Positive stories, eh? Red alert: Very long!
I'm a sad git and the biggest pessimist ever, or so my friends
tell me, but I'll try to say something positive, inch Allah. Not sure
if I can give too many detailed stories, they are just mostly
general ones. I've got tons of small ones though, so please
pardon the nonsense.
The ladies in...
... Boca Chica are always very nice to me. There is a group there that always buy me
stuff 'cos they know I'm a poor student with no money. They
chase away any girl outside that group that comes to ask me
for whatever."Leave him alone! Stop asking him for money!!!"
And there I sit, blushing in shame with x000 pesos
in my pockets while sipping a Presidente bought by their hard-
earned money. They listen patiently to my complaints about
anything Dominican, women, Dominican women and whatever
else I might cough up of unfounded bitterness. They kindly guide me through the hard parts of any bachata duet when my Spanish fails me and are just very nice in general. I've haven't
yet had the heart to break it to them that I simply hate
bachata.
In Santo Domingo I was once waiting, in fact waiting for quite
a while.. a warm day it was.., next to Parque Independencia for
the bus to Boca Chica when I was approached by this dirty,
crazy-looking female I often see around there. Being a complete
bastard I ignored her as best as I could, as I often do when I
dump into people I find disgusting. However, she insisted and in
the end I got so pissed off I followed her, showing in no unclear
fashion how awkward I felt ( I'm very well thank you, I don't
need any help thank you, now could you please go and die, you
ugly person ). All she did was escorting me kindly to the place
where those cars do public transport for a fiver, taking me
conveniantly to where I wanted - wishing me a pleasant journey
on the way. She then walked back to what she was doing,
looking for some nice mud or whatever. I still see her when I'm
there and I don't know what to do about it. Even if I wasn't as
mean towards her as I make it out to be, I'm pretty sure I'll be
going to hell for that episode, and that she won't.
Partly being 'cos I'm a Norwegian, I'm a fairly ungrateful,
sociophobic, apathic towards other people kind of guy.. generally nice apart from that.. My encounters with Dominicans
tend to higlight that fact, to my shame and embarrassement.
Where I come from you don't visit people unless you have a
good reason. If you do, make sure you apologise and notify your
victim in advance. Also, obey the 3 times rule:1:"Want to enter?"
"No, thanks." 2: "Want to enter?" "No, thanks." 3: "Want to
enter?" "Yes, thank you, I'd love to!" 1:"Want to sit down?"
"No, thanks". 2:"Want to sit down for a min?" "No, thanks".
3: "Want to sit down?" "Yes, thank you, I'll be on my way
shortly though, sorry to bug you". 1: "Want some coffee?" etc
etc.... So... a lot of Dominicans find my behaviour somewhat odd.
When I first came to Boca Chica I somehow ended up in the
school there, mostly assisting a teacher there with her French
and English ( she taught languages having had English for only
three months, French for one.. Incredibly fast learner though,
almost as fast as I was
). Through her I also spent some
time at the school itself. As a result of that, whenever I'm there
now, kids still yell "Profe!!!!!" at me, and wherever I walk there's
always people putting chairs out, asking me to sit down, serving
me all sorts of weird food ( mondongo? ). It's like that all over
the place, people I've long since forgotten come chasing me with
chairs and I don't know how to respond 'cos none of that would
ever, ever happen where I come from.
A simple walk to a kid
I've tried to keep an eye on ( dumped by two moms so far, and
counting.. I'm next.. ) can last more than the 30 min I planned.. and I do plan.. that's what we do where I come from, I suppose..
can take anything up to 9 hours and 5 meals. I don't know how
to express these things, so it all comes out as mindless waffle,
but there's something there that Dominicans have but I don't.
As I result of the time at the school there was also interest from
a certain girl ( 90 % of them, but one in particular ). Y... was her
name and she had a younger sister named R. ( now aged 12 ).
Y stayed in the background, but R.,though very shy, would always come to me during breaks, patiently explaining what things were called in Spanish. She would also manage the 20 or
so groupies ( aged 7 - 10 ) that would gather around us, staring
at me, asking her questions about me. Yes, he does understand
Spanish. No, he doesn't say much. He's Norwegian..it's in
Europe, no, not in Santo Domingo or New York.. He's my sister's
boyfriend. ( Wot??!!! I've got a bird??? Oh really?? Who's your
sister anyway??? Y.??? You're her sister?? Now you tell me..
that'll explain a thing or two... ) When I would tell R. "My Spanish
is great, eh??? Eh?? Eh??" She'd smile, look away and say
nought. Not wanting to lie but also not wanting to hurt me by
telling the truth. I'd only be playing around but that girl is very
clever. Eventually I was, upon R.'s request, invited to the mom,
who doesn't live with the dad ( You see, Albel.. Dominican men
like a lot of women.. ), and who was very sceptical towards
foreigners ( as it was, she mostly disliked Germans, so we would
soon establish some common ground, despite cultural differences and shrinking language barriers ). In the end I've
spent most of my time in that home when I've had the chance
to go over, always fearing they'd one day see me for what I am,
a selfish Norwegian with a high nutritional value, and feed me to
the dogs.
Y. is a good friend "only". She decided that the Norwegian
virtues of shyness and modesty didn't quite fit the image of
Dominican manhood. I suspect she has changed her mind now, as my time in DR has regretably come to a sad and bitter end.
( You PN people!! Give me my CD's back!! You hear me??!!"...
Ironicly, of all things, her dad is a coronel in the PN. )
I miss R. though, and I told her that if, for some reason, her mom
would be so short of funds that she'd be forced to sell R. I'd buy
her so she could become my daughter instead. R would, as
always when I talk baloney, say nothing, smile and look away.
Not wanting to lie but also not wanting to hurt me by telling me
I'm a loon.
Anyways... long waffle and lots of nonsense, sorry.