Nightlife

Last night Dan and I decided to try out Dominican nightlife here in Santiago. However, things ended up changing for the better. One of the employees from the Puerto Plata office and her boyfriend were visiting Dan's host mom for the night and so instead of bar hopping we invited them to come with us. A tad disappointed at first because I wanted to see just how crazy Dominicans could get I quickly realized that if I want to party, I can do that in downtown DC or Philly. But to be able to spend the night with two Dominicans in their own culture, that is priceless.

So we set off in the hot humid night towards the monument. Thankfully there was a cool breeze but it was still easy to feel what remained of the oppressive heat that seeped into every corner of the city by midday. We had no idea where to go, as I was the only "local" and had only read about the bars in Lonely Planet and the street they were on. We walked around the monument first, enjoying the view of the expansive city with all its lights below. Heading down, we passed the main bar street and came upon a billiard room. Thankfully these two Christians do drink beer and we got an ice cold Presidente to share and played three rounds of pool. Despite 8-ball being played the same here, it isn't quite the same with bachata and merengue blasting amidst the swirling air caused by 8 fans hopelessly trying to keep the air cool. I played horribly as usual, but we weren't there to play, just to enjoy each other's company. I felt bad for Dan, his Spanish was limited so he couldn't enjoy all of the conversations. Once we were tired or scratching, we moved on to a local bar where a merengue group was performing. There is nothing like listening to merengue whilst sipping on Presidente watching bodies bounce up and down to the deep African rhythm and feeling a cool soft breeze underneath the dark Dominican night sky. It was almost surreal, after having forced myself to read about this in textbooks for Spanish class, to actually be in the middle of this fascinating thing called Dominican culture.

So that was my night. And I will remember this night for a long time to come.

No Es Feo, Es Diferente

Today I am back in Puerto Plata. There wasn't much to do in Santiago, so I took the chance to go out and see another office and how things run. I usually come along with Helen, and today was no different besides having an extra person in the car. There is a new gerente in the office in Santo Domingo Oeste and he is up here observing and being trained by Helen for the week. Our first meeting was with a group that is missing payments, nothing new there and they day seemed to be turning out to be rather mundane. Almost a bit disappointed at the regularity, we headed out quickly to our next meeting. It was about a half hour drive west to a coastal town called Sousua. The meeting was a reconocimiento, which is the last day of training for new banks and groups where the gerente comes out to sort of quiz the new clients and see if they really understand what is expected of them and Esperanza. The bank was way out in the countryside. We turned off Highway Five onto a dirt road filled with rocks, trash, and potholes. Inching our way along, we then turned up a steep road that seemed ready to turn into a rockslide at any moment, and continued climbing the side of a mountain until we reached the site. We arrived late and most of the women were waiting for us. Now before I continue, I need to preface the next part of the story. As we headed out from Puerto Plata we drove along the malecón, which is the oceanfront street common in many Dominican towns. The new gerente mentioned how nice it was and I agreed but said that the beach itself was quite dirty (ugly was the exact word I used). He gave me a hard time for it, and we joked about how I apparently thought the north coast was dirty.

At any rate, we waited for the two missing women to show, when suddenly we decided to travel to the one client's house instead. Upon arriving we were greeted with a few typical hosts: horses, dogs, and cats. And so we sat around the house again waiting for now just one woman to show. So we sat, and sat, and sat. The conversation changed subjects just as quickly as the dark storm clouds moved in, dumped gallons of water, and moved out. At one point a small puppy with a mixture of brown, white and black fur stumbled around the many chairs and feet on the porch sniffing curiously and cautiously at all who were present. Some of the women commented on how cute it was when suddenly a large black male dog drifted our way from the street. The only two people to see it were me and the new gerente. It was soaking wet from the downpour and it was clear it had not had a proper bath in over a year. It also looked a bit sickly, and would never be seen in an American household. I turned to the gerente and said, as I did before on the malecon, "Que feo." He turned to me and said something that almost made my jaw drop three feet.

"No es feo, es diferente."

Translation: it isn't ugly, it is different.

What a view of the world to have! To suddenly see everything as different rather than ugly. Not everything is pretty to one's eye, but everything is different. And that difference is what makes it beautiful. The man with the lazy eye; different and beautiful. The river, with green ooze and overcast with lush greens; different and beautiful. The fact is that all in this world is God's creation and thus beautiful no matter how feo your eyes make it out to be.

Microfinance is ugly, harsh, and difficult. But it is beautiful. The success discovered, the confidence restored, the love renewed, and the joy replenished in a dirty and harsh environment is thrilling. It takes time to finally see such a world, and it will take me years to train my eyes to see this world as different, not ugly. But it is possible, and I will try until I see this world as God sees it: rare, varied, different, and because of that: beautiful.

Ignorance & Perception

If there is anything I have learned from my times of travel, it is this: the majority of what we see, how we see, and how we react is all based on our perceptions. Certainly mine differ to an extent from yours. But all of our perceptions are rooted in the same culture. Talk to a Frenchman, a Dominican, a Ghanaian, or even a Dutchman, and suddenly you realize that what was right and wrong for you is not the same for them. Examples? Personal responsibility and liability. Or the importance of the individual versus the group. Social norms. Words and phrases.

