In my home these days, 'tis the season for contemplating how life will inevitably change for my family next summer when we relocate to "who knows where". As such, yesterday Dear Hubby and I were pontificating about potential housing at the next post when the subject of bathrooms came up.
I mentioned that, "it's totally possible that we won't have as many bathrooms in our house next time" based on the pictures I've seen of some houses in different countries that are on my list.
Now according to Dear Hubby, he needs to to have his own bathroom to ensure complete privacy and the ability to spend endless amounts of time without being bothered by our Dear Children.
And as for me, I don't want to share a bathroom with Dear Hubby, my oldest son, or my youngest son.
Our conversation about how many bathrooms we need got me to thinking about just how spoiled we've become in less than 18 months. You see - I grew up in a home with four females and one tiny bathroom and somehow we did just fine with what we had. Dear Hubby grew up in a rural, lesser developed area and had one bathroom too to share with three siblings and two parents.
In 2005, I stayed with a host family in Xela, Guatemala and had to leave the bedroom, physically walk outside (and past a dog and for those that know me that was scary), through a door and into a standalone bathroom, flip a switch and pray the "hot" water would at least reach 60 degrees.
In 2006, I lived in a house in Lasso, Ecuador that required me to leave the room, walk outside and across a wooden board covering a "river" or drainage ditch to get to the other side of the yard and use a standalone bathroom. In that same year, I lived in Salcedo, Ecuador and although I had moved up in the world, I still had to walk outside to get into my bathroom that was attached to the outside of the kitchen. AND to top it all off, water was only available from 7 a.m. - 7 p.m. so taking a late night shower or flushing the toilet in the wee hours of the night was just not possible.
Fast forward to recent years and "upscale" Fairfax County, VA living - Dear Hubby, my three children, and I shared a townhouse with 1.5 bathrooms and again - we made it just fine.
But NOWWWWW we've had a taste of the good life for a full 16 months with a bathroom in all four bedrooms, a half-bath under the stairs, and a full bath outside the pool area (don't get excited - we covered the pool) and we almost completely lost our minds and our sense of grounded reality because we just can't fathom living in a home with only 3, or even worse - 2 bathrooms.
So this post is a reminder to me to (1)remain appreciative, (2)stay grounded, and (3)keep it together as I move on, up, and around in the world.
We're hanging out in la República Dominicana for the next couple of years.
Friday, November 4, 2011
Saturday, October 29, 2011
Child-friendly Society
One of the great things about living in the Dominincan Republic is the fact that children are welcome pretty much everywhere. This is so different from the U.S. where people look at you like you're crazy upon entering many sit-down restaurants with children. And if your children laugh just a little too loud or have a meltdown then everyone (employees and patrons) turns around and glares at you with that "Well, I never" look. So basically, many parents make the decision to just not go out at all or hardly at all for the first 4 years or so.
Well luckily for our family, that's not the case in Santo Domingo. We can go to nice restaurants, ballets, and even the movies without worrying about feeling out of place. One time we went to a nice restaurant on a Saturday night and the kids were restless while waiting on the food to come. K. Amiri was banging his knife and fork on the plates (and we were constantly trying to shush him), so two different waitresses came by to give the kids balloons and a face mask so they could play with something more age-appropriate and less annoying. Last weekend Z. Mulenga and N. David and I went to a modern dance performance at the Palacio de Bellas Artes and a little boy started crying while and saying "yo tengo miedo" (I am scared) over and over again while a masked performer was on stage. As his mother stood up and walked the long walk from the front row to the back of the theatre to leave, the audience just laughed - no dirty looks. Dear hubby and I were even at the movies one night watching something for adults and a couple walked in with their young children who weren't the quietest and no one complained (no one but me secretly because frankly I don't think kids should be watching adult movies with adults at 9 p.m.).
So although I do think there should be limits on where children are allowed, the child-friendly culture here in the DR is a welcome change.
