Cabarete, otra vez! (A last family getaway before school starts . . .)

We stayed for the weekend again in a condo with this gorgeous tropical garden view from our balcony.  Especially when the kites start up, it's amazing.

We love this beach at the edge of Cabarete, right near a kite surfing, trapeze teaching, Spanish language schooling, healthy restaurant hotel.  The food's good over at the hotel's beach front cafe and the kites are beautiful in the afternoons.  We do have to be careful of kite surfers if we go to the beach late afternoon--they wait to start surfing until the wind really kicks up, and can get pretty close to our swimming children.  At that part of the beach, the wind is so hard in the afternoons that it's hard to walk and sand stings your legs and arms.

The great thing about the beach there is that it's so beautiful and isolated.  Even the vendors, who are many, in Cabarete, don't come as far as our beach.  Just the peanut brittle salesman.  And once we saw someone selling lemoncelli, which is like little mini-limes that taste like key lime pies with enormous pits.

Sometimes we swim in the little pool behind the condo, where we're protected from the wind and can relax in the water.  We're beginning the second year of our family adventure here in the D.R. (or R.D., as they write it here), and we're praying that it's another good one, with lots of growth and joy in the midst of our challenges.

Two Hilarious Internet Timewasters . . .

OK, I don't usually do this, but tonight, I can't help myself.  I'm putting internet humor clips on my blog. Here's for a good laugh:

1)  I love this video, here's to you Owen!





2)  These pictures could be from any of our photo albums, well, most of them.  Hello 80's!

Awkward Family Photos

10 Year Milestone!

Owen and I had our 10th anniversary yesterday!  Wow, right?  :)  We were not on the beach yesterday, I am using a picture from a few months ago, we were out at an Italian restaurant and had a great night talking and reminiscing about the last 10 years and our move here.  God has been very good to us.

Spanish Acquisition Update

I thought it would be fun to post about our family's learning of Spanish.

I definitely started with the most Spanish of the five of us, and at this point I can usually understand whatever someone is trying to tell me (though I do often have to get people to repeat themselves throughout a conversation) and I can communicate what I'm trying to say--even if it sometimes feels like I'm playing Outburst with a store employee or friend: "I need that thing that you put in the sink to keep the water in the sink" (plug) or "Don't keep the blender on high, do like cchhhhh,  ccchhhhh,  cchhhhh" (pulse).  It has helped me that I do a lot of our shopping and interactions with others outside our home.  I've had to learn.

I felt good the other day with my Spanish level because I was able to catch an error and communicate it.  I called a pharmacy to get some medicine (they'll deliver a few pills at your house for you) for my son and after I got them I wasn't convinced by the packaging that it was the right strength (it was supposed to be 20 mg but didn't say that anywhere and there was a 50 randomly on the back of the pills and I thought, "Surely that can't be 50 mg?").  I called the pharmacist and he assured me it was the right strength and I explained about the 50 and still he still said it was right.  But then I said it was for a child and I wanted to be sure and he went and double-checked.  Then he came back and said, "Oh, sorry, we made a mistake, I'll send you the right pills."  And I thought, wow, I'm glad my Spanish is good enough to question him and make him check again.

Owen's Spanish will soon become more accurate than mine because he is more disciplined to do the Spanish drills on his ipad and he has a Latin background which helps him.  He will probably never sound as natural or conversational as me (occasionally someone makes my day by asking me if I'm from Spain--they can tell I'm not Dominican but don't think I sound American) but he is already starting to correct my word choices in Spanish just as he corrects them in English.  He will also never speak as fast in Spanish because he is just a slower processor than I am.  But all of the Dominican teachers in the school appreciate that their American boss tries to communicate with them primarily in Spanish and that he has improved so drastically in just one year.

