Home Ec.
It’s funny to think we’ve been in Santo Domingo just shy of a month now. Aside from the obvious drags of hotel living, there was something about the time that felt a bit like limbo — not quite vacation but not quite living here yet either. But now that we’ve been in our temporary digs for a week, it’s feeling like we can slowly, slowly start settling in.
I had almost forgotten what that even looks like. (Although it’s a very different ballgame this go around. I joined Joe in Brussels a year after he got to post so he already knew his way around the city. Plus, we’ve got Nicolas in tow with us now.)
It looks a bit like Christmas in July.
When Housing gave us the apartment to use until our house is ready, they warned us that it wasn’t going to be fully made-ready. But guess who doesn’t mind that there’s still nails in the wall from the previous tenant and it needs a coat or two of fresh paint (plus a couple of other minor repairs)?! We’ve all been so much happier with the extra space and easier access to the outdoors. Nicolas even giggled when he saw that there was a “big boy” bathtub (poor kid had gotten used to them on home leave but was squished back into a baby tub on the shower floor while we were in the hotel).
Our UAB (unaccompanied air baggage) came last Friday morning just before 9:00 am. By 9:15, the packing paper was all over the living room floor as Nicolas tore through to find his toys and books. I’ll be the first to admit that we packed completely wrong. We only used 1/3 of our allotted weight because we (incorrectly) assumed that the time between getting our UAB and the rest of our stuff would be short. I’ll even admit that the majority of the weight went to clothes that I’m probably not even going to have occasion to wear anytime soon. Lesson learned: when we do it all over again, I’ll make sure to pack more stuff to keep all of us entertained as well as a few more practical items for the house.
It looks a bit like Chopped and Iron Chef meets Supermarket Sweep.
Aside from the McDonald’s that we had delivered (yes, delivered) the first night we moved in, we’ve been making our own meals again. It’s been easier said than done.
On the plus side, we’ve got a full kitchen now (full-sized stove/oven, microwave, fridge/freezer). On the minus, we’re working with the welcome kit: a collection of basic household items meant to tide us over until our stuff arrives. Welcome kit contents vary from post to post but the universal gripe is that the quality of items is usually pretty low — especially the knives and pots & pans. To be fair, I was pleasantly surprised by some of the items here (the sheets and towels aren’t too scratchy/cheap!) but my cooking game is still a bit limited by what we have/don’t have. Loaf pan? Sure! Basic cookie sheet/baking pan? Outta luck.
And then there’s re-learning the grocery store. Each trip is a bit like working a complicated word problem:
What’s it even called? Just because I learned the name of something in H.S. and college Spanish, doesn’t mean it’s the same here in the Caribbean.
Does it exist here and, if so, where’s it hiding? Learning a new supply chain is a trip. (But we recently discovered that the Carrefour hipermercado has a surprising number of items we got used to Belgium — even down to the FR/NL packaging!)
How much does it cost and is it worth it? We’re on an island and prices reflect that. Some things are cheap (locally produced goods, local fruits & veggies) and others not so much. Trying to be mindful of the spend means not only keeping a mental running tally but also doing a currency conversion because prices are in Dominican pesos but we bank in U.S. dollars (currently about 57:1).
Our last grocery trip left me with an odd assortment of tropical fruit, tinned fish, canned beans, deli meat, yogurt and bread. Thank God for Pinterest. I honestly don’t know what we’d be eating without it.
And it looks a lot like trying to climb up Maslow’s hierarchy.
Now that we’re all a bit more comfortable on the basics front, the things that take more time to sort out feel like bigger gaps.
I’m anxious to meet people. And not just any people but my people. I know, I do, that it takes time but I also think I convinced myself that it would be so much easier to make friends because I have a kid now. Like maybe I could just show up at the playground and instantly click with other moms. Spoiler alert: it hasn’t been that easy. I keep thinking back to my landing in Brussels and trying to remember that it was a slow roll there too, at least until the first CLO-hosted Ladies’ Night.
I’m even more anxious to feel like there’s some traction again in my professional life. In the words of one of my friends, I’ve become a reluctant stay at home mom. It’s not that I don’t love spending time with Nicolas. Of course I do. It’s just that, like so many other things this move, I thought that figuring out a suitable childcare arrangement for him would have been smoother. And with childcare in place, I could pick my coaching certification back up…
I suspect that’s the way this goes though. That a PCS is survival at first, then something more than survival, and then a little bit more than that until one day you realize you’re settled in (at least until it’s time to do it all over again).
In other words, I suspect I’m right on target.