Tuesday, October 18, 2011
On my soap box about women's rights
Something has been bothering me for a few months - the push for c-sections in Santo Domingo and the scare tactics used by these obstetricians and the impact this is having on the Dominican culture surrounding pregnancy, birth, and postpartum periods(at least in my eyes). Santo Domingo is very similar to many other U.S. cities and is also similar to the U.S. in the fact that the rate of birth by cesarean is unconscionably high. As an aside, the country also has the lowest breastfeeding rate in all of the Americas with only 8% of mothers providing breastmilk as the main source of nourishment for the first six months.
Why is this issue tugging on my heart now? Because in the past few months, I think every locally engaged staff member who gave birth plus every friend of a locally engaged staff member who gave birth did so by c-section. I'm upset because I've listened to the conversations of these educated women in this society talk about how they can't have a vaginal birth if the baby is too big although the pelvis opens up 33% wider than usual and really only about 3% of women truly have a condition that prevents babies from making it through the birth canal, or if they are 40 weeks or approaching 40 weeks then the doctor is ready to schedule surgery, and how they found a doctor that supports vaginal births (yet the same doctor makes other statements that indicate otherwise).
It is disheartening to hear these women talk like they don't have a choice at all or worse, to try and encourage a woman who actually fought for her right to choose a vaginal birth!!
I mean how can an experienced OB explain to a woman that if she doesn't start labor by day X then they will skip the pitocin and induction and just schedule major surgery?!?? And not for someone with a high risk pregnancy?!? How can the same OB (supposed last of the OBs that still support vaginal births in the capital) schedule a c-section for a woman days prior to the due date only because that woman got anxious and grew tired of waiting??? Where is the professional integrity? Doesn't anyone care that healing from surgery AND trying to take care of a newborn baby is not the ideal way to enter the postpartum period?
To say that I'm disgusted by this birth culture is an understatement. Not only are women having c-sections more often than not, but there is also this unspoken pressure to look pretty at all times...so much so that some O.B. practices have on-site hairstyling services where a woman can have her hair done DURING or immediately after delivery. And in this same upper middle income country, a disproportionate amount of infants are malnourished, in part due to a very low breastfeeding rate - even for mothers that are poor and cannot afford to provide the amount of formula necessary to adequately feed their babies.
In my non-qualified, non-scientific opinion, the choice not to breastfeed, elective c-sections (elected by the patient or doctor), and physical beauty above all else (including healing) are all indicative of a culture that undervalues women's (and by extension their babies) rights to adequate healthcare and to make informed, educated choices about their bodies.
Why is this issue tugging on my heart now? Because in the past few months, I think every locally engaged staff member who gave birth plus every friend of a locally engaged staff member who gave birth did so by c-section. I'm upset because I've listened to the conversations of these educated women in this society talk about how they can't have a vaginal birth if the baby is too big although the pelvis opens up 33% wider than usual and really only about 3% of women truly have a condition that prevents babies from making it through the birth canal, or if they are 40 weeks or approaching 40 weeks then the doctor is ready to schedule surgery, and how they found a doctor that supports vaginal births (yet the same doctor makes other statements that indicate otherwise).
It is disheartening to hear these women talk like they don't have a choice at all or worse, to try and encourage a woman who actually fought for her right to choose a vaginal birth!!
I mean how can an experienced OB explain to a woman that if she doesn't start labor by day X then they will skip the pitocin and induction and just schedule major surgery?!?? And not for someone with a high risk pregnancy?!? How can the same OB (supposed last of the OBs that still support vaginal births in the capital) schedule a c-section for a woman days prior to the due date only because that woman got anxious and grew tired of waiting??? Where is the professional integrity? Doesn't anyone care that healing from surgery AND trying to take care of a newborn baby is not the ideal way to enter the postpartum period?
To say that I'm disgusted by this birth culture is an understatement. Not only are women having c-sections more often than not, but there is also this unspoken pressure to look pretty at all times...so much so that some O.B. practices have on-site hairstyling services where a woman can have her hair done DURING or immediately after delivery. And in this same upper middle income country, a disproportionate amount of infants are malnourished, in part due to a very low breastfeeding rate - even for mothers that are poor and cannot afford to provide the amount of formula necessary to adequately feed their babies.
In my non-qualified, non-scientific opinion, the choice not to breastfeed, elective c-sections (elected by the patient or doctor), and physical beauty above all else (including healing) are all indicative of a culture that undervalues women's (and by extension their babies) rights to adequate healthcare and to make informed, educated choices about their bodies.
