come back between 9-10am on any day, as long as it’s next Friday or later. So THAT makes me feel better. And it makes a lot more sense.

I also get the feeling that if I were to come back on Friday, there’s a decent chance that I’d get told “Oh, it’s not ready yet, come back Monday”, or something equally as terrible.

So that’s my story. I’m currently on a Megabus headed north (we’re only 70 minutes behind schedule- spent a considerable amount of time waiting out in the cold for this thing), and I’m realllllly hoping that I’ll be able to spend the next few nights at home. Por favor. I enjoy travelling and all, but I also enjoy my house and my own bed and my kitchen and not living out of a suitcase.

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¿Te gusta mi país?

Again... written on the airplane, posted in JFK.

I was asked many times during my four months in the DR the question: ¿Te gusta mi país? Do you like my country?
Personally, I think it’s pretty ballsy to respond to this question- no matter what your opinion actually is- in a negative way. Yeah the States has its issues, but I would still probably get kind of ticked to hear a foreigner go on and on and on about the US being terrible.

So whenever I got asked this question- no matter what I was feeling at the time- I would respond overall positively.
And now, sitting on a half-full JetBlue plane, somewhere over the Atlantic Ocean, trying to be all deep and reflective and stuff… the goods totally outweigh the not-so-goods. Both with the country, and my experience in general.

The people:
Well, besides the entry that I just posted about Dominican men and piropos… ignore that one for now… I really did like the people here. Everyone- including women- is so friendly. Example: my university. Some friends from PUCMM have told me that most PUCMM students are snotty, because it’s “the university for the rich kids”, but I really didn’t find that at all. Whether it was doing group projects in class, asking directions, or just waiting in line next to someone in the cafeteria. Even when I had to teach English classes at PUCMM for my TESOL class, all of the students were really respectful. Granted, I don’t know how much of this was due to me being white. It’s definitely possible that attitudes are different towards Dominicans from other universities.

The climate:
Uh. I lived on an island in the Caribbean? Do you really want me to explain and shove in your face one more time that I spent the fall/pre-winter months in paradise, while most of you were scraping ice off your windshield in the morning and turning your car on 5 minutes early to heat it up? No?

The food:
FRIED STREET FOOD. Empanadas, yaroa, yaha, yucca balls…
FRESH FRUIT. Pineapple, mangoes, oranges, avocado, bananas, plantains, coconut…
Those are the two groups that really stand out to me, but also just even day-to-day Dominican cuisine. Rice and beans (which I know realllllllly got to some other students in my group, but I never really had a problem with it), tostones, guac, fresh fruit juice, sweet plantains (sliced plantains with sugar, cinnamon, nutmeg)… Lunch was prepared Monday through Friday by our housekeeper, and there were always at least five plates on the table full of food.

The language:
I had never been confident with my Spanish-speaking abilities before coming to the DR. At all. I couldn’t conjugate an irregular verb to save my life (how I passed 4 years worth of Spanish classes is beyond me) and my American/French accent was laughable. However, after just a few days in the DR, I just wanted to talk as much as I could. And then talk some more. And more. It didn’t take me too long to become comfortable speaking, even though I knew that I was still making mistakes. But I mean, whatever. Cliché, but I’m never going to get better if I never practice. When I’m back in the states, I want to speak Spanish at every opportunity. Hold me to that, someone. Anyone.

And I'm sure I'll have more to add later. It was a great experience. My host family was awesome, the Dominicans I became friends with were great, and I'm also really glad that I got to become close with other Americans. Even though they were often detrimental to my attempt at Spanish-only conversation. Just as I'm sure I was to theirs. (Does that even make sense...?)

I found this site with interesting/informative/funny articles about the DR.

And here they have 21 Things to Know Before Coming to the DR. Not that I think any of you are planning to come to the DR anytime soon, but para que sepan.

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Piropos

Wrote this a week ago... forgot to post it...

Now is time for me to talk about something that I didn’t really want to write about too too much before… because I didn’t want to concern family members… but considering I’m leaving in less than a week, I’ll talk about it.

Here, they’re called piropos, and they’re the way that many Dominican men “flatter” young women. In the states, it would most probably be called verbal harassment.

And these piropos are something that’s normal for Dominicans. They don’t get overly concerned. Some Dominican women even like hearing them, because they make them feel good about themselves. However, American women get called out to a million more times than Dominican women do, no matter how gorgeous the Dominican woman are.

What are some common piropos? These have become so common for all of us Americans, it’s pretty much just street noise.

“Ahh que bella/linda/bonita” (Oh how beautiful/pretty/beautiful)
The words “gringa” (non-Spanish speaking white person), “Americana”, “rubia” (blondie) are commonly added onto the end of this phrase.
“I want to marry you” “I want to sleep with you” “Come to my house” “I want to be your boyfriend”, etc…

And maybe you think that teenage/20-something men are the only people saying these things. Nope.

On four separate occasions I’ve been in a taxi where the driver has flat out told me that he’d like me to be his girlfriend/wife, because he could “take good care of me”. The conversations always start totally innocently, I’ll say Hi, How are you, etc, and once they see that I speak Spanish… I’m fair game. Two weeks ago I complimented a taxi driver’s car, because it was really nice in comparison to most that I’d seen. I’d been in the car for about 30 seconds, and he turned towards me, totally seriously, and said “If you really like it, honey, I’ll give it to you. Be my girlfriend.”

