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.

La vida con hermanitas

I am blessed that I have lived my life without siblings. I never had to share my things, the remote, my time, my room, my personal bubble. I never had to follow around in someone's shadow or be nagged by someone trying to walk in mine. I never had to worry that there would be a place for me to study quietly or that someone had left the empty toilet roll instead of replacing it. Essentially, I was (and am) a spoiled brat.

But things change when you go to other countries. You have to learn to adapt. And I am certainly doing that -- more and more every day. I am used to the squished concho rides, the rapid foreign language, the piropos that every man shouts at every woman who walks by. What I am not accustomed to, however, are the littlest members of my host family -- my two younger "sisters."

Wrapped inside each of their cute and innocent exterior deceptively lies a loud, rambunctious, nosy, jumpy, clingy, whiny, and spoiled little girl. There are days when doing homework in impossible due to noise or interruption. There are times when I have to stand and count to ten so I don't hit a child for strewing my makeup across the room and the floor. I can't count the number of times that I've had my diet pepsi slobbered in, my camera confiscated, or my computer banged on.

And just when I think I'm on the brink of a emotional break down, they go and do something cute. Just to spite me.

Another note on boozing

I mentioned earlier that Dominicans drink - alot. One thing I have since noticed is that drinking, though plentiful here, is generally much more controlled than in the US. More often than not, enjoying an alcoholic beverage is more of a means than an end - even with the young people. In the US most students drink to get drunk - "let's get wasted!!" But here, alcohol is used more to loosen up and have a good time. You generally don't see someone have more than 3 drinks in a night - this would be a huge feat if a student were to only drink that much at Vandy!!

Visita a un Hospital Publico

On Tuesday, we took a "field trip" to the largest public hospital in the region. A hospital administrator told us that they receive nearly 1000 new patients a day. It was by far the worst experience I have had since I arrived here in the DR.

Almost the entire first floor of the hospital is open to the outside. Water dips from the outside into the common areas of the hospital and trash is built up in what I assume were intended to be aesthetic plant beds. The shrubs are dead from the numerous coke and beer cans that have piled there instead. The areas that aren't open may or may not have air conditioning - most of them don't and rely on ventilation from the open doors to other areas of the hospital. Even the trauma/ER have sparse air. I think that there may have been AC units in there, but the number of people that crowd the halls - patients, visitors, and staff alike - make the air more humid and oppressive than even the most sweltering Florida day. The trauma wards are overflowing with people that lay dying on unsanitized beds without sheets. People bleed through their bandages in the hallway as they await medical care and blood is splattered on the walls and mixed into the water and dirt that lines the floors. The smell of death and decay lingers in the hallways and wafts through the wards with the smell of vomit and spilled morphine.

The upper levels of the hospital are only marginally better. The floors are still caked with wet mud, and the walls sweat with heat. Once again, not everywhere has AC. Patients share rooms with at least 6 others and their innumerable visitors. Most of these beds have sheets , thanks to the family members who bring them. Otherwise, I am convinced that the hospital can't supply bed linens. Janitors closets are wide open and the already filthy mops are exposed to more dirt and disease. The possibility of hospital acquired infections is high as I am certain that the virulence has reached new heights.

Security at the hospital is essentially absent. Mom's walk with the newborns through the halls without matching bracelets and all the wards are accessible to the public without a visitor checkpoint.

When we left they told us to all but bathe in hand sanitizer. I wonder why?

Unfortunately we weren't allowed to take photos so my description of the hospital will have to suffice. I knew before we arrived in this country that the health care left something to be desired - I had no idea it would be this bad! It really was sickening and saddening the way health care is administered here. I guess that is the price the citizens pay for socialized health care in a poor country.

Una descansa - The First Real Weekend

One of the best things about the Dominican Republic is the nature - specifically the beach!!

In this photo we're on our way to the beach - La Playa Ensenada. It was a little early in the morning but we were really excited to go!!












Me and Grant on the gorgeous beach! There were mountains there (you can kind of see them in the background here). The beach was very secluded and difficult to get to (think 2 hours at 20 mph on a very bumpy road). But it was worth it! It was located in a small village that sold fresh fish, seafood, and tostones. And it was all delicious. Some of the best fish I have ever eaten!






The following night we went out with some local people... their bar of choice... TGI Fridays!! A little piece of home except the drinks are 800 times stronger.

Some fun before starting classes...

This is the entrance to my university here, Pontificia Universidad Catolica Madre Y Maestra (PUCMM). It is affectionately referred to as the Pucamyma. It is apparently the Harvard of the Dominican Republic. I don't know how it compares to schools in the US, though. All I know is that my classes are engaging and my teachers are eccentric.













This is a photo of 4 out of the 6 Vandy students on this trip. From left, Lauren, Grant, Dan, and me (looking horrible). We're at El Fogon, a bar near the campus unwinding after a long day of doing nothing (it was still before classes started!!). El Fogon is a really popular student hang out since it's so close to campus - also because they have huge TVs, play lots of American music, and have open bar with $3 cover on Saturday nights.

