Dominican Fashions

While I've never quite considered myself to be an overly fashionable person, I'd like to think that my lack of major fashion sense doesn't really cause me stand out. Jeans, tshirt, occasional dress or skirt if all my jeans are dirty... whatever.

However.

In this country, my normal attire makes me stick out like a sore thumb.

It's not that no one else is wearing jeans and tshirts, it's just that the Dominicans just seem to pull it off so much better than us Americans.

Typical school dress for a teenage/20-something Dominicana

American Eagle or Aéropostale tshirt, with the brand name printed in HUGE letters across the front- I've noticed that many Dominicans love their American brands. Especially when they can wear them and show them off.

Nice jeans- Correction, tight nice jeans.

Nice sandals- No $3 Old Navy flip flops down here.

Perfectly straightened hair- As mentioned in my friend Erin's very insightful blog entry, many Dominican women are very concerned with the straightness of their hair. Having straight hair here is kind of the equivalent of being skinny in the States. The majority of people weren't born that way, and work hard to achieve it.

Polo shirts- American Eagle or Aero, por supuesto. And usually skin tight.



Typical school dress for a teenage/20-something Dominicano

Rhinestones- Tshirts with rhinestones are apparently very in for guys here.

More Aero and American Eagle- See above.

Nice jeans- Not skin tight, but definitely a lot tighter than American guys wear them. And no saggy pants either.

We were advised during orientation not to wear shorts to class. However... it's just so hot here. And most of the classes we all take are with other Americans. This doesn't go for everyone in my group, but at least I have definitely caved and have started to wear shorts to class. Not often, and not when I'm going to a class with Dominicans (which still leaves 3 classes, and swim)... but still probably about once a week.

Example: I left the house last week wearing jean American Eagle shorts, a J'♥ Québec shirt, Old Navy flipflops, an LLBean backpack, and aviator sunglasses... and even my hostmom commented that I looked especially "gringa" (white, as in not-Dominican) that day.

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Música

I've got some music in Spanish that I'd like to share with you all (or at least give you to the YouTube link to)...

Non-club songs:

Nek- Laura No Está

Laura Pausini feat. James Blunt- Primavera Anticipada

Zucchero- Baila Morena
These first three songs were originally written in Italian

Nelly Furtado- Bajo Otra Luz

Juanes- La Camisa Negra

Club songs:

Daddy Yankee- Rompe

Yolanda Be Cool- Pa Panamericano

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Pizza Night (& more)

Wednesday night, I decided to make dinner for my host brother and myself. There was a package of Betty Crocker pizza crust mix that I’d been eyeing for the past 5 weeks (wow, really, five weeks), and it expired today, so I figured that if I wasn’t going to use it at that moment… that no one ever would.

Goal: Make an edible pizza for my brother and myself, with enough time for me to make it to the gym by 9pm.

Starting time: 730pm.
Ending time: 845pm.

Instructions, Part One: Mix pizza mix with ½ cup warm water. Stir 20 times. Cover, let sit for 5 minutes. Spread out on a greased pizza tray.

Problems, Part One:

Se fue el agua (“the water’s gone”)… the water stopped working (and started working again at 930am the next day). We ended up using water from the large jugs that are delivered weekly.

We didn’t have a pizza tray. Or a cookie tray. I used a decorative silver platter instead.

We didn’t have cooking spray. Or Crisco. Margarine, it is.

Instructions, Part Two: Add toppings. Pizza sauce, cheese, whatever. Put in the oven for 20 minutes on 450 degrees.

Problems, Part Two:

Our oven has two settings: On and Off. I’m pretty sure On is roughly 300 degrees, and Off is still probably around 100 because we’re in the Dominican Republic, claro.

So I threw the pizza in and set the timer for 20 minutes. After 20, it wasn’t even CLOSE to being done. I checked again after 30 and 40. Still not done. However, after 45 I took it out and put my half on the plate, then returned what was left to the oven for my host brother to eat whenever he wanted to.

