EPIC buena suerte en Salcedo

After returning from a week of semi-roughing it, a glorious shower, and clean clothes...I'm ready to go back to Salcedo. Let me just start that even though this blog post will be ridiculously long, there is so much more that I want to say. For our community health class, each pair of students was randomly assigned to a rural clinic. All my partner - Kate - and I knew was that ours was new. So, I packed my hiking pants, swiss army knife, and a bunch of sports bras into my duffle bag, ready for a week of living in the campo. Little did I know that our clinic is actually the most urban, recently opened, and comfortable clinic in the area. Unlike some of the other clinics, it normally had water and electricity (we only had 1.5 days without them) It's right across from the only supermarket in town - Los Compadres - which we frequented often for groceries and Kate's morning coffee.

La Clínica de Centro Zona

Even though the clinic itself was quite spiffy, the rest of the town was pretty run down and living conditions varied. In the center and in the countryside surrounding the town, houses were often simple 1-room buildings made up wood or cement with a metal roof. Most had water and electricity, with curtains dividing up the sleeping and eating areas.

Across the street from the clinic 

We lived on the second floor of the clinic, where there was a small kitchen, bedroom, and a bathroom for the doctors who live there. In the D.R., students who graduate from medical school (6 years of university) have a mandatory 1 year rotation in a rural clinic. They are called pasantes and but the actual doctors themselves refer to it as slavery. hah. It's an ideal system, since these rural areas need basic healthcare that these fresh young doctors can deliver. Though the lack of supervision doesn't always work out. Nonetheless, Kate and I again lucked out with a tall, handsome, smart super doctor named Gregory. Did I mention we shared a bedroom? Kate and I slept in one large bed while Dr. McSueño slept in another twin bed on the other side of the room. I was surprised by this arrangement because Dominicans are known to be conservative about males and females even hanging out in the same room, but Kate and I were fine with it. The first night, we're getting ready to go to sleep and Gregory says in Spanish "Perdon, but I sleep without a shirt on" swoon. Basically, Kate and I crushed on Gregory like a 13-year-old girl crushes on Justin Bieber. Don't even get me started when we saw him take care of little kids. Or when he measured my blood pressure as a demonstration. However, he was very camera shy so we had to sneak in pictures of him.

Dr. Gregory making us dinner. SO. FINE. 

The first weekend, one of the nurses invited us out to her house in the campo. We hopped on some motos and rode out into the countryside to play some billiards at a shop/bar/snack stand her brother owned. 

I think Kate and my pool skills thoroughly entertained the onlookers.
Now they probably think Americans suck at pool. Oops. Gregory was perfect - as always. 

After getting eaten a live by mosquitos, we returned to the town and got ready to go out. This was our second day living with Gregory and at this point, he seemed like a very quiet, sensitive guy with very particular methods of living. He cleaned his dishes a certain way, cooked and ate with specific requirements (every meal must have protein!), and taught us how to do all of this. So we weren't quite sure what to expect when he said we were going out for drinks. Turns out, HE IS SUCH A GOOFBALL. We all took a shot of vodka before heading out to the club, where he bought us more drinks. We ended up meeting another pair of students staying nearby and started dancing. We were literally the only ones dancing. Unlike most Dominican men, Gregory isn't really into the whole bachata, salsa, merengue thing (maybe because he's from Santo Domingo?? city boy?) but is more into techno. He dances with his shoulders shrugged, and waves his arms back and forth. Kind of like Lee....It's really funny :) Anyways, the next morning, we wake up to find Gregory making us banana pancakes in his pajama bottoms. sigh 

But back to the real reason we were in the clinic. We learned how to treat minor injuries in the emergency room, watched nurses give shots, and helped out or chatted with the nurses when there wasn't much to do. The most exciting thing for me was treating a women who had a second degree burn on her forehead from boiling water. I put on my gloves, and following the nurse's instructions, cleaned the wound with saline solution and soap, peeled off the burnt skin from her forehead (which was kind of difficult since it was stuck to her hair too), and applied an antibiotic cream. It was awesome! It sounds simple but there's a lot of strategy that goes into avoiding infection and treating the wound. I became good friends with all the nurses, who were all incredibly warm-hearted, feisty, and inviting. 

