Julie Hunter’s Blog

June 5, 2008

The last time I was in the Seattle airport my friends’ and my patience was dwindling. Last March, my best friends and I visited my sister in Seattle and Zoe’s friend in Vancouver for Spring Break. It was an awesome trip overall, but inclement weather and close quarters in the airport took its toll in the end. On a happier note, I am enjoying traveling by myself this time. I am visiting my sister for a couple of days while I am on vacation from the Dream Project. I realize this is a luxury trip and I am grateful for the opportunity. One of my friends in the D.R. said I go home “an obscene amount.” I curtly responded, “I don’t care and I am happy to see my family and friends whenever I get the chance.” And in my opinion three times a year is not an obscene amount. Anyway, I have accepted that I am a bit of a control freak when it comes to traveling. I like to arrive early, take my time through security, and not feel rushed; it is vacation after all. Traveling in a large group becomes stressful. I would much prefer travel alone and have no one to blame but myself for any mishaps.

Seattle is just as gorgeous as I left it a little over a year ago. I love how the evergreen trees line the freeway on the way to the city. The trees’ beauty is the perfect reminder of the nature for an already environmentally conscious city. Although citizens of Seattle tend to boast a little too much about their green lifestyles, from what I have seen, they deserve it.  Almost every restaurant, even small fast food type joints, was recycling plastics, bottles, and paper. All plastic to-go ware was biodegradable and people on the street will walk a few meters out of their way to dispose of trash. I felt inspired by the clean streets and a renewed pride in America. (When you live abroad, especially in the “third world”, one is more aware of all the little Americanisms.)

Tonight we went out to dinner at an authentic Mexican restaurant. It is refreshing to have so many food choices, especially coming from the Dominican Republic where dining is limited.  And I am not just talking about Chinese food; Seattle has a wide variety of international cuisines such as Ethiopian, Mexican, Japanese, and any other Asian country you can think of. However, my biggest disappointment from the night service related, not the food. Our waiter (who was obviously Hispanic) did not want to speak to me in Spanish despite my numerous attempts to ask a question in Spanish and order in Spanish. I didn’t know whether to be angry for being so blatantly ignored or feel bad for him because of how uncomfortable he became, until finally he said a few words to appease me. 

I feel so bad for the Hispanics living in the United States (legal or illegal). Nativism and ignorance has truly hurt the Latino culture within the U.S. And I know my next statement is a little harsh, but I passionately believe, America is not living up to its name as a “melting pot” or its reputation for encouraging diversity. I blame all the Americans that continue to discriminate against Hispanics, perpetuate stereotypes through racist jokes and rally behind English-only laws for the fear and embarrassment in the man’s eyes. Most of these ignorant people are too lazy and pathetic to learn another language or accept another person’s culture. And it doesn’t stop with “Mexicans” but is likewise directed at other people all over the world. It makes me sick when people lump all terrorists as Middle Eastern. Maybe they should go back in history for a second and realize it was our very own government that taught the secret police, sponsored Contra paramilitaries, and even earnest jihadists the torture techniques and guerrilla warfare that exists today. (I am sorry, but who was in charge at Abu Ghraib? Does anyone really believe it was the fault of a few bad seeds?) I apologize for the last few sentences, I am really appalled by the neo-Americanism that believes are roots stem from the Puritan boats only.

I am bilingual and have accepted that there are certain phrases that sound better in Spanish as well as there are situations where only English will suffice. Language is full of subtle nuances that often communicate a feeling or provoke a reaction better than the words themselves.  And whether or not my audience speaks Spanish or English, I am going to say what I want and then just repeat myself so my listener can understand. There are scores of countries that have more than one national language. There are even countries who have adopted national languages due to changing demographics and indigenous populations. Why then are so many Americans threatened by a little Spanish? Am I being unpatriotic? In my opinion, discriminating against another person for the language that they speak is unpatriotic. I understand we need a common language for business and regular communication, but why at the expense of another person’s culture. I would hate to begin a conversation in Spanish with a caveat like “it is okay I speak Spanish, go ahead.” Spanish is my language too!

