A Day of Gauges

I don’t really know where to start. Last night, I had dinner with a fellow American, and North Easterner at that, who was staying at my hostel also. He was doing some exploration to open his own hostel, and we had a lovely dinner and conversation. It was certainly kind of nice to have someone who knows some about where I’m from, so to speak.

Today, I woke up and, as planned, visited the 27 Charcos. Now this was adventure. I left from my hostel, got on a mororconcha (though I thought I’d be able to take a GuaGua (which is the Dominican bus), it didn’t appear to be the case. So I took the motorcancha to the GuaGua station (or one of them), and he dropped me off and I immediately was able to get on a GuaGua going where I needed to go. No problem. I got off at a seriously seemingly random point on the highway and had to walk probably a mile on a dirt road into the entrance of the 27 Charcos. There was a dude on a motorcycle near the top though, and he very nicely brought me down the dirt path hill.

So I get there and there are tons of guides, just standing around. And I went to the desk, decided to do the 12 waterfalls (adventurous, but not the most). I had a guide, and otherwise, it was just me. Just me and Pablo. I had gotten a ziplock bag particularly so that I could bring my phone, because it is my camera, and also because hell if I’m gonna go somewhere alone with absolutely no way of communicating.

So Pablo and I hiked for about 30-40 minutes, up this slippery, insane road, so much mud and going up and up and up. He kept way ahead of me…I don’t know if it was to make me go faster or what, but it was quick. After that, it was all water. And what incredible water it was!! I didn’t jump, because I am not quite that badass. But regardless. I slid down like 4 really scary cascades that were also really awesome. My guide was awesome–taking pictures, not being creepy, etc. There were also some other groups. It was beautiful and I’m so glad I made time for that adventure.

Coming back was quite the adventure all on its own. I walked back up the dirt road and then was basically supposed to “hail” the GuaGua, like a cab. So…I just stood there. And the first one passed me by (it came within 5 minutes), but the second one, maybe 2 minutes later, picked me up. No problem. I got back to Puerto Plata, and the owner of the hostel had suggested that I perhaps go to the cable car (teleférico) and see stuff from there. So I asked the motorconcha to take me there; no problem. I got there, and proceeded to be gouged for money. It was $10 American for a ticket to the top, which was fine, but this dude pretty easily convinced me that he would be a guide and wanted to charge me $12.50 for that shit. I think not. But I didn’t even realize I didn’t need a guide at all, so I ended up saying I’d pay him about $10 (but in pesos), including the price(I understood) of a motorconcha home. So we went up, whatever, and I was super tired, so I didn’t intend on staying long, probably only walked around for 30 minutes. I really was just ready to go somewhere I could just relax. And I am ready to leave, exhausted and aching at this point, and really sick of getting taken advantage of, and the effing motorconcha has to go to 3 places before he actually understands where I meant that he should drop me off. Gah. So then I’m getting off, expecting that the asshat guide already paid him, and of course, he hadn’t. And all I had was 113 pesos, in addition to some American money. I give him the 13 pesos thinking I’m being nice and it’s a tip, and the dude gets super pissed. He says the guide didn’t pay him, and I’m like, look, that was our deal, I’m sorry. Here’s 100 pesos. And he is STILL MAD. He expects me to pay him 300 pesos, and starts trying to make me feel bad by talking about his children and wife. I’m like, you have got to be effing kidding me. YOU couldn’t figure out where I was talking about, that shit is not on me, besides, this is literally all I have right now. So I’m like take it or don’t. And then realized I had one American dollar, so I gave him that and he seemed happier, drove away.

It was so frustrating!! I was seriously so effing pissed.

Anyway, I made it back, got more money, and band aids for a sore spot from the walking in rivers and trying to keep my shoes on (side note–did not realize you could purchase individual band aids….but you can in Puerto Plata!). I asked the hostel lady, Francia, who seriously I think has been the biggest god-send of the trip, and reminds me a lot of Amparo, my Mexican host mother, who was so lovely, to call me a cab, which was just $200 pesos to Playa Dorada, where I’d found an all-inclusive hotel (means food is included) for about $100 a night, deciding to treat myself a little. So I got here, hoping to stay 3 nights, and without a reservation, and they have one, and said I can ask about the following two nights tomorrow, but for now they can’t guarantee. So…not sure what I’ll be doing from here. Hopefully they’ll have something tomorrow…otherwise I’ll investigate more later. I guess this is living on the edge??