Teresa, me, Jaqui, and Dionis making gauze packets

The rest of the week in the clinic was pretty slow, but we gave a short info session on STI's to patients sitting in the waiting room, practiced measuring blood pressure to patients waiting to see doctors, and went on some house-calls to visit patients who couldn't make it to the clinic. Actually, there was an old lady with a a really cool (read:gross) diabetic foot and I got to help hand the doctor gauze and pour solution on it. The people here are incredibly generous and cariñosa (caring, affectionate). After we helped bandage this lady's foot, her family offered us soda and crackers. Kate and I were complete foreign strangers, intruding into her visit with a doctor - which is usually a pretty private thing - but she treated us like special guests. There was so much affection: from Fausto - the security guard who offered me his watch after I said it looked cool - to Teresa - who gave Kate and I earrings after I said hers looked pretty - to Paloma, the lab technician who bought us little wall decorations as a parting gift. Now I understand why so many people from Latin America say that Americans are cold. Now I just want to kiss everyone on the cheek! 

One of the best nights in Salcedo was completely unplanned, spontaneous surprise. Gregory, Kate and I were sitting in our kitchen after work when in comes in Courtney and Kristin - 2 other students from our program. We hadn't really talked to many people in our group since we all lives in separate clinics and neither Kate nor I felt like spending taxi fares, but this was a welcome visit. Their doctors came with them and we all hung out for a while before deciding to go out for mufungo. Mufungo is a kind of food popular in the Carribbean that's a mash of mature plantains, chicken, chicharrones (fried pig skin), garlic, salt and pepper, covered with a cheese sauce. It is a heart attack waiting to happen and SO DELICIOUS. We picked up our food and headed out to another clinic, El Rancho, to meet up with some more student-friends and doctor-friends. The rest of the night was a Dominican version of an unedited Grey's Anatomy on crack. We sat around the kitchen of the clinic, drinking rum and coke, sipping on Presidente (the Dominican equivalent of Budweiser), listening to music and listening to inappropriate Dominican jokes and patient stories. We danced to bachata, Rihanna, and whatever else came onto the radio, and finally ended the night when Dr. Gregory (Mr. Responsible) told us we still had to get up early the next day for work. 

Hipster Doctor: aka the player. He tried to dance on (yes, on) ever girl in the room.  

Ok, this post is getting a little long so I think it's time to end. Basically, I had an awesome time and I can't believe my luck. In all seriousness, I'm really glad that we got Gregory as our doctor because he took the effort and time to teach us little things we can apply to our every day life (or in emergencies). I admired his work ethic, attention to detail, compassion, slight OCD about cleanliness, and the way he always analyzed every medical situation to find the best solution possible. Even with the constant sweating in long pants (GAH, I HATE PANTS!) in 90 whatever degree weather, the pathetic stream of water for our shower, waking up to Teke blasting from gigantic speakers on wheels at 7am,  I had the time of my life. Our team of nurses, cleaning ladies, security guards, and lab technicians was always happy to see us and I couldn't have asked for better luck. Alright, maybe just one thing: I really hope I don't get malaria because I was stupid and didn't take the recommended malaria pills before coming to this country. (Somehow when I read the program guidebook, "recommended" was interpreted as "unnecessary").

 Jaqi, Paloma, Josephina (the spicy one), Dionis, and Fausto (who always talked to us in English with New York accent). Missing them already, especially now that I'm wearing clean clothes. 

I CAN'T BELIEVE I FORGOT ONE OF THE BEST MOMENTS! Kate and I dragged Gregory to the local track to run some laps, and we ended up playing soccer with some Dominican kids. Their coach saw us jogging, approached us, and asked/told us to play with his rag-tag team of 10-15 year old boys and girls. The boys looked like they were 6 years old, but they were pretty good. I even got a little aggressive and had to make sure I didn't completely squash them. By the end of the day, I was covered in even more sweat and dirt, on the verge of fainting from a heat stroke, and limping with stiff quads but so content.

una mezcla de todo

After 35 long, muggy hours of class last week, we all headed to Playa Sosua to take in some sun and relax. It looked basically like the last beach we went to (read: gorgeous!), except there were more tourists, shops, and aggressive store-owners. It was a 2-hour journey by public bus (Greyhound style), which dropped us off 5 minutes from the beach. The comfortable, air-conditioned ride cost a little over $4. I guess that's comparable to Megabus, but Megabus doesn't drop us off at a beautiful beach. The first thing I did when I got there was buy a piña colada - sin rum. (It was 10:30am after all)