Saturday, October 15, 2011
Where in the World Should We Go Next?
I know I've had to make major decisions that will impact my life and the lives of my family members before, but for some reason I feel so nervous about the decision facing me now. In about one week, I need to rank order the positions I hope to occupy next year and in essence I will be rank ordering the places I want to live next year. Deciding on where to live for the next four years means that I will essentially define the school options for my three children, the professional development and employment opportunities for my husband, and the quality of life for all of us. Last week I found myself half-wishing that the agency would just give me a flag and direct me to my new home.
One year ago when I thought I knew what my options would be, I was so sure that Kenya was the best place for all of us and I spent so much time doing research and convincing dear hubby and my teenager that it would be a great place for us. I even visited Nairobi in June for a couple of days to get a feel for the place and visit the school and I was even more excited about the possibility of moving there next year. But then the list came out and a place I never dreamed would come up for me appeared on the list along with an invitation to consider a place that I had mentally dismissed because of malaria.
So now I'm just confused!!
Kenya is still so attractive for many reasons (no need for anti-malarial drugs in the capital, great schools, good weather, lots of activities, friendly people, good housing, the list goes on and on) and it's the top choice for my hubby and eldest son; however, I'm worried about the high crime and Somalians and stories like this are not helping me feel better.
But now the Southern African nation of Zambia is appealing too and a bit slower-paced. There, too, we would have great weather, a moderate amount of stuff to do, low malaria risk in Lusaka, and friendly people, but there is also LESS CRIME and I haven't heard of any terrorist threats. BUT, it's more expensive and I've heard the high school doesn't compare to the schools in Nairobi.
Or What about the West African nation of Ghana? Rich in culture, enough activities to keep the whole family busy, a supervisor that I already know and like, great seafood options, beaches nearby, safe community but HOTTER THAN THE DOMINICAN REPUBLIC with a very real malaria threat and an o.k. American-style high school.
Knowing that my family will face some level of risk no matter where we go is probably the heaviest weight on my shoulders. I've had a couple of people tell me that in this business, your decisions come down to you "picking your poison" since no place will be perfect. My only prayer is that we move to the place where all of my family members will thrive, where I'll be able to positively impact the lives of people that are less fortunate than me, and where my children and hubby can feel safe, happy, comfortable. Whew!
Is this the kind of anxiety that awaits me every two to four years until I retire? Somebody please tell me no!
One year ago when I thought I knew what my options would be, I was so sure that Kenya was the best place for all of us and I spent so much time doing research and convincing dear hubby and my teenager that it would be a great place for us. I even visited Nairobi in June for a couple of days to get a feel for the place and visit the school and I was even more excited about the possibility of moving there next year. But then the list came out and a place I never dreamed would come up for me appeared on the list along with an invitation to consider a place that I had mentally dismissed because of malaria.
So now I'm just confused!!
Kenya is still so attractive for many reasons (no need for anti-malarial drugs in the capital, great schools, good weather, lots of activities, friendly people, good housing, the list goes on and on) and it's the top choice for my hubby and eldest son; however, I'm worried about the high crime and Somalians and stories like this are not helping me feel better.
But now the Southern African nation of Zambia is appealing too and a bit slower-paced. There, too, we would have great weather, a moderate amount of stuff to do, low malaria risk in Lusaka, and friendly people, but there is also LESS CRIME and I haven't heard of any terrorist threats. BUT, it's more expensive and I've heard the high school doesn't compare to the schools in Nairobi.
Or What about the West African nation of Ghana? Rich in culture, enough activities to keep the whole family busy, a supervisor that I already know and like, great seafood options, beaches nearby, safe community but HOTTER THAN THE DOMINICAN REPUBLIC with a very real malaria threat and an o.k. American-style high school.
Knowing that my family will face some level of risk no matter where we go is probably the heaviest weight on my shoulders. I've had a couple of people tell me that in this business, your decisions come down to you "picking your poison" since no place will be perfect. My only prayer is that we move to the place where all of my family members will thrive, where I'll be able to positively impact the lives of people that are less fortunate than me, and where my children and hubby can feel safe, happy, comfortable. Whew!