It is super weird to go from taking the GuaGua, then the motorconcha, to being in this resort. Kind of insane. I feel like I found the white people. Anyway, my phone isn’t working, and I’m all about getting some spa time in today before I am no longer in this all-inclusive situation. I’ll be able to eat dinner on the premises here, and at least go to the beach tomorrow. Hasta luego, Internet!

Aventura Valiente

I rode a horse!! See, proof!
20130117-155739.jpgSo, days got switched, since early this morning I received an email back from the woman at Lorilar Ranch, which is a Canadian-owned, New Yorker operated ranch with half and full day tours. Lots of fun–we did about a 2 hour ride with a little break for a drink and to encourage us to purchase something from a tourist trap store in quite literally the middle of the jungle. I met some lovely Brits who were about my age (the woman is in a PhD program about…Spanish translation?), and we basically just rode through this peasant neighborhood, in a jungle. It was lovely but so much poverty. Like, farm land and just…huts, basically. I mean, often made out of cement. But it was pretty much how communities in Mexico are. Not terribly surprising, but so…of the earth. I rode a motorcocha, which is basically a motorcycle taxi to get there, which cost me about $2.50, and was actually quite fun. My driver was the most talkative almost anyone has been with me, and very nice.

The Brits were great–Katie and Mark, and we talked a little politics, and it was nice to converse with people who as I say, don’t seem me as some strange anomaly. They were only doing a half day ride, so that’s all I was able to do, which actually is quite fine. So this afternoon, I went to the beach close to my hostel.

I understand now why no one knows were I’m staying (like, no one has heard of that part of town). I don’t know why I expected from this beach, because I figured it wouldn’t be as nice as the beaches to the South in La Playa Dorada, but I did NOT expect mounds of trash, which is exactly what I found.

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What something is worth is a very strange concept. This part of the beach is quite rocky, so perhaps it never would’ve been worth anything. But look at this panorama!!
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That is incredible, right?! And for there to just be trash there, everywhere, like the area is worthless, is so weird to me. Even if you want to use it for yourself, wouldn’t you want it to be clean?? Maybe it’s cultural and I just don’t understand, but it’s so weird that just a few blocks away, there are these (allegedly, I’ll report back) pristine resorts and beaches, filled with lots if rich people paying so much money to relax and hang out in “paradise,” and just down the road, there’s a pile of trash on the beach. Maybe I should be used to that, because New York is very similar in terms of its tension between haves and have nots, but it seems more upsetting in a place that looks like what we think of as paradise.

Then, again, there is more a sense of community here, which I think has to do with the poverty too. People have to rely on each other more. I saw a woman on a motorcocha holding not one, but two little children. I almost had a heart attack. But since then, I’ve seen a bunch more people with kids. Strange, but I guess it’s just normal here.

Anyway, more later. I have a plan for tomorrow, and going to get food with another person who checked into the hostel today. But wanted to update you all so you know I’m alive ;-).

Love,
Shannon

Puerto Plata & Plan Formation

I don’t have much time, because I’m trying to wake up super early and get to the 27 Chargos (that did not happen today). But I want to briefly share plans for tomorrow. This blog is ending up serving several purposes: 1) help me remember what I do 2) help update people an assure them of my safety 3) hopefully enjoyable to review/look at photos.

I spoke with both my parents today (god bless Skype and wifi), and everyone, them included, seems more concerned about my safety than I’ve ever seen any of my friends and family. I will save a post on my thoughts about safety for a later date, but I fully intend to write something about the insanity and purposeless of worry about “safety,” and what an illusive and imaginary thing it is, really at all times–a part of privilege that was busted by the Newtown shooting. Much of what I want to say is touched on in this post, including, particularly,

Adam Lanza killed 26 people; he destroyed the lives of many, but he also put in jeopardy the dreams and fallacies that led many to the suburbs. He put the allure and meaning of whiteness in jeopardy….
The “it’s suppose to happen” in inner-city communities reframe is not surprising. Places like Columbine, Aurora, and Newtown exist because of the fear-industrial complex. The white middle-class flocked from cities into the suburbs and rural communities partially due to fear of black and Latino youth, integrated schools, and urban crime. The continuously deployed the narrative of “it’s not suppose to happen in Newtown” and their neighborhoods mirroring “American family’s dream” embodies this entrenched belief. The efforts to imagine Holmes and Lanza as good kids turned evil, to scour the earth for reasons and potential solutions, works to preserve the illusion of safety, the allure of white suburbia, and the power of whiteness.