June 1, 2008

The other day Eli, Lee and I were talking about, what we have coined, the “gringo factor”. No matter how intimate a relationship or close a friendship with a Dominican I may have, I will always be a gringo to them. And because at one time I had or have enough money to leave my country and come to the Dominican Republic, I am, as a result, rich. And in their minds I am wealthy enough to give my money away. And they don’t ask for money for useless things, it is usually for food, medical care or to send to another even poorer relative. It is not like the bums on the street in New York where there are social and church services that provide food and shelter, so the bums use the extra change to buy alcohol or drugs, these people are starving. But I can’t help them all, especially not financially. I am already a committed volunteer helping improve their education and community. One would think being a volunteer would be self-explanatory; I do not earn an income. But the reality is my nationality is the greatest indication of socioeconomic status. And sadly, it is the poverty that drives these people to draw on the rich, white stereotypes because %99 of the time, a couple extra dollars is not worth as much to a tourist as it is to a Dominican. However, it is a pity as a DREAM volunteer, who is constantly working to better their educations and lives, to feel guilty for not giving money to students or families. I have tried to explain how the DREAM stipend goes toward basic living needs and that my old house is not a reflection of my income. I don’t consider myself stingy or greedy. In fact, I sometimes think I do too much with little to no physical reward. (I am not discounting the numerous intangible benefits that come from volunteering one’s time and energy to a worthy cause.) The Dominicans dependence on charitable gringos is only one example of how poverty has affected the social relationship between tourists and locals as well as a total lack of financial planning.

When you are busy living day to day, there is no extra money to be saved for later. Most Dominicans spend all of their income as soon as they get it. Even the more well-off Dominicans usually run out of money towards the end of the money or close to the next pay day. They do not think about financial needs in the future, what we would call money in case of emergencies. They live in the present. This is partly because they accept their future as fate determined by God. “Si Dios quiere” is the phrase used by Dominicans to describe the uncertainty of the future. If one of their family members falls ill and must be taken to the hospital, rarely does the family have enough money for proper medical care. Thus, they resort to asking extended family and friends for extra money to cover the new expenses. Their lack of planning causes them undue hardship when urgent situations occur, but I couldn’t expect more from a family earning less than $5 a day. Begging and praying are a survival tools, and who better to ask than the white girl with clean clothes. Oh and God of course.

May 25, 2008

The lyrics, “you take the high road and I’ll take the low road…” run through my head whenever someone says to me, “Julie, you have to take the high road on this one”, a piece of advice I heard more often as I grow up. Most recently I received this advice from my mother. She reminded me that people behave differently when they are under stress and sometimes their anxiety is negatively manifested and taken out on others. For whatever reason, I forget how irrational people can react. Depending on how well I know someone, I have certain expectations for him/her. When he/she gets upset or angry, I always think that talking things out is the best option. Unfortunately, I have learned that emotions make people unpredictable and abusive when they can’t control their own emotions. This precarious situation makes taking “the high road” all the more difficult, especially when it is your friend who is taking it out on you. When it is your friend, you want to sympathize and understand where they are coming from, but the way he/she is treating you, the last thing you want to do is help. In fact, the person’s struggle appears more selfish by the day and my patience as a friend dwindles. Then all of sudden your friend is back, wanting to talk, and thinks nothing has changed between the two of you. Now, the question remains, do I confront my friend on her behavior or let it go and “take the high road?”

So far, I have taken the high road. I reckon at this point it is not worth another fight. I have seen how my friend responds to stress and how unstable one can become. At this point, I just have to accept how things are and chalk this experience up as another life skill learned. 

May 19, 2008

When asked about the legal system in the Dominican Republic with respect to drugs, my co-worker/driver, Arismendy said, “the drugs laws in this country run very deep and are often unfairly practiced.” Before I left for the Dominican Republic Calley’s mother stressed to my mother and me about the corruption in the legal system and the traps that befall foreigners by crooked natives. Extortion and robbery are ubiquitous on the North Coast. From recent events, I am more aware than ever of the petty crime that runs just below the surface of a tropical tourist town. I have received my fair share of warnings and advice about who to trust and not to trust and what to do if found in a sketchy situation, but it doesn’t always help when faced with crime in person. Besides the incident in Monte Crisiti (why does that sound like a mystery novel…), I have never come face too face with crime in Cabarete. And now it seems I have broken through the threshold of naïveté only to hear more and more crime related stories. It sucks. I have been prepared for this all along. I tried my best to mentally prepare for this realization or better yet, confrontation. But it doesn’t matter how many times that I have been conscientious and prepared for the worst, because small crime, crime that does not involve death or serious infractions, happens when you least expect it. And the laws and authorities enforcing the laws overtly discriminate against foreigners for money. When it comes to drugs, Dominicans (and rightly so) blame the drug trade on tourists and foreigners. They figure only people with extra money to spend buy drugs and thus, because of how lucrative the drug trade can be cause others to become involved. They also think that when push comes to shove, they can turn in the foreigner and escape any penalty for themselves. The good news for foreigners is lately the tourist police have been instructed to target the sellers, not the buyers. Naturally this is the best way to stem the drug trade in any location because unless the buyers themselves are sellers, the sellers are the ones buying in quantity. In the end, I am glad that the Dominican government is being proactive about the drug problem in Cabarete because petty crime is a major deterrent to tourism and income for Dominicans.

