Christmas Trees and Palm Trees

Well, I made it through Christmas. That may seem like a pretty bleak take on the holiday season, but it’s the best way to describe it. It was a challenge, I got through it, and it worked out okay. Not great, not fantastic, but just fine.

For those of you not so familiar with Christmas in a batey, let me give you a quick run down. It is not a big deal the same way Christmas is in the states. One of the other volunteers made the great point that part of the difference is the level of commercialization. There is no money to buy decorations, and all of our traditional Christmas stuff makes no sense at all in a tropical desert surrounded by palm trees, sugar cane, and banana farms. There are no carols, no pine trees, and very few Santa Clauses. Apart from the commercials for toys and Christmas movies, there’s little to indicate that it’s even December.

My project partner did decorate one of the trees with lights, garlands and ornaments. It looks great, and it was really fun to decorate, but it isn’t exactly a Christmas tree like the ones I’m used to.

My family’s valiant efforts to send me Christmas cheer were also thwarted. For reasons that remain unclear, the Peace Corps failed to send our mail out to the South from the capital for two months (and the situation is far from resolved). The three packages that managed to make it to the DR before Christmas sat in my mailbox in the office, unopened and un-enjoyed. This put a bit of a damper on Christmas. It’s not the stuff that matters, obviously, but the the thought, especially since my lovely family sent me ornaments from our actual tree and other little decorations that would have gone a long way to enhance my Christmas cheer.

Two other factors reduced my Christmas cheer: I got a cold, and the famous Ginny died the Saturday before Christmas. I won’t dwell on these unfortunate happenings, but suffice it to say that my stress and sadness level was high as the days approached.

Christmas Eve is the big day in the DR, so I woke up ready for the festivities. The women spent the morning cleaning the house from top to bottom. I went out and walked through the batey, and at every house I visited, I saw serious mopping, sweeping, and furniture polishing going on. This was big time cleaning. Didn’t feel particularly festive though.

After our normal lunch of rice and beens, the real cooking began for Christmas Eve dinner. I went on another trek through the batey to see what everyone was cooking. Roast chicken, roast pork, and turkey were the primary main courses. Everyone also mentioned green salad, Russian salad which is potato salad with beets (ridiculously tasty), and bread. Things started to feel a little more festive, but still not too terribly festive.

The festivity level picked up around six as it got dark. I watched Christmas movies with the kids as the adults put the finishing touches on our gigantic Christmas dinner. As they set all the food out on the table, things began to feel really festive. My doña started loading plates up with pork, chicken, Russian salad, green salad, and bread. We out our feast, and I crawled into bed soon after, felled by my cold. The lights coming over the wall from the other room cast a subtle glow, a little bit like Christmas lights.

The next day was like any normal day. My cold was worse, and I felt like I’d spent the entire morning crying, even though I never shed a tear. I took several more walks through the batey, and everything was back to normal. Gift giving takes place on January 6 (the day the wise men arrived, Día de Reyes) if there is money for gifts, so there’s not a whole lot left to do on Christmas Day.

Anticipating this let down, the other volunteers in the area and I planned to get together to celebrate a bit. At one a clock we met in the farthest batey with the plan to walk the several miles between bateys and get a little exercise. We chatted as we walked and sang “White Christmas.” I got a sun burn.

I talked to my family for over an hour, and heard all about their actual white Christmas in the Northwest. It figures, huh? The one year I’m not in Seattle for Christmas it snows like stink. It was great to talk to them and hear about their Christmas back in the states. I still can’t decide if it made me miss them more or less, but I am glad I got to talk to them.

I spent the night with the other batey gals in one of the nearby bateys. We drank cheap wine (one of them acurately described the nose as Knots grape jelly) and made chocolate chip pancakes for dinner. The next day, I hopped on a motoconcho and headed back to Batey 8 to read and do art with Children. I made it through Christmas, and it wasn’t all bad.

Next year, though, I’m going home if it is at all humanly possible