Freshly fried fish with a squeeze of lime, cabbage salad, rice + beans, fried plantains and a Coke
This looks a lot like the other meal by the beach, but it was SO MUCH BETTER.
*HEAVEN*

While feasting on the best meal I've had so far in this country, I couldn't help but notice all the old, white men walking around with young Dominican women. A pair sat down next to us at the beach-side cafe and it was clear from their conversation that she was a prostitute. We talked about this in our language class the following Monday, and prostitution (specifically, child prostitution) is a huge problem here. Though it might not be the case with these wealthy foreigners, condoms aren't widely used here, which makes STI's a serious issue. Coincidentally, my community health project is about STI's, and my project partner and I will be going to a rural clinic in a neighboring state to give educational presentations to teenagers there. Aside from the heavy Catholic influence, the machismo culture also plays a role in the lack of contraceptive use. While it's socially acceptable for men to have multiple sexual partners, this is not the case for women. The idea of "safe sex" here is the concept that it's kept a secret, as to not damage the man's reputation. I'm still not sure how we're going to explain the dangers of AIDS and chlamydia to a group of teenagers/kids/whoever comes to watch our presentation in Spanish...especially in a way that's accessible to people with a limited education. But we'll figure it out!

Anyways, I felt odd enjoying myself in the clear ocean water while thinking about all these problems, but that's basically this trip in a nutshell. We go out, have fun, spend our money on touristy things on the weekend and then spend hours in class learning about how about 50% of the population lives in poverty. The economic disparity here is pretty dramatic. BMW's and Mercedes are pretty common in the area where I live, while people live in shacks a couple blocks away. We've visited several hospitals and judging from the run-down state of the public hospitals contrasted with the shiny floors of the private clinics,  it's pretty evident that health is a commodity - not a right. But I won't go all Medical Anthropology here...I spend enough time writing about this in our Medical Sociology class reflections every day. This being said, I'm pretty excited for our rural clinic rotation. Even though I won't be going into the mountains, we're going to one of the poorest areas in the country - Salcedo. It's known as a political hot bed, and it's where the famous Mirabal Sisters were born. These 4 women are famous in the Dominican Republic for fighting against the oppressive Trujillo regime during the 1930's-1960's.

One of the public hospitals - Cabral 

I'm going off on a tangent here, but I'm going to bed in a bit since I have to get up at 6:45 am, as usual. I've stopped using an alarm now, since my biological clock is pretty much set. I'll watch a couple more minutes of this telenovela with my host family, sleep like a rock, and then wake up to another delicious breakfast. Honey Bunches of Oats tomorrow! I save the grilled cheese and jam sandwich for every other day...

When I first arrived, I heard a stream of complaints and comparisons of the D.R. to America. These included paying for water at restaurants, the crazy traffic, trash in the streets and sidewalks, and the lack of drinkable tap water. I think all my visits to China prepared me for this, so I wasn't phased by the public bathrooms or aggressive drivers. I was, however, slightly apprehensive about riding in conchos. I've mentioned them before, but conchos are hybrids of taxis and public busses. All I knew about them was that you can squeeze 2 people in the passenger seat, and 4-5 (maybe 6, if there are children) in the back. During orientation, the program stressed that you should never take out your wallet in a concho, be wary of thieves, and always make sure you're going in the correct direction. Every time I saw a concho, I saw strangers squeezed into a tiny, dilapidated sedan that sped through lanes, honking at everything that moved. It seemed like a confusing, shady system of public transportation. During our scavenger hunt, we had quite the adventure trying to fit into one concho while chatting it up with the locals:

Hopping into a concho

Trying not to squish the 2 other riders in the backseat...

But it turns out, they're wonderful and so easy to use! They are small sedans and follow different routes. You can pick one up anywhere along its route, just by standing on the sidewalk and holding out your hand. The number of fingers you point out signifies the number of seats you want. For example, if I had a group of 3 and wanted a Route A concho, I would hold up 3 fingers and wave down conchos with the letter "A" on their dashboards. If the driver only has room for 2 people, he'll hold up 2 fingers outside his window. If there's enough space, he'll pull over. The incessant honking is to pick up more passengers who may be looking for a ride. It's a flat rate of 20 pesos per person and the streets are full of them. Yes, the system is a bit more chaotic than the T in Boston or using a private car to drive across freeways in Los Angeles, but it's economical, easy to use, and practical. Wonder if this is more feasible than a subway system in LA...