The previous post definitely warranted a follow-up, if not only to announce Leonel as the winner. Leonel won with 53.55% of the vote and the rival candidate placed a distant second with only 41.5%.  Right now, PLD supporters are waving flags and banners as they drive by on their motorcycles. Those without motorcycles to ride are parked along the side of the road near some kind of radio or sound system and dancing to music in celebration of the victory. Everyone can show their support, even if they are too young to vote. A small child barely old enough to walk was spotted holding a purple balloon as his mother shouts at passing cars, “Ganamos” (We won). I wish Americans could get this excited about anything! I can’t believe I forgot to mention that my neighbor is the assistant to the Mayor of Sosua, the next town over. When a political party is in power most governmental positions are filled with loyal party members and thus, it is expected they will coordinate party mobilization and campaign efforts within their municipal. Therefore, throughout the whole campaign my driveway or mini-street has played stage to official party meetings, rally points before a parade, and part PLD git shop with every kind of purple and yellow t-shirt you can imagine. Jorge, my neighbor,has recently been on edge as the election neared. They have personally hosted motor parades and block parties consistently for the last two weeks. For those that have been to my house in the DR, please keep in mind these festivities are happening in front of my house, starting at 11 am and ending just after 1 am in the morning. Last night as the Electoral Board issued its sixth “boletin” on the election at 12:30 am, music still raged among fireworks and few unnecessary gunshots. Even though I checked the locks on my house one more time before I went to bed, I sat back and laughed at the hilarity of the moment. Most people when asked was is Election Day, they are unabashed to say, “fiesta” (party). It is a party running up to the election and a party for the winners afterward. I doubt I could ever sum up election day in the United States in just one word. The simplicity of it seems so honest. it is too bad, the politicians aren’t. 

May 7, 2008

My friends would laugh at how quickly my thoughts digress to discussions about time. One noticeable time and cultural observation is the Dominicans general acceptance and enjoyment of the present moment. We have all witnessed the Dominicans unique ability to live in the present and not to mull over the future or the past. While we ponder and plan for the long-term future, the average Dominican thinks no further than the next week. They consent to fate as an unpredictable force that one cannot plan for or prevent. “Todo pasó porque lo pasó.” (Everything happened because it happened). In short, life happens to them rather than them controlling their lives. Some would argue that the Dominicans are naïve or even ignorant because of how we use time to provide order and structure to our daily lives. However, I respect their sense of the present-day; I am reminded of how quickly life, or time, is passing. I am constantly thinking about the next step instead of enjoying the current step. Island time is not a novel concept by any means, but an interesting cultural or social custom. As always the lesson is finding the happy medium, a balance of today and tomorrow.

May 2, 2008

Looking back at my last entry, I am surprised by how cavalier I was when I wrote of global challenges and the shortage of inspiring world leaders. Who am I to say we are in a leadership drought? And, I don’t think I am as pessimistic as I may come off or as naïve to believe the end of poverty is a vaccine away.

Change will require intense collaboration, creativity, and a steady flow of resources. It just so happens; science is a unique discipline that efficiently utilizes these factors to develop concrete solutions. When I assert that this is the age of the individual, I am merely emphasizing the abundance of resources and means of communication available to the current generation. The technology of the last century has transformed how this generation will respond to the problems of the new century. There is no shortage of human capital, only a failure of the individuals to mobilize and to motivate others. I am dismayed by how ungrateful we have become for modern society; we are unable to recognize our true potential when we fight over the size of the problem. Yet, I stand by my public declaration of distress. It is only natural that a native first-world citizen fulfilling a volunteer commitment in a third world country, such as myself, is more sensitive to the existing injustice and inequalities that often go unnoticed in developed countries. Daily, I am confronted by extreme poverty, a failing education system, and a general absence of public health and infrastructure. But despite these challenges, I must accept my humanitarian efforts for what they are: small steps in improving the lives of the Dominican people.