Is this the kind of anxiety that awaits me every two to four years until I retire? Somebody please tell me no!
Tuesday, August 16, 2011
Catch-up Post #2: First Time in Africa - Ethiopia
I'm really disappointed in myself for not writing regularly whle I was in Addis Ababa - I had so MUCH to write about. Six weeks have passed and now I'm attempting to record what I remember below:
I felt a little nervous before going to Ethiopia because it is one of the poorer countries on the continent and based on what I'd heard from well-traveled people, developing countries in Africa were far behind Latin American countries. I was sort of expecting Addis Ababa, the capital, to be drowning in destitution - especially because I always remembered this country as the poster child for impoverished African countries. I was concerned that I wouldn't be able to handle the "new poverty" that I'd heard so much about since I was leaving Latin America and specifically, the Dominican Republic - land of Ikea, luxury cars, and Cartier stores. Despite my apprehension, I was super excited about leaving the Americas and finally going OVER a SEA to arrive at my destination for the first time.
I finally arrived in Addis at about 9:30 p.m. on May 31st and my friend and colleague picked me up from the airport and took me to her home. Two things stood out to me on that 10 minute ride to her home. 1) There was a line of homeless people lying on the street outside the gates of a church. I have certainly seen homeless people before sleeping in urban U.S. cities; however, I don't think I'd ever seen so many at one time. 2) Although my friend lives in a really nice home, in a presumably safe and nice neighborhood, I couldn't tell that her neighborhood was nice by looking at the surroundings. In every place that I've traveled (and again, it had only been limited to the Caribbean and Latin America prior to this trip) the difference between middle - upper middle class neighborhoods and poor neighborhoods is painfully obvious.
I spent 30 days in Ethiopia and left with a completely different view of one of Africa's poorest countries and frankly, of the entire African continent - which cannot and should not ever be put in one big box. The following phenomena left the biggest impression on me:
* The capital city was so full of life - even at night. There were tons of small businesses everywhere; lots of people on the streets selling everything from maps to produce, to pirated Sam Cooke, Lionel Richie, and Michael Bolton cds; several new buildings were being constructed; an incredible number of diplomats and expatriates live in the city and the African Union's headquarters is there; the coffee shops were almost always crowded with young people; and there are plenty of restaurants, bars, dance clubs, and places to go for live music.
* Ethiopians seem so serene by nature. From the people that I worked with to the taxi driver we used consistently to the random folks I encountered, they struck me as a peaceful group. It was common to see heterosexual men (and women) holding hands in public, there is a low rate of violent crime, and I believe Christians and Muslims live in relative peace together.
* Orthodox Christianity is alive and well. There are tons of churches throughout the city; most of the places of interest for tourists are churches or other sacred places; fasting takes place twice a week and for several additional days throughout the year; people kiss the walls and grounds of the churches as they pass by; many women cover their hair; most of the females I saw were modestly dressed and even the prostitutes' clothing just reminded me my younger days when I dressed "up" for the club.
My short time in Ethiopia was luckily long enough for me to dispel a couple of long-standing myths for me:
* SOME PARTS OF AFRICA EXPERIENCE VERY COOL WEATHER. Addis Ababa is more than 8,000 feet above sea level and I wore a jacket heavy enough for autumn in Washington, DC on most days. I slept under three blankets at night and I would have looked like a fool had my friend not warned me that it was too cool for linen in Addis.
* MALARIA IS NOT A SERIOUS HEALTH THREAT IN EVERY AFRICAN CITY. Thanks to the altitude, I didn't need to take anti-malarial drugs nor did I run the risk of contracting malaria in the city.
I felt a little nervous before going to Ethiopia because it is one of the poorer countries on the continent and based on what I'd heard from well-traveled people, developing countries in Africa were far behind Latin American countries. I was sort of expecting Addis Ababa, the capital, to be drowning in destitution - especially because I always remembered this country as the poster child for impoverished African countries. I was concerned that I wouldn't be able to handle the "new poverty" that I'd heard so much about since I was leaving Latin America and specifically, the Dominican Republic - land of Ikea, luxury cars, and Cartier stores. Despite my apprehension, I was super excited about leaving the Americas and finally going OVER a SEA to arrive at my destination for the first time.
