Remember Me? I'm 21 now!

Right now I am starting this entry while sitting in my internship office. Everyone is in a meeting and I think they forgot about me. I am working 4 hours a week (min.) at BRA-Dominicana, working in the projects department. So far I have been doing document translation and report writeups.

(FYI if you click on the pictures you can see them full sized!!!!!!)

Lots has happened since the last post. My bad. So starting from the beginning. On the weekend of my birthday (Feb 6-8) we went on a group excursion to Jurassic Park. There were lots of dinosaurs, and a couple of the kids in my program got eaten by velociraptors. Overall it was a pretty tame weekend… Ok but seriously. We went to Parque de Los Haitises where parts of Jurassic Park were filmed. We stayed in a really cool hotel there; it had natural spring pools running throughout the place. On the way there we stopped at Cueva de las Maravillas (Cave of Marvels), which is a cave that was discovered by a troop of Boy Scouts and has a lot of bats…and a lot of old Taino (indigenous) cave drawings. Apparently the Taino’s invented the smiley face. The picture on the right was taken illegally by one Anna Scott. You can see some of the drawings. After settling in at the hotel we went on a 5k hike through the park. It was pretty muddy due to the rain, which made the hike pretty exciting at times. The scenery was amazing, and you kind of did expect dinosaurs to hop out of the trees. Our guide was a walking dictionary of botanical terms, and cracked open a Cacao pod so we could take a look at what chocolate looks like when it grows on trees. Near the end of the hike we went into Cueva de la Linea, which was a very skinny cave. When we finally got to the end of the hike we got onto a boat and took a boat back to the hotel. The boat ride was amazing; the national park is incredible, tons of cool rock formations, islands and mangrove forests. According to my guide book the park itself is only accessible by boat. When we got back from the boat ride, we had a chance to swim in the natural pools and then we had dinner and a campfire where we made “S’mores”…we had no graham crackers…

The next day was WHALE WATCHING DAY! And of course a small unimportant internationally recognized day called “Caitlin’s 21st Birthday”, so we were off to see the whales. We hopped on the boat, saw some dolphins as we exited the park and entered the bay of Samana. Then the guides gave us huge rubber raincoats…we should have become worried then… Why? Because then it started to rain on us, and the waves started to splash over the side of the boat. After a 45 minute boat ride we ended up chasing a pair of humpback whales for 10 minutes through Perfect-Storm sized waves, needless to say some of the weaker members of the troop became sea sick. I, however, had a great time, despite the fact that I was completely soaked and so was all the stuff in my backpack including my change of clothes… This began the period of the trip that I will call the “will I ever be dry again” phase. It rained. And rained. Our afternoon at the beach was an afternoon hiding from the rain. Then later that night we hid from the rain some more and played many a game like musical chairs to entertain ourselves. The next day we were supposed to go submerge ourselves waist deep in mud to go and plant mangroves…but it was raining. So we played dominoes. Needless to say when I got back to Santo Domingo I had to spend a good 45 minutes scrubbing my sneakers in hopes that the mud would disappear…it did.


My weeks here so far have become fairly normalized. A typical day for Caitlin is as follows:

9am Wake up and Breakfast
930 Walk to la UASD
10-1 Class at la UASD
1 Walk or take GuaGua home depending on if it is really hot or raining
130 Arrive home
2 Lunchtime
230 Walk to CIEE/FLACSO
235-3 Internet/Quickly finish homework time
3-5 Class at CIEE
5-7 Internet/Homework Time
7-830 Gym
9 Dinner
930 Hang out with friends
1200 Sleep.


Since last posting, I have dropped my social history of the Dominican Repupublic class and added Drawing 1. Which so far is way more interesting than the former, which seemed to be a general introduction on how to learn history. No thank you.

A few weekends ago we stumbled upon a huge Dominican music festival type thing called Sol Caribe in Plaza España. There were tons of people there and a huge stage and lots of big Dominican Merengue, Bachata etc. artists...it was very cool and the atmosphere was great!