Micah is our oldest and moved here just after he passed the window for easy language learning.  I read that through age six kids will easily pick up a foreign language through exposure.  Micah turned seven right after we moved here.  So he was the child I thought might have the most trouble.  But he had an excellent teacher at school who taught him so much last year, and we had him (and Jesse) tutored after school once a week.  He has a great accent and is acquiring a substantial vocabulary.  At first he didn't want to interact with anyone speaking Spanish.  But now, having heard Spanish spoken around him for a year and having the base from his class, he's willing to speak some with friends or adults.  While we were in the states (and I was worried that they may be forgetting all their Spanish) I quizzed him and his brother by saying things in Spanish and seeing if they knew what I was saying.  And I was shocked to find that he knew almost everything I was saying.

Jesse is at the same level as  Micah, but he picked up his Spanish from friends in his class.  While the school is taught in English, the kids in the pre-K classes speak almost no English.  So almost all of their communication is in Spanish, and Jesse picked a lot up last year just listening to his friends.  His accent is perfect (according to our best Dominican friend) and, although I am told I have a great accent, he'll correct me on the pronunciation of one of his friend's names and though I can't hear any difference in how we're saying it, I think he just has a more finely attuned ear for slight differences.  He's still in that magical age range to absorb language effortlessly.  He had never been able to roll his "r's" in the states, and he picked it up without trying last year.  I predict that he'll be able to speak like a Dominican in a few years.

Abigail's language learning fascinated me most of all.  She approached Spanish as she had approached English as a one year-old.  She turned two right when we moved here (right after, actually, so we could have her fly here as a lap child).  She was speaking clearly in English and had a huge vocabulary, she no longer used baby talk in English.  But hearing Spanish, she behaved like I would imagine an infant raised in a Spanish-speaking country would behave.  She didn't initially like if people spoke Spanish to her (and she really didn't like how often people wanted to touch her cheek and tell her "How beautiful, God bless her!").  But the longer we were here and the more she watched me speaking Spanish with people, the more I'd hear her echoing the sound of the words I'd just said, imitating me softly while playing or standing behind me.  I'd be on the phone or talking and it when I'd stop I'd hear the sound of the last thing I'd said echoed back. She'll pick up a book and pretend to read to herself in Spanish, and make very Spanish-sounding noises with some Spanish words mixed in.  And now she'll talk to people in Spanish some.  With fairly accurate Spanish, usually.  She'll throw in some made up Spanishy words sometimes and my maid will ask me what she said.  And I say, "I don't know, she's not speaking English either."

I find it incredible to see how well all three of my kids are doing using three different approaches to learning the language.

State Side Star Wars

We had an awesome visit to the states!  Here's our kids playing Star Wars with their cousins.  It was great to see family and friends, my kids were so excited about seeing their old friends and especially with playing with their cousins.  And I think I bought about two suitcases full of thrift and consignment store clothes.  And at least another one full of books (the boys are both reading chapter books and we really didn't have many at the house for them).  We had nasty virus and then strep throat for a good chunk of our time home, but still had a good visit (we finally saw a doctor a few days before we flew back to the DR).

We're back, we're getting into the swing of things again.  Our car battery was dead and our washing machine flooded a good section of the house the first load I tried to do, so that made things a little exciting, but we seem to be feeling home again and re-adapting well.  Spanish has stayed with us, contrary to my fears and despite almost no practice while we were in the states.  The all day heat takes some time to getting used to, it's really exhausting.  We were in air conditioning for those five weeks.

I owe my readers some blogs.  I'll get on it!  Sorry for the long silence.  :)

Caribbean Soda

 We bought some coconut milk (water) today as a last Caribbean treat   Usually we drink it out of the shells, which is by far the earth-friendlier option (and it looks really cool), but today as I watched the man fix the drink in front of me and mix it with sugar and ice, I thought, Hmmm, maybe it would actually taste good that way.  And, oh boy, it does!  The guy who lives up at the end of our street takes the tops off of the coconut with flourish: he taps the top with the knife, causing a little splash to come out, then sweeps the top off in one swift motion.  Normally this is the point when they hand it to me, but today I asked for the last fancy step.  He poured sugar into the shell and stirred it with a spoon, then put it in a cup with ice.  Wow, it's like the taste that soda is going for.  Delicious!