Again, to be re-visited. Regardless, I plan on going to 27 Chargos tomorrow. Alone. I am going to try adventuring on a GuaGua, which is the local bus. It should be a dollar (!), and then something for the tour of the waterfalls. But this is all assuming that I can get a plastic bag so that I will be able to bring my phone/camera. Because let’s be real. I’m going nowhere without my precious.

The following day, I’m planning on doing a full day horseback riding trip (chaperoned) through the Isabel de Torres National park. They have full day rides, so that eats my day Friday, and then it’ll be the weekend! I think I’ll stay where I am one more night, since it’s super cheap, and then I’ll head to Playa Dorada to experience beaches and resort-style living. There are some all-inclusive places that are in the $100 range which I gulp at, but it includes food and activities, and is right basically on the beach, which is allegedly beautiful. Then I’ll head back to Santiago for my last night.

I could’ve benefited from some planning, but what the heck? It’s certainly been more interesting this way. A few photos of the ride here, for your perusal.


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And finally, my hostel:
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Planning

Another day, another dollar, right?

I went to sleep pretty early last night after finally getting in touch with my friend, Natacha. She knows people here (grew up some nearby), so she was able to track someone down that I will hopefully be able to meet up with so I am not all on my own. Yay! So I got a nice night’s rest, and am planing on heading to the playa today (beach, for those English speakers). Hopefully to the falls to tomorrow. And THIS is what I love about traveling on my own–I get to change plans and it isn’t a big deal! No one is upset.

I’ll keep updating, but that’s the plan for now.

Also, as I said, I was planning on counting the number of times I was asked something regarding a romantic partner, but every time I walk on the street, I lose count. Just this morning, one guy is just like, “what would you say if I asked you to marry me?” I laughed at him. But seriously. The cajones on some of these dudes! I understand that I stick out like a sore thumb, but you don’t have to be creepy about it!

Santiago Touring

Looks like some days are gonna feel like a million. I forgot that this is what is so incredible about travel, especially by yourself. You feel like everything is new, everything is some strange thing that you’ve never seen, heard, smelled before. And I guess that how people see me, too, at least in Santiago. I feel like everyone is staring at me when I’m walking down the street, like, “what the hell are YOU doing here?!”

I have the same question.

After my little nap, I got a map and started exploring, figuring the cathedral would be a safe place to start. I had a few errands that I definitely needed to take care of (yet another re-discovered joy of travel–setting teeny little goals to achieve)–primarily getting some bottled water, cash, bug spray and sunscreen. I’m in the tropics, after all. So I ventured out after reviewing my bank statement, which seemed to imply that I had some cash to pull out. Well, wouldn’t you know that the ONE month out landlord takes the rent out, and that I paid all the rent and haven’t yet been reimbursed from my roommates (which isn’t a knock on them, just life), I’m in DR. By myself. And it ends up appearing that I have about $16 in the account that’s accessible to me. I had some American dollars, which are accepted here it seems for the most part (especially for touristy things), but that was not going to get me very far. I didn’t panic. Because these things happen, and what are you gonna do? Figure it out. But as I was contemplating this, I walked down toward the cathedral and through one of the park areas. I decided I needed to head back to my hotel to figure out what I was going to do in terms of money, and this guy approaches me and says, “you’re American, right?” This is already what has been sort of frustrating being here–I just scream American on vacation. Maybe I should have tried to be less obvious, more “Dominicanized” (haha), but I didn’t. And I guess there aren’t a lot of Americans in Santiago. I initially was pretty hesitant to interact with this guy, but he was actually quite nice, and very professional and polite–he wanted to show me around, and provide some touring information. For a fee, of course, which would honestly not have been a problem if I’d not been already so afraid I was close to being destitute in a foreign country by myself.

Anyway, he actually walked me all around the city for about 2 hours, which was great exercise and really interesting. We saw some gorgeous stuff. The cathedral was first:


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And he told me some small snippets of history, and most importantly, he spoke very clearly. We went to a museum with costumes from the Carnival that happens at the end of February. Here’s one of the great costumes (did you know Oscar de la Renta was Dominican?? I did not):


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Next, we saw a river (Yaque del Norte), with a cool Golden Gate look-alike bridge:

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And a fortress:

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Next was San Cristobal Square, with the Nina, Pinta & Santa Maria ships, and some cool paintings (whatever the complicated history):

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And here are the ships themselves:


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Finally was a view of the city from a statue on a hill:


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And here’s the statue:


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All in all, I feel like and extremely fortuitous and wonderful first day. I got lots of Spanish practice, which it seems this trip is good for, if nothing else. And I’m excited to have some fun and interesting things to share with the Wide Internet World. Plus some time to relax.