I personally like squishy, gooey crusts… but this was a little much for me. By the time my host bro took his half out, it had been about 60 minutes, and he was that it was delicious. I think he might just have been being nice. Nearly-expired pizza crust mix + lack of legit tray + two-setting oven = not-so-amazing pizza

However, I’m giving myself props for working with what I could find to [attempt to] make a somewhat edible dinner.

Hmm… what else have I been up to this week…

Monday morning I took a Step class at the gym. I’d never taken one before- here or in the states- and I (stupidly) assumed that it’d be easy. It’s just cardio, right? Jumping on a step and then jumping off, more or less, for 45 minutes? False. Turns out there are weights involved. And coordination is needed. All in all, it wasn’t really that bad, and it definitely was a good workout… it just was a lot different than I had thought it’d be.

Tuesday I was all excited to watch the premiere of Glee… and then I realized that, while I do get 2 Fox channels… neither of them actually show Glee.

Wednesday was Pizza Night, and I also walked to La Sirena (like a Walmart) with two of my friends. We split a pint of ice cream. It was a good trip… (Still a bit confused about La Sirena's motto though- "Más de una emoción"... "More than a feeling")

And last night, my host bro saved me from the scariest bug ever. Okay, well, I like to think that I’m not baby-ish when it comes to bugs, spiders, etc. However, I had never, ever seen a cockroach before in my life, until I saw one scamper across my floor. I ran into his room and started screaming “A BUG A BUG A BUG”. Apparently my tone of voice didn’t make up for the lack of Spanish I was speaking, because he just sat there and stared at me for a few seconds. The word for cockroach (la cucaracha, like the song?) was not accessible in my mind at the moment… so instead I just yelled “INSECTO INSECTO INSECTO”, and he got the message and grabbed his shoe.

The hunt lasted about five minutes, but he eventually got it. It was scary, though. There are a couple of people in my group who’ve seen tarantulas in their rooms… if that were the case for me, I’d probably buy a sleeping bag and zip myself into it every night.

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Blog #2 of the day...

Que suerte. You get two blogs today.

I realized something on my trip to La Romana. And it’s been something that’s been on my mind a bit since I got here, but now I’m pretty certain. I realized that, while I am enjoying my time here, the Dominican Republic is not the country for me.

That sounds a lot more negative than I mean it to sound. Let me backtrack.

After I was here for 10 days in 2009, I was so head-over-heels in love with this country and even thought about maybe moving here for a bit after graduation. You know, take some time off before starting Real Life. Like move to the DR and open an empanada stand or something.

However, I don’t think that’s in the cards for me. For multiple reasons. Firstly, the sun. There are some people in this world who are just not supposed to spend extended periods of time in tropical locations. I am one of these people. My ancestors are from Ireland, England, Belgium, and Germany… and none of those countries could ever be characterized as “tropical”.

Example: During the five hours spent between the boat and the island on Saturday, I put on sunscreen (good sunscreen) five times. And seven times on my face. I felt that this was enough for me to be able to, you know, not hide in the shade on the boat and actually lie out. However. I fried. Badly. Pretty much everywhere. Some other kids did too- some because they thought they were immune to the sun and didn’t bother with sunscreen, as well as other students who are in the same boat (ha. boat.) as me, skin-wise. I am sure that I’ll return from these months with considerably more skin damage than I had when I got here, and if I were to live here I think I’d have an 80-year-old person’s skin by the time I reach 30.

Also, Dominican time. Yes, I have gotten to be more lax about my love for plans and schedules etc etc since I’ve been here, but it hasn’t completely gone away. Meetings, classes, meals, should start when they’re supposed to start, at least how I see it. However, I don’t think there are too many Dominicans who feel the same.

And I know this makes me look bad and sound like a brat, but I’m not used to living in a third world country. I like having electricity and hot water and internet and, honestly, just being privileged. And I know, I was born into this nice life and there are millions and millions of people out there who have significantly less than I do… but that’s just not what I’m used to living in. I like it when my food is clean, everything is sanitary, everything works, and you don’t have to worry about being pick-pocketed.

That all being said, now that I sound like a whiny foreigner who misses her unlimited texting and Honda CRV and huge shopping malls… I am enjoying my time here. And if I could go back in time, I would definitely definitely still make the same choice to come to the DR. I have been making the most of my past month here, and I know that I will continue to learn about and enjoy the [completely backwards from the US] culture during my next three months.