WHY DO I KEEP LETTING PEOPLE KNOW I SPEAK SPANISH? I really need to stop. When they think I don’t understand, they just talk about me right in front of me. Anyway.

Another time, a friend and I were eating ice cream at a stand near my apartment. We were talking quietly in English, not drawing attention to ourselves… normal. Right? Right. We weren’t dressed like strippers or dancing around yelling in English or anything idiotic. So there’s this “cop” (I use that word very loosely in this country) who was guarding the ice cream stand. And he just kept staring at us. And we did what we’ve been taught to do which is just ignore people. But he wouldn’t stop.

PS this guy has a gun and is probably about 60 years old.

After about ten minutes of creeping like a creeping creeper, he says to us “So what are two beautiful girls like you doing in this country?”
And without missing a beat- I’d already been here for two months- “Well, what I am trying to do is to eat my ice cream and talk to my friend without being interrupted. You think I can do that?”

Okay okay I know that it sounds like. Katy went to the Dominican Republic and turned into a btch. But no. No no no no you don’t get it. You give these guys an inch, they take a mile. A head nod, a weak smile, eye contact for more than half a second… that all means you’re interested. According to them.

PARA QUE SEPAN.

But not all Dominican guys are like this. I have met some tame ones. Some.

And it’s difficult for me to describe this all. Because I KNOW that no matter how I explain it, you all are going to think I’m exaggerating or whatever. But no. No no no no no again. You really can’t understand it until you get here, but it’s really like this. Getting shouted at five times in a minute is really nothing. at all. I get hit on about a dozen times before lunch, you?

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Community Service with a side of Puppy Chow

Look! Two posts, one day. How productive of me.

Friday, part of our ISA group headed out to do some volunteer work about 15 minutes away from campus. We went to a Comedor Infantil, which is a school /free meal for local children who otherwise wouldn’t get too much to eat for lunch. For many of them, this is their biggest meal of the day.

We didn’t really know what we would be doing there, so some people showed up in flip flops and nice clothes… annnnnnd we ended up doing manual labor. I didn’t have a problem with it- it was something different, and a decent workout. We helped to clear out this big field in front of the school that had been filled with overgrown weeds and dried palm tree leaves.

But of course, we weren’t working alone. Nope. Many of the kids get to school hours before lunch, just to hang out. And they saw that we were using sharp rakes and axe-type things and shovels… and decided to join us. In fact, the woman working there was the one who suggested it. Kind of surprising- considering the average age of these kids was about eight- but they were cute and no one got too too hurt. Can’t say I wasn’t a bit scared though, to see elementary-age kids swinging sharp shovels around. A parent’s worst nightmare.


ISA students and some kids working

Considering most of us are totally done with finals, and really have nothing to do… at all… until we leave (or until classes start again, for the year-long people)… my friend Rose suggested that we get together and make some Puppy Chow and Christmas Wreaths. Now, what is Puppy Chow, you may ask?

Well, it’s the same thing as Reindeer Food. I think that’s more of a Northeastern name for it.

Does that help? No? Still totally lost and wondering about my apparent newfound love for animal food?

Puppy Chow/Reindeer Food is a snack made by added melted chocolate chips, peanut butter, vanilla, and butter to corn Chex, then coating them in powdered sugar. Recipe here, if so interested.


Ingredients for the Puppy Chow and Christmas Wreaths. and my Diet Coke.


Finished Puppy Chow

We all ate so. much. as we were making these. Seriously. I suppose I like to think that I have some self-control… but yesterday, I didn’t. I felt so sick from eating so much chocolate, and just couldn’t stop. It was delicious though. MmmMmm…

After the Puppy Chow, we started on Christmas Wreaths. They’re made by melting marshmallows and butter together, then stirring in corn flakes. You then take a ball of this gooey mix, and form it into a wreath shape. Usually green food dye is added, or even sometimes Red Hots, but we didn’t have any. Still great though. I ate two for breakfast this morning. Recipe here.


Christmas Wreaths.

Both of these snacks were made without an oven and were really easy to do. However, any type of dessert-making makes me miss baking at home! Syracuse, get ready for my return.

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Winter in the Caribbean

Side note, before I even start- in the Caribbean, and in the US, the word ‘Caribbean’ is normally pronounced ca-rib-bean, while in British English it’s mostly said carib-be-an. That’s why, in the Pirates of the Caribbean movies, it’s said the second way. Which many of you probably already knew, because you’re so smart, but I just felt like sharing.

Moving on.

Winter in the Caribbean is weird. Okay, let me be more clear, Christmas season in the Caribbean is weird. There’ve been decorations up since before Halloween, first of all. In the US, as you all know, it’s an unofficial rule that you can’t really get into the Christmas thing until after Thanksgiving, and you can’t get into the Thanksgiving thing until after Halloween… however, as the DR doesn’t do Thanksgiving and barely does Halloween, this unofficial rule doesn’t apply. At all.


Entrance to my university, before Thanksgiving

Christmas decorations have been up for sale since before Halloween, there’s been Christmas music playing on the radio for weeks… and I’m not saying that this is bad by any means, it’s just a lot different from what I’m used to.

And not only because the season started so early… but also because it’s still like 80 degrees out. I took a walk this morning, in a tank top and jeans, and sudden realized about how it was going to be Christmas in twenty days. The other day, I went swimming outside and had to remember to put loads of sunscreen on… and later that day I went Christmas shopping with some friends.