Thus, I am proud to say that Monday is Labor Day in the Dominican Republic and I have time to reflect and celebrate all the people, wherever they are, helping others in need. It is rare opportunities like these when I remind myself that change is a gradual process and hard work should be rewarded. I cannot be expected to singe-handedly save the world nor watch the world change overnight. There will always be an ideal situation for which we strive but the end goal cannot cloud the progress made every day. I am so grateful for the opportunity to work with the DREAM Project. I work with extremely motivated, productive, and passionate individuals within an organization dedicated to education. I highly recommend volunteering, overseas or at home, it is a unique feeling of satisfaction that comes when you put yourself second. In addition to emotional gratification, I have recently seen the organization’s success in print with the release of our Five-Year Report, also available on the website. What this organization has accomplished in five years is impressive by any standards and the statistics speak for themselves.

While I was home, I experienced a few unsettling moments where I was overcome with guilt. As I looked down at the bits of pickled ginger leftover from a glorious sushi feast, I couldn’t shake the mental image of my Dominican students. I shamefully did the math of what the cost of my sushi meal could buy these children in America and then in the Dominican Republic. I slipped deeper into my thoughts and grew harsher with myself. What seemed like hours, I spent stuck in a gross comparison, with the scarcity of the Dominican Republic on one side and immense convenience and luxury of the United States. The contrast became too much to bare that I actually cried when I realized that my refrigerator contained fresh cocktail shrimp within arm’s reach. Again, my privileged background haunted my conscience.

So, I let it out. After I cried, I feel remarkably better. A good cry was exactly what my mind needed. No more thinking, just emotions. I resumed my day and went out to dinner with my family and three of my best friends. I lived in the present without regrets. I found myself praising my work and laughing over the eccentricities of the Dominicans that both my family and Liz Sharts having been to the Dominican Republic equally enjoyed. I remembered I wasn’t alone down in there after all, but also always in thoughts of my family and friends. It was the first time I actually listened to the other people at the table instead of just reciting my usual teacher pitch and rambling about Cabarete. The American Julie and the Dominican Julie were sitting together at the Afghanistan restaurant. 

Now you might never believe this, but as I write this sentence I see a complete rainbow outside the window. This is the first whole rainbow start to finish I have ever seen. Today is a special day indeed. Even though I can’t believe it is already May in the Dominican Republic, I trust there is a happy ending in the future. 

April 30, 2008

As a blogger I am appalled at how long it has been since my last post, however, the pace in which time has passed presents a nice starting point to this entry. I can hardly believe it will be May tomorrow. What happened to April? After Zoe left, I spent a week or so catching up at work, only to leave again to visit the United States for a long weekend, which was in all honesty, desperately needed. Then upon returning last week, I have had little time to process everything and forced to resume work as usual. Thankfully, I recently had time to buckle down, think things out, and set aside time to write.

Although I have not been writing, I have kept myself busy reading news articles, published essays, and books. Alas, the issues I am interested in—international relations, globalization, and immigration—have the unfortunate consequence of making me feel powerless and pessimistic at times. I realize I should carry the weight of the world on my shoulder and that everyone, not just me, must solve global problems. Call it naïve or blindly optimistic but I believe there will be a day when the world will put aside its differences and confront the critical issues of our day, such as, world hunger, global warming, rising energy prices without viable alternatives, and the crippling effect of poverty and disease. As a global citizen I accept that these problems are no longer isolated in third world countries. The world is too interconnected and interdependent that for a country to disengage itself would be disastrous. Thus, we are at a crossroads. Our generation is going to have face up to the reality because the alternative is worse than anything we have ever seen, read, or predicted. Though I fear the worse, I have hope that we can rise to the challenge, be creative, and engage the world the way we have been raised to do.

While I read about the global challenges that threaten mankind worldwide, I can’t help but feel disappointed. I am frustrated with our world leaders who still in so many parts of the world are so inept and self-serving. As I have mentioned previously, the saying goes in the Dominican Republic that one goes into politics to make money with complete disregard for where they came from. Therefore, if one cannot rely on their “elected” officials to make the necessary changes and tackle their nation’s concerns, whom can we trust? Who is going to send the wake-up call to the world?

There is reason to believe this is the century of the individual. This century’s technology has proven capable of empowering the individual to an unprecedented level. People are starting their own multinational companies, organizations, and social networks at an alarming rate. Nowadays the individual can communicate with anyone in the world. Yet, if technically we live in a world without “borders,” then how come the everyday person has such little control over its life? And this is how the double-edged sword of poverty fuels defeatism, when the a large portion of the world cannot survive on their own, how can they be convinced to work together for the common good? This elusive “common good” translates into greedy politicians and winner takes all economics. Currently, the rising food prices will in effect roll back progress made against poverty as soon 100 million people approach the poverty line.