Last weekend was Valentines Day Weekend! On the day of San Valentin, me and four other people went to the beach, which did not seem to be a popular destination for Dominicans, as it was almost entirely empty. We hung out there all day, and as it turns out I got fairly sunburned on my back. Also during this time I developed the ultimate strategy for dissuading beach vendors, I simply told them that I already owned everything they were selling. To some this seemed logical, others thought I was crazy, and another lectured me on how I need to purchase un chin (a little bit) from each vendor because its not fair to buy all from one. Also during this time my friend Jeremy attempted to sell me to a vendor in exchange for a scarf…Unfortunately for me the vendor was eager to make the exchange.

After our beach excursion we stopped at our favorite place, Bon. It is an ice cream store close to our apartments that makes delicious Yogen Früz, they take any mixings that you want and scrunch them up and make specialty flavors of frozen yogurt for your own personal enjoyment. It is probably one of the most delicious things ever. And healthy too! The best combinations I have tried so far are Raspberry+Oreo, Chocolate+Raspeberry+Bran, but you have the option of putting in: Mango, Papaya, Apple, Zapote, Strawberrys, Mixed Berrys, Blueberries, Waffle Cone, Prunes, Peach, Watermelon, Cantaloupe etc. etc. The possibilities are endless…


Sunday morning was a day of a big expedition. About 15 of us were off to see the much talked about Carnaval de La Vega. We were supposed to arrive to get our tour bus at 7 am…and now is where I start to talk about Dominican time. Dominican time, never exactly when they say, usually at least 30 minutes later, but there is no rush so just hangout. That means that we Americans all got there at 655 and when did the buses leave? 9. The tour ended up being a bit of a fiasco…they took us to eat lunch and hangout at this place near La Vega and kept us there all day and we only got to go to Carnaval for about an hour. The hour itself made up for the entire crazy day. The costumes were amazing and there were just tons and tons of people. The costumed gangs or diablos have air filled bladders that they hit you with. No not lightly tap, hit. Hard. On the butt. There are new regulations about how the bladders can be made, because they used to be filled with sand or water. That being said, it still hurt like hell when they hit you, and I spent most of my time trying to escape from them, which just makes them chase you. They also were especially interested in hitting girls, and lucky for us Gringas were an even better target. A bunch of my friends still have bruises from getting whacked.


This weekend I am planning to go to Carnaval in Santiago with my group in my UASD Art History class, because we have to give our presentation on the 5th of March. The weekend after that is the big Carnaval celebration in Santo Domingo, so there will be a lot more on here about Carnaval. Friday night the program is paying for us to go see Fiddler on the Roof at the National Theater. Its still unclear whether or not they will have translated all of the words into Spanish, but either way it should be fun (and Free!)

Pictures will be added later...

Chocolate, Cheese, Royalty

I’m off to Madrid tomorrow and I couldn’t be more excited.  All I gotta do is get by this test tomorrow morning (I’ll no doubt be studying till about 3 as is my life) and then I’m set.  The plan so far is to be packed by tonight and come to class all ready to go (unlikely), walk to the train station, grab an early train (lunch will no doubt get in the way), get to Milan, catch a bus to the airport and check in. 

Should be a breeze.  I mean, what could possibly go wrong?

Anyway.  In my haste, I forgot to mention my trips from last weekend.  So here they go.  I know my last post was a little dry but this one gets a little more exciting.  After going out fairly late on Friday and going to bed at around 4 a.m. I got up at 07:45 to catch a train to Perugia.  I almost didn’t go but I was so glad I did.  The city was beautiful. It’s small and picturesque and sits on a hillside.  All the streets are narrow and it has Italy’s biggest chocolate factory.  I of course loaded up on some semi-dark for the rest of my stay in Italy (Motto of the trip: goodbye hill body, hello complex carbs)

 

Anyway, Perugia is the capital of the Umbria region so we went to the National Gallery of Umbria, which was in this old castle that was almost as fun as Tom Sawyer island at Disneyland.  All the art was awesome and the building itself was even cooler.  We saw the sunset from the to

p of the Museum and it was pretty baller.  After our three-hour train ride I of course thought it was the best idea to go straight from the train station to the bar.  3 beers later it was 2 a.m. and we got to tired to paying for drinks so we went back to our dorm to drink the wine we had in our rooms.  Now, I’ve never been a fan of the post-game (this is a lie), but for some reason I was all about it last weekend. 

Suddenly it was 5 a.m. and the two of us that remained, Catherine and I, realized we had to catch a bus in 3 hours for our program-planned outing.  We promptly finished our glasses and went to bed.

