Atomic power makes me, Molly Howard, proud to be an Asian-American.

Man. If you were for some reason on a South American scavenger hunt and there was an item on a list (presumably between “Stray dog” and “T-shirt in English that says something absurd”) that read “Bored Peace Corps Volunteer,” look no further than Santo Domingo, my friend. There is just nothing to do these days. Yesterday I showed up to the office unsolicited and finished my final report, which kept me amused from, say, 10-11 a.m., at which point I returned to my house and read for the rest of the afternoon, as I had been doing until I left my house at 10 a.m.

This, I suppose, the problem with working in an office where only about 10% of the work done actually has anything to do with you and your project. The rest of the non-trash project work in the Department of Health and Sanitation pertains to things like cleaning the health center, fumigation against bugs whose bites result in flesh-eating wounds, and visiting the campo for various administrative purposes. I’m generally only invited to campo trips when the guys in my office are feeling particularly charitable or I particularly pushy, as I hike at a rate approximately half theirs, which is mildly frustrating for all involved.

Just as I am complaining about the lack of activity around here, a parade, THE VERY QUINTESSENCE OF FUN, passed by outside my window. It appeared to be kids playing poorly- or perhaps not-at-all-tuned brass instruments parading in front of kids holding a Virgin Mary statue. Well, nothing out of the ordinary there.

(several hours later)

I could not have been more wrong about that parade. Except that I am still pretty certain no one has ever tuned those instruments. It turned out to be a parade of one of the high schools celebrating International Environment Day (Earth Day? Was that not in March/April?), complete with costuming of all varieties. What I assumed to be a Mary statue being carried around was in fact two children dressed as Incan royalty, here to give the authorities the what-for for degrading their land. Several kids were dressed as trees, generally with signs that said “Help! Don’t cut me down!” One kid was coated in green body paint and had a fake snake wrapped around his neck; he was representing “The Nature of Santo Domingo.” One kid came just dressed as Spider-Man. I think he missed the second half of the memo. (It was vaguely reminiscent of that scene in Drop Dead Gorgeous with the girl with the large ball of twine on her head. “I think I kinda misunderstood the assignment.”)

The signs the kids carried were pretty cute, too. They mostly read things like, “Don’t contaminate the water!” or “Don’t cut down the trees!” but my favorite read, “If you mistreat nature, she will avenge.” Ooo. It might have in reality read, “If you mistreat nature, it will avenge,” but no matter. The “ella” could have really gone either way. So every authority figure there made a speech, including this girl. I had just kind of wandered downstairs from my office to see what was going on, and was immediately swooped up and put in front of 200 high school kids to make a speech about the environment. I think I said something to the effect of all environmental problems begin small, and everyone can do something, carry your trash in your pockets until you see a trash can, etc. It was inspiring. I think only 100 of the kids either started giggling, covering their faces, or rolling their eyes.

But the most notable thing about that event was that I did nothing to organize it. The high school organized an entire environmental-themed event, and I, the environmental Volunteer, did nothing more than show up. I’m not saying that a parade is an indicator of the community’s level of environmental stewardship, but at least it’s on some people’s minds.

Since things have been dull around here, I will describe two phenomena that show just how “acostumbrada” I am that would ordinarily be insignificant and go unmentioned.
First, the two-year-old who lives next door, Erica, is no longer afraid of me. Quite the opposite, now. She runs into the street whenever she sees me (which is a lot) and sings “Señorita!” and gives me a hug. It’s cute. It’s a little four-time-a-day upper, especially when most of the other kids younger than, say, 14, just stare at me and don’t saludar back.

The background on this second point is that everyone is REALLY formal with each other in the sierra. You can work with someone for months and still be on the formal “usted” terms, depending on how proper they want to be. No one calls you the informal “tú” without getting to know you pretty well first, and sometimes not even then. As of late, I’ve seen people that look only vaguely familiar in the street who answer my “Hola” with a “Cómo estás.” Lo and behold, unexpected tú form, with people I didn’t even know I was friends with!

So I think I’m going to try to rest today, sleep off this cold I’m coming down with, and try to drown out both the TV coming from one adjacent room and radio from the other. I am so tired of the bulla, that is for sure.