I finally arrived in Addis at about 9:30 p.m. on May 31st and my friend and colleague picked me up from the airport and took me to her home. Two things stood out to me on that 10 minute ride to her home. 1) There was a line of homeless people lying on the street outside the gates of a church. I have certainly seen homeless people before sleeping in urban U.S. cities; however, I don't think I'd ever seen so many at one time. 2) Although my friend lives in a really nice home, in a presumably safe and nice neighborhood, I couldn't tell that her neighborhood was nice by looking at the surroundings. In every place that I've traveled (and again, it had only been limited to the Caribbean and Latin America prior to this trip) the difference between middle - upper middle class neighborhoods and poor neighborhoods is painfully obvious.
I spent 30 days in Ethiopia and left with a completely different view of one of Africa's poorest countries and frankly, of the entire African continent - which cannot and should not ever be put in one big box. The following phenomena left the biggest impression on me:
* The capital city was so full of life - even at night. There were tons of small businesses everywhere; lots of people on the streets selling everything from maps to produce, to pirated Sam Cooke, Lionel Richie, and Michael Bolton cds; several new buildings were being constructed; an incredible number of diplomats and expatriates live in the city and the African Union's headquarters is there; the coffee shops were almost always crowded with young people; and there are plenty of restaurants, bars, dance clubs, and places to go for live music.
* Ethiopians seem so serene by nature. From the people that I worked with to the taxi driver we used consistently to the random folks I encountered, they struck me as a peaceful group. It was common to see heterosexual men (and women) holding hands in public, there is a low rate of violent crime, and I believe Christians and Muslims live in relative peace together.
* Orthodox Christianity is alive and well. There are tons of churches throughout the city; most of the places of interest for tourists are churches or other sacred places; fasting takes place twice a week and for several additional days throughout the year; people kiss the walls and grounds of the churches as they pass by; many women cover their hair; most of the females I saw were modestly dressed and even the prostitutes' clothing just reminded me my younger days when I dressed "up" for the club.
My short time in Ethiopia was luckily long enough for me to dispel a couple of long-standing myths for me:
* SOME PARTS OF AFRICA EXPERIENCE VERY COOL WEATHER. Addis Ababa is more than 8,000 feet above sea level and I wore a jacket heavy enough for autumn in Washington, DC on most days. I slept under three blankets at night and I would have looked like a fool had my friend not warned me that it was too cool for linen in Addis.
* MALARIA IS NOT A SERIOUS HEALTH THREAT IN EVERY AFRICAN CITY. Thanks to the altitude, I didn't need to take anti-malarial drugs nor did I run the risk of contracting malaria in the city.
Saturday, August 13, 2011
Catch-up Post #1 - Quick Observations in Frankfurt, Germany
It has been months since I've written anything and I have had so much to write about, so I'm getting back into the swing of things now and writing what I remember.
On May 30th, I landed in Frankfurt and stayed over for a little more than 24 hours on my way to Ethiopia. It is the only time I've ever spent time in a European city and there were a few surprises - most of them pleasant. The first major thing that I noticed was just how orderly everything seemed to work in Frankfurt. Nothing seemed chaotic - not the airport, the traffic, or the security checkpoints at the airport. I was also struck by how relaxed the airport security process was once I landed in the country. After I collected my luggage, I stood staring at two doors for about five minutes while I waited on the customs agents to show up. There was a sign on one side that was for people who had something to declare and another sign for people that don't have anything to declare, but there were no customs agents available to receive a form, inspect luggages or anything. I found that to be very interesting and disconcerting. Although standing in lines at the airports in the U.S. and collecting my bags even if I'm only passing through the U.S. to go to another country takes extra time and can be a little annoying, I prefer that to not seeing a single person of authority around in an international airport.
Since food is quite important to me, I was quite pleased to find many outdoor/indoor cafes with great-tasting fresh breads and cheeses at reasonable prices. I was not happy to pay almost $10 for a glass of fresh squeezed orange juice though.
