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The other day my host brother name Yonatan (it’s spelled with a “Y” here) was arguing with his mom about how to spell his name. She insisted it was spelled Yonatna, which he was obviously forced to dispute. She then said, “well it’s spelled ‘Yonatna’ on your birth certificate”. His counter-argument consisted of some smart-ass comment that earned him a quick smack in the mouth. She then finished the argument by telling him that he wasn’t raised right (malcriado).
The issue: An argument with your own mother about the spelling of the name she gave you.
The result: Receive a smack in the mouth and get blamed by your mother for the bad upbringing that she gave you.
The lesson learned: Knowing how to spell will only hurt you, literally.
On a separate note, (yet for some reason still being related to violence), they celebrate Carnaval here, which is kind of similar to Mardi Gras except way more painful. People with crazy flamboyant costumes walk along the street and carry air-filled dried-out pig bladders attached to a rope. If you are a spectator watching from the sidewalk, you’re safe. But if you’re caught walking in the street or standing on the sidewalk with your back to the street, your ass gets pelted by a pig bladder that’s swung at full force by a man in a silly costume; it feels equivalent to getting spanked with a baseball bat. You’re thinking: easy enough, just stay on the sidewalk facing the street. Easier said then done. With the beers flowing nonstop, you start to forget about the consequences of putting your guard down; in fact, you start giving and 
taking dares to get a bladder beating from the biggest dude on the street. The next day, my ass was so bruised I could hardly sit down. Next year I’m going with a pillow shoved down the back of my pants.
taking dares to get a bladder beating from the biggest dude on the street. The next day, my ass was so bruised I could hardly sit down. Next year I’m going with a pillow shoved down the back of my pants.
As far as my water project goes, I’m still faced with the same problem but the politicians claim to be “working on it.” In the meantime, I’m starting a youth group called Brigada Verde (Green Brigade), which will be a club to promote environmental awareness and go on cool trips. I now have my English class more organized with a beginner and advanced class. I’ve moved into my new house, which is on top of a convenience store. I intend to set up a pulley system so that I can go shopping without having to walk out the door. I pay US$118 per month which includes daily lunches.
Strange Dominican Superstitions:
- If you take a cold shower while you are sweating, you will be forever stuck with this goofy look on your face.
- If you walk on the cold ground with bare feet, you’ll die. No one can tell me of anyone who has actually died from this.
- Eating black pepper makes you sick.
Dominican word of the day: vela
Vela means candle. But more importantly, it refers to the series of social events after a person dies. The reason I refer to these velas as social events is because that’s exactly what they are. People show up, sit in plastic chairs, talk, then eat the free lunch that is dispersed in personal take-out boxes, drink free coffee, talk more, play dominos, and then leave. There might be a few people praying off to the side, but for the most part, you don’t hear a thing about the person who’s death you are supposedly mourning. The first vela is held on the 8th day after someone dies. Then there is a vela on the month anniversary of the death for the first 6 months, and once again on the year anniversary of the death. The velas then continue for every year anniversary for the next 6 years. That’s 14 free lunches if you stick around long enough.
This is why I have started participating in what I like to call “vela crashing”. In the 4 months I have lived in my community, I have been to 6 velas to “show my respects” to 6 people that I never met in my entire life. I also ate exactly 6 free lunches. If you’ve seen Wedding Crashers, you know that grief is ultimate aphrodisiac; well apparently here in the DR, grief makes you hungry, crazy hungry. I would feel bad but I’m certainly not the only one who vela crashes. Some people even send their kids to velas with orders to bring back 2 or 3 boxed lunches. If you recall the story from my previous blog, I was offered sex by two prostitutes while I was attending my first vela. Conclusion: velas have a lot to offer.
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