Our Shared Birthday

The three women in our library all have their birthdays in September. We couldn't think of a better reason to have cake! Unfortunately, Dorcas took the shots with my camera, so you'll have to wait for another time to see her sweet face. Below is Benoit, our recent French Canadian hire, la magnífica Carolin, y yo.

I intend to bring home a bunch of these sparkle cake flares.

Freedom to Read Week

“[Librarians] are subversive. You think they're just sitting there at the desk, all quiet and everything. They're like plotting the revolution, man. I wouldn't mess with them.” 

― Michael Moore

in 2012, Captain Underpants "won" for most frequently banned book in America, beating out 50 Shades of Grey. The reason? Partial nudity and violence.

I well remember the riot that occurred in Tunisia when the head of Nessma TV aired the animated film adaptation of Persepolis on a Friday evening. His home was later firebombed. I had to get extra copies of the book, it became so popular!


Never doubt in impact of words.

My awesome staff beside the door display they made. The glare makes it hard to discern but it's a  police murder scene body made of the covers of banned books.

“Most people don't realize how important librarians are. I ran across a book recently which suggested that the peace and prosperity of a culture was solely related to how many librarians it contained. Possibly a slight overstatement. But a culture that doesn't value its librarians doesn't value ideas and without ideas, well, where are we?” 
― Neil Gaiman

Short Trip to Jarabacoa

I love being in a Catholic country. There are saints' days here. Lots of them. Thursday, September 24 is Dia de Mercedes and therefore there is no school. A group of eight colleagues decided to forego the religious celebrations in the Zona Colonial and head for the hills - literally. We brought our overnight bags to school on Wednesday and left directly after last class for Rancho Baiguate in Jarabacoa. Alert readers with good memories - oops - will remember that the school had to cancel an outing to this eco-tourism resort because of the very disappointing Hurricane Danny.

About half way there, it started to rain. Pour. These photos do not do the experience justice. I am not a nervous woman, but I started fearing for my life. The rain bucketed down. Lightning cracked almost on top of us. Visibility was about three car lengths. We crawled along with out emergency lights flashing for fear that some crazy driver would barrel through us.

Crazy bus driver passing.

 About here, I begin to wonder if I had come to the DR to die. I calmed myself by thinking of my family and breathing for peace.

Note truck loaded with sand bags. They are not strapped down in any way.

 Every now and again, we would drive right out of the rain to find dry pavement. That would last about one km and then we'd be right back to driving though a car wash. The 2.5 hr trip took an extra hour, but both cars made it safely. Dio gracias.

The next morning dawned bright and clear - by dawn, I mean 9 am - and four of the eight of us went parasailing off a nearby cliff. You will notice that I am not in their number. Had I realized it was a tandem jump, I might have gone. Maybe next time.

Front row: Principal Diana, Math teacher Stacy, and VP Kirk. Behind, Kirk's friend Tony.

One of the gang - or not - in the air.

I opted instead to (a) sleep in, and (b) enjoy the promised "complete peace and tranquility" of Rancho Baiguate. This was not to be. The entire ranch was booked by school groups and day camps. There were young people and children everywhere, frolicking, eating, swimming, playing games - and all of it done while screaming and to the sound of blaring music. Most participants were blissfully unaware of what the rap and hiphop lyrics meant, but I was not so blessed.

After breakfast, my colleague Rachel and I went for a walk around the property.

I am pleased with this shot of the carp pond. 

I love pigs, and the feeling is evidently mutual.

 Still, after breakfast and a swim, I managed to doze off for a few minutes in the hammock on our terrace. Is there anything better?

Soon, it was time to pay up and go home. As we headed to the car, we felt a few raindrops and heard some thunder, but fortunately, the centre of the storm must have been far away.

Almost immediately, Diana pulled over to buy enough Arepa for everyone to have a slice. It turns out to be a corn cake with the heavy, smooth texture of bread pudding, and the same spices. Absolutely delicious.

A man carrying an arepa on his head. My guess is that it weighted a good 20 pounds.

 We'll all be back on the weekend of October 17 for the staff trip.

Juan Dolio

Juan Dolio is the next beach after Boca Chica. Today I was fortunate enough to be invited to join a group who were driving there for the day. This is a much cleaner, less crowded, more prosperous area, and we had a simply stunning day. The scenery was beautiful, the water warm, the food very good and best of all, I got a massage right on the beach!

Juana does a little voguing for the camera.

The gang finds a table and settles in for some serious relaxing.

