Notes from Home Stas

@font-face { font-family: "Cambria"; }p.MsoNormal, li.MsoNormal, div.MsoNormal { margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; font-size: 12pt; font-family: "Times New Roman"; }div.Section1 { page: Section1; }

2-4 We are waiting for breakfast at our home stay. The fires are lit- the water on and they have started our coco. Ahhh... the cinnamon, cloves,  and yes a orange tree branch right off the tree. I want to go watch I will pass this on... Louise

Waking up nice and early to the sounds of roosters, dogs and babies crying. we are tired, filthy, and having an amazing time.

Expecting the local kids (Kiko, Adrian, Meli, Alex, Felipe) to come running up at any minute; they’re early risers. Surprisingly, I got a little sunburned, but it’s fading pretty fast and turning copper...Olivia

I met the love of my life. Jorge. I don’t know how I’m ever going to leave him.

Sophie

It is hard to overstate how adaptable, and seemingly happy, all the kids (every single one) are here in Tres Ceibas. It is also hard to overstate how different the living conditions are here from what anyone has at home. I guess the fact that they actually do have electricity, which usually works (as far as we can tell) on a predictable every other day basis (except when it doesn’t), maybe exceeds our expectations (although the only use of this modern technology is for the one light in a house (or the second one they wired up for our “dining room”) and the scratchy televisions in maybe half the houses). Little else here raises life much beyond the poorest of communities anywhere on the planet, with little changed in lifestyle or supplies from life 100 (or 1000 years ago).

The huts made of Palm Leafs for walls and roofs now are mostly reserved for the outdoor kitchens, while the houses may be of concrete blocks, or thin pieces of handcut wood with plenty of spaces for natural air conditioning that allows us to be surprisingly chilly at night. Dirt floors are as common as cement, and walls are merely dividers of small spaces that do nothing to muffle sound or promote privacy. The rare outhouses are the least whole of structures (maybe too much work for something that will be blown down in the next big storm, or moved in a few months when the whole fills). One outhouse serves our three residences here, another for a couple houses down the road.

And yet, every one (meaning our kids as well as our hosts) seems more than comfortable. Every kid is probably more healthy than at home. We are active (if you count waiting around for the next thing in classic flexible Dominican island time) from dawn to dark, the food is healthy and hearty (Patrick being the eating champion and hoping to stay here for life he so enjoys the cuisine), and our only means of transport is by foot—up to the field to work, to the school, to “town” for afternoon basketball, “20 minutes” to the river to swim (which is about 30 minutes longer than the “20 minute” walk to the fields where we are clearing a field for yucca and sugar cane planting sometime in the future.

And every kid is amazing in rising to the task of speaking Spanish. In many ways, it seems better that there is no teacher or guide to act as translator. Our days are spent playing with the kids, working to communicate with adults, speaking without hesitation. Even Phillip, who turns out to have a great ear for Spanish and a great memory, is finding the same phenomenon as everyone else of beginning to struggle to speak English when we are together just ourselves.

My big concern is that we will be “bored” when we get to the more civilized life that is really only about 5 miles away, but seems to be another world from our idyll up here in the green, tree lined hills. I wonder if we will be overwhelmed (or unimpressed) by the food choices, turned off by all the noise and commerce (although seeing how well we supported the local tienda once we got some pesos, I imagine access to more soda and sweets (and frozen treats) won’t be disappointing), turned off by finding so many other “tourists” in our midst.