Have I made my point enough yet? Sorry. Summary: For a girl who has spent every Christmas in freezing upstate New York, it’s weird to spend the first half of the holiday season in a tropical paradise. But I will be home in about a week and a half, and I am not sure how my body will react to the sudden cold. I’ll probably just go into shock and turn into a popsicle on the spot, right outside the airport.

Anyway, so I’ve been trying to get myself into the Christmas spirit by listening to some holiday music. Unfortunately, my music collection is majorly lacking in this genre. I’ve got a Taylor Swift holiday album from 2007, a few songs from the Love Actually soundtrack, the Linus and Lucy song, and like ten other random songs, none of which make me think of putting up the Christmas tree or baking copious amounts of cookies. I need to get me some Mannheim Steamroller tan pronto como sea posible.

**For those of you not on Facebook, I took/uploaded a bunch of photos from my university. You can see them here.**
I think you SHOULD be able, to, anyway....

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DR Food Breakdown: Entry 1: Yucca Balls & Yaha

I am currently watching an SNL marathon. One just finished that was from like 2002… they kept talking about SARS… Avril Lavigne was on and singing a song that I remember hearing at a school dance in 7th grade… and Tracy Morgan was there too- and skinny. How times have changed.

Anyway, I’m not writing to ramble about SNL… nor am I writing to rant about France (while I’d like to… maldita visa).

No, this entry is the first- of hopefully many- entries on the food of the Dominican Republic. Okay, maybe I should’ve started this earlier than two weeks before I was to leave… whatever.

Today we are going to talk about… Yucca Balls and Yaha.

This is a yucca ball. Yucca is kind of like a potato, but not. It’s a tuber. I think that’s the word for it. Anyway, a yucca ball is… a ball of mashed up yucca that’s filled with something, rolled in bread crumbs, and then deep-fried. I think they’re usually 25-35 pesos (.67-.94), which is probably about 5 times cheaper than what they’d cost if they were sold in the States. Normal.


This is a photo of a yucca ball my host brother had a bit ago… this one is filled with cheese. Yucca balls are normally a little bit smaller than baseballs.

And of course they’re amazing, but I’ve only had one or two… there are just so many delicious fried foods here, and I try not to have more than two a week… I normally stick to empanadas (more on those some other time) or… YAHA.

What is yaha? I may or may not have discussed it before… but it is most definitely worth a second shout out.


This is what it looks like from the outside.

They’re usually about 5 inches long, deep fried, and they always have some combo of red dots on the outside. These dots, and the ones on empanadas, show what type of filling you’re going to find inside. There’re only a few types of yaha, but like a million types of empanadas- or like twenty- so it gets pretty complicated.

This was a chicken and cheese yaha. Not the greatest photo, but you can kinda see the chicken in there. It’s shredded chicken, and cheese like you’d find in a mozzarella stick. There are two other flavors that I know of too- plain cheese, and pizza. I had pizza for the first time today. Mmm mmmm…


Inside

So, pretty much, Deep fried egg roll like crust + mozzarella stick cheese + chicken = yaha

Anyone want me to try to bring them up one from the DR?

Just kidding, that’s a silly question. There’s no way it’d even make it to the airport without me eating it first.

** Yucca ball recipe **

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A Dominican Thanksgiving/Cigar

Thanksgiving Day = El Día de Acción de Gracias (lit. The day of the action of thanking)

Anyway.

I’m not really too too used to spending holidays away from family. Since I started college, I’ve spent two Easters in Pittsburgh, but I always had a solid group of friends or my Godparents to spend time with. Never Thanksgiving though- this one was the first one I’ve spent away from home. O sea, the first Thanksgiving I’ve spent away from my family, cause I have spent a few Thanksgivings in Jersey. In a good part of Jersey. Good parts of Jersey do exist. Para que sepan ustedes.

But I digress.

So yesterday was a Thanksgiving unlike any that I’d ever had. First of all, I got up at 7. Ugh.
730-830 Gym
9-11 Film class (all Americans, waiting for their Thanksgiving lunch. It was torture)
1130-1230 Hung out at the ISA office and stared at all the food people were bringing in
1230-4 Potluck lunch!/ISA meeting
4-6 Did homework at the Shell [gas station] with a friend
630-7 Skyped with about half of my Mom’s side. Which is still like 15 people. I think. I couldn’t really see. It was blurry.
7-8 Culture and Society class

For our Thanksgiving lunch, ISA had us all bring a dish to share (they provided the turkey)… (well, technically, Supermercado Nacional provided the turkey). I brought another Oreo Pudding Pie, which was one of like five other pies. There were also a ton more desserts too… cheesecake, cookies, Jello…

And I guess normal food too. Stuffing, green bean casserole, salad, Irish soda bread, potatoes, etc. One of the ISA directors even brought rice. No. No rice on Thanksgiving. It doesn’t work that way. Yesterday was probably the third or fourth day out of the whole time I’ve been here that I did not eat a single grain of rice.


MmmMMmm dessert table.

Anyway, that was yesterday. Today I went for a walk and bummed around, then at 3 a bunch of us ISA kids met up for an excursion to a cigar factory. It was only about 10 minutes away, and it was actually pretty cool. There were two guys working there, and they roll all the cigars by hand. All the tobacco had aged for at least two years, and up to seven years. I’m hardly a tobacco connoisseur and had no idea that it was such a long process.