 

I woke up relatively ok, and was fine after my usual chug of water but when I started walking out of the building I ran into Catherine still in party mode alpha (read: drunk off her ass).  We made it to the bus and I had the best nap of my life for the three-hour ride to Soragna, this little town north of Parma.  I woke up and the bus was in the middle of a field with a snow storm that would have covered all of Main St.  I thought I was dead.  We went to this awesome Cheese factory.  We saw every step from cow to Parmigiano Regiano.  Our guide’s name was Luigi, he had been an apprentice for longer than I’ve been alive and now runs the company.  He’s big cheese money and apparently a huge deal in that area.  We became buds.

 

I loaded up on cheese before we left (insert previous motto now) and we went to Sorangna itself to the see the town.  We went to the Jewish Museum in town.  Hi Tanny!!!! And had some soup while we were guilted about how lucky we were to even be in the museum let alone the room with heat in it.  Then, we went to a castle that still houses a real life Prince of some Italian noble family.  We were on the tour at this dudes house and saw all these baroque and Renaissance paintings, and these awesome tapestries.  Anyway, in one of the hallways with knight armor and these old cannons, we found a real relic: A real honest to goodness Big Mouth Billy Bass in mint condition and in full working order right up there on the wall.  Apparently the prince was a big fan.

 

On the way out I was the last one to sign the guest book and since my name is so effing long I was there for a bit.  Some dude in a cardigan came down the stairs and we started chatting about how he was just in Atlanta talking to his buddy Ted.  I asked him what Ted did in Atlanta and the old dude told me he used to run CNN and asked me if I’d ever heard of Ted Turner.  I make a little joke and asked if it was Tina’s husband.  He didn’t get it.  I changed then changed the subject abruptly.  Anyway, after our little chat we said goodbye and then I realized that old dude I talked with looked a lot like the guy from the pic on the cover of the guestbook.  The dude in the pic was sitting by the fireplace, with his dog, and all these medals.  Anyway, it took me entirely way too long (read: 10 min. of the bus ride) to realize I’d me the goddamn Prince.

 

That’s all for now.  Let’s see Kent beat this.  Update from Spain?  Def poss.

Quando si dice alle otto ... é veramente otto e quarto.

And I'm Back!!!

Location: Bologna

Mile: Unknown

Conditions:  Dreary

After two weeks I’m way overdue for an update so here it goes.  I’m currently sitting in the study lounge of my studentatto doing everything possible to avoid my lengthy reading for tonight (normal levels procrastination have finally set in).  A little while ago in my first of many acts of procrastination I went down to the kitchen to have myself a coffee and ended up having a conversation with one of the Italian dudes in the building about his history final next week.  We talked about American presidents, the Cold War, and all the shit he had to memorize before next Tuesday.  All in Italian mind you.  I was fine for, I would say, 95% of the conversation so I have to assume that my Italian is getting better or that it’s slowly becoming Spanish.  Either way, I’m pretty happy about it.

 

I’ve been up to a lot, not so much in the way of classes but more when it comes to getting to know the city and the trips I’ve taken.  I’m more comfortable around the city now and I can get around pretty easily without the awkward use of my map.  My language class is going fine, except for the Nate Greene level of reading that’s assigned.  That was of course an exaggeration but it’s still a shit ton to read.  I’ve been hanging out with the Italians on my floor more and they’re the shit.  A lot of them are from the south and Albania, and upstairs there’s a guy named axel who keeps speaking French to me.  I just answer in Spanish and we both end up confused, but its fun.  All the dudes just love to hang out, smoke, drink bürhs, talk about movies they’ve seen and the food they like to make.  One of them plays the guitar and he’ll just chill in his room and play for whoever happens to roll through.  Theme of the trip No. 1:  They love grappa and SO DO I.  One of them has his grandma send him grappa from their family vineyard in Albania and it’s one of the best things I’ve ever tasted.  Think strong like Dubra with the deliciousness of Bailey’s, just to give you an idea.

