I've decided to go to grad school

I had all but decided to give up on furthering my education beyond my bachelor's degree. I had given up the idea of being a doctor or a psychologist and therefore had no reason to apply to grad school. Little did I know, I loooove speaking Spanish.

Despite the excellence of the Vanderbilt Spanish department, there is only so much more I will be able to learn in the next year. To reach a level of true fluency I need some more time. I considered teaching abroad for a year, but, as many of you know, my patience is tried beyond breaking point when I spend too much time around large groups of children or those unfortunate enough to be unintelligent. Not only that, I would make only enough to live on and not really be able to enjoy my time in a Kate-like way in another country on such minimal pay. While teaching abroad is not something that I have totally ruled out, it seems unlikely for me.

How about applying to graduate school? !Que extraño! Then I found out that some US universities have abroad graduate programs and decided that I would very much enjoy a little more learning. Depressing as it is sometimes, I think I was born to be in a classroom for a great majority of my time on this planet. Considering my new-found passion for the Spanish language, a bit more of academic experience could only be a good thing. Not to mention, if I would seriously like to pursue a career using my Spanish, I need more practice, practice, practice. We'll see how it goes.

I AM HAVING FUN!

It has come to my attention that to those reading my blog it may seem that I am not having a good time. But I assure you that I am!! I would be lying if I said I wasn't ready to come home, but my experience here has been priceless and I would not trade it for a study abroad experience elsewhere.

On top of making great friends and strengthening existing friendships, I have learned so much about public health, Dominican culture, and the Spanish language. In addition, I have eaten the best fruit in my life, visited gorgeous beaches, dined at fabulous restaurants, earned good grades, bargained my way to great prices, and gotten a lovely sun tan.

It has been a trip of many adjustments. I am living with siblings for the first time, endure the hot days without air conditioning, kill cockroaches, sleep near tarantulas, nearly get into car accidents, and eat rice and beans until it comes out my ears. All these things have definitely caused me to pull my hair out on more than one occasion, but I am a better person for all these things! I have learned tolerance and patience and have a new appreciation for all the comforts that I take for granted in the US.

We actually did something in the Zona Sur!!

These are pictures of our clinic in the Zona Sur. The Zona Sur is an impoverished area here in Santiago where we "work" in the afternoons. I think I've already spent some time complaining about how we do nothing there and its a waste of my time. Well today, after we waited for an hour for the promoters to arrive (they were apparently stuck in a meeting and couldn't come get us at the scheduled time) we did a a "charla" about STDs with some of the people in the neighborhood. No one knew ANYTHING! Its so surprising to me because they really didn't even know what an STD was. In the US, everyone knows at least something about STDs.

These pictures are of our clinic and the area surrounding it. The clinic is extremely nice (and a huge step up from Salcedo. Alth0ugh, like all places here, there is a lack of soap at all the sinks. Lovely for health care. The last photo is of our one promoter, "chicitita" and Moira. The woman is literally 4 feet tall. I have to bend over to hear her and I feel so bad. I met her son and he is a BIG man. It makes no sense that she could produce a 6'5", muscular, man. But it happened. I should know by now not to be surprised by anything I see here.

Dinner with the bats...

The evening of the 4th we went out for dinner at one of Santo Domingo's finest restaurants, Meson de la Cava. It is literally underground in a cave!! It was by far the coolest restaurant I have ever eaten in... and the food was delicious too. Well at least mine was... Grant tried chivo for the first time and hated it so much he gave it all to Dan (who didn't like it that much either but ate it because he didnt want to be rude like Grant!). I tried the chivo as well but I have to say it was the most disgusting meat I have ever eaten in my life. And if you don't know what chivo is... its goat. It tastes like bad stew meat. Fatty and stringy. Gross. But Dominicans love it - it comes close to being a delicacy! YUCK!


This is me with my closest group of friends here. We quite literally do everything together. Walk to and from class, eat meals, share stories, work in the clinics, do homework, procrastinate, etc. From left: Grant, Moira, Dan, and me. All of us go to Vandy except Moira! But we're already planning on visiting her at PSU!







This is the whole group of the students on the program! There are 25 of us in total and we are, for the most part, a good looking group. We at least all clean up really nice! We're in the hotel lobby here waiting to leave for dinner. Apparently the hotel had just undergone renovations - they went from classic Spain to modern Miami!!






