Two or Three?

by on May 26, 2010 at 3:49 pm
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I cannot tell the difference between 2 or 3 in Dutch. Not a chance. No matter how hard I listened, or how certain I was that it was one or the other, I was always wrong. I learned to just give the cashier 3 bills and if I got change, cool. I’m not sure what it was, the accent, the similarities/differences between English and Dutch, but it was so confusing.

Anyway, I don’t think I bought my towel at Kirpalani’s (Super Mega Ultra Department Store); I’m pretty sure it was just some corner convenience store. But when I returned with a towel and I hadn’t been raped and killed, or killed and raped, or both; I was the talk amongst the other volunteers. They were so impressed. For me it was just a matter of getting it done. I think they were all just really nervous about not speaking a single word of the language(s), and feeling like scared little rabbits in a strange place. Psh! Ain’t no thang. I wonder if growing up and wandering around the SCARY parts of Houston, at night, by myself, at the age of 8 made me not feel weird about doing that sort of thing. I wasn’t all that impressive. It was just a towel. Only cost me $3,000. Or was it $2,000? Crap. Stupid Twee/Dree.

Monopoly Money

by on May 24, 2010 at 3:08 pm
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I love foreign money. It is always so bright and colorful. Well, Surinamese Guilders are exceptional. They have a bunch of jungle stuff, and that one swimmer guy that went to the Olympics (Anthony Nesty?). So, there I was, less than 12 hours into Suriname and I needed to go buy a towel. First, I needed money. I probably just bought some from the other volunteers, but maybe I went to an exchange place. But the important part of this story isn’t the money, or the bank, it’s the language and racial profiling. See, I’m a great big white guy. If I was blonde, it would’ve been worse. And because of that, everyone assumed I was Dutch and on holiday, and a douche bag. If I spoke to the people in Sranan Tongo (sounds like Ebonics/Spanish), they would get all pissed off because I was treating them like uneducated bush people. I had to start off in Dutch. Guess what? The Peace Corps didn’t teach it’s volunteers Dutch. They taught us Sranan Tongo. But, being me, I had spent a few months pre-Suriname learning Dutch.

Here’s how ALL my communications went in Suriname:
Me: Alo, prat u engels? (This is hands down one of the most useful phrases to learn in any language!).
Them: (What the hell language was that?!) Nee (nope).
Me: (Switching to Sranan Tongo and making faces of pain and anguish) Ow mani fu wan sof in sac?
Them: (What the hell language is that?! Oh, you poor “special” man) Blah, blah, blah
Me: (What the fuck are they saying? Cheese? My cheese is bloody? What?!) Uh….

But, the important this is START with Dutch! They instantly knew I wasn’t Dutch when I spoke to them in Dutch. Then, using whatever I could, I communicated. Once they figured out I wasn’t some asshole tourist and I was American, they cut me all sorts of slack. I still got the skin tax though. Meh.

Sweat

by on May 21, 2010 at 3:04 pm
Posted In: Uncategorized

The first morning I was in Suriname, I woke up and took a shower. It stepped out of the stall, and was instantly sweating again. Thus it was for the entire I spent in Suriname-sweating.

There I was, drenched, and I suddenly realized that a year of planning and prepping and packing left me without a towel. Meh, no big deal. We were staying in this “compound” and after our meeting in the morning, I went out and bought a towel.

To be continued….

When You’re A Jet

by on May 19, 2010 at 2:57 pm
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Alright, the weird “partners” actually led the way for all the weird East-Coasters. As we got to know all the volunteers, it became clear that people from the West Coast do NOT “get” people from the East Coast and vice versa. Part of it was humor. Part of it was attitude. Part of it was political-the Easterners seemed to enjoy debating politics. The Westerners just wanted to chill out and whatever, baby. At least with this huge sample of 18 couples (or was it 9 couples and 18 people). The only group that had more friction was our 18 and the Sur1 group (the first set of people to volunteer in Suriname and the people we, Sur3, were replacing).

The cat jumping into the water is my very dear friend, Kilo. We had a blast in Suriname. You’ll see him later, his wife too probably.

Howdy Pardner

by on May 17, 2010 at 2:47 pm
Posted In: Uncategorized

Ugh, these people. Before we left America, we actually managed to connect with one of the other 17 couples destined for Suriname. They were travelling around the country and stopped by our lovely state along the way. We went rafting (I actually fell out in the middle of a class 5 rapid and they took a picture of my foot in the frothy foam). It was July 4th or something. I’ve changed their names, but I can’t promise anonymity. In fact, I’m certain of it. Anyway, they were kind of weird. The woman introduced her husband as her partner. I had only recently learned that “partner” was what gay people call their spouse, and it always sat funny with me for this couple to refer to one another that way. It made me feel like they weren’t married and were just faking it to get into the Peace Corps together or something. So odd. The woman was tall and the man was a tiny hulk. He was ex-military. Now, had my favorite couple connected with us pre-trip, THAT would have been amazing.

To this day, I’ve always found the term “partner” an odd way to refer to one’s spouse. Lesbians, just call her your wife. Gay Dudes, call him your husband. Hell, make up a word. Partner just feels so business-like.