11 October 2001 Doña Ondina's Nighttime
My room smells of sweat and mildewed clothes. I’m powerless to do anything about it. I can’t have my clothes properly set out to dry in the sun, so when Ondina washes them, they sour in the heat. And my room is this closed-up little thing with poor circulation.
I find myself really wanting to have my own house, a house filled with furniture I have chosen myself. I want the smells I like, and I want there to be enough space to relax comfortably. In other words, I’m really looking forward to moving out of the barrio into a place where I can have properly dried clothes, and a house that’s not made of gingerbread.
Today was the first day of technical training. I was enthused to be done with all the tedious lessons about common-sense issues, and very happy to be biting into something more specific.
Yesterday, there was a party for all the families hosting a gringo. A few other folks and I put together a dance move to an old rap song, Bust A Move, and I did a drag-show-like impromptu performance to Gloria Gaynor’s I Will Survive. People spent a lot of time commenting on me, saying I was really the hit of the party.
I recognized I’m not used to being complimented. I even find compliments hard to accept.
On a related note, an old friend, being too harshly judgmental of others, raised its head again yesterday. There were evaluation forms to fill out about the first part of training, and I was needlessly forthright, blunt, and hurtful. This is one situation you’d think I’d have learned to avoid by now, but this is not the case.
I am basically content. My main worries, as always, have to do with social success and social failure. I want to know if people really like me, and I doubt that they do.
For example, on Sunday, we are going to some communities up north for a practicum in our respective sectors, mine being health. In the group I’m in, I’ll be placed with Erica and Jessica. Erica told me that she thinks I talk about sex too much. Jessica and I seem incapable of having a friendly conversation; I will bring up a topic, and she will shoot me down. What will these next few weeks be like if they don’t like me?
So, like I say, I’m content, but I guess that wherever I go, I take my persistent life issues with me, like awkwardness and self-doubt.
Note to readers: This is a review of my personal journal from my time as a Peace Corps Volunteer in the Dominican Republic more than a decade ago. I have done my best not to change what I wrote, even if I feel differently now or found out later that I what I wrote was factually incorrect. Part of the joy of reading old journals is seeing a story arc where I’ve learned new things.
- The next entry in this series is Is there any escape– from noise?
- The previous entry in this series is Visiting Annette: My first days as a Cuerpo de Paseo volunteer.
- You can see the journal entries as I post them here.
- If you’re just starting, here’s the first entry.