One of the promoters that works in my clinic is literally 4 feet tall. Which is outrageous since I'm 5'8". I literally have to bend over to hear her!! Everyone calls her "chicitita" which means little little girl. This is Grant posing as my chicitito. He said he felt short next to me when I wore my heels!














This is the Vandy crew looking snazzy! We make up over 20% of students in the program!! In the back are Dan and Grant. In the front from left: Lauren, Me, Rebecca, and Maggie.










We were the last people to get on the bus, but to our surprise, the bus was completely empty!! All 21 of the other students took the other guagua - it was over capacity! But we got a personal tour! I'm just glad we weren't left behind!!









This is the restaurant! Like I said its one of the country's best and certainly the most unique! The food was great and the wine pouring was liberal... A fabulous choice for our dinner!











When you arrive in the restaurant, you have to take a spiral staircase down to the dining room. Grant and I smile for the camera while I hope not to trip over my BCBGs! The girl behind us is the eldest daughter of our program's director.








Like I said, one of the coolest things about the restuarant was that it was in a cave!! From back; me, Moira, Rebecca, and Jessica. We're just exploring some of the many nooks and crannies in the restuarant!







I would like everyone to pay special attention to how fabulous my hair looks. Thanks, Uncle Joey!!

The first city

This past weekend we all went to Santo Domingo. It was a nice chance to get out and do something (on the program's dollar - well really ours I guess) and not think about all the fun I was missing in Sarasota! GO PUMP IT!

Santo Domingo is a city of firsts. Not only is it where Christopher Columbus landed in the Americas, it is the site of the first school, cathedral, and hospital (etc) in the Americas. The city is beautiful and has a lot of culture. They are currently restoring some of the oldest buildings to maintain the charm.

Another nice thing about the city is they are used to having tourists so a gringa like me walking down the street doesn't cause quite the stir in does in Santiago. I still wasn't an anonymous person but people don't think twice about an American's presence in the city.


This is a monument built along the road where the dictator Trujillo was shot and killed. Obviously, Trujillo's reign was not well received or pleasantly remembered. If anyone has read the book or seen the movie "In the Time of The Butterflies" or knows the story of the murders of the Mirabal sisters knows a bit about Trujillo and his cruelty and desperation to maintain power. Three of the Mirabal sisters were en route to visit their imprisoned husbands when some of Trujillo's men cornered them and beat them to death. They put them back in the car and pushed it into a river to make it look like a car accident. And that is only one of the horrible stories that accompanies Trujillo's power. Sooooo they noow have this odd looking statue to honor those who were part of the plot to assassinate him and to demonstrate Trujulillo's selfish social blindness.

This is a picture of Grant and I walking down the first street in the Americas! Calle de las Damas. It leads from the port to the fort... or what remains of it. Not far from this street lie the remains of Christopher Columbus (supposedly). No one knows for certain where his body truly is. It was originally buried in Santo Domingo and has since been moved. Some people maintain it is in Cuba (mostly Cubans) but the Dominicans take pride in believing Columbus's body is here.




This is an example of common graffiti in the city. This one says, "when you were born your mom gave you milk, not drugs." i guess it was a bit of a public service announcement. But they're not all like that. One of my favorites was "wherever the devil will not go, send a woman."








This is a statue of Columbus in the first plaza of the Americas (whose name escapes me right now). The statue depicts Columbus pointing towards North America and a Taino indian climbing towards him for assistence. Dominicans tend to culturally identify themselves with the Spaniards before the Tainos even though alot of their traditions and favorite foods are native to the island (not to mention their appearance is distinctly islandish).











Here we are in front of the first Cathedral in the Americas. In the back are Dan and Orlanj (A Haitian student at PUCMM who is one of our support students). In the front are Moira, myself, and Dana. Obviously this is a Catholic church - it is absolutely beautiful. The original architecture has been preserved as well as its old city charm. We didn't have a ton of time to explore,though. There was a service about to start when we got there!


For more information and photos of Santo Domingo, visit http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Santo_Domingo or http://dr1.com/travel/santodomingo/

More on my host family...

This is a picture of my family that was on July's (my mom's) camera. From left, Perla (6), Don Pedro, Yulissa (5), and July.

It's kind of hard to tell in this picture but Don Pedro is 30 years older than his wife who is only 31. Talk about robbing the cradle! He was married before and has 3 other children.