And nor am I saying that poverty is the make or break issue in the world today. I am no John Edwards, fighting for a single issue; I am trying to explain the complexity of our world’s challenges. There is no singular cause of poverty or global warming. We are at a point where we must address the net sum of our mistakes in addition to the natural evolution of technology and society. However, I wholeheartedly believe with the technology available to us in this day in age, science must be the answer. I am horrified every time I hear of states or universities that cut science funding. The first time I heard that the United States is experiencing a rapid brain drain in the sciences and there is actually a coalition of concerned scientists proves how little we are doing to prepare for the future. For instance, many sources have claimed that the science is there for trapping carbon emissions and thus, slowing the destruction of the o-zone layer. Others believe there have been breakthroughs in alternative energy sources. Even though these crises have no single cause there must be a universal response. 

April 12, 2008

I don’t even know where to begin. The last two weeks have been some of the two best weeks I have experienced in the Dominican Republic. For starters, Zoë came down to visit; her presence alone was enough to lift my spirits and make good times better. We went traveling together along the Northern Coast of the Dominican Republic and into the interior towards the migrant entry point, the city of Dajabon. And in spite of being on vacation, Zoë spent an entire afternoon at the DREAM Center watching me teach computers, English and do general work. I am pleased she got to experience my every day to day life as well as venturing into unfamiliar parts of the DR. I know I have mentioned this before, but it deserves repeating, few visitors to the Dominican Republic take the time to discover the real Dominican Republic. Usually, they fail to see the poverty that lies just beyond the city limits and the ethnic tension between Haitians and Dominicans. The reality for the majority of the people is much darker than the water appears or their smiles let on.

It’s time to talk about traveling in the Dominican Republic. Normally, whenever I travel I take the larger charter buses that are relatively reliable and cheap. This time, however, Zoe and I wanted the freedom to explore without bus schedule restraints, so we chose to rent a car. We rented a smaller SUV or as the locals say, “una jeepeta.” (I think this term actually came from a reggaeton song.) The DREAM Project has used this particular company many times before and so had I when my family visited. Thankfully, this time our speedometer and gas meter worked. Trusting that our car would hold up, we were ready to go. I had never been to Monte Cristi or anywhere for that matter past Puerto Plata, the largest city on the North Coast. I was nervous and excited to travel on our own. But I was definitely a little anxious about driving. Dominicans are infamously crazy drivers. There are hardly any speed limits or traffic laws to begin with and anyone, licensed or not, can be driving a motorcycle right alongside the car. Thus, I had to pay attention to renegade motos, poorly paved roads, and any other obstacle the DR could put in our way (cows, gigantic potholes, and weather). However, despite all, when I got behind that steering wheel the New Jersey in me mixed with my newly found Dominican backbone and I drove that car the whole trip. Zoe had no objections since she was unfamiliar with the area and the lunacy of the road.

We headed directly for Monte Crisit National Park, where we witnessed the most beautiful sunset with a gorgeous backdrop of rock formations and mountainside. We ate in a quiet beachside restaurant, where we proceeded to order enough food for lunch and dinner. Overall it was beautiful, truly picturesque. We visited two beaches that day before we finally called it quits and sought out a hotel. There are only three hotels by the beach and maybe two more in the entire town. Needless to say our choices were limited. At the second hotel, we agreed to reserve a room. We signed a piece of paper with mostly our personal information and signed with the intention of staying at the hotel. Then after realizing we didn’t have enough money for the room, we left to seek out an ATM and coke for mixed drinks. On the way back we saw another hotel, a little nicer and situated right on the beach. We stopped in to check it out and discovered it was much cheaper than the previous hotel. So we decided to stay at the newer hotel and not return to the busted hotel up the road. Unfortunately, our refusal to cancel with the previous hotel would come back to bite us in the end.

