Well, I survived the hurricane.
It actually wasn't hard to do because it never came near us. We had some heavy showers offset by forboding cloaks of charcoal cloud, but everything stayed in tact. Thank God, too, because it would have affected our yearly staff retreat. Staff retreat at the beach. Staff retreat at a beach resort. I know.
Before coming to the Dominican Republic, I had heard a little bit here and there about these resorts. Apparently celebrities like to come to them for R&R. What I didn't know was that DR beach resorts are a culture unto themselves. Some people come to them and never leave the compound to see what the country looks like outside the walls. For $35 a night, you get a luxury room, all-you-can eat buffet almost 24 hours, all-you-can-drink mini-bar (alcohol included) and access to all the pools, snorkling gear, kayaks... and well, there's the beach.
I shared a room with my roommate, Amy, and Elizabeth who I mentioned in my previous blog. We didn't spend much time in the room, you can understand why. We had perfect weather. The resort is in Puerto Plata, a beach town about a 2 and a half hour drive north of here, where the weather is significantly hotter than in Jarabacoa. Which is perfect because it makes getting in the water that much more wonderful.
The minute we arrived, I headed straight for the ocean. It was a sight for Pacific-starved eyes. Being accustomed to seeing the ocean everyday back home you can understand why standing before the Carribean felt like I could breathe again. Anyway, I ran straight into the water. Now, unlike most ideas we have about the Carribean (translucent shallow water that goes out for miles), Puerto Plata looks more like San Simeon Cove: Dark blue in the distance with that undertow brown along the shore. Mixed into that undertow brown is all kinds of what my roommate likes to call 'Jazzety-Jazz' (seaweed chunks, gravel, and, well, who knows what else). Regrdless of the yuck, I floated along happily in the waves like a little sea otter, soaking in the salty-mineral nourishment. After about 10 minutes, though, you want to jump out and run quickly to the nearest pool to de-yuckify yourself (after rinsing under an outdoor shower, of course). There were several pools to pick from, but I nearly always ended up where the kids were. It was a great weekend to bond with the kids on our staff (all Dominican-- the two American kids are in the states on holiday). I learned a lot of Spanish as they continually yelled things at me. 'Orilla' means bank or landing, 'Onda' means wave(created by waterfalls,'cascadas'). I was a water horse for two days straight. Anyway, all was good times.
So sad to leave it behind.
Today, it was back to work. My day started off, much to my joy, with Elizabeth picking me up on her motorcycle. I confess, I've been converted. For those of you who know me well, you know that I have a terror of things I feel I can't control. Motorcycles have been one of those things. Dominicans live on 'motos'. I knew this coming in here. I knew that, at some point, I'd have to ride on the back of one. What I didn't know was how exhilerating it would be and how much I would want to own one. I dream almost daily of riding my own bike around town, wind in my hair, dodging traffic. It is liberating. Selah.
Anyway, we drove on over to the art site, greeted Fran and set about to more 'training'. Elizabeth has been showing me the ropes. How to sign up students for class, how to pay bills, where to buy art supplies, etc. And, she's been teaching me Dominican-style cooking during our daily 2-hour siestas. Chicken, rice, beans, pasta. Yes, we actually bought a whole chicken, feet included, hacked it up and cooked every part of it. One day we cooked it with garlic, cilantro and a whole bunch of other Dominican spices that I can't remember the names for. The next day, Elizabeth fried up the remaining pieces. I must stop talking about it cuz I'm getting hungry and our gas is leaking, so we can't use the stove. We are waiting for someone to come look at what the problem might be. Anyway, overall training has been basic, but good. I won't be doing much for the first few months here as I get adjusted and figure out the routine at the art site. Beginning September 10 I will start 5 weeks of Spanish class. We have a group of college students coming down for a semester here and their first 5 weeks will be studying Spanish in the afternoons. My roommate and I are both going to jump in with them to hone our Spanish skills. My ear is starting to adjust a bit better to the Dominican accent, but I am far from being able to make myself understood. Major frustration for me. Starting next MondayI will be on my own at the art site... on my own meaning Elizabeth won't be there to translate for me. Scary. But, this is how we learn. Trial and error. One day I will be past the shrugging and shy giggling and will be pouring out a fluent stream of this beautiful language. Keep the prayers up.
As I ride the waves of insecurity, as I am tempted to look down at these waves and panic, I am constantly reminded that to walk on water, to live by faith is to look into His eyes. He is our substance. He is my worth, my strength, my song. I have been reading Hosea. It's all about God's redeeming love. It's about His mercy toward us. Even though my sins are as scarlet, yet He will make them white as snow. It is easy to see my sin as I am constantly being broken living outside of my comfort zone. But as I cry out to Him to deliver me from my own wretchedness, he comes in with His cleansing love and restores and renews me. I love and serve such a God and my desire is to know Him more and more so that others around me might come to know Him. Time is short. And so I pray, I read the Word, I cry, I ride on the backs of motorcycles and give thanks and I wait for Him.
Love and peace to you.