For example, saying no is usually very passive in American culture, whereas Dominicans and the Dutch are very much direct. Americans also value an individual's rights more so than the groups. We put up with signature after signature to enjoy mere paddle boating or ice skating. Elsewhere, you pay and merely hop in the boat. Anything that happens to you is your own responsibility. Why should others have to put up with waivers for your irresponsibility?

And our view of God is different, and almost always reflective of the culture one identifies with. Americans, valuing success and determination generally describe God as one of wealth who is always pushing forward, working with His creation to make a successful world. The Dutch see a more passive, loving God reflective of the way their tiny culture, surrounded by massive countries, has had to adapt and accept others in order to survive (if no one were to like the Dutch, trade would never occur, and the Dutch rely on trade, hence their famous tolerance towards many things). Neither is wrong. But neither is right.

Our cultural ignorances we display (War in Iraq, banning burkas, terrorist plots, giving Obama a piece of a slave ship, giving the Queen DVDs that don't work) are perfect metaphors for the truth that we don't understand God. We find it crazy to use only your right hand to accept items from someone (as in Ghana) or to allow legal prostitution and drug use, only because we don't understand the cultures these norms come from. That isn't to say some are right or wrong, but I am not arguing that. Most ignorances come from a lack of understanding. So, our ignorances of God come from us not understanding Him. The Dutch's view of God is flawed. But so is the American and Dominican. So which is right? All of them. Just as we value community in American churches through worship, bible studies, etc. we need to extend that community to the international world. Talking to Dutch, Germans, Ghanaians, Dominicans, Nicaraguans, Aussies, British, Russians, and Lithuanians has shaped my view of God by teaching me about new sides of who He is. I will never fully understand Him (or Her to please the advocates of gender neutrality), but my idea of who He is is broader because of my time with people from different mindsets.

What is There to Understand About Love?

Why are there just some songs that seem to touch right at the emotion intended? I suppose what I mean by that is that some songs you can tell are just written to be enjoyed while others are written from experiences and truth.

I am a prodigal son, perhaps more so than others. I tend to be the one that, when pushed to my limits by God, I usually turn my back on Him and run away. Not physically as, say Jonah, but mentally, emotionally, and spiritually. Sometimes I literally will say to Him, "I am done playing your games" and what ensues is an extended time of blatant disregard. For me, I don't use sinful acts to rebel. Rather, I just chose to ignore my Christian calling. That does include sinning, but my focus isn't to just sin and anger God, my decision is to earn back control of my life.

Because that is what this all really boils down to: control. For me, so much of my life has been out of control. Things have managed my life and even made decisions for me. So I am hesitant to give up to God what little control of my own life I have. I am sure some of you are beginning to think I am going crazy, seeing as how I mentioned a song just two paragraphs above. "I Need You to Love Me" by BarlowGirl is sort of my embarrassing song I like. Granted the group is geared towards Christian girl tweens, but if one actually listens to the words they can't hear just how much of the emotion conveyed in the song is understood by the women of the group. But how does it relate to my control? (Note: the following is going to be me being very open.)

Love has been perhaps the thing least under my control. Considering that I have but begun to understand familiar love, I have never gained a solid grasp on the four letter word. In my past, and still to this day, I have built walls, lashed out at others, and literally cried myself to sleep from confusion and hurt. I am fragile when it comes to the integral emotion because I have never owned it before. Honestly, few people have. But moreover, if I have trouble understanding love here on Earth, how can I possibly understand God and His love? The moment the words trust and love come into my head in conjunction with G O D I shut up. Perhaps I have reason to not trust Him? (Only partially serious) But the fact is that I have trouble trusting Him and thus I have trouble accepting His love and rescinding control, or rather my attempts to control, that emotion.

My time here was to demonstrate to me that I can love. And the trust that comes with that love is good. I haven't been so great at working at this, seeing how I am 9 weeks into a 12 internship, but nevertheless I have learned, and I need to take this new understanding of love, control, and trust, and apply them daily.

So I want to thank the following people, for being God's instruments in teaching me this amazing lesson: Laura, Liz, Ben, and Kelsey.

Thank You

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I must admit, I have started this post 4 different times. I can't find focus. I don't know what to write. There are so many deep and raw emotions inside of me, that as I begin to write about one, the others come swelling up confusing me and convincing me this post is all wrong.

I am happy. I am sad. I am energetic. I am tired. I am angry. I am confused. And I am content.

Happy that I am in the DR, living and breathing the culture (and pollution)

Sad that just as my lack of Spanish expertise limits my relationships, my lack of trust in people does as well.

Energetic to know how much I have learned and changed so much.

Tired from not knowing who I truly am; that all I have known and understood could possibly be wrong.

Angry at arrogance and success.

Confused about my goals and mission in life.

Content in the amazing relationships I have made here. Four people have entered my life in a radical way and I hope this is but the beginning of a lifetime of friendship.

There, laid out all nice and easy like a business major would do.