 

I think I’m going to be taking two classes this semester.  Which in the end will give me 4 credits (its amazing how that works out).  The language class I’m in right now and the writing workshop they make us take each give me half a credit.  I wanna take one class on Italian politics through my program, pretty standard, and then one at the university on American Government and Politics.  The University class would give me two credits after I pass the final, which like most others is an oral exam with just the professor asking you questions.  Hopefully my ability to bullshit and freakish knowledge of wikipedia will translate into Italian.  The class is basically a view of American politics from the Italian perspective.  It should be pretty bomb.  As much as I like the off time I’m excited to get back to school.  My language class finishes Friday and I have a week off, so I’m going to Spain to visit Eleanor and Matteo.  I actually can’t wait.  I have class until noon on Friday and then I gotta make it to the airport outside Milan by 5 o’clock.  Never mind that it’s three hours away, I’ll probs make it (this is where Nigel begins to shake his head as he remembers the end of last semester).

 

One of the coolest things about our program is the cooking class they enroll us in.  We have it at this woman’s house in small groups of about 7 and she is the shit.  Rita is a 50 something Bolognese woman with a heart of gold.  She calls me carino (sweetheart) every time I do something right in the kitchen and she loves when I speak spanglish.  She’s taught us how to make frittatas and awesome desserts.  When we went over Italian dinner manners she mentioned that “Quando si dice alle otto ... é veramente otto e quarto.”.  Loosely translated it basically means that when people say dinner is at eight, they really mean eight fifteen because if you get there any earlier dinner won’t be ready and the person cooking will be in the shower still.  Can we talk about how that could not describe my life any better.  It’s like I was born here.  For once in my life, time is adjusting to me and not forcing me to do the reverse.  Bravo. Today is our second lesson and I’m pumped.  We’re making pasta and ragú from scratch.  No worries, I’m bringing all this shit back to replicate so we can eat properly after madness nights. 

We’ve taken a lot of day trips, both with our program and on our own.  Two weekends ago we went to Ravenna to look at some awesome architecture. It was an awesome trip except for two things.  (1) The night before I had raged like it was going out of style and I was hungover as fuck.  I slept on top of my friend Jessie the whole train ride there spooning a giant bottle of water (I’m expecting all jokes and finding none of them hilarious).  When we finally arrived I had an espresso and rallied.  The old lady at the café saw me and asked me if I knew what the word sbornia meant.  I told her I didn’t and she said that I definitely did because I was living it.  I looked it up later.  It means hangover, one of the worst kind.  I went back at the end of the trip to get another espresso to show her how champions rally.  She told me she hadn’t seen a bounce back like that since the celebrations at the end of the war.  BOO-YA-KA-SHA.

On the trip we saw the Church of San Vitale and the mausoleum outside and all the awesome mosaics inside.  The first time I’d heard of this church was junior year of high school when I read about it in my art history book, and now I’ve seen it.  It was bomb.  After the tour of the city they let us get lunch and some friends and I went to a cool little restaurant that made its own wine.  They sat us in this courtyard that used to be the cloister of a monastery and while we waited for our food they took us around and showed us their cellar with all their wine in it.  We ordered wine and I had homemade Bolognese pasta, tagliatelle with Ragú.

 

One of the field trips we took for class the next week was to a little place outside the hills of Bologna called Paderno.  It was a series of hills all essentially made of hard clay covered sparsely with grass and mud that overlooked a single basin.  It was a grey morning and kinda rainy and the mist had rolled in.  As we walked around we saw a little cassina that used to be a farmhouse but was now a little museum.  Our professor started talking about how in that place 64 years ago in the middle of a brutal winter the retreating Nazis had taken revenge on the resistance forces, which were made up of people around our rage, by taking suspected guerillas, walking them across the freezing hills, lining them up along the cliff and shooting them.  Their bodies fell into the basin below and were only discovered months later after the snow had melted.  A rock with every name of a slain Italian was placed on the cliff and when I look up from the top of the hill I was on I couldn’t see where they ended.  They went over one hill and then the next, and then the next one after that.  After a walk around we got really cold and an old woman served us hot tea in one of the rooms in the cassina to warm us up.  A couple of us started talking to her and we found out that her older brother was one of the people taken away and shot that day.  She lives and works at the museum now telling people of how she remembers soldiers coming in the middle of the night to take her brother away.  It was a really cool outing and really interesting to see all that.

Anyway, I’ve put of reading for way too long, so I’m gunna peace but I’ll try to check in again before I leave for España.

 

Pieces err’body