Semana Santa

One thing about living in the Caribbean is the storms.

Good storms!

Perhaps that's why I haven't been able to get internet long enough to write a blog for the past few days.

I hope none of you were worried?

No.  No worry.  We were out of our minds with how busy we were, and the internet was so intermittent that I couldn't get on for more than a few minutes.

Which is sometimes good.  We had a little more time to just be together and be happy once more.

I'm gaining trust every day.

Now, in my yard, there is a mango tree, a lime tree, and a 2nd avocado tree.

Make no mistake, I'll still be waiting for a few years for avocados.  One of them is only a stick that was destroyed when the wall was built.

The other is about the same height, only it actually has leaves.  Regardless of the state they're both in, within a few years, I will have my own avocados.

My veggie garden is built and if the internet permits, I'll be ordering my organic seeds from Canada today.

This weekend in the Dominican Republic, there is a celebration called Semana Santa.

It's a holy weekend menat to celebrate Jesus, not much unlike Easter in North America.

For us, it means we get to have a break from workers for a few days, before the next job of landscaping and a new roof begins.

However, here's what I don't understand about the celebrations here.

They have a festival, or party, or celebration every few weeks it seems.

Most of them are about religion, and they celebrate their g*d by getting rip roaring drunk.

You can't drive around during these times, because you'll be sure to hit someone staggering in the streets.

Not to mention, during this week, the celebration starts at noon each day and people are drunk by 1 p.m., then doing donuts in the streets on their motorcycles, without helmets or a care in the world that a truck could be coming around the corner.

This seems to be the same for every Sunday as well.

Here, Sunday is g*d's day and nobody works, leaving Papi and I in a lurch if we need anything, because we're so used to 7 days a week availability in Canada.

Instead, of working, or observing their religion however, people just get drunk.

My question is, why the hell is every celebration just about getting hammered?

Is this really what is intended for these days of religious reflection?

There doesn't seem to be any spirituality surrounding any of these holy days.

To me, it just looks like an opportunity to get drunk and fuck, making babies for people who already can't afford more.

Not to mention, they can't afford condoms, but even if they could, their religion would say it's wrong to stop the making of more babies.

But hey, it's ok to not have enough food to feed their children, then accost me every time they see me, begging for money to feed the children they can't afford.

To the poor we are definitely rich.  They don't realize we're living off credit cards right now.

I'm sorry, but I wasn't the one drunk and couldn't keep my pecker in my pants.

You made your choices, and how the hell can I be responsible for every person who is pregnant?

And there are a lot.

Everywhere.  Everyone is pregnant.  Including all the dogs.

This weekend for me, means I get a break from stuttering through my Spanish while trying to communicate with workers about what I am hiring them for.

This weekend for me means nobody meddling in my business, nor people asking for money.

This weekend for me means some alone time with Papi, training for puppies and maybe a dip in the pool with The Donkey.

That's how I'll celebrate it.

Maybe, because everyone else is getting drunk in the country, it means the angels will have more time to chat with me?

Maybe I'll practise meditation again and see how far I get with my short attention span being pulled by psychotic puppies chewing EVERYTHING they can get their razor teeth on.

Instead of getting drunk in the name of Jesus, Papi and I will have some well needed quality time.

the company of strangers teaches me more about what i like and what i don't like