VIVA LA ZUMBA!

I just had my first live Zumba class and am in love!! I thought I would be riding the not-a-latin-dancer struggle bus, since I thought the Zumba video I found online was hard to follow, but this was so much fun! It was still crazy fast. The endorphins are still in my system, hence all the exclamation marks. It's good thing we had a basic dance class during our program's orientation, though, because there was definitely a lot of salsa hidden between the power squats. The room was filled with women - teenagers to grandmothers - shaking what their mama's gave them without an ounce of self-consciousness. In addition to the instructor, there was also one male, whose hips did not lie.

I've been a member of the Gold's Gym here for about a week now, and after several workouts, I've come to some general conclusions. In the midst of shaking my hips and cha-cha-cha-ing, I thought about how similar going to the gym is to going to a club:

1. Both are filled with sweaty people checking each other out. You all know it's true. You're on the treadmill or elliptical, and keep eyeing that person across from you on the bike or lifting weights. Same thing in the club, just replace the weights with drinks. 
2. Girls get dressed to show off their bodies. OK, seriously, the women here really like to show off their curves. Some of these tops are quite scandalous, and almost everyone wears spandex tights. I feel like a little out of place with my loose t-shirts and jogging shorts, but I'm going to stick with those. 
3. Attitudes come out when you get all up in someone else's space. Maybe this is just me - at least for the gym. Sorry, but I need to vent a little. When I got to the gym yesterday afternoon, I was SO pumped to run, but every single treadmill was taken. So, I waited for people to finish their allotted 30 minutes. One girl only had 2 minutes left, so I patiently stood by her treadmill, as other waiters started gathering around me. First of all, she was walking. You don't need a treadmill to walk. Go walk outside. She wasn't even breaking a sweat.  Second of all, once her 30 minutes ended, SHE RESTARTED THE TREADMILL. OH, NO. Not cool. Especially if you're walking! But that's enough hating. I'm sure she's a nice person and was not doing it on purpose. 
4. So far, I've enjoyed getting a good workout from both...though I have to say I was more excited for Zumba than the last time we went out clubbing. 

Next class, I'm getting a spot in the front. 

a typical day

Classes start at 8:00am every day (except for Fridays, which are free). This means I get up a bit before 7:00 am to get ready, eat breakfast, and walk to class at Pontificia Universidad Católica Madre y Maestro - PUCMM or pucamaima for short.  It's been a bit rough, even though I am a morning person, but after a couple of days, we all got used to it. 

My favorite breakfast - it may even rival my usual oatmeal breakfasts in Stiles: grilled ham and cheese, mango (or cantalope, sometimes papaya) a banana, and some type of fruit juice. So far, my favorite has been passion fruit. 

Flamboyán: these trees cover the campus, and are my host mom's favorite 

It's about a 15 minute walk to get to class, but by the time we get there, we're already sweating in the 95 degree heat and blazing sun. We also have to cross a highway. There are two options: a tunnel or the underpass. The tunnel was constructed just for PUCMM students, so that they could cross safely. The government had planned to include space for little shops too, which would make the tunnel even more attractive. However, plans fell through and construction ended before the shops were completed, so now it's just a dark, concrete tunnel with cave-like spaces in the wall. All the mothers have warned us about people getting mugged in the tunnel, which is why we have to go in groups. The other option - the underpass - seemed much safer because it's just a simple underpass that was well-lit. The only problem was that we had to cross an exit off ramp, and could not see the cars coming around the corner. So given that we travel in groups to and from class anyways, the creepy tunnel was the better option. It's also really not long at all. The thing to keep in mind is that Santiago, and especially our neighborhoods, is considered the rich, uppity part of the country.

The only annoying thing about the tunnel is that this means I can't work out on campus. The only place to run is on the campus, which is a 1.5 mile loop, but I would either have to go before class around 6-7am, or right after class, 6-7pm. Either way, I would have to find at least a couple buddies to go with me, and that wasn't happening. It's also still sweltering at 6:00 pm. I tried running one afternoon and only made it through 2 laps. Thus, I joined a Gold's Gym that's close to my house and has....ZUMBA CLASSES!!! Soooooo excited :)

The "safe" tunnel: sometime's there's an armed guard at one end who carries  more weapons than I can name. 

We made it! 