The Shirt Off His Back

I thought today it would be fun to write about some of my favorite parts of Dominican culture.  Some of the things that make me think, "Wow, these people are amazing!"

The inspiration for this post came today when I innocently told one of our friends (who was over for lunch after church) that I loved his shirt because the colors were so beautiful.  He told me, "Oh, I'll give it to Owen."  I didn't really take him seriously at first, though I did say something like "No, no!  I'm sure your wife likes it, too," but within a minute he was stripped to a t-shirt and handing a really nice Ralph Lauren shirt to Owen.  He meant it, he wanted Owen to keep it, it was the overflow of a generous heart.  A friendship here is a big commitment.  There is little one wouldn't do for a friend.

My maid is like that, too.  Any time I've complimented a hair clip or a bandanna or anything, she has tried to give it to me.  And she is not in any kind of a financial position to be doing that, so I do my best to keep her from giving or buying me anything, but she cares about us and looks for ways to give.

If someone here has any mode of transportation, it is loaded with people.  If you have a motorcycle, of course you will drive your neighbor or your sister-in-law and her child or whoever when you leave in the morning.  I often see bicyclists giving rides, and wow, seeing them on a hill I think, "That's friendship."  And of course if you have a car you can always give a ride to as many as ask you--I'm pretty sure my pastor's wife has given rides to about 15 at a time in their SUV.  And I mean, it's not that big.

It is humbling and inspiring.  I love that characteristic of Dominican culture.  It is so un-American.

Another characteristic that comes to mind is genuine interest in and compassion for children.  About a month ago, Abigail tripped next to the cafeteria line and cried to me.  A ten year-old boy we had never met ran over from the line to help her up and ask her if she was OK, with genuine compassion and interest.  My jaw dropped.  I tried to picture that happening in America, and I was just unable to conjure up the image.

At the pool a few weeks ago we ran into a twelve year-old  boy who had befriended us when we visited his church when we first arrived in the country.  At the time, he had given the boys a lollipop each week and practiced his English talking to us.  At the pool, once he remembered how he knew us, he joined my boys in playing Marco, Polo and spent a few hours playing with them--and a five and seven year age gap is no small thing.

And every time Abigail and I go onto the school campus to pick up Micah or Jesse (or these days, for her to go to class while I help in a classroom) she is greeted by no less than a dozen students on our short walk, sometimes considerably more.  Kids from pre-K through 12th grade try to talk to her and make friends.  And, again, she's two.

I guess what's so amazing to me is that while kids are kids everywhere, and there is some posturing and acting "cool" on the school campus, it does not require children to snub younger children and ignore their existence.  The compassion adults here show for children in every social context I witness is such that even their children exhibit the same kind of compassion for children younger than themselves.  I love it.

And as our visit to the states approaches, I thought I'd think about what I'll miss while we're gone.

Update

We had a sad loss at the school last week, and the teachers and students have all been hit hard.  There was a need for parents and community members to get involved.  I (along with others) have been helping out in some of the classes.  I've worked with kindergarteners, 2nd graders, 3rd graders, and 4th graders.  Jesse's wonderful teacher has been letting Abigail tag along so that I am free to be in classrooms, and she loves it.  It's been so many years since I've worked in the classroom.  It's been challenging, but I've also loved it.  I have been surprised and relieved, since I never taught the lower elementary grades, to conclude, "Wow, I really do love being around kids" (I mean in addition to my own, of course).  I was a camp counselor with middle elementary aged students in college and I ran an elementary after-school program for one year after teaching, but (contrary to what I expected) I actually think that having kids of my own has made me connect more with these young kids.  I would have guessed that I didn't have energy to deal with other people's young children at this point in my life, but I guess God just gave me the energy to do it, and it's been a great experience for me.  It makes me realize that I might be more ready to get back into the education/work world sooner than I thought.

