Habitat for Humanity
Republica Dominicana
2014
9 days, 6 families, 5 houses and 1 whole lot of fun.
Our trip began with an eye-opening day and night in Santo Domingo, DR's capital, as we stepped off the bus to an array of colors and culture. The history of the island is strongly present with The America's first colonial era fort looming over the entire city. The first cultural difference that really wowed me was the night life. Everyone, men and women ages 3 to 97, would go out at night. They didn't need a place to go, an event, a drink or even a cigarette. No, they just needed a street corner and a chair, the rest of the community, and boy was it a party. Day two introduced us to our Habitat hosts and somehow we were able to leave behind the begging children and street performers for a three hour bus ride inland to the town of San Juan de La Maguana where we were to do our builds. The bus trip was an exciting/borderline dangerous roller coaster. There are some major differences in DR driving compared to the US. People ride motor bikes (by people I mean 3 or 4 at a time!) and we saw one family of 5 ride by at one point. You can honk whenever you want for no reason and lanes and signs are more like guidelines than actual rules. Also, each speed bump is a market place and banana trucks can be staked as high as they want to.
Upon arrival in San Juan, the local perception of our group seemed to shift. We moved from being the white tourists in Santo Domingo for a night before heading off to Punta Cana, to international volunteers whose purpose of visiting was to assist the need of others. Lets just say, the language barrier wasn't as difficult. Our first day of work brought the majority of the community out in plastic patio chairs. Throughout the week we built the equivalent of two houses on six different properties. We worked in two groups at different sites. Day one was creating cement panels for walls, day two we shoveled our butts off to make a foundation, day three was assembling the cement panels we made in the factory into frames to form the walls, and day four was roof day. We had to shovel cement from the ground, to a platform head high, to the roof, and into a wheelbarrow to be spread evenly into the frame of the roof. Day five was painting...and it went "suave" to say the least. Each day we were lucky enough to be at a different site, so we got to meet many different families, with kids galore. Hanging with the kids was great and was one of the best parts of the trip. We also got to know the local workers extremely well. These guys were probably a scrawny 140 lbs max but could somehow bicep curl a full 5 gallon bucket full of cement without breaking a sweat. Obviously, I strived to work as hard as them day in and day out, which is why I am still sore five days later.
Somehow our group found the energy to "explore the town" each evening. Our Habitat hosts, who I kinda want to be when I grow up, gave us plenty of activities to keep our tired bodies occupied. One night we played Dominican Bingo where, of course, we used corn to cover our cards. The next night was dancing. We learned the Bachata, Salsa and the Dominican favorite, Meringue. After our brief lesson we showcased our skills at the local dancing hall. My cuban blood (debatable with my grandmother) seemed to pulse the Caribbean rhythm through my veins and Coco and I seemed to fit in just fine with the hip swinging locals. I think we might have even taught 'em a move or two, but the rest of the group thought differently. After work on day three we ventured out to a river and got to bond with the Habitat hosts over swimming races and cold dunks. You don't need to speak the same language to know how to splash war. The fourth night, my favorite of them all, was the challenge. There might as well have been a car with a speaker driving down the street saying. "Come one, Come all, to watch the locals of San Juan take on the gringos of Habitat!" Byy six o'clock the town was out, the lines were chalked, the kids had their peanuts and cracker jacks and it was time to play ball. Now, I played baseball in high school. I knew I was going to do fine against a bunch of washed up locals who didn't make the minor leagues. After their 5th homer I knew I was horribly wrong. I will leave it with: In the DR they bleed baseball, in the US it's just a pastime.
The week went by faster than I could even comprehend and before I knew it we were back on the bus taking our 3 hour drive back south. The last day we got to see underground caves with blue lakes and stalactites and stalagmites (the ones dripping from the ceiling are Tites, T looks like an a drip from above, and the ones on the grounds are Mites, M looks like two mounds on the ground, for all you spelunkers out there ;-). The afternoon brought us to the beach and this was my first time seeing Caribbean water. I mean, wow! How much dye do they have to put in there to make it that color!? Once we stepped out on to the sand the smack of tourism hit me again. We were bombarded by hawaiian shirts, straws in coconuts, and people trying to sell us their stuff, massages, cigars, hats, paintings, fruit. You name it, they had it and brought it up to your chair 37 times. It was very sad seeing people so desperate for tourists' money, seeing the country so desperate for tourists' money. It was even sadder not being able to help them. I took a mental video of that beach and tried to relax in paradise, but it was not easy. As our last Dominican sun set, it was time for goodbyes and thank yous. Saying bye to the group was easy, as plans for a future trip might already be in the making, but saying bye to our hosts was a little harder as they will not be with us on any near future voyages.
Throughout the plane ride home I played that mental video of the beach over and over in my head. To many people, that is traveling, that is all they get to see of another country. If I would have decided to buy a ticket to the Dominican I would have seen the capital city, Christopher Columbus's house, the bus to the resort, the beach, the caves, maybe a jungle tour and thats it. No matter how packed an itinerary I would have had, there would be no river trip, no baseball with the line of kids on the fence cheering "Gringos! Gringos!" No Haitian friend named Wiki bonding over fist pumps and different ways to throw cement out of a shovel onto a platform. No peekaboo with Bradley Jose, who was the youngest son of the family I helped build a roof for. None of that. No, it would have been "Top 10 places to see in the DR" guides, secret money pouches under your belt, and souvenir shops. It would have been traveling like normal. Traveling as most of the world sees it.