A guy rolling cigars.

A few of my friends and I bought a box of five to split among us, and I bought another box for some friends at home/school. I bought the cheapest box there was, and it was still $12.50 for 5. One kid in my group is really into cigars, and he spent over $120. These cigars were really nice though- especially because they’re hand rolled. They’re one of the DR’s main exports (along with rum, fruit, coffee, and sugarcane). I did smoke one (sorry Dad) and it took me over an hour to finish it. These things are massive.

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MOTORCYCLE ADVENTURE. Ish.

A few weekends ago, my group took a trip to Samaná, a peninsula on the eastern side of the island. I’m going to be a bad blogger and just link you over to my friend Rose’s entry, instead of writing my own, simply for reasons of laziness. Also Rose did a good job.


Samaná is the smaller peninsula, further north

However, I will comment on one part of the trip. We were on our way back to Santiago and had stopped at the top of a tall hill/small mountain to take some photos. I got out of the bus. I took some photos. I put my camera on a fence. …and then I got back into the bus.

After about 2 minutes of driving, I realized that I didn’t have my camera with me and stood up and yelled for the driver to stop the bus (…in slightly more words).


My friend Meghan and I, before my camera was left. Obviously.

Unfortunately, we had been driving through MAJORLY steep, narrow, windy roads in a less-than-mint-condition guagua. Physically turning the bus around right there really wasn’t an option. So… one of the ISA directors, Jonathan, hopped out of the bus and started to run up the hill. And I just couldn’t let him run up on his own- it was my own fault that I left my camera there. So I started to run too.

This hill was steep, by the way. Like, REALLY.

So we were running… with our pace definitelyyy slowing down after the first few minutes… when a guy on a motorcycle came up to Jonathan and they talked for a minute. He then came over to me and told me to hop on the motorbike. So I did.

And I had never been on a moto before! Here, or in the states! It was pretty cool. /terrifying. Like I said, we were on narrow windy steep crazy hills. But the guy gave me his helmet and didn’t seem to get too annoyed when I kept screaming things like WHOAAAAA MAS LENTO, POR FAVOR, etc.

We got to the top of the hill, I got my camera, and we headed back down. A few other students got out of the bus and took photos of me coming down the hill, but I don’t think that any of them are on Facebook yet. Once they are, though, I’ll post them here.


Nowww I'm off to a Thanksgiving lunch with ISA Santiago! Have a great day everyone!

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Campus France update.

Good news-

Campus France decided to stop being terrible for like 5 minutes yesterday and approved my application/payment.

This doesn't solve everything, but it's one more key step that has now been completed.

I found this blog entry about a month ago about another student's French visa application process. And how royally screwed up it is. Expect a similar one from me, when/if this whole process is done with...

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Dominican Republic in a Cupcake?

Not so much. I've already spent wayyyyy too much time ranting about my attempted cooking experiences (pizza, pancakes, etc) in this country. This blog is not going to turn 100% into a food-related blog.

However, I am going to link you to a food-related blog that I've been following for about a month, and really like. Here's Spain in a Cupcake. This blogger has been taking flavors from traditional Spanish foods and making them into cupcakes! LOVE IT. She's actually doing a giveaway right now for some cupcake jewelry from Etsy (for readers from outside España) and a hugeeee package of food for those who do live in Spain.

Reading her blog over the past few weeks has gotten me thinking about what I would do if I were to try and do the Dominican Republic in a Cupcake...

...don't worry darlings, I'm not going to try, I'm just musing...


Habichuelas con Dulce

Flan cupcakes? Anything with coconut, cinnamon, or pineapple... Habichuelas con Dulce? (aka "Sweet Creamed Beans")... Tres Leches?... That's all I can really think of. The DR doesn't really seem to be that that big into desserts. Rum flavored? Quizás...

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Rainy Santiago.

Today is a rainy day in Santiago, and I’m feeling some weird parallels to Pittsburgh.

Why? This is why.

First of all, it is raining. That enough should be enough of a relation to Pittsburgh. I spent my morning dragging myself around in oversized jeans, an oversized neon green Pittsburgh sweatshirt that has DEFINITELY seen better days, carrying a mug full of hot tea, and getting soaked on the way to class. I'd say the only difference here is that I was surrounded by palm trees and Spanish, not tall buildings and the overuse of the words "yinz" and "pop".

Secondly, I had no umbrella. I have really bad luck with umbrellas. I don't know why. I forgot to bring my one from home to the DR... however, my host mom had an extra so I was doing fine... until I left it in a movie theater after a Miley Cyrus movie. The DR isn't big on the Lost & Found idea, so there goes that.

I bought one at La Sirena (MAS DE UNA EMOCION), and we had a nice long relationship... but then one day I was in the middle of using it as a Lightsaber or dancing with it (...or something) and it split in half. Now, it only works if I hold the handle AND the top part... as I'm walking. Needless to say, while doing this, I look like more of a tool than I already do for simply being American.

Anyway, where was I? Right. Pittsburgh.

I don't have anything more to say about Pittsburgh.

Classes are winding down here. Our last day is next Weds, so a bit over a week left. And I feel... barely any stress. This is in contrast to the semester as a whole, where I felt... absolutely no stress*.