I wanted to give some explanation for why I haven't been blogging and why I probably won't be for some time.  Got to go, have some volume, area, and perimeter tests to look at . . .  :)

Guava (Guayaba) Jelly

Guavas (guayabas in Spanish) make amazing jelly.  This was my second attempt.  The first time I made it, I left the seeds in, and it was a daunting challenge to eat.  This time was much more successful but took forever, because after cooking the guava and sugar (I didn't measure, just a healthy pile of sugar on top of whole guavas), I had to strain out the seeds.  Guavas are loaded with seeds.  And then I added some of the skins back in (which are soft and thick and tasty) while trying to leave behind as many seeds as possible.  The result: a gourmet jelly, in a comparatively small quantity.  Thanks for the guavas, Holly!

Honduran Tortillas

The Dominican Republic is home to casave (cassava bread, made from dried yuca) and sancocho (a soup with lots of kinds of meat and green bananas and yuca and potatoes).  But while I have eaten sancocho and figured out how to make garlic toast and french toast with the casave, I haven't learned how to make either one.  

What I have learned, from my Honduran friend, Ruth, is how to make tortillas Honduran style.  I first made them at her house, and now tonight I made them in mine.  The flour is an essential part of it, but I know that will be easier to find in the U.S. than here.  (Ruth actually told me that the one store that had it when she came stopped carrying it and she cried in the grocery store, tortillas are such a part of home for her--she was very excited to find that they sell it now at Bravo, our new grocery store which opened a few months ago, which thankfully also sells the only turkey lunch meat I've found here that looks like it's made of turkey.)  

Ruth showed me the steps for making homemade tortillas, and I'm going to show you how she does it.  It's not super fast, but it's not at all difficult.  I was so proud of my Honduran dinner tonight.  Ruth told me I was a regular Honduran "Doña."  

First add the flour to a bowl and some water until the texture is such that you can make a ball.    It's not necessary to measure, which is fortunate, since I pretty much never do.  (At some point here you want to heat up your cast iron griddle, or whatever griddle or frying pan or tortilla pan you want to use nice and hot--do not add oil, you make these dry.)

OK, next two steps:  Cut big circles out of a ziplock bag, you'll get two lying of the exact same size out of one bag.  Smoosh your ball into a patty, and then put it between the two plastic circles on top of a cutting board.  You put another  cutting board on top and lean your weight down until you have a big flat circular tortilla.  So it's cutting board, plastic circle, dough patty, plastic circle, cutting board.  

Then you peel the plastic off of one side of your tortilla, lay the tortilla onto your hand, and peel off the other piece of plastic.  If you're Honduran, there is an in-between-step here where you round the edges so that you have a perfect circle, but when I made them solo you can see I skipped that step.  Don't look, Ruth!

You lay them on the hot griddle and cook the first side for a minute or two, little cracks will form, then flip and do the same to the other side.  (The blackened parts of mine were caused by my messy grill--I was loading some finished ones with beans and spinach and cheese to feed my hungry waiting children before I'd finished all my tortillas and some cheese got on the griddle, yours won't get black edges.)  When you finish the second side you do something a little odd.  Flip back to the first side and press down firmly with a dry washcloth.  If it's done it will puff up in the middle, or where you've just pressed.  It's so cool

Finally, you just tuck the finished tortillas in a towel and wait for them to cool (or, better yet, eat them hot).

I made some blended red beans to go with it, because Ruth told me that's what you serve with them.  When I heat up the leftovers I will refry them, then they'll really be legit.  I made mine with some homemade salsa and extra cilantro, Ruth hasn't yet taught me how to make them.

Dominican Birthday Party

When Abigail turned one, we made a blueberry cake and blew up a few balloons.  My parents came over.  There were some presents.  She took some first steps.  It was an ideal party.  I'd say it registered at about a one on a scale of size, magnitude, and expense.

