sometimes it isn't all one big paradise

I am a good observer, a fair writer, and am living a small but sweet daily adventure. I try not to wear rose-colored glasses. There are tarantulas here. and scorpions. and other bad stuff. like anywhere else. I liked a recent article that described "island life" in opposition to US standards. It is different, and if approached with a certain lack of expectation, everything gets accomplished(eventually) and there is enough food and drink to go around, maybe the benefit of running water and/or electricity.... Yesterday an innocent request blew me out of the water. On the way out of town after a great softball game( I am THE team nurse, don't worry: I will not pick up a bat.)And after the victorious game and the after party in the street with plenty of beer, a few of us ended up having a celebratory pizza, a real treat. And more beer and lots of broken Spanish with the team's pitcher, and two players that are neck and neck for MVP...and the sponsor of the team, to balance out the Gringo-Dominican ratio and keep a few English words in play. So as I stop in front of the pitcher's house, he asks for "cien pesos" ( 100 pesos, the equivalent of $4.40 USD) for a neighbor who needs to go to the doctor. I scrounged around and came up with 50 pesos, having spent all on the pizza and beer...and I got an attitude back, like I was cheaping out ... It is a well-known fact that all Gringos are two-armed ATMs...there is no connection to earning money, you know, like the concept of daily regular work: white skin means you have a box of cash and it is bottomless. Had I taken all requests, small, large, and in-between, from the day I arrived here, I would have run out of all possible funds within 24 hours. The requests just keep coming. I learned a long time ago that money is not what it is all about. I have always tried to give that which is needed, directly to the needy victim. It works better for me, my pocketbook, and my soul. I once gave a TV to a home-bound patient, Ethyllene, who was dying of gastric cancer so her 5 year old could watch TV with her, and not be monkeying with her IV. That made sense to me, and made her and her son happy with something that was beyond their capacity at that time. Money would have only brought alcohol into the home, and that would not have been much of a solution for either of them. I did not want to give my last 50 pesos to someone I did not know. And I was perceived as with-holding...an act of such Ugly Americanism. I gave the 50 pesos but in trying to explain how I prefer to know who is getting the money and why, I was reminded "it's only 100 pesos..." And that's right, its nothing, but it adds up at the end of the day, week, month and I worked hard for it. I want to have the pleasure of distributing it . Wow, what an attitude I have. And I do want to help the skinny lady I remember talking to at a birthday party for the pitcher. I had asked her why she did not eat some cake, and she said she was too sick, and I knew she had cancer. And now a few weeks later I can only cough up 50 pesos to help her get to the doctor. Shit, life is unfair and can bite even the most righteous soul-saver. And I want to help all the cows, horses, burros, dogs, cats....it's a needy place, this paradise. Oh and I want a glass of wine at the end of the day too...and that is more than cien pesos. I do not live in a gated compound, but I do not want to live in a glass house either. The rules are not the same, and I wear my compassion on my sleeve, but not always does my sleeve reach my wallet. And for the current truth, I am eating an avocado, snagged from a neighbor's tree, sprinkled with salt and fresh lime juice from my tree. It is a prism of paradise, shards of bright colors , flavors, and personalities.

It's all in a days work...

Yes, this is paradise, the weather perfect, although a bit dry with the current drought. I am fortunate to have "city water" at a very minimal cost, and use bottled drinking water, delivered to my door. The food is fresh, healthy, and inexpensive, if you buy what is grown or made locally. You want hot Italian sausage, salmon, non-dairy creamer and McDonalds, well, it will cost you. The air is clean, the breeze blows, the ocean rolls and sighs. And, yes there is work. Everyday, there is something to do, to fix, to clean, to cook, to sell. There is a battered old pickup truck that rides around town with a speaker blaring, begging to buy your old batteries, metals, appliances. He makes an almost daily trip up my road, despite the fact I am the only occupied house up here....but there are Haitians across the road in an abandoned bakery...and each trip the bakery loses an item. A heavy one too I am sure. My neighbors are happy people, there are children laughing, voices singsonging, and friendly smiles when we meet in the road. Road work has begun here in the tiny pueblo. They have a piece of heavy equipment to tear up the sidewalks, street and anything else that gets in the way. The day they showed up on my dirt road, they removed all the bougainvilleas and giant aloes from in front of the houses, and proceeded to cut both the power and water lines to all ....It only took 6 days to convince them to come back, and they sent a city worker who used a match to glue to water pipe and he found some spare wire to drape the lines artfully along the fence. Since that time, they have concentrated on other areas of town, leaving the road in just slightly less pitiful status, and have made the entire pueblo look as if a cement seeking missile came home to roost. There is not an even surface left anywhere. But they work each day. Each morning there is a new stack of bags of cement at various locations and they are busy putting a driveway in(although only 4% of the inhabitants have vehicles) or hand smoothing a section of new sidewalk around a smal park that has no green left, just pebbles and stick, and giant chunks of cement. And the dairy industry continues, cows are marched, herded, or left to find their way along the road(well, really in the roads) to be milked and milk is carted, by moto, burro and truck to various cheese making stations, and on to other far away locations...There are always a group of men walking to and from fields with sacks and machetes. And, yes, there is often a table of dominoes going, a group of plastic chairs surrounding a colmado doorway, or the area where there is work commencing. But that is work too, the observation, running commentaries, and a plethora of suggestions and advise are an integral part of the workforce here. And me, what do I do? All actions here become work, or a days time to accomplish. Yesterday my car went to the Spa in a town an hour and a half away. It took a guagua(bus, with air conditioning!!) to Imbert , then a taxi(which is a Camry, four in the back seat, two in the front bucket seat, plus the driver, and the gear shift, which I was precariously placed against) to Luperon, then a motoconcho(motorcycle taxi) for the final leg back to my house....So yesterday the car went in the shop. Thats all.And when she is finished at the Spa, I will have the reverse journey to pick her up. Another days work with no pay. Harrumph. And I would not have it any other way. Everyone is cheerful, no one is in a hurry, and the weather is gorgeous.