*The stress I am referring to here is school-related stress. Visa-related stress is a totally different story. A horse of a different color. ...wrong context for that last one.


Wizard of Oz reference

Seriously, though. I've got...

A swimming final.

A mini paper due for film, a class in which profe has already practically guaranteed us all As, as long as you A) Come to class B) Don't fall asleep during class and C) At least attempt the homework.

A group paper.

A "research" paper, which is only 3-5 pages.

A 2-3 page paper, in English. (And I already did it. It took me under 45 minutes. Funny how easy writing in one's native language is.)

A take home final. Also in English.

Everyone should study abroad. Cultual benefits, language learning, blah blah blah it's also the easiest course load you'll ever take. I'm getting all sorts of credit at Pitt for taking classes I just breeze through.

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The Sad Bagel Story

This is a story of a sad bagel.

One day (and when I say one day, I mean this happens every day), I had a craving for a bagel. Alas, the only place in this country that sells fresh bagels is in the capital, 2 ½ hours away. Or so I have heard.

So I had to settle for second best. I went to the Supermercado Nacional near my house and bought a bag of sad looking bagels. These bagels had travelled all the way from Florida, which, while being the closest state to the DR, is still pretty far.


The internet I'm using is so slow, it would take me about 10 minutes to rotate the photo after having uploaded it. So I'm just not going to bother.

And while a fresh bagel doesn’t always need to be toasted, because it is fresh and delicious, these sad bagels just cannot be eaten in their non-toasted state.

Regrettably, there was no toaster on the premises (err... and when I say that, I mean in the apartment). However, there was a panini-maker.



So I put the sad bagel on the makeshift-toaster/panini-maker. After a few minutes, it was as close to decent as it would ever be. I then put some mantequilla de maní and sliced guineo on it, to make it look presentable.


It doesn’t look too too bad here… but…

However, upon starting to eat the sad bagel, there was no denying that it was just an imposter. Look at how flat it got, thanks to being smushed in a panini maker. Poor sad bagel.



Side note: From across the room, my host mom thought that I was putting slices of cheese on my bagel. Along with peanut butter. Eww eww no. Maybe cheese with sauce, if I were making a pizza bagel (oooh… that sounds like a good idea actually. Dinner tonight?), but cheese and peanut butter? I’m American but I have at least SOMEwhat of a culinary palette.

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Spanish plateau

I leave the DR in un mes, exactly. one month. And while my Spanish has definitely benefited from me being here, I don’t feel as if it has been improving as much as it could be. I’ve been perfecting the stuff that I already knew- mostly working to speak with less breaks or UHHHHHs, and also trying to get a really good hold on the godforsaken subjunctive. However, my vocabulary has barely grown at all. Most of this is due to the fact that I speak a lot of English. Why? Well, despite being surrounded by Spanish-speakers all the time, and living with Spanish-speakers… I also spend a lot of my time with gringos.


First Google image for 'Spanish lanuage' + first Google image for 'Plateau' = Spanish plateau

It’s just so easy though, to speak English. There’s always an excuse- you need to say something fast, you need to say something quietly, you’re stressed, you don’t know the exact word in Spanish so you just go around it, you’re talking about people around you and you don’t want them to understand (usually this is only true when there are people hardcore creeping on us) or you’re just lazy and don’t feel like it. I’ve been totally guilty of all of these.

Sin embargo, I need to stop making excuses and start actually speaking Spanish. I’m not going to have these opportunities in the States. Yeah, I have a few Spanish-speaking friends and I know that my school has a pretty active Spanish Club… but there’s really, really no comparison to actually being in the country.

One of the guys in my group made a promise to his Spanish advisor two weeks ago that he was going to stop speaking English. Since then, he’s been speaking about 98% Spanish. Props to him, really… but isn’t this what we were supposed to have been doing all along? We all started off being all YES SPANISH but that has obviously faltered in these past few months. I was talking about this with my friend Erin the other day, and we decided that we were both going to do the same. So I have been.

Okay, okay… I have been trying. Por lo menos. IT’S SOMETHING.

My friend who hasn’t been speaking English, he told me that he feels has if he’s improved so much in these past weeks, and that he really does notice a difference. If he notices such a difference after two weeks, what can I do with a month? Granted, I should’ve been doing this all along… but whatever. I still have a month.

Anyway. When I was in nyc last month I bought a book called Dirty Spanish. It’s not “dirty” Spanish as in inappropriate Spanish (well… not entirely), but instead slang, regional words, and words in pop culture. I went through and made a list of words that I thought would come in handy, showed the list to a Dominican… and she proceeded to cross out about half of them. No se dice aquí. They don’t say those things here.

That’s the thing about Spanish. There are so many native-Spanish speaking countries. And some of them are pretty freaking big. Chile is like a million miles long. And both Mexico and Argentina are pretty fat. So in addition to country-specific words, you’ve got region/city-specific words… even the DR- which is pretty pequeñito, in comparison to many other Spanish-speaking countries- has words that are used in Santiago and not in the capital, and vise versa.

Anyway, here’s a list of some new words/expressions that my new book has taught me that are actually used here:

Estar en la luna- To not be paying attention, to be a space cadet

Todo el asunto está seriamente jodido- This whole situation is seriously screwed up.