Such was not our experience at the party for our neighbor's son who just turned one.  Apparently here the one year-old birthday party is a really big deal.  It was at a facility that was decorated at the level I'd expect for a prom or wedding reception (though thematically a little different).  There were photographers, a clown, a juggler, a Mickey Mouse, a man on bouncy stilts, a dancer who also did face painting, a magician, two DJ's, an assistant, and a woman who did cotton candy and popcorn.

But the part that surprised me most of all was the volume of the music.  It was such that I can't imagine the one year-old could bear to listen to it.  I was of course considering the long-term hearing implications for my children.  But they were into it.  Jesse initially covered his ears, but once they started asking, "Quien quiere un premio?" ("Who wants a prize?") he was all in.  They had to clap and jump as loudly and enthusiastically as possible to win.  Abigail won one out of sheer cuteness.  I mean it's hard to compete with a tiny thing jumping with all her might.

Anyway, it was wild.  And I'd have to call it a culture shock moment for me.  Less "culture stress" which I've read is just the fatigue that comes from having to work harder to do every day kind of tasks, and more all out "culture shock."  My ears actually hurt.  And I found the clown a little scary.  But it was a true Dominican experience.

It was as if someone had seen my lame attempt at a one year-old party and said, "You call that a party?  This is a party!"

Las Terrenas y La Playa Bonita

We just celebrated Dominican Labor Day with a long weekend trip to Las Terrenas, which is in the region of Samana.  It was gorgeous.  Curved beaches with mountains and palm trees and cool rocks in the water.  And there are 60 different varieties of palm trees in Samana.  It's not an area where the beaches are developed, there aren't houses, just stretches of empty beach with occasional restaurants nearby.  It's incredible!  Owen's parents were visiting, and we had a wonderful time there.  We went to a different beach each day.  I wanted to share some photos from our trip:

The rounded beaches with mountains in the background made for stunning landscapes.

Highway view

The road cut through the mountains.

The grandparents with the family on the beach.

Right behind those bushes there was a man who took lunch orders in the morning.  Then he'd take a boat out, catch the fish, and fry it up with some plantains and potatoes on the side.

Saving the computer with rice

The spring rains have apparently started.  Today for the second time it's raining with hail.  We heard about the May rainy season, but didn't take it seriously until this weekend.

When we first came to the Dominican Republic, we made the mistake of leaving the windows open a few times while we were out of the house.  Well, there are windows everywhere to keep air flowing here, and the rain can come in at a right degree angle, so an unbelievable amount of water can get in within ten or 15 minutes.  While mopping up inches of water which had covered the floors in our absence, and anxiously testing out the electric piano to see if it was ruined, we vowed we'd remember to close the windows when we left the house every single time.  And we did stay serious about the windows near the keyboard.

But once the hurricanes were over (late fall), rain didn't come from any direction except the south.  We stopped having a strong respect for the unpredictability of the Caribbean rains.   If it rained at all, it rained in a reasonable manner, and at most we'd have a slight wet patch in front of a window if we left it open.  We were fine for about five months as long as we closed the windows on the south side of the house, and we'd close those pretty faithfully each time we left the house  We also seemed to (almost) always be home when it rained.

All this to say, we were unprepared for the torrents that hit our house on Friday afternoon while we were stuck on the Autopista (major road here).  By the time we got home we had an inch of standing water in several rooms of the house.  More problematically, the computer had been left open near the window next to the balcony, where normally it would be quite safe (it's not your average rain that blows across the balcony and into the living room).  And the computer was wet.  And it wasn't working.

Thankfully, I'd had experience getting water out of our front gate opener (after accidentally throwing it in the laundry in Owen's pants pocket).  Someone told me to put it in a plastic bag with rice for a few days.  And someone else told me to put it in the sun.  So I put it in a plastic bag with rice in the sun and had it working in a few short hours.