I trust the kids will take these next experiences in stride, as they have everything so far—open to the whatever come our way, taking it all in, appreciating the chance to appreciate life in all its many colors.     RG

Sweaty 45min walk to the river. On the way there we go through cow land, tree fence/orchard land, hill land and Dino land. Once we get there we are all immediately reminded of VT land.

    nggggtttttgghxvm,./ mjjszz         wwwwwwwwwww

-from meli

as you can see from above one of the local children meli has been hanging around with us a lot. she’s fascinated by every little thing we take for granted and helps me to appreciate everything that we have at home. the idea of having a clock on my wrist is a foreign concept as are cameras. meli is floating over me as i type this wanting to keep pushing these buttons making this very difficult to write. but there’s water to be hauled, land to turn, and children to entertain, so i guess it’s time for me to say “adios”-starcie

I think I’m going to stay here forever because I met this boy, Jorge, and I really like him a lot.  -Kailey

What amazes me the most about being here are the different sounds I hear in the morning. I wake up to high pitched chirps, roosters squaking, dogs barking, and the occasional motorcycle. Once I open my eyes in the morning I am usually up for good, because the sounds keep me awake. I will lie in bed for hours sometimes, listening to the sounds, taking it all in. I am not used to being waken by these sounds, and although it is annoying to be waken at 5 in the morning by them, these are sounds I will never forget, and I appreciate them.

I love being at the homestays here, life has a laid back feel, but the people here get so much done. When Manya and I go into our homestay at night, there are at least 5 people sitting in our house, watching TV (if the power is on) or just sitting by candle light. They ask us questions, which Manya can understand, and I can understand little bits and pieces. I do more smiling and nodding here than I do at home, that’s for sure!

Spanish is surrounding us 24/7, and it is hard sometimes. I feel bad because it is hard to communicate with the kids, and I have to say “Que?” a lot. But it is definitely getting easier to communicate than the first day.

Being here makes me realize how much I take for granted at home. It will be weird to go to another town in a couple of days, we’ve just gotten into the swing of things here. But I am excited for another adventure, and I love every second of being here!!! Adios!

-Raquel

It is some what anachronistic to be typing on this computer in the “kitchen” as the women make breakfast. The stove is three small cubes defined by concrete blocks, sized to hold one of the 3 blackened and dented pots that produce everything we eat, and the 4 rocks that keep the pots from rocking from their assigned spots. Even fire making is simplified, using one match if possible, then carrying fire to other houses to save energy (literally). “Counterspace”  is one 2’x3’table, surfaced with the newest in acrylic paint—the one hard surface for chopping vegetables into the tiniest of pieces for easy cooking. The other flat(tish) surface is two hand hewn boards propped up by three sticks. The rest of the kitchen holds 4 filthy sheetrock buckets used to haul water, the prized motorbike keeping dry for the night, the big 60 gallon lidded, blue drum that holds the ”good” water we haul up every third day and one of the 4 clean sheet rock buckets that are shared by all the houses for this task. The sun total of the other kitchen supplies consists of the single sharp knife, empty tomato paste can for scooping water, a few pieces of wood to burn, a plastic canister of brown sugar, another smaller canister of salt, a plastic jug of oil, some odd yellow container of mixed spice., the broom made with some green twigs, and three gray and worn towels.

At the same time, the contrast with the new technology of the computer is not so odd in this ever more connected world. Although we feel so far from the modern world, we are really only a few miles from the resorts that provide the biggest sahre of economic wealth (beyond remitances which are the DRs biggest source of income). And electricity brings light and television and radios that blare out for much of the day (and seemingly lessens any traditional music making in favor of the “hits” brought in from afar).

But absent the wonders or distractions of home, our kids find wonder in the most simple of things—the soda from the tienda, the ice cream bars from Felipe the traveling ice cream seller, a little baked cookie, washing clothes together by hand in a bucket, finding someone who speaks some English, recognizing another of our friends we have met in passing. In our last full day, the kids want to stay longer here, where they feel so comfortable and at home. There is much on the agenda for today—returning to the English speaking lady Phillip met yesterday afternoon, watching the basketball game scheduled for 4 or 4:30 (or whatever time the teams are ready), hanging out with the nail painter Louise has helped with homework, seeing our various friends up here in the Campo and “downtown” at the basketball court. And we still have the field to pick ax, turning over the soil by hand that will soon be planted in beans and yucca to provide one more source of food that inexplicably seems like it would never have happened without our work.  RG

I can’t hit snooooooze on my neighboring rooster! It’s really great to wake up early because it’s the only, kind of, calm time.