¡Tranquilizate!- Calm down! (lit. “Tranquilize yourself”)

Un tipo cualquiera- Some random dude

Cursi- Tacky

Lio- Chaos

¡Lárgate!- Get out of here!

Preñada- Preggers/preggo

Valer la pena- To be worth it

FYI. Okay, back to Spanish now… I should write a blog totally en español just to throw you all off...

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Eat, Pray, Love / Comer, Rezar, Amar

I know that everyone and their cousin has probably read, seen, or at least heard of the book/movie Eat, Pray, Love. The first time I heard of this book, my mom was reading it a few years ago for her book club. I thought the cover was interesting-looking, but I never actually picked it up.

However, after the hearing that a movie version was to come out (and also after hearing so many people sing the book’s praises), I decided to read it. Except for I didn’t actually read it. I listened to it on audio book. Which, in some people’s minds, constitutes as cheating… but whatever.

I downloaded it from iTunes one morning before one of my drives to Pittsburgh this summer. I listened to it on-and-off on the ride down and also on the ride back. I continued to listen to it sporadically throughout the entire summer… while I was at the lake house… when I was in Québec… on the way to the DR… while I’ve been here in the DR… and I just finished it yesterday when I was on a group excursion to Samaná.

Call me lame, but I feel such a connection to this book. For two reasons. First of all, she’s going through such a journey leaving everything that she knew in NYC to spend a year 1000s of miles away from anything/anyone that she knows. For those of you who don’t know, she’s spent 4 months in Italy (eat), 4 in India at an ashram (pray), and 4 in Bali, where she was planning on studying under a medicine man, but ended up falling in love (…love).

My plan? 4 months in the Dominican Republic (burn? sweat? get stared at for being white? …any other suggestions?), 4 months in France (who knows. “eat” would probably work for this), then 4 months of summer either at home or in Pittsburgh. Probably in Pittsburgh. Okay maybe the last 4 don’t really count… but whatever. Even though it’s for completely different reasons, and unintentionally, I’m still splitting my year up into thirds just as she did.

Secondly, as I listened to her journey, I was starting to go through my own. Even just on that first drive to Pittsburgh… when I saw the movie version, and she was in Italy, all I could think of was my drive down to Pittsburgh.
As the movie continued on, I could pretty much remember where I was when she was watching the Italian soccer game, arriving in India, going to the Guru Gita, meeting Ketut or nearly getting run over by Felipe… granted, the movie isn’t exactly like the book, but it’s close enough. I’ve still managed to link my journey (and the few months before) to hers.

I think everyone should read this book… while it’s not flawless, it’s still pretty freaking good. I’ve talked to many other people who’ve read it- mostly people my own age, but also some older, and this book just seems to resonate with everyone. Everyone can benefit from taking time off and learning about yourself. You don’t need to travel to another country/countries to do it (although that’s what I’m doing). When you’re way, way, way out of your comfort zone you learn things about yourself that you wouldn’t have otherwise learned if you’d only spent time behind a school desk or in a cubicle or wherever else the day-to-day life holds you captive.

/End sentimental BS


French cover (random)

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Mi cuarto

I've done a bit to personalize/decorate my room since I got here- and I've realized that I haven't posted any photos of my room on here, only on fb... so here's my room...


My bed, windows, beach photo that was there when I arrived here, class/volunteering schedule, gym classes schedule...


Messy desk, but cleaner than usual. Dictionary, notebook, Nalgene bottle... I've tried like 5 times to put my map of Pittsburgh up there, but thanks to wind/my fan, it never lasts for more than a day...


Messier drawer/stand thing, a glowstick, winter snowflakes, trees, Taylor Swift "Got Milk?" ad (thanks Eilish!), map of Santiago, list of cupcakes sold at Crumbs, article about Krispy Kreme coming to the DR, a care package, a pen and ink drawing of the Cathedral of Learning, a TV, books...

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Las Aguilas!

Baseball is to the Dominican Republic as soccer (fútbol) is to the rest of Latin America. It's huge here- there's a national league that many people follow, but it also seems as if everyone here has a favorite American team as well.

This is what wiki has to say about it:
"The Dominican Winter Baseball League (Spanish: Liga de Beisbol Profesional de la Republica Dominicana) is a winter baseball league consisting of six baseball teams spread across the Dominican Republic; it is the top domestic baseball league in that country. The league's players include many from Major League Baseball, and its champion plays each year in the Caribbean Series.
Each team plays a sixty-game schedule that begins the end of October and runs to the end of December. The top four teams engage in an 18 game round-robin play-off the first three weeks of January; the top two teams in those standings then play a best-of-nine series for the national title. The league's champion advances to the Caribbean Series to play against the champions of Mexico, Venezuela, and Puerto Rico."

Wednesday night, 5 of my friends from my Cultura y Sociedad class and I went to an Aguilas game here in Santiago. The Águilas Cibaeñas (Eagles of the Cibao) are Santiago's baseball team... and apparently are pretty terrible. While they did win Wednesday night, it's apparently pretty out of the ordinary. I asked my host brother if they were worse than Los Piratos (the Pirates... like I said, people here are very knowledgable about baseball in the states) and he laughed and said that No, they're not that bad...


The outfield

Main differences between Dominican baseball games and American ones?

Ticket prices- Between 50-700 pesos ($1.34-$18.82). We bought ours for 200 ($5.38) from a guy outside. We gave him about 100, walked though the gate and got them scanned to see if they worked, then left again and paid him the rest of the money.