I would also like you to take a close look at what July is wearing. It is MY SHIRT!! I know this because it was in a different place when I left for Salcedo than when I came back. Also because when they left me home alone yesterday I looked in her closet. I felt bad at first for snooping but then I realized that my host mom wore my clothes. Not only did she wear them, she had to seek them out from a drawer in my room. Fun times.

US relations

The vast majority of Dominicans love the US. They wear our clothing labels, eat at our food chains, sing our songs, and learn our language. And they dream of getting out of here and settling down in FL, CA, or NY. We have no anonymity here because our skin is not as dark and we speak bad spanish, and everywhere we go we can just about guarantee that someone will shout something to the effect of "Oye Gringo!! Americano!! " which is often followed by some awful interpretation of an english phrase. They're not poking fun at us - just marveling that we are in their country. Most of them want to know more about us and our lives and culture.

But today I encountered my first anti-american sentiment. Well, I'm assuming it was anti-american because the word "gringa" was shouted as the child threw a brick at me. He missed. Everyone was really mad at the kid. And one guy ran after him but he was fat and didnt catch up to the kid.

I have been assaulted by someone half my size. I want to go home.

Disorganized Dominicans

The extent to which these people are disorganized is going to stress me into an infarction by the time I leave. The most interesting part about their lack of organization is their pride that they are, in fact, organized.

For example, Professor Valdez, who teaches a class on community medicine (and by teaching I mean she gave us a huge packet that we are expected to learn on our own because she doesn't do anything in class but babble about nothing of relevance), requires that we work in a clinic in the city for 4 of our next five class periods. We will go at 3 and return at 6 and are expected to aid the doctors. THE DOCTORS GET OFF WORK AT 330!! We told her this and she said we were lying and/or mistaken. I know that my Spanish is not super, but I don't think that it was possible for my group AND 11 other groups to all misunderstand the same message. Essentially while she thinks we're taking blood pressure (not because of our lack of informing her, but because of her inability to admit she planned something poorly) we will really be paraded around the town on foot so all the Dominican nurses can show off their gringos. Fabulous.

And yes, I do mean paraded around town. There are not many Americans who visit the inner parts of the island and therefore, the people are not accustomed to seeing white skinned people in person. While I was expecting a certain amount of staring, I was not ready for the shouts and pointing that incessantly follows us around. And those Dominicans that are lucky enough to be walking around with us are celebrities. The upside to being white is that we get a certain amount of things free. Corner stores may comp us an item, people will give us snacks, and we can get to the front of the line faster. White privilege has a whole new meaning here.

Life with sisters... revisited...

So I have spoken to you once already about the "joys" of having sisters. I thought I would share some photos of the damage they have done to my life since I've been here.

Despite the close family unit, the children are not always the best behaved. They are mostly spoiled brats who are allowed to do whatever they want whenever they want. Case in point, they destroy my stuff and don't get punished for it.


This is what is left of my compact after it was dropped somewhere. Its a good thing I don't wear alot of make-up.













And this my computer. It is now missing a key. Typing is fun. Love it.

A week in the "bush"

This past week I had the distinct pleasure of spending 8 days in the campo (read: fly infested, lack of power, hot as hell, parasite breeding ground). Despite its delightful location in the middle of nowhere, I had a horrible time. Apparently there is an expression "Jews don't camp." Well I have news for the Jews... neither do I.

If the cold showers, lack of fans, nothing-to-do-after-8pm,and flies covering my burnt rice were not enough to make my trip horrible, then the doctor with which we were forced to stay with iced the cake. She was a miserable, insufferable woman in her early 30s who doted on me, her Kahtay, and forced Moira into servitude. She would not permit us to go anywhere without her and she never wanted to go anywhere, except for to the beach.

That day she made us ride with a man who was too drunk to speak and almost drove us off a mountain. 3 TIMES! Moira and I finally had enough, got out of the truck, and screamed at her. Unfortunately, even my hottest temper cannot rival that of a dominican woman and the fault for the bad situation was placed upon us. Then she threatened to leave us alone on the mountain if we didnt get in the car with drunky mcgee. We flagged down a taxi. Happy times.