I had heard that Dominicans drink alot but I don't think I was prepared for how much they actually drink. It was way more than I imagined. Some people drink the national beer Presidente like its water. Others drink rum and cokes the same way (if they even add the coke...) There are no rules against drinking and driving and kids can legally drink at 18 - that rule is not very strictly enforced, though. If you can stand, you can drink. And you will never be carded by the bar tender or refused.




Not only does the city of Santiago have taxis, they have what are called "conchos." They're extremely cheap (only 13 pesos or about $.33 USD) for a ride, but they only follow certain routes through the city so you may have to go from concho to concho. One particularly special thing about conchos is that the drivers will put an additional 6 passengers in each car. So here we are, during a scavenger hunt through the city, all squished into the back of a concho. They're a spectacular way to get to know you're neighbor and have a good laugh. From left, Dan, Moira, me, and Grant.


This is a photo from the Cultural Museum in Santiago, one of the pit stops on our scavenger hunt. We were lucky enough to have a man take our picture who didn't try to steal the camera. He did, however, ask us for forty US dollars.









We won the scavenger hunt!! We decided to celebrate our victory with ice cream at an awesome chain here called "Bon." Everything comes in some sort of cone and nothing cost more than $2.50. (I love the exchange rate). Their Dulce de Leche is absolutely fabulous. If the boys aren't in the mood for a beer, we usually come to the ice cream shop for a frozen treat. It can really help on the hot and humid days (which are all of them...).

Mi familia anfitriona

I met my host family, la famila Vargas, on Sunday night (the day after I arrived). This picture is of my Abuelita y mis hermanitas (my grandmother and my little sisters). Abuelita doesn't live with us but she comes over every week day before lunch and leaves after dinner. My mom, July, works on some mornings as a legal assistant and is finishing her law degree at night. She wants to become a real estate attorney. My dad, Pedro, is a dermatologist at a local hospital. The girls just finished school yesterday so the house is VERY lively all the time.









This is Perla, the oldest of the two girls. She is unbelievable intelligent and has a very creative mind!! She is always coming up with new games for us to play, but her favorites are stil musical chairs and hide and seek. Tomorrow she is graduating from the first grade!! I actually think that Perla is going to teach me the most Spanish while I'm here. She is very pacient with me when I don't understand and can always take the time to explain new things to me.











This is me with the younger of the two girls, Yulisa. She is unbelievably playful (as you can see). She is the first one to run into my room in the morning once I open the door and always greets me when I come home with a big hug. She is difficult to understand sometimes but Perla always explains when I don't get it! But I am getting better!!







These are hearts that the girls colored for me on the first night I was here. They taped them to my bed so I will always know they love me!! My family is FABULOUS!










The family dynamic in this country is absolutely wonderful. I was embraced as the new "hija" the moment I arrived and was swiftly introduced to the grandmothers, aunts, uncles, and cousins on both sides of the family!!

I found it really interesting that all the homes here are centered around the dining room table unlike in the United States where the house is centered around the kitchen. Every afternoon at 1230 we have a huge family lunch. July and Pedro come home from work, I come back from school, and Abuelita and the girls are here too (and sometimes other family members and friends). It's awesome!! And this practice is not exclusive to my family. Almost everyone in the country does the same thing on a daily basis. How many families in the US can say that they share a meal with their entire family at least once a day? Not many, I bet.

The best part about coming home for lunch (apart from the time I spend with everyone) is the siesta. Two sweet hours of napping bliss. I'm never leaving this country. Everyone returns to work or school after siesta completely rejuvenated and ready to start the next part of the day. We need to start something like this in the US!

Welcome to the DR!!

Here I am! In the Dominican Republic!! What a relief to finally be here! I can't wait to jump right in!

I'm spending my summer in the DR for several reasons. First, I desperately needed to study abroad - while the United States is a fabulous place, I don't think one can have true appreciation for the country without seeing things from the perspective of another country. In my case, I chose to come to a developing country to better understand the people, their culture, and their government and policies - more specifically health care. Considering the possibility of imminent health care reform in the US, I couldn't have chosen a better time to look at a different system in action.

Second, I want to improve my Spanish skills; and there is no better place to do that than in a Spanish speaking country. Since the Dominican Republic is so close to the US, I thought I would be more likely to encounter their accent and dialect in Spanish speakers in the US than an accent from a country that is farther away (i.e. Spain).

Last, as I have already touched on, I have always had an interest in the medical field. Once upon a time I wanted to be a doctor, then a psychologist. Now I think I would like to work for the government in health policy. The program I am a part of here in Santiago, DR is focused on public health on an international level - specifically the differences between here and the US.

Regardless of what I decide to do with my future after this trip, I am certain that the trip will be fulfilling, educational, and eye-opening. I can't wait!

Here are a few pictures from my first weekend in the Dominican Republic.



This is our villa at the Casa Club for orientation night! The four boys stayed in the one side and Moira, Diana, Charisse, and I all stayed in the other side. We actually had another house guest...














We named him Oscar. There was another spider there too. I named him Don Pepe.













This is the monument that honors the restoration of the city from Spain. The Dominican Republic won its independence from Haiti years before the restoration, and I'm pretty sure they are the only Latin American country that won its independence from a country other than Spain!













One of my favorite things about this country is that I see my last name everywhere!!