And, as we learned about in all of our discussions about Culture Shock (so. many. discussions.), I do expect to feel reverse culture shock and really miss the DR once I get back the states. And while I have no idea what I’m doing with my life post-graduation, I would really like to come back to the DR to visit. For a good amount of time. Just… not to set up a permanent residence.

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La Romana

This weekend (Friday and Saturday) our group went to La Romana, which is a city on the south-eastern tip of the country. Okay, we never actually technically went into the city, only hit up a lot of hotspots around it, but whatever. It’s about 4.5 hours from Santiago, which is a pretty long ride. (PS, I learned the other day that the DR is roughly the size of Vermont and New Hampshire put together. Just fyi.)

We first stopped at the Cueva de las Maravillas (the Cave of Marvels). It’s this old, cool (as in cold, which was lovely), underground cave (clearly) that’s filled with ancient Taino petroglyphs (drawings). The Tainos were the native people of Hispaniola like a million years ago. Or a few thousand. I’m not taking any history classes while I’m here, can you tell? Anyway, we weren’t allowed to take photos, but here are some I’ve stolen from the internet-




Cave paintings

Then we headed to the Altos de Chavón, which, in my guidebook, is described as: A bizarre replica of a Tuscan hillside village, the cluster of stone houses and plazas is both an arts center and a major tourist magnet. The imitation has attracted criticism, but many love the village’s old-world air.”

Side note: Read the last sentence I wrote before quoting the book. See the use of commas? In Spanish, there’s not a lot of comma usage. Why, I don’t know, however, personally, I think commas are really great, so I think that maybe, Spanish speakers, or writers, I mean to say, should use them more, okay?

Anyway, it’s the site of a huge amphitheater and some pretty awesome views. There was also a really nice jewelry shop that I just had to go into. I’ve read a lot in my guidebooks about the amber that is sold in this country, and how important it is to buy the real stuff- not fake amber sold to you by guys also selling hemp anklets and bottles of rum.

This shop was the real deal- I saw some really nice earrings and I was ecstatic when the woman in the shop told me that it cost 125. However, after I pulled out my pesos, she was like “Err… dolares americanos…” Big difference. 125 pesos vs. 4,637.50 pesos. I do want to buy amber jewelry eventually though, but it might be difficult to find another legit place close by.


The amphitheater

After this stop we headed to our hotel, which was in the smallish village of Bayahibe. The hotel itself wasn’t really that great. I was all excited because our hotel in Santo Domingo was awesome (most notably, the showers actually had water pressure and the water was warm when you wanted it to be warm and cold when you wanted it to be cold. Which in this country is pretty rare), but this one was kinda subpar. No wifi (que triste), crappy water pressure, and loud AC. But at least there was AC. So I’m going to stop whining.

After dinner, most of our group went walking/swimming along the beach. For the most part, we were the only ones out there, which was pretty cool. I got to use my French later that night though- I was out getting a soda later (en serio) and there was a French-from-France guy creepin’. At first a bunch of us were talking to him, but then we realized that he was insane and we headed back to our hotel. He followed. However, our hotel was being watched by an armed guard. Take that, French guy.

The next morning, after a desayuno americano (I had pancakes) at the hotel, we headed out to catch the boat to la Isla Saona. I was less than excited when I heard that the boat ride was going to be an hour and 45 minutes long… but then I saw our boat. I know absolutely nothing about boats, so I can’t tell you what type of boat it was, but I can tell you that it was 1. big (ish) 2. there was a solid floor-like part where people were dancing and 3. there was a netty area where you could lie down in the sun.


Netty part of the boat

Ps there was free soda on the boat, just pointing that out.

An hour and forty-five minutes later, we arrived in heaven (to heaven? At heaven? Prepositions, what?). It was paradise. I can say that I’ve hit up some pretty nice beaches in this country, and they’ve all topped the ones that I’ve seen in the states (Santa Monica, other Cali ones, Maine, Massachusetts, Jersey Shore, somewhere in Florida…). However, this beach made all the other ones in the DR look like the Jersey Shore-during-the-time-of-the-tide-when-there-are-stinky-jellyfish-everywhere-and-it’s-freezing in comparison. Awkward phrasing but you get what I mean. It was gorgeous.