So when our computer wasn't working Saturday morning after the Friday afternoon rain exposure (I can't believe we didn't even deal with it until the next day), I put it in a bag with rice.  I didn't like the idea of leaving the computer outside in the sun, and plus it wasn't sunny, so I heated up the oven slightly and turned it off.  Then I put the computer (which was in the bag with the rice) in the oven.  I kept reheating the oven off and on for several hours and kept the computer in there for a while.  When I checked again I could get it to go onto Windows and connect to the internet.  Some of the keys weren't working, enough that I couldn't really type on it.  We watched too much Netflix on the computer last night, which may have heated out the last of the water.  By this morning we were back in business.  As of now, only the "end" key isn't working, and I mean, really, who needs the "end" key anyway?

I thought I'd share this, because who knows who else it dealing with a wet computer?  It worked for us!  We are so thankful to not have to buy a new computer.

Updated family photo

Balcony Nights

We replaced the plastic chairs on our balcony with some rocking chairs and a little table, and we put some flowers in pots, and I'll tell you, our balcony is our new favorite place to be.  The breeze at night out here is incredible (a lovely relief after the hot "spring" days of 90-something degrees), and the chairs are way comfier than their former hard plastic forbears.  I like to tilt one back until it leans against the window bars like a faux recliner.  We can tilt a lamp from the living room to shine out of the window so we can read out there, and we can still get movies to stream on Netflix.

It's almost like having a new room added to the house.  A room with a broad night view of palm trees and of lights on the mountains and the lit-up monument in downtown Santiago.  When the power goes out on our street, as it does frequently, it's really dark and quiet (most people don't have inverters like the school provides for us) and beautiful.  And one of our favorite things to do is watch the fruit bats swoop up to grab the small red palm tree fruits hanging right in front of the balcony--it gives us a delicious shivery kind of thrill.

Strategic Refreshment

"Let food be thy medicine, and medicine be thy food."  -Hippocrates

I've heard that the average American adult eats 1/2 piece of fruit a day.  Actually, the way I heard the statistic, every other adult eats one piece of fruit per day.  But Dominicans eat fruit.  And they drink even more of it.  They make juice out of everything.  Pineapple, orange, banana, passionfruit (chinola), papaya, mango, strawberry, melon, cherry, lemon (which here really is lime), coconut, zapote, guava, watermelon, guanabana (a thick white fruit that is like nothing you've ever tasted outside of the Caribbean).

And fruit juices are seen to be basically medicinal.  Someone may be sick and mention to you that they're getting better because they're drinking cups and cups of cherry juice.  Or if someone gets Dengue fever people make them guava and red bell pepper juice.  There's a fruit called haguay that makes a juice that to my family tastes a little like paint-thinner that's supposed to be good for circulation.  I offered my maid a date the other day and she asked me what it's used for.  Health and fruit are closely connected here.  And I bet in some ways people are healthier here, even with all the poverty and American influence on the diet, because they drink so much fresh fruit juice.  I mean, the American diet is not exactly world-renowned for being healthy.

Next time you're feeling under the weather, try a piece of fruit.

I'm excited to have figured out a trick with picking watermelons here.  Farmer's don't wait for things to ripen here, but they also like to let things get large.  So a small watermelon is a much safer bet.  You can bet they ignored it for a while before picking it because it was considered too small.

Doctor's Visit

Today was one of those days, one of those very un-American days.

I went to the foot doctor this morning.  The school nurse drove me, even though it was my second visit, because I knew I'd never find the place--this is not a map-friendly kind of city--and because I didn't know if I could explain the pre-authorization requirements the insurance gave me for my orthodic inserts in Spanish.  I got there a little after 9:00 and put my name on the list for an appointment.  There are no appointment times most places here--it's like the deli, you get a number and wait and wait.  I was number 18.

Jesse's pre-school gets out at 11:30, so I needed to be able to leave by 11:15 or soon after (I can always, in a pinch, get Owen to pick up Jesse and keep him in his office for a few minutes).  Abigail had asked to stay with someone to avoid going to the doctor's office, which was actually surprisingly out of character for her.  She likes to stay glued to my side.  So I was hoping the doctor would tear through the 17 people ahead of me, but the school nurse knew to ask if the doctor was in the office yet, and he wasn't.