The parks were beautiful, clean, well-kept and really green. The weather was beautiful and I loved the beautiful trees.
It was impressive to see so many people riding bikes to and from work throughout the day and having bike lines throughout the city. I saw youthful men and women and grey-haired women and men riding bikes. I even saw a mom carrying her baby in a sling on a bike as she SMOKED A CIGARETTE IN THE BABY'S FACE. And this brings me to my last point about Frankfurt, Germany: How is it that a country with such lofty goals to use generate close to 30% of their energy from renewable sources in an effort to help Mother Earth not wage a visible, aggressive campaign against smoking?!? I couldn't believe how many people I saw smoking cigarettes there! I might be exaggerating, but it seemed like almost half the people on the street and in the cafes were smoking. That was the only disappointing thing about my short time in Germany - the place seemed so "with it" in some ways, but so far behind the times in one important way that affects environmental and public health.
On May 30th, I landed in Frankfurt and stayed over for a little more than 24 hours on my way to Ethiopia. It is the only time I've ever spent time in a European city and there were a few surprises - most of them pleasant. The first major thing that I noticed was just how orderly everything seemed to work in Frankfurt. Nothing seemed chaotic - not the airport, the traffic, or the security checkpoints at the airport. I was also struck by how relaxed the airport security process was once I landed in the country. After I collected my luggage, I stood staring at two doors for about five minutes while I waited on the customs agents to show up. There was a sign on one side that was for people who had something to declare and another sign for people that don't have anything to declare, but there were no customs agents available to receive a form, inspect luggages or anything. I found that to be very interesting and disconcerting. Although standing in lines at the airports in the U.S. and collecting my bags even if I'm only passing through the U.S. to go to another country takes extra time and can be a little annoying, I prefer that to not seeing a single person of authority around in an international airport.
Since food is quite important to me, I was quite pleased to find many outdoor/indoor cafes with great-tasting fresh breads and cheeses at reasonable prices. I was not happy to pay almost $10 for a glass of fresh squeezed orange juice though.
The parks were beautiful, clean, well-kept and really green. The weather was beautiful and I loved the beautiful trees.
It was impressive to see so many people riding bikes to and from work throughout the day and having bike lines throughout the city. I saw youthful men and women and grey-haired women and men riding bikes. I even saw a mom carrying her baby in a sling on a bike as she SMOKED A CIGARETTE IN THE BABY'S FACE. And this brings me to my last point about Frankfurt, Germany: How is it that a country with such lofty goals to use generate close to 30% of their energy from renewable sources in an effort to help Mother Earth not wage a visible, aggressive campaign against smoking?!? I couldn't believe how many people I saw smoking cigarettes there! I might be exaggerating, but it seemed like almost half the people on the street and in the cafes were smoking. That was the only disappointing thing about my short time in Germany - the place seemed so "with it" in some ways, but so far behind the times in one important way that affects environmental and public health.
Thursday, May 26, 2011
One Dinner in the Life of a Struggling Expat (with one too many food restrictions)
Yesterday my teenager and his Haitian friend announced that his mom wanted to cook dinner for our family on Thursday - today. Of course we accepted the invitation.
I asked my son's friend if his mom was aware that we don't eat meat. He assured me that she knew. Although I still felt uneasy about eating at someone's house who doesn't know me or my family and whose ethnic cuisine I'd never tasted, I made a silent commitment to go, eat, and enjoy.
After arriving at their home and greeting the mom, aunt, sister, and son and learning which person spoke Spanish and which spoke English, the mom brought out a serving tray with 5 glasses of what looked like orange/pineapple juice to give us. I was quietly encouraging myself to drink this juice that I expected to be doused with sugar since I don't ever add sweetener to fruit juices. My husband, 13 year-old son and I were given full glasses of this "juice" but my young children weren't given anything, to their great disappointment.
After drinking some of this pungent "juice" and sharing it with our two and four-year-olds, my husband asked about the ingredients. The 18-year-old daughter explained that chinola (maracuya or passionfruit), pineapple, and orange juice were in it and the mom chimed in to say "and just a little bit of this" as she held up a 1.5L bottle of GIN!!!