Perfection.

The water was warm, there were shells everywhere, the sand was soooo soft, etc etc. I don’t really remember why, exactly, but I thought that it would be a good idea to “exfoliate” with this perfect sand. However, forcefully rubbing handfuls of wet sand into your face and onto your arms can do more harm than good, at first. My face was burning for like 30 minutes. Today, however, it is very smooth and exfoliated (what?). I think everyone should try it. Only with sand from la Isla Saona though. I should bottle it and sell it to Neutrogena or L’Oreal or something. Anyway…

We took a speedboat back, and stopped halfway to swim in a “natural pool”. We were a couple hundred meters from the beach, but the water was only about 3 feet deep. And clear as anything. One of the guys in my group found a starfish, which was awesome. It felt like a rock though, and wasn’t all squirmy and sucky as I thought a starfish would be.

By this time we were all reallllllly tired and hopped on the bus to head back north. The ride wasn’t as bad this time, because we were able to avoid the heavy heavy heavy rush hour traffic in Santo Domingo. Sleeping on a bus is never comfortable, but I was able to contort myself and managed to get about 10 minutes of sleep. Can’t help but to remember the 2007 band trip to Atlanta via bus. To save money, we slept on the bus (as it was moving) one night. I had the ingenious idea to claim the aisle in front of the bathroom. I was able to completely lie down, yeah, but even that doesn’t make up for being stepped on by multiple band kids trying to reach the bathroom every fifteen minutes…

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Shopping trip!

Today my friend Erin and I took a trip to el Supermercado Nacional.

The store is decently sized... bigger than a P&C/Giant Eagle, but nothing compared to a Wegmans (aka heaven), claro. They actually had a fair amount of name brands from the states, but in many cases were twice as expensive as the Dominican brand.


Part of the store has two floors. No, I was not climbing the rafters.

We started out in the fruit section, trying to find bananas. After spending awhile figuring out the difference between yellow plátanos and green bananas, we eventually found them on a display on the other side of the fruit section.

We then went to the book section- what grocery store doesn't have a two floor book store inside? and I bought a French <-> Spanish dictionary. Not quite sure how I'm really going to use it, but I'm also not sure why I didn't purchase one of these ages ago.

After that I picked up some bread and pasta. My host mother recently bought a huge tub of peanut butter, and I've been putting pb on everything. Bananas, saltines, apples, Oreos... I've forced everyone in my host family plus my host bro's gf to try Oreos with peanut butter, ala LLo in Parent Trap.


Kind of impressed with myself for finding this one.

The dictionary + bread + pasta = 235 pesos (6.33 USD)


Not much, but still enough for a few meals... and some light reading? what?

Earlier this afternoon I went with another friend to La Serena, which is like a Walmart. Except more ghetto. I bought an umbrella (because I left the one my host mom lent me in the movie theater... whoops.), a beach towel, and a pack of those sticks and cheese things? Elementary school much? We also went into a tattoo place because my friend wanted to get an estimate for a tattoo. Not me. Family members, relax.

Also, a few other people in my group have been keeping blogs as well. They tend to, you know, actually write about places and events and don't spend large amounts of time talking about Miley Cyrus movies and yaroa.
Rose & Erin.

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Rain, Miley Cyrus, Teaching, Money, and Tripping on Chloroquine

It's been raining here. A lot. Granted, it only lasts for like 5 minutes then is gorgeous again for another hour... but then it rains again. Apparently August/September is when the DR gets the most rain, so it should slow up soon.

Last night I went with two of my friends to the movies. Most of them were really scary or completely in Spanish, so we decided on La Ultima Canción ("The Last Song"), the newest Miley Cyrus movie. We had thought that tickets were only going to be 100 or 150 pesos (2.75, 4.12 USD). However, we didn't notice until we tried to buy the tickets that under the HUGE sign that says 100 and 150 pesos... it says Lunes-Miercoles (Monday-Wednesday). So the actual price was 350 (9.61). Oh well. We still saw it, but now we know to go during the school week...

