April 6, 2002 "And to think, I mistook it for Paris, France."

t some point I'm going to figure out how to start posting this stuff on the web so those of you who want to read it can do so whenever you want and those of you who don't can just forget I exist. In the meantime, suffer.

Remember Don Eliseo, the nice old man who said he was going to let me ride his horse? We had the following "cultural exchange" yesterday:
Don Eliseo: You know, Dah-veed, I have enjoyed having you in my home these last weeks very much. I will be very sad when it is time for you to leave.
Me: Thank you, Don Eliseo, I have also enjoyed staying here with you and your family, and I will miss you all as well.
(brief pause)
Don Eliseo: And tell me Dah-veed... what country are you from?

Maybe we aren't communicating as well as I had hoped. The problem with languages is that very few people actually bother to speak them correctly. The Spanish I've been learning in Peace Corps training is not the same Spanish that people speak in the Dominican campo. Try to imagine someone from another country learning to speak English in an Ivy League school and then trying to order a 3-piece Spicy at the Canal Street Popeye's and you'll know what I'm talking about. I tried to buy a Coke this morning at a mercado. I thought I asked for a Coke pretty clearly. The woman behind the counter reached into the cooler, pulled out a Coke, waved it in front of my face, said something in 300-mile-an-hour campo Spanish, and put the Coke back in the cooler, smiling. I've learned by now that in situations like that, it's best to just back away slowly and say "gracias, gracias," and then go to another store and buy a Grape Fanta. The good news is that I had my fourth Spanish competency exam last week and I've just been promoted from Novice High to Intermediate Low. I just need one more level to be officially sworn in as a volunteer, and in the meantime I think I'll just keep that Coke-buying incident to myself.

What makes it even harder to communicate with my campo family is that even when I understand what they're saying, It's hard for me to believe they're actually saying some of the things they say. I could have sworn this morning that Dona Maura was telling me that since there was electricity today, she would be happy to personally cool off my harina (it looks and tastes like sweetened kindergarten paste; don't ask) in front of the electric fan in the living room. I didn't think there was any way I could have heard that right but when I asked her to repeat herself she picked up my bowl of harina and stood in front of the fan with it for a good ten minutes. "SO YOU DON'T BURN YOURSELF," she screamed. Dona Maura screams everything. By the way, the only thing worse than harina is cold harina. When it gets cold it grows a skin on top. I hate the skin. I always eat at a separate table from the rest of the family, in a separate room, which I'm told is a normal way for Dominicans to treat special guests in their homes. This used to bother me a lot until I figured out that if no one was watching me I could throw my food out of the window and the goats would eat it. And Dona Maura is thrilled that my appetite has improved so much lately, especially on fried salami nights.

The outhouse is padlocked every night after 9pm. I am at a loss to explain this. When I wanted to pee after 9, I used to go find Dona Maura and ask for the key. The response I usually got was "EH, DAH-VEED? WHAT'S THAT? YOU HAVE TO MAKE PEE-PEE!? WHO HAS THE KEY TO THE POTTY SO DAH-VEED CAN MAKE PEE-PEE!?!?" This was getting to be way too humiliating so to preserve my dignity I've started pissing in a Coke bottle in my room and then dumping it outside when no one is looking.

The computer lab in Juan de Herrera is still blacked out. We've taken a few trips to other towns to give some classes, though. It's incredible how fast these kids can learn to use a computer. I taught a girl today who didn't even know how to turn the computer on and in about three hours she was downloading Christina Aguilera videos from the web. (I tried to get her to click on a box marked "Neil Young" instead but she wasn't showing a lot of interest.) Ah, Christina Aguilera videos. Now this is what I joined the Peace Corps for. But the kids here are amazing. I could get used to teaching in this country.

Some of the other volunteers in my group have come up with cool spanish nicknames for themselves to spare the locals from having to pronounce their American names. I'd like to do the same thing, because everyone here pronounces my name "Dah-VEED," which sounds like a designer imposter fragrance or something. I still have a few weeks before I move to a new site where no one knows me, so I'd appreciate any suggestions before then.

Next time: We'll take a closer look at one of the Dominican Republic's most adorable creatures, The Latrine Roach, and the Peace Corps nurse gives a two-hour lecture on the heartbreak of vaginitis. Don't miss it!