A lot of hot

My across the street neighbor is my Dona's brother (basically everyone in La Caya is related to my Dona in someway) and he and his wife lived in the states for 35 years. It's actually pretty incredible, because he worked 35 years in a kitchen (both as a dishwasher and later as a cook) at a country club in Naples, Florida. After 35 years working in the states, he came back to La Caya, where both he and his wife were born and raised, and built himself a beautiful home with all the luxuries one could hope for (minus hot water).

Anyway, I eat lunch at his house with him, Lidio is his name, and his wife, Rosa, a few days a week, and I am really starting to like their quiet and calming company. Lidio speaks fairly decent English and he likes to speak to me in English, because "he likes the United States." My favorite thing he says in English is, "a lot of hot." In Spanish when you want to say it's really hot outside, you say "Mucho Calor," which literally translates into "a lot of hot." It's totally random, but everyday as the sun is radiating on all of us and every person is literally dripping in sweat, I look forward to him telling me this phrase, because it's the most accurate way to put it... A lot of hot.

I have been thinking a lot about Lidio and Rosa's life, and all the lives of Dominicans who are living in the states now, whether they will stay there forever and come back in 35 years to build a Dominican mini-mansion in their hometown.

The majority of me feel so blessed to have my Peace Corps assignment in the DR. Here, people love America. Heck, every person I meet literally has a cousin in New York or Miami. People are fascinated by me as a "Real Life American," and the fact that I actually do and can speak English. Because of where I was born, in many ways I am everything these people want to be.

It's a lot of pressure and lot of building frustration. For example, my community has put great pressure on me teaching English classes (which will start on Monday). Casually, people mention how I will teach English and how "todo el mundo," or everyone will be able to speak English fluently by the time I leave. As much as I would love for this to happen, it's never going to happen. When you don't have to speak a language everyday to communicate with the average person, the chances of you casually become fluent are slim to none.

There is also this perception that life in the United States is so much better than in the DR. And yes, in many ways it is. Electricity 24 hours, clean potable water, hot water in homes and businesses, clean streets, reliable government services like trash pick-up, road repair and even health care.

But life in the DR has it's upsides too. It's a beautiful island and the people are friendly. And even though jobs can be scarce (which is the same situation for the states currently, as we all know) you can still have a simple and good life, even if you don't have electricity all the time or potable water coming from your faucet.

A family down the street from me left last Thursday for the states. They are the second family from La Caya, my small country town, this summer to pack up all their things, leave everything they know and start a new life in the states. They don't speak English, and although I know they will learn, I speak from experience when I say not speaking the same language as those around you is possibly the most frustrating, eye-opening and lonely feeling you could ever have.

I think about these families that have left and how the minute they step on that plane their lives are for better or worse forever changed. Yes, my country is amazing. I am very proud to be an American, for our history, for our constant need to be better, for our standard of living. But living the American dream is not easy. And the minute the plane lands, the harsh reality of work sets in. And that doesn't just apply to immigrants. All average people in America spend the majority of their lives working just to make it. I know that's my plan when I get back. Work. Work to live. Live to work.

I think Lidio and Rosa lived the DR/American dream best. They spent 35 hard years living in the states, doing jobs the average American would never do, they raised their six children there (all were actually born in the DR, but now have families and jobs in the states) and finally, they returned to their home country.

Rosa and Lidio's life is simple yet complete, a life every American and Dominican can appreciate. Success, after 35 years of living in another culture, creating another life in a different culture and country, has brought them back to their original home, where, they can tell the random American girl living across the street that there's "a lot of hot," each and every day.