I currently have two "jobs". One is technically volunteer, but I like to call it an internship because it sounds cooler. I teach English at a school 35 minutes (2 concho rides each way) away. I'm there for a total of 4.5 hours a week (2 days), which may not sound like a lot... but once you factor in travel time it really adds up. To be honest, I don't love it. One of the days I'm teaching with another girl from my group, and that's good, but the other day it's just me and 27 kids.

The thing is, each kid is at a different level. The average age is probably somewhere between 8-10, so none of them are fluent, but some know their colors/numbers/food/etc quite well. Others are just starting and know absolutely zip. Thus, I feel bad wasting the more experienced kids' time going over stuff they already know, but I can't leave the other kids behind.

Also, about 80% of them are there against their will and will either A. refuse to do anything B. be rude or C. fall asleep. I've begun bringing food as "prizes" for kids who do well on certain exercises, and that actually works out pretty well, but still... I can only bring so many Oreos...

My other job- this one actually pays me- I really do enjoy. Ish. I mean, let's be honest, after my first day in a classroom here I realized that I never want to be a teacher. At least, not as my "official job". But still. This one isn't that bad. It's at a school that's more expensive than the other one, and most of the kids have been there for years. I have one class of 10ish kids. While they do vary in ages (7th grade-freshman in college), they're all pretty well behaved and speak well.

Unlike the other school where I have no choice but to conduct the lesson in Spanish (no one would understand me otherwise), I am forbidden (it's like #1 on the list of rules) to speak Spanish in this classroom. Or anywhere on "campus". It hasn't really been an issue, because the kids speak well already and if there's a word that they don't know, I can talk my way around it.

However, yesterday I was trying to explain "going to" (as in, I am going to read, I am going to call you, I am going to start my homework) and they weren't really getting it. Especially in examples with like, "I am going to go to the mall". And I was so, so, SO close to just saying "ir a", which is what it is in Spanish. Like, it is more or less the exact same way they use it in Spanish, and I knew that they'd definitely figure it out if I said "ir a". However, we are really really NOT ALLOWED to say ANYTHING in Spanish. So I don't think they got it. I said it was more or less the same as "will", which is usually true, but still.

Money: I do get paid at this second job- 150 pesos an hour (4.12 USD). I worked 2.5 hours last weekend, and 2.5 hours yesterday, so yesterday I got paid 750 pesos (20.60 USD). Which felt like a lot, but it really isn't, by US standards. I've joked around with a few of my friends from home about my high paying job in the DR, but by DR standards I'm making a TON of money for a teenager/20-something.

My friends here and I frequent (actually, I don't think "frequent" is the correct word. "Live at" is probably better) this place called The Shell. Yes, the gas station. There's a café inside- it's actually where I'm at now, because there's internet- and we often get food or drinks here and just chill. Because we're here so much, we've gotten to know some of the people who work here. And I guess Dominicans are more comfortable sharing money details than Americans, because I had two people tell me (without me asking) that they're earning 40 pesos an hour. 1.10 USD an hour.

Okay so maybe some of you are thinking, "It's a gas station. Of course it's not going to pay well". But no, this is a classy gas station. With a café. It blew my mind. Minimum wage in NY and PA is $7.25, which is 263.90 pesos.

Anyway, enough money rants.

Last thing. While I'm down here, I'm taking a drug called Chloroquine. It's to prevent Malaria and all that business. Anyway, it has a couple of known side effects, only one of which I'm dealing with. I am having the trippiest dreams ever. No, really, they're NUTS. Some nightmares, but also just really really REALLY vivid dreams. I wake up each morning and it takes me a good 3 or 4 minutes to figure out where I am and to process that what I just dreamt wasn't real.

And I'm not making this stuff up. I Googled it, and there are people who actually have blogs dedicated to documenting their Chloroquine dreams. Anyway, the dreams are more interesting than scary, and as someone who has never really had vivid dreams in her life, I kind of like them. Except the ones where I'm like, shut in a box or getting mugged etc etc etc.