Love Dominican Style

I do not think I have much articulation today but want to stay with the Dominicans , they are getting a bad rap all the way around these days. Right now it is being publicized as, well, almost an ethnic cleansing as they attempt to rid their country of illegal immigrants, after giving a period of time to submit paperwork to qualify people to remain here, to work, live, whatever. It is too politically charged and my ability to completely understand the language gives rise to misinterpretation. I left off in April(no clue where May went) talking about relationships here, and I have some recent insights, after doing some personal research. Yes, I know, this is not about me, but it kind of is....(I have gone outside of my comfort zone , dipped my foot, well, maybe just a toe or two so far, into Dominican water.) Flattery will get you anywhere with me, if I think there is a shred of genuine feeling behind it, so when I was asked to be someones novia(girlfriend) I considered the pros and cons of a Dominican relationship. Never even thought about this for me. And I live in a rural farm-based area, so there is not much higher education(or much lower to be honest) not much money , income or industry.But there is family, morals and a load of common sense. And that inexplicable sweetness I find in almost everyone. That seed of ...something good and trusting. I saw that in my future novio(boyfriend) and decided to find out why a Dominican would want a white person as a novia, other than the Bank of Gringo, which was not prevalent in this case. Age is a big issue for me, but not for Dominicans. So my first question was why, and the answer I got back , in totally honesty , made me bite a hole in my lip. Pelo. Hair. Dominicans don't like afro/ "brillo" hair. so having the right kind of hair is a plus, but then there is the glaring age thing. my guy says we have to have a baby, just one is ok. Another hole in my lip. I remind him of my age, he says thats ok, just one baby. I tell him I not longer have the parts for this, regardless. I get the "that does not compute" look, I am dealing with someone who is happy to help me with my embarrassing Spanglish, but he has no desire to learn English, or communicate with me that way. I mention his diabetes and he gives me another "does not compute" look. He has a blue diabetic bracelet on. He does not know what it says, its in English. No curiosity, just likes the color. Does not have diabetes, which is good for his next baby mama novia. But he puts his arm on mine and says (in Spanish)"Kiss?" Not buy me a new phone, cook me some food, just a kiss. . Just the basics. Nothing more. And don't forget about the baby. Three is usually the magic number here, so I feel he was trying to understand and be considerate. And I can stay with him and his abuela(grandmother), or he will sleep here, no problem. But no difference either. Nice. So while I don't feel as flattered as I initially did, I also don't feel potentially taken advantage of. And when he came over to talk, he brought a friend, like he did not trust me! Ha! A chaperon must be present first go around. I am not sure dancing with a young Dominican is what I want, or need, but , aside from my lack of parenting ability, it is not the worst thing I have encountered. Certainly more open and honest than internet dating!!!