Kirk puts on his sunscreen.

While waiting for lunch, I get a massage.

Bliss.

PTO Ice-Breaker

Every year, the Carol Morgan Parent-Teachers Organization hosts a huge party for teachers. Can you imagine? Open bar, appies brought around by servers, a DJ providing music all night, and a buffet dinner. My back continues to plague me, and since Libby died I haven't felt like drinking, but when the music started and this cute young man asked me to dance...

All of these were taken on a colleague's cell phone, so bear with the quality.

In loving memory of my sweet Libby. April 11, 2007 - September 12, 2015

At ten weeks with Ellie from next door

Same day with Molly

Close cropped on Bonnie and Dave's boat on the Rideau 2010

At McDougalls in 2013 longing for a swim

On McDougall's deck

Watching TV in our apartment in Istanbul

She was always riveted by dogs and horses

In her raincoat on Robert College Campus.

Just four months ago

So happy. So fit.

So agile

Mothers' Day Breakfast. Mmm. Bacon.

In  Playfair Park on Mothers' Day

Her last day.

Thank you, dear dog, for sharing your life with me.

Boca Chica

This post is hard to write because it pulls me in two directions. I have put this off for two weeks as a result. Here goes.

September 13 is my birthday. I loved this as a child because my birthday resonated so well with the rhythm of the school year. My birthday party was a natural way to start the academic season. We all felt sorry for those with summer birthdays, or those whose birthday had to be shared with Jesus.

I have always been shameless about telling people that my birthday is coming up. New colleagues, headmasters, accountants, it matters not. With the slightest of openings, I will tell anyone that September 13 is right around the corner. I am the Irish Setter of birthdays. International school teachers are always up for a party, and I am happy to provide a reason to go out to dinner, take a boat cruise, or come to my place for a potluck. I also get flowers and cakes.

For some strange reason, I kept schtum this year. I am surrounded by great people here - in my cohort group, on my library staff and in the school in general - but I didn't say a word. I did arrange with a colleague to go away for the weekend to the closest beach, Boca Chica. Small Mouth. None of us has a car yet, so this involves negotiating cab fare - everything is negotiable - and finding accommodation. We left directly from school, and en route I began to get messages from my brother Steve about Libby's health. By the next evening, my dear dog was dead. So we spent a lot of money on transportation, stayed at a bad hotel without beach access (they lied on line, imagine), I spent Saturday in panic and Sunday in tears, and then we came home. It was not a photographing sort of weekend.

The first fresh fish I've seen, and no way to cook it.

New friend Paula is a jewel.

The best meal I've had here.

My placemat.

A long walk to the polling place

We were told during orientation that postal delivery service was virtually non-existent in the Dominican Republic and that both businesses and individuals rely on couriers of one sort and another. Imagine my surprise, therefore, to come  home on today and have the building's guard call out to me with an official looking envelope in this hand. (Actually, I think he was more surprised than I.) What a treat to find I was holding my absentee ballot in my hand. For a while before I left, I was not sure I would be allowed to vote, Mr. Harper having violated the intention of the Charter of Rights and Freedoms by preventing Canadians living outside the country from voting. Fortunately, my year at home re-set the five-year clock, so I'm OK. Not so lucky are journalists, doctors, volunteers, performers and many others who still proudly hold a Canadian passport while working beyond our borders. Shame on you, Stevil!

Anyway, I am now kitted out with my tiny ballot and three envelopes, one fitting inside the other like Russian paper dolls. So what's it worth to you that I do not vote Conservative?

If I Join it, I Will Come

Or at least, that's the plan.

The school has a relationship with a couple of fitness clubs in the area. The one that is closest and that also has a pool with a swim-up bar - something new in the fitness regimen for me, but hey, that's why I travel - is the Dominican Fiesta. Oh yes, it appears also to have a casino.

Anyhoo, today, I joined. There is a good gym, several fitness classes at reasonable hours, and the aforementioned pool. There are also these adorable red-eared turtles at the entrance. I have had a fondness for them since I was a child and was allowed to have two as pets because they were hypo-allergenic. We kept them in one of these.

Eventually, their shells got soft and they died. Quelle surprise! It turned out they carried salmonella, so I guess that was good news for us, although not for the turtles. The red-eared sliders at the Dominican Fiesta, however, are happy as clams. They grow to be bigger than a silver dollar - remember those? - and are downright frolicsome. This bodes well for the club, don't you think?

Nurturing

Frolicing

I think I can cope with this kind of crowd.