Fiesta February

Recently we celebrated Dominican Independence Day. You might, as my brother did, presume they are celebrating independence from Spain, who ruled the DR from "discovery" in 1492, until when they ceded it to France in 1795, then again from 1809 to 1821. But no, they are celebrating independence from Haitian rule, which was a disastrous 22 year period (1822-1844) that created almost 2 centuries of animosity towards Haiti. Long story short, Haiti was prosperous and heavily populated, the DR was poor, Haiti appropriated land and drafted young men into their army, stole food, killed many and basically were jerks. A group of educated nationalists created a secret society and overthrew Haiti in 1844 and formed a government. The main players were called Duarte, Mella and Sánchez, and there are murals, statues and roads named after them in every little town.

So, how did we celebrate Independence Day? Why, with a caminata, a kind of parade with no floats, as Dominicans do for EVERYTHING (political campaigns, church gatherings, memorials, funerals etc). Down the street we paraded with the other schools in town, while a herd of motos and pickups inched along behind us, just itching to get a moment to zip around the crowd.

Our wonderful teaching assistant Ginette getting into the spirit of things.

Seriously, how gorgeous are my kids???

The parade led us to the multiuso, a kind of aircraft hangar-style basketball court which is used for literally every purpose imaginable. 1,000 children and teachers sat on stone bleachers for hours. Yet it wasn´t quite as hellish as I expected.

First, some very important man with a very important job gave the longest and most boring speech about Dominican Independence while everyone ignored him and chatted away. I tuned right out but apparently it was very Haiti-hating. Then, each school did a different performance. There were traditional dances by a college dance group (below) and a couple of "baton ballet" performances. This particular dance style is a Latin phenomenon, and consists of young girls in cheerleader type outfits with batons. What differentiates baton ballet from your standard St. Patrick´s Day parade baton-twirlers is the dance moves, namely the twerking. These girls kept it pretty tame, with just a few pelvic thrusts, but other groups have been known to feature 7-year olds shaking their moneymaker on all fours like a Nicki Minaj robotic dog.

Not the baton ballet.

Our school is kind of the odd one out in Las Terrenas. We operate differently, our students are a mix of Dominican, Haitian, Latin American, North American, European, well-off and poor. So, being thrown into a mix of all the other private schools was interesting. Some teenage girls were fascinated with our whiter kids, and pulled them onto their laps. They kept stroking poor William the Swede´s hair and talking about how they want a baby like that. I tried to throw out the "you don´t need a baby now, go to university first" spiel but they were too busy taking selfies with the blond Swede and cute norteamericana to listen.

Like all of Latin America, the DR celebrates Carnival, with the main party being in La Vega, in the centre of the country. Basically, it´s like St. Patrick´s Day, only instead of drunk lads strolling around hitting each other, they stroll around and hit everyone else. With inflated cow bladders. Dressed as diablos cojuelos (limping devils).

Never let this guy get a good aim at your ass.

People dress up, but not as much as they would for say, Halloween in Ireland or Carnival in Spain. Mainly, people stroll around drinking beer and trying to avoid vejigazos (wallops from the cow bladders).

Whiteface.

I went with a Colombian, a Basque, a Korean and two Dominicans and returned late that night tired and oh so sore. With a massive shiner on my arse.

Poor Minerva was not having fun...

Little but lethal.

After the madness of Carnival and Independence Day, I jumped on board straight away when I heard there was a trip to a remote beach being planned. My colleague Carmen and her boyfriend Javi are great for exploring the peninsula we live on with their scooter and a surfboard. They found a beach called La Lanza del Norte, which is about 40 minutes from where we live. So one Saturday, 5 adults (including myself) and 3 kids piled into a car, Carmen and Javi took their scooter and 5 more went on two motorbikes to check out this beach. We went past a load of film crews where Vin Diesel was filming his new movie, totally disinterested in seeing the bald bulk that is Vin, and found this little paradise. A guy who owns a villa off the beach had built 3 huts, one of which had a traditional wood-fired oven in it, and so we gathered firewood and got that going, as well as a grill. One of our group climbed a coconut tree and cut down a dozen cocos with his machete. We bought pan de coco or coconut bread, fresh off the fire on the way, and had rum with fresh passionfruit juice while Javi got cooking. He did sausages, baked potatoes and steak. Jesus, it was gorgeous.

Thank you, unidentified rich man who built this kitchen for us.

Having a crap time.

Ukrainian child + meat + plantain.

Hammock for one - good idea.

Hammock for two - bad idea.

Right now, it´s Semana Santa, Easter week, so Las Terrenas is packed with visitors from all over the country. And my wonderful cousin Cliona is here visiting, and we have been having lots of fun. So once it all dies down and Cliona goes, I´ll write about it. For today, I´ll leave you with photos.

Jesenia (a Colombian volunteer for the foundation I work for) and Samary, my friend Awdy´s mom. Samary made a sancocho, a traditional stew of root vegetables and meat, to celebrate the opening of Awdy´s bar. She cooked it up over a gas burner on the street and fed everyone at midnight. It was amazing.