Wives, girlfriends, relationships

I am constantly amazed at people's lack of thought before they open their mouths. I am in the moment but I am cognizant of those around me. Hello, do you know whose house you are in? I suppose it could be an innate quality that gives my fellow man the right to criticize across cultures. It makes one feel superior to be above another sect....and it is rampant among the ex-pats to dis Dominicans...(not to mention the snobbery of the Euro-trash that are critical of everything and everyone that is not their own.) It is hard to remember I am writing about where I live, not the cast of evil characters that inhabit this sweet island! After hearing another tirade of the lack of culture and morals here I began to examine the relationships I have watched change here. It is commonplace for men to have a wife, and one or more girlfriends or novias. This is a known and accepted way of life here, to both men and women. It does not have a socio-economic scale. Rich, poor, handsome, not so handsome, dark-skinned, light, most men have more than one woman in their lives. It is of a discreet nature also. There is a wife, a house, sometimes children, and then there is a girlfriend, sometimes a house, most times children....and they never seem to run into each other. There are no public displays, there are no cat fights. I did see two cat fights here, over Dominican men, both involved ex-pat women! Most wives know who the baby-mammas are, where they live, and sometimes in smaller communities they are cousins, or distant relatives....that is just a geographical thing in these instances, not incest.I have been at social gatherings where the other women's children are included and welcomed by the wives. While this was discussed as amoral, tawdry and just plain wrong from an American perspective, I started thinking about the divorce rate in the US, the primary reasons for the divorce rate(sex, money...) and how many strong relationships I have encountered here in the DR. Dominicans may be more honest about life, about men and women, sex, and how to get along better. Men can keep to their classic behavioral traits(sorry, I cannot put it more bluntly), and women can have lives that do not revolve around jealousy, envy, and self-esteem issues because they cannot keep to what has become an unrealistic expectation of a 'good' relationship. This is coming from a culture that according to many is lacking in education, civility, ability to reason. Well, I am not challenging their innate capacity for not doing alot of things well, like driving for instance, or running a government, but they have a cultural intelligence that makes me jealous sometimes with the ease they navigate difficult emotional issues. I no longer pass judgement , but look to these men and women with respect: they have figured how to be civilized and happy. I cannot turn it around and take on their ways, but I admire it. I give pause when I hear derogatory remarks about Dominicans, and wonder why you would chose to live here if you cannot accept the given lifestyle of the people.

Knowing and Thinking

I have been exposed to negative comments about Dominicans recently, some well justified, some casual statements to ventilate . Human nature seems to thrive on a caste system where there is an inferior section that receives the blame for the social ills and undesirable behaviors. We expats are quick to pass judgement. It started me thinking about the way Dominicans approach a given situation and it is about the difference between thinking and knowing. Dominicans know a great deal, they instinctly know how to provide for their families, make a meal from 50 pesos, how to obtain the 50 pesos, how to swing a machete, where to go to find whatever they need. They know what plants to make a tea from, where to find a nest of eggs, how to fix most anything... They may not think about tomorrow, or to save for tomorrow, or what tomorrow may bring. This is a blessing, what so many of us strive for here, to not think, worry, or plan ahead. It frees you to be in the moment, a particular goal of mine. My allegory is a sweet reminder of the simplicity here. When I had cows, I was amazed at their capacity to follow a routine. They knew where to go, for feed, milking, grazing, and when to go, they knew who threw rocks to herd them, who was a gentle milker, when they could be with their offspring...and there was on cow in particular that was different, Mantequila. She was unusually friendly, loved to be pet and rubbed, and had a penchant for tasty things. Like other peoples gardens, papaya trees, passionfruit vines, avocados....things not normally found in the pastures where the herd grazed. She was always getting out, always finding a way through the barbed wire while her mates were content with what they knew, She was always thinking. She often was alone in her trecks, usually caught in the act of denuding a tree or garden. Short of tying her to a fencepost, she could not be trusted to remain in a given enclosure. She was sold because she could think. It was a sad day for me. I do not intend to equate a cows capacity to a Dominicans. It is more a simplified way of living, with more happiness and less stress.

The Road to Hell is Paved with Good Intentions: Welcome to the Fishbowl

I have settled into a new community, and for the past 6 months have readjusted to this tiny pueblo, and while finding my place here, have had to finish sorting through my own baggage. There are afew small bags left, but they are carefully packed and by the door. I try not to trip over them. I have found sweet acceptance here, new people, renewed old aquaintences, strengthened some, loosened others. It is all shifting sand, so close to the water.I find myself of course surrounded by mostly gringos and expats, and being fresh meat, a new interest to some with the need to fix and have a place for everything. Being someone who never cared for fitting in, it has been a strange dance. Welcome to the Fishbowl, having managed to cause afew feeding frenzies.... Being single is still something I have not aligned myself to. And I stick out here, to both the Gringos, and Dominicans. Wives eye me warily and dominicans , even more than gringos, think it is just plain wrong, want to fix this 'problem' right away. There have been several friendly gentlemen and old codgers who have presented themselves as potential suitors, from farmers to fishermen to the local married taxi driver. My choices are less limited than I complain of! And the big eyes of the Fishbowl are upon me, my house is watched and guests duly noted. The holiday season , with dinners, parties, and visiting family made it quite a page turner here on the hill. It's more than a small town atmosphere here: it may be the prominence of temerity and audacity, among the flotsam and jetsom of the human remains that fuels the bigger fish. I have painted myself as the Beta and maybe I should try sticking to my New Years Resolutions better, here on Day #4 of 2015. #1: Be in the Moment, #2: Keep the fish on a Need to Know basis... So swim here I must, and ignore the well-intended and not so well intended, and as I pass a tasty bit, I may partake for the moment is all I have. The tomorrows in the Fishbowl are of my own making.