6/5

I don’t have much exciting to report.  It’s the rainy season.  Good for my water situation.  Bad for my projects and mental health.  I get stuck in my house almost every afternoon. 

I think the most excitement that I’ve had is the most recent transportation strike.  I swear, these people only work together and work hard…when proving that they’re not working.  Anyways, I was in the capital and needed to get back to my site during a strike.  A guagua said they were going towards my area.  I figured one smart guy decided to run this route and take advantage of the fact that no other buses were running to make some extra money.  I didn’t really think much past that and was just happy it was relatively easy to find a way home.  Half way through the drive, when we hit the first little town…I realized that I should have thought a little more about it.  Strikers were in the street, tons of drunk old men, burning things and yelling.  When they saw the bus, they freaked out.  They surrounded the guagua and started yelling and not letting us past (I, of course, had chosen a window seat – I sat there clutching my backpack thinking the worst possible things).  Everyone on the bus with me started running for the door, yelling that we all needed to get off.  One nice thing about this terrifying moment was that lots of people, who I didn’t know at all, were grabbing me and saying, “Rubia, come on, come with us.”  I had no idea what they all thought was going to happen.  Were they going to roll the bus?  Set it on fire?  My mind started racing.  I had literally just come from a meeting with our Peace Corps security person.  “Hi Peace Corps Security.  Yeah, it’s me, again.  I’m stuck in some town that I don’t know the name of.  I’m the one blonde girl in a huge group of drunk Dominican men who are very angry.  What should I do?”  No, it didn’t come to that.  Eventually they let us pass, and all was well.