Home Sings Me of Sweet Things

Having been home for almost 2 weeks now, gaining several pounds after eating the necessaries, taking many hot showers, and sleeping in a dream-cloud of a bed, I can safely say that I think I'm past the danger of reverse culture shock. So many people say that the adjustment associated with coming back is even worse than when you arrive in the host country, but I feel nothing but content and blessed to have and do all that I have had and done in just 2 weeks. Maybe it's because I know I'm leaving again (to Mozambique for a year with Peace Corps Response in August - blog lovers, hold on to your britches!), maybe it's because it's summer, or maybe it's just because I have incredible friends and family. Either way, it's oh so good to be home.

The “Swape” Swapper (written 4.13.10)

We inaugurated our Community Library on Sunday, with a ceremony and lunch for a hundred, followed by a cutting of the ribbon ceremony at the library and a long night of drinking and dancing. A typical campo party, but having traveled all week before (Tour de Sur!), my final energy reserves were depleted. So today I awoke leisurely for the first time in a while. I stretched, yawned, and wandered out onto my porch, where I did my morning surveillance. Porch decorations seemed to be in their normal places. Gate still locked, as I left it the night before. Trees, normal. Road, dusty. And my swape (pronounced “swa-pay”), or mop, was in the exact place I left it to dry after cleaning the day before. But somehow, it looked different. Closer observation revealed it to be not my mop at all, but in fact an older, mangled version of mine. It was missing many strands, which appeared to have been chopped off, and had a random number “90” painted on the handle. My detective skills led me to believe that one of the following occurred in the less than 24 hour period since I had last used my mop:

1) The residual Clorox and floor cleanser left on the mop after I was too lazy to rinse it in fresh water after cleaning ate away half of the mop strands overnight. As for the mysterious number “90”, maybe I just didn’t notice it before?
2) Someone snuck up to my porch while I was napping after vigorously mopping and snipped off half of the mop strands. They also happened to have a sharpie and left their numeral signature on the mop handle.
3) A really tacaño, or cheap, and sneaky individual switched my relatively new mop out for their gnarled one, and as I refuse to believe it was any of my immediate neighbors, must have planned this out and walked a considerable distance each way with mop in hand.
4) A dog ate half of my swape.

All of these explanations seem ridiculous, and are considerably amusing to consider. Maybe I’m just too easily entertained these days, but will continue to ponder until the matter is resolved to my satisfaction.

The Daily Grind (written 3.30.10)

Once a place becomes home, it’s difficult to continue writing stories about it as if it were unique, although I recognize that new and exciting experiences still characterize my daily life. After living on a small island for 2 years, going many of the same places countless times, you really begin to cherish seeing new places for the first time. After throwing a St. Patrick’s Day party at my house, complete with 20 guests, 20 pounds of “asopao” (Dominican stew), and live music, I received a visit from a brand new volunteer, who had been in the country less than a month and had yet to venture out of the capital. After sitting on my porch with 2 other volunteers for 9 hours straight – after all, she needs to get used to a slower lifestyle – we ambitiously decided to hitchhike to Maimon, a roadside town not far from my community and famous countrywide for its fried fish. We picked from the 8 or so restaurants one that provides clients with the opportunity to choose their own fish. Hungrily, we chose a giant red snapper and an equally impressive groupers (totally over 7 pounds of fish) which were quickly stuffed with copious amounts of seasoning and sent off to the deep fryer – vats of boiling oil over open fire. Pair this miracle-on-a-plate with several cold beers and French fries, and you’ve never spent a better 8 dollars in your life.

When my volunteer packed up to head back to the dusty capital, I joined her and proceeded to my medical clearance – 4 days of poking and prodding to make sure I leave as healthy as I came in, followed by interviews with my bosses. After receiving a clean bill of health, it was back to the campo…

Where I spent a mere two days just breathing in my house, and then off to another campo where two new-ish volunteers had invited me to teach them how to build one of the fuel-efficient cook stoves that were a big part of my service here. I arrived in Yasica with another stove builder friend who will also be leaving in May, and as we didn’t have anything to do until the next morning, we all settled in for a few drinks and street meat. One would think that after 2 years, my stomach would be so steely as to weather even the fattiest of “chicharrones” (real pork rinds), but this is apparently not the case. I can’t remember losing as many fluids as quickly as I did the next morning, and thank goodness for the friend that came with me and was able to take charge of the stove-teach. I was basically worthless until noon, and even then couldn’t move around much without almost blacking out. All things considered, the trip was well worth it as the motorcycle ride up to this mountain-top site was absolutely breath-taking. Even as I was stumbling into the woods to share the contents of my stomach with Mother Nature, I marveled at the beautiful sunrise and the view of the ocean over the mountains miles and miles away.

Back at home now, I finally have a moment to think, which these days, inevitably leads me to realize for everything I won’t miss about this unorganized armpit of an island, there are 2 things I will miss even more. Tonight, it’s being able to hear the exact moment when the rain starts on the roof, and listening to it drip off the leaves long after it has subsided.