This is Moira's and my room. Notice the lovely mosquito nets. While they are extremely practical, they manage to keep any air out. When you sleep inside one (especially when there is a lack of fan) you feel like you are slowly dying of heat and suffocation. Fortunately for me, I was so miserable my body felt there was nothing better to do than sleep, so I didn't have much trouble . In fact, one day I woke up at 7 for work, realized they weren't seeing patients and went back to bed at 8:30, woke up at 11:30 for lunch and then took another nap from 1 to 3:30. I woke up every time covered in sweat. It was fabulous. And I smelled great.







This was the exterior of our clinic when we arrived. Chipping white paint, bars on the windows and doors, barbed wire fencing surrounding it on all sides. Not much of a sight. The inside of the clinic was not much better. Although there were four consulting rooms, only two of them were actually used. One room was or "admitting" of sorts. Both doctors spoke with patients in that room. In front of God and everybody (meaning all the other patients that were cramming into the room to see the doctor) the doctors took blood pressure, checked lymph nodes, looked down their throats, listened to their hearts, asked them questions about their health and wrote prescriptions. Only a few patients were taken into the other room - people getting vaccines, having private parts examined, or getting wounds cleaned.

There was one woman who came into the clinic that had had a growth removed at the hospital 4 days before. The doctors at the hospital had failed to give her antibiotics and without proper cleaning (she was only cleaning it with baby shampoo because she didn't buy the stuff she was supposed to clean it with) the once dime-sized wound had grown to the diameter of an orange. It was leaking yellow puss and was exposed nearly to her shin bone. Our doctors cleaned it with saline every day she came in and gave her some antibiotics but I did not see any improvement. One of the doctors told me that with their limited medications the wound may not heal. Even the clinic didn't have proper things to clean it with or strong enough antibiotics. Unfortunately, the socialized health care system does not allow anyone to go to the hospital until they need surgical procedures or other mechanic procedures (mammograms, MRI, etc) done. Essentially, until her leg was gangrenous, she was stuck hoping it got better off bare minimum care.


This is part of our group that went to the beach the second day we were there. From left, Maria, Moira, me, and Natalie. There were 4 other students, 4 doctors, and two creepy men that came with us as well. One of the men, Luis, is the one aforementioned who nearly drank us over the side of a mountain later in the day. (He stopped every 30 minutes of the 4 hour drive back from the beach to take a few swigs from the bottle of rum). Like I said, our doctor was mad at us for getting out of the truck and refusing to get back in, but later she admitted to us that she was frightened for her life as well.

I think her violent reaction to us on the mountain was a product of the "machista" society here. Basically, whatever a man says, goes. And women don't have the right or the place to stand up against them. Our doctor was succumbing to the societal pressure put on her to not insult or go against the man driving the truck. It's sad that she was willing to risk her own life (and ours) to keep with the norms of her society.

Never have I felt so oppressed as a woman. Not only were the men in the truck trying to force us into an unwelcome situation, but so was a woman! She was willingly putting her personal rights aside and pushing ours away with hers. The whole situation was frightening, embarrassing, and deprecating. Someone pointed out to me later that the Dominican Republic has never had any form of social rights movement like in the US. For this reason, many social groups are still oppressed. What was most surprising to me was that Dominicans closely follow and sometimes idolize life in the US - why hasn't someone then questioned their country's ideals and tried to change them?



As I said before, we weren't in the best area. Outside of the two major cities and the tourist areas, the country is very poor. This is a typical example of the homes in the DR. They are crude cement blocks, sometimes painted sometimes not. Trash covers the sides of the roads and surrounds the homes. Kitchens are generally a separate building in the back. They may or may not have traditional ovens or stoves - some just have "fogones" or wood burning stoves. Despite their poverty, the people here are very generous. The man who owned the fruit stand next door gave us plantains, bananas, mangoes, oranges, and coconut water everyday. Some other people in the neighborhood would bring us rice and beans or tostones. Everyone we saw invited us in for a snack and some cola. I coulnd't believe their hopsitality! They barely had anything but they were still willing to share it!


Those big red things coming out of the trunk of the tree are cacao plants! CHOCOLATE! Pretty cool! There was a big cacao plantation right across the street from our clinic. One of the workers took one of the cacao and broke it open for us to look at the seeds. They're white!! They're too hard to eat, but when you suck on them, they taste like powdered sugar! Apparently to make chocolate you have to roast and mash the seeds. But I can't bring seeds home (sorry Karen) so I'll never know.