"Security"- There were about 5 or 6 girls in each section of the stadium wearing verrrrry short shorts and crop tops who would act as "security" and also check tickets. They also would dance every five minutes, in a way that I never would imagine a security guard dancing in the states.

Actual security- Is it normal to get scolded for putting your feet up on the seats while at a stadium in the states? I've never been yelled at for it. Also, normal security guards don't usually creep as much as these were.

The attention- Guys coming up to our row with video cameras and just filming us watching the game for extended periods of time. They didn't work for the stadium, nor for a newspaper (as they said). They were just, you know, filming.

Food prices- Here, everything was soooo cheap. An empanada usually costs 35-40 pesos on the street, and here it cost... 40 pesos. A soda usually costs 30 pesos... here it cost 30 pesos. Pizza? 50 pesos a slice. Water? Also cheap. I was expecting the worst, after having gone to Heinz Field and PNC Stadium and the Dome... but nope. I was pleasantly surprised.

The type of food they were selling- Apples. Oranges. Hunks of cheese. No, not mozzarella sticks. Not fried cheese. Just... cheese.

There were also a surprising number of Americans on the team. Our favorite was a guy named Daniel Murphy. Can't get more gringo than that...

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Cultura, sociedad, Oreo pie, and Ke$ha

The first day of my Culture & Society class (which is half Americans, half Dominicans), my professor told us that we were all going to have a party sometime during the semester. At first I just thought he meant that one day, we'd bring in candy and soda into class, because that's usually what a class party is in the states. If there's a professor present.

However, as the term went on, he kept bringing up this party, and we figured out that this was going to be more than a little shindig on campus with Kola Real and some [terrible] Dominican chocolate. A girl in our class offered up her house, and a few weeks ago we all spent an entire class period deciding what to bring. Most of the Dominicans were going to bring traditional Dominican food, and us Americans planned on opening up the culinary pallets of the Dominicans to wonders such as S'mores, double chocolate cookies, and cupcakes.

This was also unlike a normal class party because we had two people sign up to bring rum and beer. Profe warned us though, that none of us were going to emborracharnos. Claro.

With my lack of oven (so sad) I decided to go with a no-bake triple layer Oreo pie. Finding the ingredients and actually making this pie is another saga for another time, but here's the recipe. I unfortunately did not get a photo of mine.

The party was last night, and it was a lot of fun! Us Americans arrived in three groups... and all of us were there before even the first Dominican arrived. Not surprising. We were outside, for the most part, which is also very unlike any party thrown in the states in late October (I have heard, however, that at least Pittsburgh has been getting some nice warm weather lately? way to go guys. Enjoy it while you can).

We had three rounds of food- appetizers, the main course, and dessert! I don't remember exactly what all of the Dominican dishes were called... okay I don't remember any... but they were good! There was like a corn ball soup and some beans (of course) and chicken and fried stuff. Profe made... something that involved frying corn tortillas and then putting ground beef on them. They weren't tacos though, because the tortillas hardened and weren't shell-like.


David, Profe, and tortillas


Main course.

There was also music and dancing inside the house. I, and most of the Americans, shied away from dancing to the Latin music... however, the second Ke$ha came on, all of us were on the makeshift dance floor. Corny moment: all of us Americans come from completely different parts of the country, and none of us really knew each other before this trip. Some of us didn't even know each other before this party, because we come from different study abroad groups (ISA, CIEE, CIC). Howeverrr... it's hard not to bond with someone when you and everyone around you is screaming "NOW THE PARTY DON'T START TILL I WALK IN." Don't deny it. Even some Dominicans got in on the Ke$ha action.

It was a great time, and I was really glad to spend some more time with the Dominicans in my class. Now today... in about 30 minutes, actually, ISA is throwing us a Halloween party. Still not sure what my costume is going to be...

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Love/hate you, France

A few people have asked if I accomplished anything re my maldita French visa while I was in nyc. Answer: no.

I did, however, receive my "official" acceptance into CIEE's Rennes program a few days ago, by email. And now... empieza el infierno.

Okay I don't really even wanna get into it that much, because I know that even writing about it is going to make me frustrated.

Here is an image of the nice flowchart that CIEE sent to me about the multiple steps of this visa process.

They also said that this whole process takes 8-10 weeks, so we need to start asap! Okay, well... the program starts in 12 weeks. And I can't even officially start yet, because I need to wait on some official letters from France to be FedEx'd to my house. THEN I need to do CampusFrance (which I looked at over the summer, and is confusing as all hell, in both languages) THEN I need to wait some more THEN I need to fill out some forms THEN I need to fill out some more forms THEN, after getting back into the states on Dec. 15th, I'll cancel my second flight (from JFK -> home) and instead just stay in nyc (with my sister, fyi Coll, didn't know if Mom told you) so that on Dec. 17th I can go to my visa appointment and everything MIGHT work out. However, with just one sheet filled out incorrectly or if I'm missing just one form, I won't be able to get another appointment and I won't be going to France.


The elusive Schengen Visa

However, si Dios quiere and everything goes fine, all I've gotta do is wait anxiously anxiously anxiously over the holidays until I receive my visa in the mail. I won't be buying my plane tickets until the visa comes, so I'll probably be buying them at the last minute. So I may not know until a week before my program starts if I'm going to France, or if I'm going to Pittsburgh. Two completely different outcomes. Then, of course, if something goes wrong and I do end up in Pittsburgh, I won't have anywhere to live. AWESOME.