After our first language class in the morning, we walk back to our houses for lunch, which is the largest meal of the day. I LOVE THIS CULTURE. Why can't we do this in America too?? So far, it's been a combination of rice, a meat (either chicken or beef), and a type of salad or cooked vegetable. It has been delicious every time. Fried plantains are also popular.

a typical lunch 

We're free until 3pm to take a siesta, hang out, do homework....whatever. But then class goes from 3:00-6:00 pm. We haven't actually had a full afternoon class yet, so this will be interesting. Paying attention in Spanish is even harder because the moment I lose focus, everything passes by me. Thankfully, we don't have class on Wednesdays, which means MORE ZUMBA! Dinner is around 8:00 and is very light. So far, I've had quesadillas, fried plantains and eggs, an omelet, and a grilled cheese sandwich. This is often accompanied by sweet tea or passionfruit juice. Sigh....so derricious. This is why I need a gym membership.

I'm SO glad that I'm living with a host family, because it's helped my Spanish so much. Of course, I still struggle to express myself and I speak slower than I'd like, but I find myself speaking in Spanish instead of English. I enjoy our conversations at meals, and every day, we talk about something different. We talk about food  a lot, but we've also chatted about the difference between Taiwan and China, my host sister's architecture projects, famous Dominican singers, and my host mother's family who lives in New York. I have a growing list of herga's - Dominican slang - and can understand most people on the street when I ask for directions. I really appreciate how everyone I've asked has been helpful, even if they have a little bit of an attitude, because it makes me so much less scared to speak up. Can't wait to learn more!

A Series of Unfortunate Events/A Wonderful Day in Paradise

How do I even begin? (I literally don't know because my brain stopped functioning a couple hours ago, but I think most of my blog posts will be written in a similar state, so sorry...you'll have to get used to this) I've been here less than a week and so much has happened already. We don't have class on Fridays, so the program took us to Playa Ensenada, a remote beach on the northern shore of the island. The 2.5 hour ride by guagua (a type of small bus) was great for napping, since we all went out the night before.

After leaving the city of Santiago, passing through the countryside, and stopping at a roadside café, we pulled up to this:

Playa Ensenada: the clearest, warmest waters I've ever encountered

It was almost the complete opposite of my usual beach-going experience. Instead of diving in to avoid being crushed by frigid waves, I just waded in for at least 300 m before the water was even close to being my height. So, there I was, hitting around a beach ball in the water with everyone else, when I go after the ball and feel a weird stinging sensation around my stomach. I thought my stomach was cramping for a second but realized it REALLY stung. It was a jellyfish. I wade back to shore and wait for the first aid kit, while everyone else comments on the welt developing across my lower abdomen. The welt somehow reached under my swimsuit, but I realized this was because my bikini bottom was kind of loose, so it must have fallen a bit as I was chasing after the ball, exposing more skin. This turned out to be a slight problem later.

It's a little hard to see, but the welt goes riiiiiight across my stomach. Morgan also took one for the team,  walking away with a sting on her leg. Fortunately, we had some kind of solution and didn't have to resort to the alternative (it involves another kind of yellow solution). 

The stinging calmed down after an hour or so, and I was back in the sun and water after a delicious lunch.

Lining up for food: the beach was a short strip of white sand, with a string of lunch stands a few meters away from the shore. 

Freshly fried fish, tostones (fried plaintains), a type of conche salad, mussels, rice + beans, and  cabbage

A group of us took boats out to a tiny island (the circumference was definitely less than 400 meters) to go snorkeling. I was expecting Johnny Depp to pop out of the sand, looking for rum. It was UNREAL. I didn't bring the camera on the boat but thanks to facebook, here it is:

but why is the rum gone?!

ANYWAYS, I'm getting to the best part of the story! We went snorkeling, and were on our way back to the main beach when I realized I was in the wrong boat. It really wasn't a big deal, since both boats were for our group, but the balance was a little off, so I hopped off to go to the other boat.  The driver of the other boat had already started the engine, and was drifting off into the ocean, but he waited for me. I swam about 100 m (FREESTYLE! Ronit would be proud), and reached the correct boat, while everyone watched. Then I realized I couldn't lift myself up onto the boat. (Still need to work on that upper body strength) So two of the guys in the boat helped lift me up, but as I went up, my bikini bottoms went down. Gravity. Everyone was watching the entire thing, including the director of my program. Thankfully, my bottoms didn't come off completely. I think... Basically, I somehow fell into the boat after I mooned half of the people in my program, and tried to cling on to whatever dignity I had left while laughing hysterically with everyone else. I managed to cut my knee too. I then mentally thanked Payne Whitney Gym's third floor pool, where I first learned to swim free-style.