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FYI

I've changed the settings on the blog so that you don't need a Google account to comment. Anonymous comments are now allowed, just make sure to leave your name SOMEwhere...

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Language Rant and Gummy Worm Handcuffs

I’ve talked about this with a few other people in my group- the feeling of being “handcuffed” while speaking another language. Yeah, it’s one thing in a beginning language course, but that feeling slowly went away (in both languages) as I took more and more classes. However, at the time, I usually knew most of the words/tenses/etc needed for the classroom situation. And if not, I could look it up the night before (the night before a text, oral exam, etc). Pas de problème. However, it is totally totally totally different when you’re literally (okay, not literally) drowning in a sea of Spanish.


Random.

Backtrack. When I say “handcuffed”, I mean you feel so constrained by the few things that you actually know how to say. This isn’t just in a classroom setting here, but also in a social setting. We’ve learned a bit about the fear of “losing your identity” when you’re required to speak a different language, and I can now see that that’s totally true. Not when I’m with other Americans trying to speak Spanish, no, because when in doubt you can always whisper an English word, or fall back on mannerisms and tone to kind of get your personality across.

Here, though, this doesn’t always work. When I’m talking to Dominicans who speak little English, and I’m speaking Spanish, I feel as if I don’t always get myself across. Not just my point, but myself. Humor is very difficult to translate, and so is my need to be sarcastic 70% of the time. Not only am I being handcuffed by the words that I don’t know, but also the slang, the mannerisms, the tone of voice that helps me express myself in English.

However, this feeling isn’t as strong as it was three weeks ago, definitely. Also, when/if I find out that the person who I’m stumbling through a conversation with happens to speak French, I literally (okay, again, not literally) feel a wave of relief fall over me. Pretty much every time this has happened, the person has been Haitian. I LOVE HAITIANS. THEY SPEAK FOUR LANGUAGES. (Can you speak four languages? Does one of them happen to be freaking Haitian Creole? Yeah, no, didn’t think so).
When this happens, I go from awkwardly trying to talk and be myself under the confines of Spanish to breathing a HUGE sigh of relief and saying “Ahhhhhhh tu parles français? Ah mon Dieu c’est beaucoup plus facile pour moi de parler en français. Eh bien, oú étions-nous?”
While I still can’t totally and completely be myself in French, I still feel a million times more relaxed speaking French than speaking Spanish. It's like I still have handcuffs on, but they're like... gummy worm handcuffs.



Interestingly enough, before I came here, I’d find that I would often slip French words into my Spanish. Usually without thinking, but sometimes just as a guess, if I didn’t know the Spanish word.
Now, however, that has totally changed. I can’t speak in French without occasionally switching an ici for an aquí, or donc…/bien…. for entonces…. This really hasn’t been an issue, because whomever I’m speaking with still gets it… I just think it’s funny.

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Santo Domingo Trip #2: Epic Fail

Last Friday, I went back to Santo Domingo to talk to someone at the French Embassy about my visa issue. Let’s make this clear, I did not go to apply for my visa, I just went to talk to someone about my visa.
Anyway. Fortunately, my host mother was already planning on going down to Santo Domingo- she teaches a class there every Friday. So at 6am, we left Santiago with two of her other professor friends. We stopped for breakfast (I got a hot ham and cheese sandwich. When in doubt in this country, this is usually the safest option) and got into the city around 830. I then took a 30, 40 minute cab ride to the embassy (SD is HUGE, but there were also major traffic issues going on).

So I get to the embassy, try about 4 doors before actually finding the one that opens, and I walk in. There are about 20 people in the waiting room, despite the office only having been open for a bit over an hour. Everyone has folders and official looking papers with them, and I decided that I clearly did not want to start waiting in line if all I wanted to ask was “EST-CE QUE C’EST POSSIBLE D’APPLIQUER POUR UNE VISA FRANÇAISE PENDANT QUE JE SUIS EN LA REPUBLIQUE DOMINICAINE, OUI OU NON??” then turn around and hop on a bus back north.
So I walked up to the only official-looking person in the room, who happened to be a security guard. Not a great choice, but he was all I had. I Sparknote’d my situation to him, getting the feeling that he really did not care. He then told me that the woman who could help me is pregnant, and to come back on Monday.

