Saturday, August 29, 2009

Pussycat Dolls and Juan Dolio

Friday I had a really good day at school. The kids are getting better and better as they figure out how to behave. One of my students did try to turn in the lyrics to a Pussycat Dolls song (“When I Grow Up”) for an essay about dream jobs and I had to explain to her, twice, why that wasn’t acceptable, but other than that things have been going really well at school. When I came home (we have to leave at three on Fridays because they fumigate the school) I tried to make myself a fruit smoothie with J.P’s blender (and when I say fruit smoothie I mean smashed up mango and rum) and it wouldn’t turn on. Any of you who know JP well know that his blender is his most prized possession. For those of you who do not know J.P. very well it should be obvious because he brought it with him to the Dominican Republic in his one suitcase. Anyway, there was some serious mourning to be done so we walked up to the grocery store to console him. He went to look at new blenders but he thought it was too soon. He set it outside on the balcony when we got home to see if the inside would dry out (the problem was that it got wet) and now it’s working! Mango and rum for all!


After we grocery shopped Sean and Sarah came over, and then Doug and Stacy and we went to the Zona Colonial for a drink. We found a different area there where I have never been and it overlooks the river and there are some restaurants and really old buildings. It was amazingly beautiful there. We went to this restaurant called “Angelo’s” and sat on the roof. We each only ordered one drink because it was ridiculously expensive but it was really nice up there. It was especially nice because all of the people I was with work at the school, but we didn’t talk about work. We sat and talked for a long time and then decided to plan on going to the beach on Saturday.


This morning I woke up early, had breakfast, and Stacy and Doug came over and Stacy, Doug, Bridgitte, and I went to this beach called Juan Dolio. It is about an hour outside of the city. We called a cab to take us to the bus station and he offered to take us all the way there, wait, and then bring us back for about $15 each, so we decided to do that instead of taking the bus. We got there and wandered down the beach for awhile, and then we sat down at some restaurant and tried to order food. They brought us menus and then asked for our membership numbers. We didn’t even know the name of where we were and obviously did not have a membership so we were politely told that we could stay at the table but could not be served food. Awkward. So we kept walking down the beach and then realized that there was no way out and Bridgitte was really thirsty. We walked back a little ways and then found a hotel that we could walk through to get to the road and the guy there offered to drive us to get water on the back of his motorcycle with Bridgitte and I for 50 pesos (divide by 35). We hopped on the back (sorry Mom) and went down to a place where we sat at a little bar and got waters and then beers (maybe a bit counterproductive). Stacy and Doug decided to walk instead of riding on the motorbikes, which was probably a smart idea but it took them awhile to catch up to us. We ate at this really nice restaurant and then laid in the sand and read while Doug played with some Haitian kids with boogie boards in the water. You guys should check out my photosite soon. I will put the pictures of the beach up there. If Las Terrenas was the most beautiful beach I have ever seen this was definitely in the top 4. It was so pretty, bright blue water, bright blue sky, white sand, palm trees, the whole bit. Come visit! Anyway, so far it has been a great weekend and best of all I have barely talked about work at all, which is a difficult feat when everyone you hang out with is a coworker. It’s been great. I think we’re all tired of talking about it. Love you guys!




  1. Tell the little girl she should forget about the pussy cats and go straight for Miley Cirus lyrics. That is how I got into Grad school.