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

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.

Air Show in Santo Domingo

A couple of Sundays ago, we went to the Malecón on the waterfront to enjoy the air show put on by the Dominican military, in conjunction with our own military while lots of other non-essential programs were on the chopping block. Anyway, I'd like to say the day was just perfect; however, my 13-yr. old was "lost" for 4 hours. My dear hubby and I took turns exercising by walking 1+ miles in 85-degree weather under the blazing sun looking for him. I alerted the police and was taken to a first-aid area to give a description, although I'm not sure why since they did not have the emcee announce the lost child and my son wore an orange shirt just like half of the other male spectators that day.

Don't worry though - he found us juuuussst when he felt like it. I was worrying and thinking he had either fallen into the Caribbean Sea or been beaten and had his cell phone stolen while he was joking around with school friends that he found. Lucky for me, his friend's father works with me and when my wonderful child couldn't explain where we were exactly, he decided to intervene. I was so happy he was alive and safe, I don't even think I yelled.

Unfortunately for the little ones though, our concern for big brother meant they had to enjoy about 2.5 hours of the air show from our car (the last place we were all together).

That was no fun for the children or the parents, but my 2 yr. old managed to create body art

and we saw some cool formations

and a smiley face in the sky.

You have to strain and look at the bottom of the picture.

Company

My mom is coming! My mom is coming!
I LOVE LOVE LOVE company!!! My mother came last August, soon after we arrived, but before our car arrived so the only thing "special" she did was consume coconut water and young coconut meat from about 20 young coconuts and purchase something she needed from Ikea.

I'm not only excited because one of her bags is mostly full of special food items for us, like my 150 oz. of agave or bottles of Nettle to help control my daughter's environmental allergies. THIS time, her trip unexpectedly saved the day since next Tuesday is Grandparent's Day at Z. Mulenga's pre-school! I'm so thankful because I felt a little saddened by the thought of my daughter being the only child without a grandparent at school.

We're going to have a picnic at the Aquarium which has a beautiful outside part on a pretty part of the Caribbean Sea and visit Lost Tres Ojos and catch some of the DR's art.

I'm so looking forward to hanging out with her, my youngest two children are excited, my oldest loves her too but he's 13.

For those family members and friends that have considered visiting us, please do come. We'll treat you so well you won't want to return, but time is running out since we have less than 1.5 years left.

Remembering my Purpose

I love daydreaming, researching, imagining, anticipating, and wondering about many things in my life, especially where I'll live next. In 2009, I went a little crazy with all the daydreaming, researching, imagining, anticipating, and wondering about where I'd be only to end up in the only country that I hoped I wouldn't be. In 2010, I reduced time spent daydreaming, researching, imagining, anticipating, and wondering about where to next but I still couldn't stay away from Tales from a Small Planet. This year I spent 1 month in Barbados and found myself pining for the opportunity to live there next despite knowing that lots of little [bureaucratic] miracles would need to take place to make that a remote possibility.

During my time in Barbados, however, I had a revelation that left a lasting impression on me. "I am here to fulfill one of my life's missions". Consuming my energy with thoughts of "where to next?" and "oh, how I wish" is a symptom of my failure to honor my purpose for being here and disregard the totality of my "failures", disappointments, triumphs, prayers, and general life experiences that prepared and led me to be here. I certainly want to end up in the best place for my family and me, but I no longer want to write the detailed prescription [even in my head] for the best place for me to be. And I certainly don't intend to endlessly daydream, research, imagine, anticipate, and wonder about the next place as I did in the recent past.

I'm looking forward to living where I'm needed most, where I'll be able to influence lasting, positive change, and where my family will thrive.

The Grass Always Seems Greener...

I've been writing this post in my head for at least the last three weeks and although I'm finally physically recording my thoughts, some of these ideas have been replaced by a new revelation that I'll discuss in a subsequent post.

