good hair day

My hair has tripled in size from the humidity. However, the office housekeeper keeps trying to get me to let her braid it or something. (No, not those braids that my mother would disown me for.) Because it's still "good" hair. And by that I mean white hair - naturally light enough in color and with the much desired Caucasian texture. Just another example of the pervasive feelings based on skin (and hair and eye) color. No me gusta.

creature comforts

It's been pouring since yesterday afternoon... I wonder what will happen if we have a hurricane because the drainage system (or lack thereof) doesn't seem to be able to handle the water dump of the last 12 or so hours. However, the power has just flickered a few times at the office - once while in the elevator, fun fun. At least we could all concentrate on calming down the woman who was having a bit of a panic attack.

I guess I'm just used to the power going off when we have a storm, not just inexplicably - or rather, because not enough people paid their bill recently so the electric company retaliates by shutting off the power for the entire block. I haven't gotten an explanation for why the water stops running but I assume it's something similar. I really enjoy it when they both go off together, especially when I still have to look (and smell) presentable for the office. Those times bring up the big question of which one I need more - electricity or water. Is it preferable to be remotely clean and hot or remotely cool and dirty? It's a fun topic to think about when sitting in front of the fan covered in a fine layer of grime or when stepping out of the shower to immediately have my sweat mix with the water I haven't dried off yet. It's not just me being high maintenance, my Peace Corps roomies complain too.

Oh, but don't worry, the bar downstairs has a generator, so they are always in business. In fact, they probably get more business during an apagon. I wouldn't be surprised if they've paid off the power company to cut the luz if the take that week isn't looking up and up.

careless whisper

So here I am in the Dominican Republic, with many new things to see and learn. But one of my first and lasting impressions has got to be the music - not necessarily merengue and bachata, but true soft rock gems of the 80s and 90s. The first night I was here, I stayed in a hotel where there was a concert ... a Richard Marx concert. Remember him? Yeah. I was very tempted to see how much tickets were, but this unpaid intern is on a tight budget and I couldn't justify that expense, even to just say I had attended the ridiculousness. Then while I ate breakfast the next morning and while lounging later at the hotel pool, I had the pleasure of listening to what must have been Michael Bolton's greatest hits on repeat. Silly me, I thought it was just a hotel phenomenon...

As you may know, I'm living above a bar. They have a jukebox which means I get to hear whatever fantastic songs the patrons are in the mood for. Their selections follow a general pattern. Not only does some man shout "ladies and gentlemen, let's hear it for Tito Puente!" at least three times a night, but invariably we also get some Michael Jackson (Billie Jean), Madonna (Like a Prayer or La Isla Bonita), Wham! (Careless Whisper), and Celine Dion (My Heart Will Go On). Did I mention the patrons sing along at the tops of their lungs in broken, accented, not-quite-correct lyrical accompaniment? And squeal with delight when the first notes start playing? After hearing "Endless Love" at least twice a day in the office, I could use a break from the genre. (The current selection of Kenny G hits wafting my way doesn't count.)

You know something is a little off when the cars driving by have the bass cranked up so high it sets off car alarms not because they are playing some badass rap or reggaeton song, but because they are thugging out to Celine.