So if that is traveling to most people, what the heck did I just do?
I want to thank you from the bottom of my heart, to have made it possible for me to embark on this journey. This trip changed many people's lives, including mine. Without your support, none of this could have happened. Feel free to contact me with any questions or to hear more. I believe the final score of the baseball game was 37 to 5, just to get that one out of the way cause I know it will be a FAQ.
Enjoy the pictures below!
Upon arrival in San Juan, the local perception of our group seemed to shift. We moved from being the white tourists in Santo Domingo for a night before heading off to Punta Cana, to international volunteers whose purpose of visiting was to assist the need of others. Lets just say, the language barrier wasn't as difficult. Our first day of work brought the majority of the community out in plastic patio chairs. Throughout the week we built the equivalent of two houses on six different properties. We worked in two groups at different sites. Day one was creating cement panels for walls, day two we shoveled our butts off to make a foundation, day three was assembling the cement panels we made in the factory into frames to form the walls, and day four was roof day. We had to shovel cement from the ground, to a platform head high, to the roof, and into a wheelbarrow to be spread evenly into the frame of the roof. Day five was painting...and it went "suave" to say the least. Each day we were lucky enough to be at a different site, so we got to meet many different families, with kids galore. Hanging with the kids was great and was one of the best parts of the trip. We also got to know the local workers extremely well. These guys were probably a scrawny 140 lbs max but could somehow bicep curl a full 5 gallon bucket full of cement without breaking a sweat. Obviously, I strived to work as hard as them day in and day out, which is why I am still sore five days later.
Somehow our group found the energy to "explore the town" each evening. Our Habitat hosts, who I kinda want to be when I grow up, gave us plenty of activities to keep our tired bodies occupied. One night we played Dominican Bingo where, of course, we used corn to cover our cards. The next night was dancing. We learned the Bachata, Salsa and the Dominican favorite, Meringue. After our brief lesson we showcased our skills at the local dancing hall. My cuban blood (debatable with my grandmother) seemed to pulse the Caribbean rhythm through my veins and Coco and I seemed to fit in just fine with the hip swinging locals. I think we might have even taught 'em a move or two, but the rest of the group thought differently. After work on day three we ventured out to a river and got to bond with the Habitat hosts over swimming races and cold dunks. You don't need to speak the same language to know how to splash war. The fourth night, my favorite of them all, was the challenge. There might as well have been a car with a speaker driving down the street saying. "Come one, Come all, to watch the locals of San Juan take on the gringos of Habitat!" Byy six o'clock the town was out, the lines were chalked, the kids had their peanuts and cracker jacks and it was time to play ball. Now, I played baseball in high school. I knew I was going to do fine against a bunch of washed up locals who didn't make the minor leagues. After their 5th homer I knew I was horribly wrong. I will leave it with: In the DR they bleed baseball, in the US it's just a pastime.
The week went by faster than I could even comprehend and before I knew it we were back on the bus taking our 3 hour drive back south. The last day we got to see underground caves with blue lakes and stalactites and stalagmites (the ones dripping from the ceiling are Tites, T looks like an a drip from above, and the ones on the grounds are Mites, M looks like two mounds on the ground, for all you spelunkers out there ;-). The afternoon brought us to the beach and this was my first time seeing Caribbean water. I mean, wow! How much dye do they have to put in there to make it that color!? Once we stepped out on to the sand the smack of tourism hit me again. We were bombarded by hawaiian shirts, straws in coconuts, and people trying to sell us their stuff, massages, cigars, hats, paintings, fruit. You name it, they had it and brought it up to your chair 37 times. It was very sad seeing people so desperate for tourists' money, seeing the country so desperate for tourists' money. It was even sadder not being able to help them. I took a mental video of that beach and tried to relax in paradise, but it was not easy. As our last Dominican sun set, it was time for goodbyes and thank yous. Saying bye to the group was easy, as plans for a future trip might already be in the making, but saying bye to our hosts was a little harder as they will not be with us on any near future voyages.
Throughout the plane ride home I played that mental video of the beach over and over in my head. To many people, that is traveling, that is all they get to see of another country. If I would have decided to buy a ticket to the Dominican I would have seen the capital city, Christopher Columbus's house, the bus to the resort, the beach, the caves, maybe a jungle tour and thats it. No matter how packed an itinerary I would have had, there would be no river trip, no baseball with the line of kids on the fence cheering "Gringos! Gringos!" No Haitian friend named Wiki bonding over fist pumps and different ways to throw cement out of a shovel onto a platform. No peekaboo with Bradley Jose, who was the youngest son of the family I helped build a roof for. None of that. No, it would have been "Top 10 places to see in the DR" guides, secret money pouches under your belt, and souvenir shops. It would have been traveling like normal. Traveling as most of the world sees it.
So if that is traveling to most people, what the heck did I just do?
I want to thank you from the bottom of my heart, to have made it possible for me to embark on this journey. This trip changed many people's lives, including mine. Without your support, none of this could have happened. Feel free to contact me with any questions or to hear more. I believe the final score of the baseball game was 37 to 5, just to get that one out of the way cause I know it will be a FAQ.
Enjoy the pictures below!