Don't worry - I didn't fall out although I don't drink, my 13- year- old does not drink, and my two and four-year olds certainly don't drink alcohol. I just remember blinking my very wide eyes and trying to keep a smile on my face as my husband and I disappointed our children by telling them that the "juice" they were previously drinking with such enthusiasm was now off limits. Luckily, one of our hostesses quickly handed our little darlings two cups of non-alcoholic "cherry" juice.
I told my hostesses that I don't drink and they responded that "oh, it's just a little bit." I sat there trying to sip this gin juice and after a few more sips, I just couldn't do it anymore. 30 minutes later, one of the ladies took my glass while sucking her teeth jussst a little bit.
Finally, dinner was served. They had a table of rice and juandules (I don't know what the equivalent is in English but it is similar to tiny peas, just bitter if not washed properly), chicken, something else that looked like poultry, shredded cabbage with mayonaise, salad with shredded carrots, apples, tomatoes, and iceberg lettuce, and fried something.
I took some rice, shredded cabbage, and salad knowing that my son's friend must've told them that we eat alot of vegetables and fruit. My hostess insisted that I take some of the seafood - the seafood that looked like poultry- and she piled it on my plate. I asked what it was and she said it was lambi. Now is lambi a Creole, Spanish or French word? I resolved to taste the lambi and tried hard to believe that this food that looked and tasted like poultry was really seafood.
As we ate our food (we does not include my four-year-old who told me, "I don't like it" quickly after trying the fried something and shredded cabbage.), I kept reminding myself that it is extremely offensive to people from many other cultures when guests refuse to eat all or most of their food. So I forced myself to smile, chitchat and eat the shredded cabbage with mayonaise that I don't like and the carrot/apple/lettuce salad although cholera has made its way to Santo Domingo and I had no idea what they used to wash their produce, and the rice and juandules that were quite bitter because they probably weren't washed the way our housekeeper taught us.
I was sooo proud of myself...until I ate some of the mysterious lambi and discovered a tiny bone. Yeah. So I kept trying to whisper to my Spanish-speaking husband that had two glasses of the gin juice to ask him "have you ever eaten this before?", "is this really from the sea?", and "what kind of animal is this?" in Spanish or English depending on who was in the room with us since one person spoke Spanish and the other spoke English. Finally, I asked the hostess what the name of the food is again and she tells me "lambi". I ask her if it's seafood and she says, "yes". (this question and answer session with her is in English but her strengths are Creole and French). I then asked her how you say it in English but she couldn't remember. She's trying to remember the word and asks my husband if it's called LAMB in English and my husband who grew up on the Pacific Ocean and claimed to have eaten this before, but also had two glasses of gin juice, responded with a resounding "yes". So I tell her that, "no, I can't eat this because I don't eat meat and LAMB is not a seafood." She then tells me that it is from the sea. I asked her if it is a LAMB like the one that goes
I am always struck by the generosity of people I've met in other countries. Despite my UNgracefulness, the fact that she lost her sister in the earthquake last year and cannot live in her home in Haiti right now, my hostess gave me a tour of her home, offered to bring art back from Haiti for me on her next visit, baked us a cake, and repeatedly told me that her home is my home. I offered to invite them to our home next time for dinner (and yes one reason is so I can control the menu). I only hope that as I continue to befriend people in other countries, I will progress toward being a more perfect dinner guest.
I asked my son's friend if his mom was aware that we don't eat meat. He assured me that she knew. Although I still felt uneasy about eating at someone's house who doesn't know me or my family and whose ethnic cuisine I'd never tasted, I made a silent commitment to go, eat, and enjoy.
After arriving at their home and greeting the mom, aunt, sister, and son and learning which person spoke Spanish and which spoke English, the mom brought out a serving tray with 5 glasses of what looked like orange/pineapple juice to give us. I was quietly encouraging myself to drink this juice that I expected to be doused with sugar since I don't ever add sweetener to fruit juices. My husband, 13 year-old son and I were given full glasses of this "juice" but my young children weren't given anything, to their great disappointment.