Tomorrow’s adventure is to go to the 27 Charcos, which is 27 waterfalls. I’m debating holding off on this until Thursday, and just heading directly to Puerto Plata tomorrow, and chilling on the beach in an area where people won’t look at me like I am a green Martian. I like being in a non-touristy area, but I am not a fan of the gawking. Noooot appreciated, and particularly upsetting to me because I’m alone.

Regardless, I did make it to the store, got my water, bug spray and sunscreen, so I am ready for the beach! I also called my bank and confirmed that I have overdraft money available, which I have to pay a small fee to borrow until transfers come through, but saves my butt. Not having enough money in the correct bank account? Turns out, that’s a first world problem. So far, rules on this trip: it’s never to early to be nice & be gracious and relatively generous (I don’t want to feel used, but I also recognize the position I’m in, relative to other people).

My other goal of this trip is to ride a horse. Kind of lame, I know, but I want to! I have to figure out what my plan is for the rest of the trip, so if you have any ideas, please feel free to shoot me am email!

Much love,
Shannon

Arrival

I arrived safely, found a hotel, and, with a little knowledge, haggled the hotel price down by $36–not a bad start!!

There is wifi, but it doesn’t reach my room, so I have to go in the common space to check email, post things, etc. I think I’m gonna go walk around a bit in a minute, but wanted to take a few minutes to recount my initial impressions.

First, palm trees!! I didn’t know what to expect here in terms of foliage and how things look, etc, so I was pleasantly surprised to see palm trees, which, for whatever bizarre reason, I love. It looked very jungle-y as we landed–some fog, with the tropical trees. Pretty sweet.

Coming out of the plane, I was one of very few non-Dominicans. Which is what I always want, whenever I travel anywhere!! But I do stick out like a sore thumb. I landed in the Santiago international airport, which is relatively small, but the customs process was a little confusing to me–I had to go one way (not marked) to purchase my $10 visitor pass, then go through the customs line, where the agent asked me who I was here with, and when I said I was alone, asked me if I was looking for a boyfriend. I decided to start tracking how many times someone asks me that, since yesterday in East New York, I was asked on the street if I was married. Good pickup line…? My jury’s still out.

I got through that mess and had to go through some sort of process for declaration? But this was a clusterf*ck. It seems that Dominicans are not fond of orderly lines. I was told to go on through because what I have with me consists of only these things:


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So I sort of cut in line (but only because they told me to!!). It seemed like everyone else had not one, but 5 suitcases that needed to be x-rayed?? This was where my confusion/amusement began. After handing over a piece of paper to declare or not declare things, you had to put all your belongings through an x-ray machine. I am quite uncertain of the goal. But there you have it. So I got through the line to hand over my non-declaration, and then there were all these people pushing in front of one another and me to get their ludicrously numerous suitcases through the machine. I’m glad I wasn’t in a hurry, I just found it pretty hilarious.

When I got through that, I had the goal of a hotel, thanks to a wonderful friend, and went to the information desk to see how to get there by bus. This was “not recommended,” even though it’s $2, and instead I was directed to an $18 cab. Which, whatever. I have time to be brave. I just got here, so I figured I’d be “safe” and take a cab. Ah, the illusory safety. I’ll save my thoughts on that for another post. Suffice to say, I find the idea of safety to be, to some degree, BS. But there is lots of BS in the world.

The cab ride was kind of nice–my driver was quiet but politely so, and the terrain/area looked like a mix of Mexico and parts of Queens. I’m relieved to be in a place were people appreciate that I attempt to speak Spanish, and have already been complimented on my accent (yay?), but I keep having to ask people to repeat themselves, and definitely didn’t understand why they gave me an extra card with my hotel key, but it’s for free juice from their restaurant. I’m thinking I’m going to nap a bit, then venture out ounce the afternoon rain & clouds are (hopefully) gone. I’ll try to keep updating, which will be easy or not depending on wifi.

Much love,
Shannon

Insanity

I am about to board a plane to Santiago, Dominican Republic. By myself. I am just going to DR. I am a bit afraid I’m insane, but also excited. I have a preliminary plan about where I’m going, and I will clearly be using my Spanish.

It has begun.

The Close of Another Year

This year has just flown by, so fast. And it’s almost over.

