This was my day yesterday.....I woke up at around 6, the light pouring into my room, but really waited until 6:30 to get up and try and beat the rush for the bathroom. There are 9 of us, and one bathroom, mostly boys, so you can imagine. It was pretty cool in the morning, and the cold rush of water down my back was a bit shocking, but refreshing. I decided to not wash my hair, and instead wrapped my hair in a long purple scarf, almost like a turban, the style here in my campo (I have not seen it in the capitol). The girls usually tie a small bow in the front, but I did mine in the back. I was a bit hesitant to leave the house with it on, knowing I would get the <why is the gringa wearing a hair tie?> looks. I went down to make my morning coffee and eat my usual breakfast – lechosa and yogurt, and if I am lucky, some cereal sprinkled on top. Of course, my lovely host brother called me grandma, when he saw me with my head scarf. He usually has some smart-ass comment for me, which for the most part, I try to ignore. I leave my house to take the next guagua. I am going to the campo (even more campo than my town, which according to the people from the capitol, is the campo) to visit and see one our projects. Luckily, and very suprisingly, the guagua leaves on time, every half hour, which is saying a lot, considering dominican time is at least an hour later. Walking down the street, I can already feel the humidity. The clouds have been hanging around, threatening rain, but it has yet to really rain despite the lightning and thunder that appears. Of course, I carry my umbrella. Walking down the street, I bump into a friend, who tells me I look like one of the highschool girls with my scarf on, which is a good sign. Then I bump into another friend-neighbor, a short older man, who shakes my hand and asks me how I am. I answer with the usual, <good, thanks> and he tells me <no, you are not good.> I know where this conversation is going, yet again. So I listen to him tell me, I am not good because I am missing something. A husband. <You don’t want to go home every night and be alone, do you? You need someone in your life, and then you will be perfect. Just as God intended.> There is something obviously wrong with me because I am not paired up, and/or I have no kids. As I have heard this many times before, I just nod, smile and nod some more. Somewhat of a ritual between us. OK, thanks. I keep walking, and I hear the pssst, and the motoconchista blows me a kiss as he drives by. It makes me laugh. I am starting to turn or look up with the pssst’s, and becoming less annoyed with that method of calling someone’s attention. Sometimes people forget my name, and that is an easier way to get my attention, even if it is just to wave a hello from afar.
I make it to the guagua stop, a few blocks from my house, and hop on. Sit in my favorite seat, near the front, so that when my stop is near, I don’t have to yell as loud to the driver (over the blaring music – of course. What guagua ride is complete without the loud music?), and if I am lucky I can just tap the cobrador’s shoulder and tell him to let me off. An older man sits next to me and see’s that I am reading. He asks me if it is a book on the bible (far from it) and starts to chat with me. He tells me, in a very nice way, that I am only accomplished if I have read the bible, and pulls out some religous brochure. He has only gone through the third grade, but he has read the bible, he tells me with pride. He gets off before me, and I enjoy the rest of the ride staring out the window daydreaming with the rural greenness before me. Sometimes I wish I really lived in the campo, even if it meant carrying water from the river. I know I would complain, but my life would seem easier in a very strange way. Finally I make it to my destination, and I hop off. With the threat of rain, most of the students have not come out to learn the woodworking that the community center offers. I hang around and catch up with the guys for a bit. I forgot my water, and so I walk about 5 minutes down the road to buy some water and crackers for us. They were thankful for it, but next time I have to buy more, because there is usually someone new who shows up and it is better to have extra than be short. I hang around for a bit, watching them work the wood. I hear my guagua coming by and I quickly run out, waving my arm to get his attention and stop for me. Thankfully, he did. This driver is fast, and we quickly make it back into town, safely. Walking back to my house, another motoconchista blows me a kiss. I smile. I am starving, and I eat my rice/beans mix, with some salad, and juice. I am starting to believe that a meal is not complete without their over-sugared juice. This makes the meal, according to them. Which is true, or it just may be that sugar addiction is my new best friend. I wait for the luz to come back, and I set out to do my laundry, which is always fun, especially now that they have moved the machine and the water pours out all over the floor when draining it. This is not your typical machine from back home. It is open, and I have to add the water to the machine. So I carry a small jug back and forth from these large buckets of spare water to the machine to fill it. I add my clothes and sit for about 15 minutes. Sometimes the outlet isn’t working so well, so I have to stand ther and hold it in. Not the safest, I know. Standing in water and holding the plug in for the machine to wash my clothes. I pray I don’t get electrocuted. I drain the water, and watch as it spills out onto the floor, knowing I am going to have to sweep and mop the water out the door. I transfer my soapy clothes into another bucket of water as my “rinsing” cylcle. I play with it, pretending that all the soap has been taken out, and then move them into the dryer. It isn’t a real dryer, it just takes all of the water out of the clothes. They still have to be hung out to dry. I hold the plug in again and wait. This happens at least two more times, for me to wash my separate laundry piles. What fun. Finally my clothes are washed and rung out, and they feel a bit soapy, but I pretend not to feel it, and hope for the best. That with the heat and humidity, I won’t sprout any rashes with my “clean” clothes. I then have to sweep the water out the door and mop it up as best as I can. I then take my night bath, and as I am finishing up, I hear the rain outside, which means I have to rush upstairs and move my freshly hung clothes that are near the edge so that they don’t get wet. Finally, I can fall into a deep sleep, with the rain, thunder and lighting outside my window.
And that was my yesterday.
As I write this, there is a lady in the room, half dressed (its a bit hot, but not that hot) ironing and talking to herself. When I first moved here, I tried to keep up with her discussion, but then I realized that she just talks to herself, and doesn’t necesarrily need a response. So she is my background noise every Sunday morning while I try to work or clean in my room. I love having her around, because even though she is supposedly religous, she says and acts in the most outrageous ways sometimes. People call her crazy, but I like her. In town she talks to herself, but she always has a big smile and sweet greeting when I meet her in the street.
