I think that adequately describes the Peace Corps experience here in the DR. Awkward.
I walk down the decrepit sidewalk daily. I carefully tiptoe around potholes, mud puddles, old ladies hobbling along, vendors selling their wares, parked motorcycles on the sidewalk. Yet, it never fails. I’m clumsy. I’m a tripper, and there’s always that crack that gets me. So I lunge forward, in front of everyone watching. I stand out. I’m blonde, white, and I don’t move with the liquid grace of busty Dominicanas. It’s just awkward.
And people will just stare at me. It’s cultural, nothing malicious. People just stare at each other, but I’m a novelty (and American culture dictates that we don’t stare… it’s rude), so I can’t get away from stares. Ahhh, awkward!
Ah, the silly miscommunication that is my mantra. I stutter on my words. My teeth get stuck on my lips when I try to say “alphabeticazión” (which I’ve been trying to say a lot lately). It’s just like those crazy sidewalks, except with speech. People always try to finish my sentences. Frustrating. Or if I don’t completely hear what they were saying or if I understand the Spanish but not the context, they attempt to tell me in English. I’m not to be handled with gloves; I just want clarification in Spanish! Frustrating. Sometimes they talk so rapidly and nod their head. And I slowly nod in agreement and then afterwards I realize that I agreed to something unintentionally. Awkward.
As far as I know, I’m the only blonde Americana living here (If there were others, I would know about them. There are some other Americans who live here… I’ve heard about them, because everyone knows everybody here.). Therefore, I’m somewhat of a celebrity here. People know of me. Some know me as “rubia” (typical), while others know my name. Yet, many times I can’t place where I met them, much less their names. In these situations, I feel just plain awkward.
Modongo (cow intestines) for dinner, now that’s really awkward.
Public speaking. I’m shy, as most of you all know. I’m quiet, and sometimes I just prefer to keep to myself. Yet by merit of being a PC Volunteer, I have to public speak everywhere. I attend an English or computer class to observe, and then in the middle class I’m asked to stand up and introduce myself. Crowded meetings of community leaders, I have to sit in front and stare out at the crowd. Of course, I have to speak (you all know about it. I wrote about it in a previous blog.). Even when I go to church to get my fill of the great Dios who everyone talks about (“Si Dios quiere,” “Ay, Dios mio!” “Gracias a Dios.”), the pastor says a few words about me (ah, surprise!) and then asks me to stand before a crowded church on Mother’s Day, speak in a microphone, and introduce myself. And as a side note, my Spanish on this particular Sunday was crap. For some reason, my mental Spanish program was having some bugs. So yes, you guessed it, AWKWARD.
I’ve come to expect all this awkwardness, that it’s fazing me less and less. I find myself staring back now, grabbing the microphone, just walking up to somebody and start speaking my mangled Spanish. It’s normal, this awkwardness.
You wanna know something funny? The word “awkward” doesn’t exist in Spanish! All this awkwardness isn’t really real in the DR!
So I’m the only one feeling awkward. Now that’s awkward! Hah!
