Oh Peace Corps.

I am just now starting to feel like I am a resident and not a visitor of this little town. I just finished visiting and interviewing one hundred houses of the pueblo for the Peace Corps community diagnostic. It has become apparent that what I have learned from the interviews, that water and lack of work are the largest problems here, I could have known after talking to a couple of friends. The real function of the surveys turned out to be introducing myself to the community as a Peace Corps volunteer living here for two years, not a missionary worker or a month long German visitor. I can tell people feel like they know me a little more because I get a lot of shout outs with my actual name (Yasmín) instead of “Blanca” and a lot of cheek kisses from old ladies on the street.

I have also decided to greet everyone I see if at all possible which means I am always shooting little waves around willy nilly, undiscriminating and a little oblivious. I am thinking that there is nothing better than being viewed as friendly and nice but it definitely results in my confusion when people come up and talk to me and then they say, “You remember me from the park on Saturday, you were running and I was with my friend!” If I have not said this before, I have been doing a lot of Peace Corps lying, “Oh yeah, I remember!”, “Yes, I love your food.”, “Peace Corps won’t let me do that.” I am pretty sure I have already lied more in this country than my whole life in the states. I have consciously let reputation and acceptance outweigh honesty for the time being, judge as you will.

I am getting accustomed to the cultural differences very little by little. One interesting one has been that it is not very popular to do anything alone. I tend to like some alone time but it is totally unacceptable to be in your bedroom if you aren’t sleeping. If you want to read or relax, you best be sitting with your people; if you are in your room, you best be sleeping. The river that separates my town with Haiti, Rio Artibonito goes through stages cleanliness and with the hundred degree heat, I have gotten really into dipping in the river (or as they say, bathing). I went the first few times with friends and then yesterday I wanted to swim but no one was going so I headed out alone. Before I could get out the door, my host mom had found someone to go with me, not for safety, just for company.

Walking alone is almost the most rare of them all. Every evening people enjoy the fresher temperature and walk around the town (literally around the whole pueblo). Sometimes I start my walking alone but I am always joined by someone who starts by saying, “Who are you walking with?”, a polite insinuation that it is not normal to be doing my round around town solo. Another walking rule that I am bound to break is that two people of opposite genders walking together are in a relationship. Because this is a flexible rule and virtually unavoidable, I figure if I walk with enough different guy friends, people will just except that I am a weird American and the rule doesn’t apply. I’ll let you know how this goes.

The difference that has been the hardest to get used to is the pace of life here and the professionalism. I am up at six running and planning my day only to later be at a meeting where no one shows up or to wait for an hour for something to open or someone to meet me. I have been teaching English classes and I have had to accept that the actual class can’t start until fifteen minutes after the starting time. My plans with the NGO I am working with are the most flexible of all. Meetings and promises of transportation are forgotten more often than they are remembered. Clearly, I need to just take some deep breaths and a chill pill and welcome myself to the Dominican Republic.

My favorite difference is also my least favorite and it is the compulsory sharing. This is by definition a give and take phenomenon that only works in your favor in one direction. I love seeing people sending food from house to house or calling a neighborhood kid on the street to come and eat the leftovers. People actually bite off pieces mints and offer the remainder to a friend. The negatives are when you really don’t want the fried salami or more frequently, when you don’t want to share. I’d like to eat my dinner sitting with you but I’m hungry and I don’t want to give you any. My survival strategy is to hang out in the front of the house but always eat in the back.

Despite my very slow understanding of the social norms of this country, I am getting more comfortable everyday. I am no longer in constant calculations of how much I’m not doing, how many mistakes I made or how many days I have left. Scratch the last one because I am totally still in the day counting business: I have less than twenty two months left, baby!