After drinking some of this pungent "juice" and sharing it with our two and four-year-olds, my husband asked about the ingredients. The 18-year-old daughter explained that chinola (maracuya or passionfruit), pineapple, and orange juice were in it and the mom chimed in to say "and just a little bit of this" as she held up a 1.5L bottle of GIN!!!
Don't worry - I didn't fall out although I don't drink, my 13- year- old does not drink, and my two and four-year olds certainly don't drink alcohol. I just remember blinking my very wide eyes and trying to keep a smile on my face as my husband and I disappointed our children by telling them that the "juice" they were previously drinking with such enthusiasm was now off limits. Luckily, one of our hostesses quickly handed our little darlings two cups of non-alcoholic "cherry" juice.
I told my hostesses that I don't drink and they responded that "oh, it's just a little bit." I sat there trying to sip this gin juice and after a few more sips, I just couldn't do it anymore. 30 minutes later, one of the ladies took my glass while sucking her teeth jussst a little bit.
Finally, dinner was served. They had a table of rice and juandules (I don't know what the equivalent is in English but it is similar to tiny peas, just bitter if not washed properly), chicken, something else that looked like poultry, shredded cabbage with mayonaise, salad with shredded carrots, apples, tomatoes, and iceberg lettuce, and fried something.
I took some rice, shredded cabbage, and salad knowing that my son's friend must've told them that we eat alot of vegetables and fruit. My hostess insisted that I take some of the seafood - the seafood that looked like poultry- and she piled it on my plate. I asked what it was and she said it was lambi. Now is lambi a Creole, Spanish or French word? I resolved to taste the lambi and tried hard to believe that this food that looked and tasted like poultry was really seafood.
As we ate our food (we does not include my four-year-old who told me, "I don't like it" quickly after trying the fried something and shredded cabbage.), I kept reminding myself that it is extremely offensive to people from many other cultures when guests refuse to eat all or most of their food. So I forced myself to smile, chitchat and eat the shredded cabbage with mayonaise that I don't like and the carrot/apple/lettuce salad although cholera has made its way to Santo Domingo and I had no idea what they used to wash their produce, and the rice and juandules that were quite bitter because they probably weren't washed the way our housekeeper taught us.
I was sooo proud of myself...until I ate some of the mysterious lambi and discovered a tiny bone. Yeah. So I kept trying to whisper to my Spanish-speaking husband that had two glasses of the gin juice to ask him "have you ever eaten this before?", "is this really from the sea?", and "what kind of animal is this?" in Spanish or English depending on who was in the room with us since one person spoke Spanish and the other spoke English. Finally, I asked the hostess what the name of the food is again and she tells me "lambi". I ask her if it's seafood and she says, "yes". (this question and answer session with her is in English but her strengths are Creole and French). I then asked her how you say it in English but she couldn't remember. She's trying to remember the word and asks my husband if it's called LAMB in English and my husband who grew up on the Pacific Ocean and claimed to have eaten this before, but also had two glasses of gin juice, responded with a resounding "yes". So I tell her that, "no, I can't eat this because I don't eat meat and LAMB is not a seafood." She then tells me that it is from the sea. I asked her if it is a LAMB like the one that goes
Baaa, baaa. She laughs, my husband almost vanishes into thin air from embarassment, and I try to keep a straight face since I, too cannot believe that I just imitated a sheep in this stranger's home as I represent the US Government in a country that is neither mine nor hers. So, she emphatically tells me "no, it's not LAMB" and I ask her to tell me what it looks like. (I know, I just could NOT help myself). She explains that it comes in a big shell and you have to scrape it out. I asked if it was conk or concha and she and my husband say "yes" together. So although it still reminded me of dark meat poultry, I ate the rest without additional inquiries.
I am always struck by the generosity of people I've met in other countries. Despite my UNgracefulness, the fact that she lost her sister in the earthquake last year and cannot live in her home in Haiti right now, my hostess gave me a tour of her home, offered to bring art back from Haiti for me on her next visit, baked us a cake, and repeatedly told me that her home is my home. I offered to invite them to our home next time for dinner (and yes one reason is so I can control the menu). I only hope that as I continue to befriend people in other countries, I will progress toward being a more perfect dinner guest.
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