I've been in Barbados for the past 4 weeks now and I must say that the grass surely looks greener on this side of the Caribbean when compared to Santo Domingo. This place is so amazing for so many reasons, but the #1 reason for my love of this country is the courtesy and respect that everyday Bajans (Barbadians) extend to each other and foreigners. The people are not particularly friendly; however, they are very respectful. This was evident on the bus with reggae music blasting as a passenger held my bag for me because I had to stand up and she figured it was a bit too heavy for me to hold. I noticed it when a lady carrying a young child stepped on a full bus and a man immediately jumped up so she could sit down and on a different bus when another man quickly offered his seat to an elderly woman. (It is important to note that the buses don't have signs instructing anyone to give up seats for parents or the elderly & this doesn't even happen in DC on the Metro.) It is obvious whenever I pause on the sidewalk and within seconds a car stops so I can cross the street and whenever a car waiting to join heavy traffic is allowed to turn in front of another vehicle stopped in traffic.

Barbados is clean and making real efforts to be green too. The beaches are clean and the water is so clear that I could even see the bottom of the seashore on starry nights. People, including the young, the lesser developed, non-turisty efforts, and those with little resources, put trash in the trash cans. Bajans take pride in their country and seem to make continuous efforts to keep it beautiful.

The crime rate is low. As I've passed numerous homes and several neighborhoods, even the ones with really humble surroundings, I can't help but notice the absence of bars on the windows. The buses are safe - this includes the official ones, semi-official ones, and independently operated taxi-vans. I was very grateful for the opportunity to use public transportation daily to get home from work and do some sightseeing without being harrassed or without having to argue about the price of a bus ride.
It's easy being comfortable in Barbados while walking at night or early morning to catch a sunrise on the beach.

The Beaches are absolutely AMAZINGLY BEAUTIFUL and PERFECT and FREE and within CLOSE PROXIMITY of anywhere you live. The Government has not sold rights to their natural, precious resources to any private developers so that everyday Bajans are excluded from enjoying them and tourists are paying exorbitant rates to enjoy them. The beaches are clean and there are no stray dogs roaming around. For those that know me well, I am uncomfortable around dogs (stray or not). If I lived here, my family and I could drive or catch the bus to a different beach every weekend and not spend more than 30 minutes to 1 hour traveling.

Barbados has all the foodstuff I need and a good variety of healthy foods that even my oldest son will eat. Although I'd have to pay a premium, I can walk into a few stores and purchase tofu, liquid amino acids, agave, Ezekiel bread, and sunflower seed butter. My oldest could eat all the oranges, apples, and grapefruit he wants. We'd have easy access to garam masala, curry, and roti, and other Indian products. My husband would be so grateful to have an abundance of fresh fish from the Caribbean sea sold at reasonable prices. We would be able to eat out once a month as a family thanks to the delicious, healthy, and affordable restaurants around. Ahhh...just imagining the possibilities makes my heart smile.

Although I could go on and on about how wonderful this place is, I'll stop harping on just how much greener the grass is after making this last point. Barbados is a place where brown and natural beauty is celebrated and the people seem proud of who they are. I have two children at critical ages where the broader society's and/or their peers' ideas about what beauty looks like and what is acceptable and preferred can impact their own self-image and self-esteem. I think my dark brown teenaged son could use the boost that living among people who are okay with the skin they're in, especially after confronting insulting references to his skin color from Dominican classmates on a fairly regular basis. I would love for my 4 yr. old little girl to be immersed in a society where most little girls and big girls dress demurely; where two-strand twists, locks, kinky curls, and cornrows reign; and most teenagers and women keep make-up to a minimum. And finally, I would love getting my hair done professionally by people that know how to take care of unprocessed hair.

Despite the 1 million reasons I can list supporting my preference for Barbados over the Dominican Republic, I will return to my Dominican reality tomorrow. I will no longer daydream about moving my family to Barbados and I will make the most of each day in Santo Domingo.