I’m looking forward to 2013–I have a new sense of purpose, a new sense of adventure, and I’m so excited about that!

I got back early this morning from NC after a lovely Christmas. It was so nice to see Ellie and the rest of the family. It’s also been nice to have this day to decompress–I just took a nap, listened to music, showered, unpacked, etc. Seriously chill. Tomorrow, it’s back to work. I have a feeling that 2013 will be quite different from 2012. But that could just be a feeling. I’m happy about that. I’m looking for a year that is a bit more happily exciting; I feel like 2012 was a lot of work, and am hoping that some payoff is in 2013.

Hoping your year is looking up as well.

Love,

Shannon

 

Up to Speed

So, I’ve got to admit that the past couple of months have been a little tough for me emotionally. I don’t have a great answer as to why that is, but it is. I’ve just felt pretty unmotivated, down, blech, whatever. A funk, if you will. Maybe I’m just processing things. Whatever. But I certainly think somehow running is related, because I’ve been pretty crappy about running. Some because it’s been hot, and then more recently because I’ve just not felt like going. And suddenly, it’s October and I’m running a 10K on Saturday! So I was freaking out a little bit about that, but I just did 4 miles, and I’m pretty confident I could’ve done the full 6.1 or whatever. So I’m just pretty proud that even though I’m feeling crappy, I’m not letting that be permanent, I’m not getting caught up in the cycle, as it were, and I’m confident that I’ll get back out, or, rather, that I will find my way out. I’m not pushing, I’m just finding that path through the woods. And though I do hope that I’ll see the path more clearly each time I’m in these woods, I’m just relieved that I am at a point that I really trust that I can find it, by myself or with whatever help I need.

Time to listen to a book on tape while taking a bath and then go to sleep.

Lucky lucky girl I am, so lucky.

Dates with Myself

So I’ve been doing this experiment of sorts, taking myself on dates. When I see something interesting that I want to go to, instead of asking someone else to go with me first and waiting to see if I can get a “date” (friend or otherwise), I just buy myself a ticket and put it in my calendar. And then I go. By myself.

I haven’t really done this before, but New York City lends itself to this attitude. It’s not weird to go to anything by yourself here, and there’s always someone to talk to if you really want to.

Date 1 was Hanna Rosin’s talk as part of her book tour for The End of Men a few weeks ago. I was slightly intimidated, and admit I felt a bit embarrassed at how excited I was to get to see all of my Slate journalism idols–Hanna Rosin, of course, but also her husband, David Plotz, as well as Emily Bazelon and Jessica Grose. I didn’t actually get to meet them all, but I felt oddly star-struck just seeing them, as I’ve read their words and heard their voices on so. many. podcasts.

I really enjoyed the actual conversation and had been reading the book, so it felt fresh and exciting. But I did feel awkward afterward, when other people were just shooting the shit with other people they’d come with. Still, I pushed myself to actually introduce myself to Hanna and David both (and I’ve met Emily at another event), and then I left. Still cool.

Date number 2 was by far the most expensive (excepting the shopping accoutrements of date #3, which I’ll get to)–“Sleep No More,” the renowned performing arts experience that’s been extended because of such intense demand multiple times for, I believe, over a year. It’s a “play,” but one that you can walk through, spanning 5 floors of the McKittrick Hotel, which is fictional. The whole experience is super spooky, though I highly recommend it. More eloquent words have been written than my own about the description, so I’ll skip that, and just suffice to say that I am so glad I went by myself. I felt a freedom to explore this alternate world that I don’t think I could have with someone else. And I got a weirdly intimate experience. It was the perfect solo date.

Tonight, I went to see economics Professor Joseph Stiglitz speak about his book, The Price of Inequality, which I’ve also read. Though the talk unfortunately coincided with the first presidential debate, I got some nice quality time at dinner and then Sephora prior to the event, and it was cool to hear what he and the other speakers said. Not an awkward moment. I got a discount on my ticket because I was under 35 (yes. Thirty-five. I have 9 more years to use a youth discount. I guess I am young, especially in the academic/intellectual world??), and I was definitely one of the younger people in the audience. But worth a try. A nice evening of Shannon time.

That and improv practices, plus some real dates thrown in occasionally, and life isn’t so shabby. My 10K in a few weeks is gonna be killer. But there are more 10Ks. I’m not one to keep doing the same thing anyway. And I’m practicing not getting down on myself for not doing everything perfectly. There is always time to improve.