First things first: let me be clear about the title. I'm a sucker for alliteration, so when the opportunity arises I can't pass it up. But when I say "blackout" here I am decidedly NOT referring to a night of high-blood alcohol content accompanied by memory lapse. Rather, I am referring to what is known affectionately (?) in the Dominican Republic as "se fue la luz": a power outage. These are frequent in Nebya, but thankfully my family has an inverter; there have been many an evening when we sit on our lighted porch in the midst of an otherwise dark neighborhood, me contemplating how the income gap has literally been illuminated before my eyes. There are times, however, when the inverter is also not working, such as last week. Now I had become begrudgingly accustomed to grading quizzes by the light of my laptop screen and sleeping in 80-plus degree weather without the relief of a fan, but last week's "apagón" (power outage) saw me acting differently. I decided to go outside and investigate with my host brother, Jorge Miguel (age 8). Our adventure concluded with me being regaled by the inimitable dance moves of Jorge and his neighborhood friends by the light of a mosquito zapper. One thing's for sure: that hour or so of gut-busting hilarity (one of the rare moments I regret not having a smartphone to capture the moment) far beat hunching over yet another set of student compositions. Little by little I am learning the meaning of "tomarlo suave" or 'take it easy'!
The second bit of my alliterative title is also a bit misleading. While it is true that I am feeling happy to be past the halfway point in my Dominican journey, I am not ready to leave without proving to myself what good teaching entails. I know that the both the goodbyes and the homecoming will be bittersweet events. What I actually want to address here is a safety issue. Last week I burned myself pretty badly while dismounting from a motorcycle. I no more than grazed the muffler with my calf than I was greeted with the smell of singed skin and a reflexive cry of pain that couldn't possibly have come from the brave, adventurous me (!) Thankfully, again, I live with a doctor and due to his ministrations my burn is healing nicely. Note to the squeamish: stop reading NOW! My skin is on it's third "peel" and the pus-filled blisters are long since gone. And the pain of the experience has long since receded. But I am now much more leery around motorcycles!
I'll be back with more anecdotes and adventures!
Saludos,
Kirsten
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