The grass may seem greener in Barbados today, but I acknowledge that:
- An abundance of fruit and veggies grow in the DR and are available at reasonable prices. (In Barbados, the fruit is imported from the US and Chile and super expensive)

- Better English language opportunities are available for Dear Hubby

- My children are immersed in a culture distinctly different from ours that will expand their worldview much more so than it would in Barbados

- Acquiring Spanish as a second language (especially since it's the 2nd language in our home given Dear Hubby's Colombian roots) is so much easier than it is in Barbados

- The DR, not Barbados, is where I'm supposed to be now. It's where my Dear Hubby, N. David, and I are supposed to learn some important life lessons. It's where we are all progressing and being nurtured and prepared by those around us to meet different challenges in the future.

Lizards - A True Sign of Progress

In general I do not feel comfortable with animals other than homosapiens or fish sharing the same space with me. I really despise rodents of any kind and after living in the wrong place in Washington, DC for a year, I am absolutely traumatized by the sight of mice and rats.

When I lived in Belize City, the first place I landed outside of the U.S., I was scared of the Geckos that stayed in my house on the wall near the ceiling. Although the Belizeans said it was good luck to have them in the house, I never felt lucky at all.

Fast forward 10+ years and I am actually comfortable with the lizards and geckos living in our house. I'm very proud of myself for this "progress" because eventually I may come face to face with a greater variety of wildlife. Although I want to pat myself on the back, I'm not so sure I deserve it because my comfort level with the lizards and geckos is likely due to the fact that I'm SO RELIEVED and HAPPY that we don't contend with mice and rats. There are enough of them in this city and some have even shown up at the big boss' home, but they don't live HERE - thank Goodness.

My sister is here visiting though and although she's hung out in Senegal and Haiti, she didn't take it so well when one of the lizards planted itself in her room. I took several pictures of it on her suitcase, on the wall, and on the floor. My niece, sis and children Z. Mulenga and K. Amiri were quite scared but I just kept clicking away in my brand new bravery!

On-Duty and In Uniform 24/7

"I want to pass a law prohibiting that." - Dear Hubby (after watching a nanny dressed in a pinstriped uniform ushering two young children into the movie theater as they walked behind their mother and father)

Admittedly, I don't quite understand the nanny thing all day every day. I have my own feelings about it and just like there are inherently governmental functions that government employees perform, I think there are inherently parental functions that parents should perform when they aren't at work or taking a sanity break. The point of this post, however, is not to debate having a nanny or not.

I just want to express my not-so-humble opinion that it is absolutely unnecessary to have a nanny/maid dressed in full uniform OUT IN PUBLIC! In the DR, Nannies in Uniform are sighted everywhere - at my daughter's afterschool parent-child events, the mall, the movie theater, the aquarium, dropping the kids off at school, picking the kids up from school, outside at the Malecón (open space with restaurants, loud music, and families just hanging out by the sea). The only place I haven't seen nannies yet is at the beach, but I'm willing to bet there are Dominicans demanding that their nannies don their nanny swimsuits too.

Dear Hubby and I are always trying to figure out if they have to remain in uniform so that the line between family member and household help is obvious to outsiders or because it is a status symbol to have someone else running around after your kids in public places while you're standing by looking pretty.

At any rate, my not-so-humble opinion is that if you have a nanny who lives with you and tags along to EVERY SINGLE PUBLIC PLACE with you and attends all your child's school events and parent-teacher conferences, etc., then that person is essentially an extended member of the family. Why can't this extended member of the family who cares for your children be afforded the opportunity to dress in street clothes whenever out at the mall, movies, restaurants, school, or IKEA? If it's so important for others to know that they are not IN your family, give them name tags instead.

Full Disclosure: I know that Nannies are necessary for some families and I, too, enjoy the assistance of someone else on a regular basis. I haven't had to wash or comb my daughter's thick, curly, and often-tangled hair in months and I don't ever want to do it again because it's a big, 2 hour fight each time. My stomach just turns when I see nannies doing it all (all the time) and doing it in uniform.