He came in after 10:00, right after Abigail had called to see if I was coming home soon.  It seemed unlikely he'd get through the 17 people ahead of me in an hour, so I decided to go get the kids and come back.

I had paid close attention to the streets we took on the way there and I tried to anticipate and troubleshoot for any problems I might have with the receptionist or doctor and . . . wait for it . . . decided to do my doctor's appointment alone.  (Well, with two kids).  I know, underwhelming, but it was actually really intimidating.

I was so proud of myself that I got myself (and my two pbj-smeared children) to the doctor's office by 11:30, and everything seemed to be going smoothly.  But when I got to the car garage, there weren't any real spaces left.  They told me I could park there, but I had to leave my keys.  To contextualize this, I should add that I had just paid 50 cents to park for the previous hour, and there were several people working there, so I could imagine that it could be pretty tempting to steal a nice new-ish SUV (we don't own it, I know, it sounds appalling).

And I thought, shoot!  No way!  It's not even our car, really.  And it would really stink if it got stolen.  And who knows if people from this country would even consider doing this (because, in my experience, our Dominican friends can be even more careful than we are).

And then I thought, what in the world else am I going to do?  So I called Owen and told him he had to sign off on it for me, so to speak, and he thought it was probably fine, and I handed over the keys.

So I went in to find out that they were on patient number eight.  Which was wildly depressing.  So we started with the bag-o-fun that I'd packed.  We played games, we read books, we colored, we crawled on the furniture, we played "tell Mommy what to draw, and make it silly."

Part-way through the fun I felt like I just had to check on the car.   So we went out and the car was there, relief. I told the two car attendants, who were dancing good-naturedly, that I wanted to get my iced tea out of the car.  They reached up into the tree above them to pluck the keys off a branch and I went to get the tea.  I figured it was a good sign that it was still there, and it can't hurt to have checked in, and I went back to wait another hour.

We didn't get out of the doctor's office until 2:00.  It was quite a day.  And then the car attendants wanted my ticket, which I assure you, I was never given.  That was a little tense.  I told them, in I'm sure perfectly fluent and self-assured Spanish tones, that the woman who had been there had just taken my keys and not given me a ticket.  Eventually they just took my keys back out of the tree and handed them over--and perhaps overcharged me just a smidge, but OK, it was still under two dollars.

Quite an adventure, just thought I'd share.

Happy Easter!

We just had the best Spring break trip to Cabarete!  We stayed in a really quiet section on the outskirts of the beach areas in a house with a view of a tropical garden out front and a basically deserted beach.  Our friends joined us for most of the time we were there, and we had a blast! 

Family beach shot

Chilling in a hole

Jesse buried

 (I forgot my camera on the beach, so these are taken with Owen's phone, excuse the quality.)

Happy Birthday, Owen!

Y Feliz Cumpleanos, Diana!

Spanish Fatigue

I am tired from Spanish.  Not "of" Spanish (though I have my moments), but "from."  Little every day interactions like calling the corner store for water, greeting the neighbors, answering wrong number calls on the phone, asking where things are at the grocery store (which is not arranged intuitively), listening to the sermon and talking to everyone in Spanish (more or less) Sunday mornings, and reading signs are all exhausting when added up in time over time.  Not to mention converting pesos to dollars!  I have to do this in my head with every price because I still need to know what it would be in dollars to know if it's expensive or not.  And since there are about 40 pesos to a dollar, it's some pretty tough math.  Sometimes I'm like, wow, that's a thousand pesos??, only to realize that that's $25.  Or if I'm shortchanged 10 pesos I can remind myself, OK, we're talking a quarter here . . .

But it's interesting, I think culture shock is mostly having to notice more around me than I would in my home culture (because things are different and I have to analyze it and think, for example, wow, is it a good idea for him to be carrying a propane tank on the back of a moto?) and having to think more than usual to talk or perform daily interactions.  Just a lot of energy.  So still wanting to learn a lot of Spanish but not wanting to make much effort these days.  Just want to become fluent without trying.