Santo Domingo Day 2

This picture seems so long ago- a whole five days but I haven't gotten the kids new pictures up loaded. They were playing games our last night in the Campo. We have written some more "I ams" so I will many are in journals but here I the ones I have...

The road to the beach in Sosua is lined with touristy shops, selling Haitian art and wooden masks and junky souvenirs. Our group is a welcome target for the first sale of the day and the vendors pounce, inviting us in, “Looking is free.” Most of the kids are put off by this, feeling intruded upon, pushed around, and respond with disdain or anger. But these sellers, mostly Haitian men, are only doing their job, trying to make something to send home to family, to survive living far from home. On the walk back in the afternoon, we challenge the kids to talk to these guys as people, not to buy but to connect. Our walk back takes an hour—learning about the damage from the earthquake, speaking French, shaking hands, sharing smiles—and not having to buy anything to gain so much.

I am jumping off a ledge into water of questionable depth. The water hits me with a slap of reprimand for my foolishness before begrudgingly allowing me in.

I am dancing to the meringue beats. On Friday night with so many people dancing in such a small space, you get to know your partner pretty well. The beats move my hips and make my heath pound. I’ve never experienced anything like this, feeling so free, in the music, in the moment. My hair is frizzy, my body is sweater with each spin. Cramps begin to swell in my lower body, but I don’t care. I just keep dancing.

 I am excited as I stand outside this brick wall but yet I am still waiting to see the inside.

I am lying in bed. I am awake, and it is 1am. I feel my bed shake as Starcie, who is sleeping on the bunk below me, rolls over. A horn honks outside, I hear loud voices out side. In our room , the lights are off and the fans are on. I try to fall back to sleep, but a siren goes off outside (many cars here have sirens on them, not just emergency vehicles). I start thinking about how I should be sleeping to be well rested for tomorrow’s adventures. I try to sleep, but the sounds keep me awake. Eventually I don’t care that I am not sleeping and just listen. What are all these sounds?

I am in the oldest gringo city in the “New World”. For me, it’s a contradiction; old, but young, impressive and oppressive. Behind the centuries-old edifices, there are histories that are stunning in scale and yet, they attempt to hide the means through which they were created.

I am so curious at to who the person is who put these wonderful paintings here on this earth.

I am sitting in the pool listening to one of the best Irish accents that I have ever heard. My friends outside of the pool have taken even more of a liking to this man. they ask him to say phrases like “they are after me lucky charms” and “top of the morning to ya” and then doing little dances to show their enthusiasm to meeting their new friend. 

I am packing in a car with four people on three seats. I am driving and dancing to the beat of “Christian Music,” that is absolutely filled with profanity in Spanish. I am taking in the sights of the new city we are in, Santo Domingo. I am lying down finally getting some nice rest that I feel as if I had earned and really wanted.