There was a knock on our door and the owner’s husband stood there saying there is a man waiting for us in the lobby. It was the angry French owner from the other hotel. He was furious and shaking the supposed “contract” around like a mad man. He claimed we owed him the entire night’s rent because we had made a reservation. I apologized for not coming back and admitted it was wrong to just stand him up, but I refused to pay $40 for a room we weren’t going to use. Then he began shouting at me because I used his pool for 5 minutes when Zoe was signing the “contract”. He believed my 5-minute dip constituted using the hotel facilities and thus, he was entitled to $40. Again, I declined to pay up. Then he began to bargain with me a 1000 RD and he wouldn’t go to the cops. I said no again and I offered 500 RD because I could tell Zoe wasn’t prepared for a lengthy confrontation with him or with the police. I grew stubborn by the minute and infuriated that someone would charge me so much money for a swim in a pool. In my mind, his demand was outrageous. I don’t have $30 lying around and nor would I be ripped off by some asshole Frenchman in my country. I told him I was a teacher; I showed him that the contract said nothing about cancellations; I even tried to bargain with him to reduce the price. Next thing I know, my face is red and I am driving toward the police station, Zoe in tow. When we got there I immediately apologized again for my behavior but remarked that I did not respect the way he was treating me. In front of the police, the man continued to berate me and threaten me with “lo malo”, “all the bad” that would happen if I didn’t pay up. I couldn’t believe it but the policemen watched on idly, unsure whether to intervene on my behalf. At one point I appealed to them directly, “what is going to happen to me if I refuse to pay?” “What are the standard procedures?” I told them that the piece of paper hardly amounted to a contract. Insult after insult, I was being worn down by this crazy Frenchman and the police did nothing. Finally, I grew exhausted by the man’s tirade and I threw him the 1000 pesos. Zoe attempted to calm me down and said she would pay the 1000 peso and we would never talk about it again. But I was distraught. I couldn’t believe the police did nothing. They are the Politur or Tourist police. Isn’t this the exact situation where they are supposed to support me? Instead they sat back and watched my will weaken and observed the blatant extortion. After the Frenchman left, I asked the police man, what he could have done. He didn’t know how to respond. All he could say was how crazy the Frenchman was. To be clear for my readers, this was not an issue of misinterpretation or miscommunication. The policeman admitted to me that they didn’t know how to handle the situation and that it was better to pay the man. I told them I live in the Dominican Republic and that I am a teacher with an organization that teaches at risk youth back in Cabarete. After this piece of information, they embraced me and scorned the Frenchman in retrospect. But it didn’t mean anything. The policemen were cowards and crooks. Money and violence runs the justice system and there is nothing I can or could have done about it. As I write this, my hands shake with rage at the policemen and the Frenchman. Call me American but I expect the police to enforce the laws, not bribery and blackmail.

The whole incident rubbed me wrong. I understand it was only $30 in the end, but it was a matter of principle. I felt defeated when I returned to the hotel room. I couldn’t believe the police did nothing. I didn’t even have any recourse for my grievance. I asked for their superior officer and got nowhere. At that moment, I realized I couldn’t trust anyone. The police were just as corrupt as the hotel owner. When I arrived in the Dominican Republic, I was primarily concerned with the accountability of non-governmental organizations, such as the DREAM Project. Now that sounds like such a petty concern. With only 30 employees the DREAM Project is hardly worth mentioning when the country’s infrastructure is rife with corruption. I pledged to myself that I will never be taken advantage of again. I refuse to be treated like a rich tourist able to pay one’s way out of trouble. As I have said before, I must dedicate my time and energy to the advancement of justice and accountability. 

March 30, 2008 The other day I had the pleasure to meet Fred Schindler, My friend Jessica’s father. While talking about the DREAM Project,  he was particularly interested in “the Environmental Club” I started as a local youth group. I mentioned our plan to clean up the area around the center and provide separate receptacles for bottles to be recycled and regular trash. And he asked why I don’t collect plastic rather than the glass bottles? So, I explained that the bottle manufacturers pay a few pesos a bottle and the money could go to the Environmental club. I was pretty satisfied with our little business venture and with such a lucrative incentive, I was sure the girls and boys would be hooked on recycling. Unbeknownst to me, Mr. Schindler works with plastics and packing and shipping to be specific. He argued that for very little start up cash, our pioneer Environmental Club could make a huge profit selling plastic to China. All we would really have to do is collect the plastic and bring it to a port of entry. Did I mention Cabarete is on the north coast 40 minutes away from the second largest port city in the country, Puerto Plata? My mind was blown. Could I really start a multinational supply chain for recycled plastic? Unfortunately, I have no idea how to go about contacting a Chinese plastics company. But the whole idea got my mind turning, what if non-governmental organizations were actually real businesses and the profits went to back to the people? I think I heard something like this before about an indigenous Peruvian textile industry that used their profits from hand-made crafts to pay for their fight for indigenous copyrights. I love the concept that business savvy does not always connote greed or lack of a social conscientious. The recent development of socially responsible businesses is in my opinion, one of the great success stories of the internet and the empowerment of the environmentalist.