I can't tell if my skin burns because of the jellyfish sting of because of a sunburn, but I am tan, content, and exhausted after a wonderful day in the sun.

Friday, Friday, gotta get tan on Friday....FUN FUN FUN FUN

más agua, por favor

It turns out it's not really avocado season yet. BUT, according to my host mom, it comes right after the mango season, which is basically right now. It's just another thing to look forward to. We're all still adjusting to life here, sitting through orientation lectures about how to take a taxi, fitting as many people as possible into conchos (a kind of taxi that functions more like a bus, even though it's a sedan), and how to deal with Dominican men. We quickly realized what our director meant when we dipped into a public pool to cool off from the 95 degree weather. To quote Zach, another student in our group, "Those stares were HARD. I felt uncomfortable!" Back to the weather. IT'S HAWT. Like, sit in a room and start sweating buckets hot. Taking cold showers every night hot.

Keep in mind, the "feels like" temperature for today was 102. 

Despite the heat, everyone wears long pants or jeans. Why, you ask? We thought it was cray cray too, until we were all eaten alive by mosquitos. Current mosquito bite count: 14. I've been wearing shorts and skirts, but tomorrow, it's time to pull out the skinny jeans. Some of my friends went to Barbados this spring break and invented (?) something called "Freezer Pants". Basically, when the heat becomes unbearable, one places one's pants in the freezer for 15-20 minutes before putting them back on. I tried this before leaving for the D.R. and I have to say, pulling on ice-cold jeans in hot, humid weather is extremely refreshing. I might bring Freezer Pants to the D.R. 

I'm getting very tired now, so the rest of the entry will just be pictures and some short captions. (tired ava = fewer words, no sentences) We had a long day, taking our language placement exam, touring the city, and trying to figure out when/where to go for a run. I still haven't been able to get a run in yet, but I managed to do an Insanity work out this afternoon. I hope the people downstairs didn't mind. 

my room. the fan is clutch. 

Our lovely estudiante de apoyo - Francis - and Evan. 

A monument to commemorate the D.R.'s independence located in the city center

Another delicious meal by my host mom. The yellow stuff is called mangu, which is made from mashed plantains (green, not yellow!), salt, and water, and topped with some red onion. simple and delicious. It's served with a type of salami that tastes kind of like spam, but better. I washed it all down with some cold iced tea. Kind of like sweet tea, but BETTER. 

I think I'm so tired because I'm dehydrated. Time to pass out and go to bed. 

La empieza

Well, here it goes. I haven't done anything that resembles blogging since those middle school xanga days (remember those?) but thought I'd give it a shot. I've never been much of a writer, so I apologize if I ramble or can't follow a logical train of thought. I'm sitting in a make-shift Vandy common room, trying to stay awake until 2:40 am, which is when my shuttle to JFK should arrive. It's raining heavily. Boo.

Anyways, the past 4 weeks (it's been 4 weeks already!?) have been.....marvelous. I can no longer think in complete sentences, even though the wine from another delicious Shabbat dinner has completely worn off.  So I'll continue in bullet point form.

Good things that happened so far:

• I learned to like carrots. Even without hummus! 
• Biked the entire length of West Rock Park
• Possibly made a fool of myself in front of Barbara Walters 
• Wonderful conversations with people I love and people I'm getting to know better
• Discovered Red Lentil. so. many. yummy. vegetables.

Not so good things that happened so far: 

• It's rained every time I need to move heavy things across campus. 
• I can't think of anything else. 
• OH, that mean lady at the Gheav on Whitney who wouldn't accept my meal vouchers. 

Oh my goodness. IT'S TIME TO GO ALREADY! Wish me luck. DOMINICAN REPUBLIC, HERE I COME!!!

[edit: 12 hours later]
I just arrived at my host family's apartment. My host mother seems like a wonderful, gracious women and I even have a host sister who's also turning 21 this summer! My first 40 minutes in the country were a bit tense since no one had shown up to pick me up, but everything turned out alright. They were just running late. The airport employee who was with me kept making fun of me, saying my family doesn't love me. I was surprisingly calm during the entire wait...On the bright side, I got to warm-up my Spanish with him. Also, everyone clapped the moment the airplane touched the run way when we landed in the DR. Is that a thing here?