I am signing up for classes though, por si acaso.

/END ANGRY BLOG. So much for "not getting into it."

PS- It's not that I'm hating on CIEE, I understand that they're probably doing all that they can, as fast as they can. I blame France. Love/hate you.

PPS- I love everyone who has helped me/is helping me/will be helping me with this process. BESITOS.

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La Gran Manzana

I’m currently 36702 feet in the air, somewhere east of Florida and north of Cuba. I’m pretty sure that my right shoulder is getting sunburned, sitting next to a window for 3 ½ hours, and I’m even more sure that I’m the only white person on the flight. Again.

The person on the loudspeaker (or whatever it’s called) has had to remind everyone on board at least three times that they cannot ask for more drinks or snacks until they’ve gone through the whole cabin and everyone has gotten some first. Is this an airplane, or elementary school? Kidding. I can’t blame them though. The mini chocolate chip cookies are good.

ANYWAY, clearly, I’m writing neither from campus nor from the Shell station (excuse the awkward formal language there), because I am quite sure that neither of those places could be found 36702 feet above sea level.

I went to La Grand Manzana this weekend. I’m not sure if they actually call it that- I’ll have to check and get back to you- but anyway, it means “The Big Apple”. It was Parent’s Weekend at my sister’s school, so my parents decided to drive down and see her for the weekend. Then they decided to fly me up for the weekend. And claro, I wasn’t about to say no to a weekend of seeing my family, food that I didn’t need to pay for, free texting, water pressure, witnessing fall, and good ol’ Americana.

Side note: I’m listening to the 90’s station on Jet Blue’s XM radio station, and Backstreet Boys’ “Everybody” just came on. Blast from the past much?

Anyway, I left the DR and got on a flight to JFK Thursday afternoon. I got in at around 5ish, did the whole customs thing (I really enjoyed the video of traditional American scenes- a guy sitting on his truck on a farm, the Vegas Strip, fall colors, Times Square, happy children, etc etc etc while I was waiting in line to go through customs. We ♥ America, so should you! Oh, wait, it’s practically impossible to get a visa? Hmm…), and hopped on the air train to someplace. Then I took the longestttttt subway ride to Penn Station.

I came out of the subway terminal and the first thing I saw was the Empire State Building. Now, please don’t get me wrong, I really do not identify myself as a tourist in the traditional sense when I’m talking about New York City. While I’ve never lived there, I’ve been there at least 15 times and usually don’t do the stop-in-the-middle-of-the-sidewalk-and-take-photos thing. However, this time was different. I propped my suitcase up on a street corner, sat on it, and took multiple photos of the Empire State Building. Which I’ve already been up in twice… so it really wasn’t that necessary… but it just felt important to me, at the time.

I met up with my sister and headed back to her dorm. We got dinner at her dining hall (I love going to dining halls at other schools- no matter how crappy the food actually is, everything seems wonderful in comparison to the dining hall at my school. Which, in reality I guess… isn’t that bad) and headed out to explore the city.

One of my goals for this weekend was to eat as many baked goods as humanly (and physically) possible. This started on the subway, when my sister gave me a cupcake from Crumbs that she’d bought earlier that day. This continued when we went into a mini market or grocery store or whatEVER and bought a slice of candy bar cake. Yeah, candy bar cake. This cake was not only covered with candy bars on top, but also had candy bars baked into it. Mmmm…

We then headed downtown and explored a bit around NYU. We got lost a bit, but eventually found some really good falafel. You can find anything in that city.

The next day we met up with my parents and did some Parent’s Weekend stuff. We then did a lot of shopping and baked-goods eating. Another cupcake from Crumbs. It was a Blackbottom Cheesecake Cupcake. "Brownie cake with cheesecake baked in topped with vanilla cream cheese frosting covered with brownie chunks and vanilla cream cheese drizzle." We also went to Lincoln Center, which I’d never been to before. The fountain was awesome, and reminded me of the water shows at Kahunaville back in the day. Expect about a hundred times better.

Saturday we hit up Walmart, and I bought multiple jumbo bags of Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups. Like, 5 of them. They’re not exactly impossible to find in the Dominican Republic, just pretty difficult and pricey. A few of my friends in the DR asked me to bring some back, plus I brought some back for a Halloween party that ISA is having on Friday. I also need a costume… I’ll figure that out later.

We got lunch at a restaurant called Community with my sister’s roommate and her family, and then just kind of explored for the rest of the day. We walked halfway across the Brooklyn Bridge (I’m normally not so cliché touristy, I swear) and got dinner at this place called 7A in the East Village.

This morning we dropped my sister back off at her university and my parents drove me to JFK. I miss cars. Okay, I mean, they do have cars in the Dominican Republic, claro, but I miss cars that have A) Working seatbelts, B) Working speedometers C) Are driven by people who drive better than I do (something that’s very easy to find in the States, but seemingly difficult in the DR). Okay, maybe when I say “I miss cars” I mean “I miss going places in cars that aren’t conchos.”

So yeah! That was my quick-soak-in-as-much-Americana-as-possible trip. It wasn’t absolutely necessary for my sanity, but it was nice. I’ll probably post this blog in a few days, because I can’t get wifi from the plane, claro….

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