This does not make sense for two reasons:
A. Pregnancy is not an illness or a condition that can be cured or dealt with in 3 days, so I really don’t get it, and
B. He can not possibly be telling me that after over 3 hours of travel-and-ham-sandwich-eating-time that I need to do it all again on Monday.
At this point, I was getting a bit frustrated. I asked him if he spoke French, but I guess I started talking again before I even heard the answer because after a few seconds of me ranting in French to him, he held up his hands and said “No, yo NO hablo francés”.



Fortunately, the guy next to me was French or Quebecois or SOMETHING (I was not in a place to play Guess-the-Accent, despite usually being fairly good at this game), because he turned to me and said “Je parle français, qu’est-ce que c’est le problème?”

I then had this guy act as an interpreter for me for a few minutes. I could understand what he was saying in Spanish, and I think under less stressful circumstances I could’ve said it myself, but not just then. The security guard wasn’t much more help (claro, I don’t know why I really thought he’d be in the first place) so I just talked to the French-speaking guy. He said that I could apply for a French visa from the DR etc etc etc I just need to wait at least another month (they don’t start reviewing apps until 3 months in advance… I don’t even know if you can even submit apps more than three months in advance). So then I left the embassy, because there really wasn’t much else I could do.

So I’m in SD, killing an hour or so before I need to get a taxi to go to the bus station so I can get a ticket to get on a bus to get back to Santiago so I can get to my meeting at 330. And so I’m walking… I go in this store… and find the best dress ever. Tried it on, it fit perfectly, so I bought it for 600 pesos (don’t worry, this is relevant). It was 650, but I was a smart girl and bartered down.



After that, I realize I only have about 200 pesos left, so I head to an ATM machine in a fast food place called Pollo Rey (“Chicken King”. Two points for originality.) I try my card, and it doesn’t work. Stupid Chicken ATM machine. So I go find another. That one doesn’t work either. It said something about my card being invalid (and it was in English, so I know I was pressing all of the correct buttons).

I then think for a bit. And then a bit more.

And then I remember that I never “officially” told my bank that I was leaving the country. I guess just asking for Dominican pesos isn’t really “official” enough. This means, folks, that my card has been shut off. I had used it a week earlier, and I guess that’s what sent up the red flag to freeze my account.

Lovely.

So after a solid 15 minutes of panicking and frantic phone calls, I call my bank. Thankfully, the call was free. The lady on the phone asked me a million questions to verify my identity, like my parents’ ages and my billing address (they were all multiple choice questions, which I found kind of weird).

Then she said that, yeah, there was a freeze on my account and that she could lift it. I was so happy, I was about to buy this chick flowers or something. Until she said that it would take up to 24 hours for this to go through, and no less than 6. I didn’t like her as much anymore. “But I’m 2.5 hours from home and I need to get a cab and a bus ticket and I have no moneyyyyyyy.” “Well, we advise our customers to tell us that they’re leaving the country before they actually do leave the country, as to avoid issues like this.” Whatever.

So, I go back and return the dress for cash. Que tristeza. After that, I use the money to buy myself two Diet Cokes, a cab ride, an empanada, and a bus ticket back up to Santiago. [/long story]

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Pesos pesos pesos

Just a quick entry- everything here is so cheap, and I'm just going to brag for a minute about the 80 cent sodas I've been drinking for the past two weeks.

15 pesos/.40 USD/1 concho ride (a really, really, really sketchy car)
30 pesos/.81 USD/Basic price for a soda
55 pesos/1.49 USD/Cheap Presidente beer
120 pesos/3.26 USD/Max fare for a Taxi
120 pesos/3.26 USD/Pack of cigarettes (not that I smoke, but it's so much cheaper than in NY I felt it was worth mentioning)
20 pesos/.54 USD/Bag of chips
500 pesos/13.51 USD/My cheapo cell phone from Orange
1 peso/.03 USD/1 text message to another Orange customer (before taxes)
3 pesos/.08 USD/1 text message to the USA (before taxes)

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