Today was my birthday, and it seemed as if everyone knew (we have already been warned many times that news here spreads like wildfire). It quickly circulated among the other volunteers that my birthday was Saturday, and since everyone wanted to go out dancing this weekend anyways, we all agreed on a place to go on Friday night, to dance and celebrate.
Somehow almost all fifty volunteers managed to agree to going to a bar/dance club on Friday. Only a few people had actually been there previously, and the rest of us were anxiously awaiting our first Dominican dances. Five other girls who live in my neighborhood and I pulled up to this venue after a long taxi cab ride, and were pleased to see that most of the other volunteers were also there. The place that we went is called the Car Wash (yes, in English) which was actually kind of confusing because there are many venues called the Car Wash. Apparently the only way they could get people to come wash their cars in a country where it always rains is if they also provided a bar and a dance floor, which is why many car washes also serve as party areas at night.
We arrived at this Car Wash, which was a pretty large open venue, and saw that it not only had a bar and a dance floor but a Jumbotron playing a baseball game at all times. At first we all just sat around chatting, some danced merengue, but most of us just sat and watched, since the majority of us are new to merengue. Suddenly, after a break in the music, the dj put on some good ol' American hip-hop and rap, and within seconds every single American was on the floor dancing. The Dominicans just sat there in awe, a few men tried to get in on the action, but they were clearly out of place.
I woke up on Saturday morning to my host mother carrying three chickens upside down by their legs through our house to our little back porch area. I ran for my camera, thinking the chickens were dead and she was going to defeather them, but when I ran back to see them, there they were, squaking around with the family's tiny chihuahua running in between them. I went out with my friends to the grocery store, and by the time I got back one of those chickens was cooking in a pot of soup, which I ate about an hour later. My host mom promises that the next time she kills a chicken, I can watch and learn.
I spent the rest of Saturday hanging out with other volunteers, then I ate dinner with my family and was just relaxing when my host mom's sister and her children pulled up in a car and told me to come with them. The kids, who are 6, 9 and 13, are very energetic and were clearly very excited to have me over to their house for a “surprise” party. We picked up my other “aunt” who is the host mom of another volunteer, and talong with the volunteer, we went over to their house. Since my cake wasn't ready yet, the girls insisted that I walk up and down the street with them until it was ready. They made sure my eyes were covered as I walked in the house, and then sang “Happy Birthday” in Spanish, attempted in English and then sang another congratulatory song in Spanish.
We ate some of the cake, took more pictures than you could ever imagine, and then began dancing. Everyone had to dance with me, since I was the birthday girl, and then they all danced among themselves. Later, the girls put a song on called Maraca, which is basically a song that encourages people to dance reggaeton, which is a dance form that children really shouldn't be emulating. The 6 year old and 10 year old got up there and danced around, while I alternated between thinking it was a hilarious sight and being rather horrified that their mother was allowing them to dance that way. Then they put it on again and insisted that we gringas dance. The girls had already taught my friend this dance, so she was used to it by now, but I almost died laughing when I got up there and tried to mimic them (when in the Dominican Republic...)—these little girls certainly knew what they were doing, and I did not!
All in all, it was a good birthday, and quite the cultural experience!
No comments:
Post a Comment