A Night in Veron

After our first week of classes in the Fundacion Ecologica Punta Cana, much of the crew was feeling varying degrees of anciness ranging from 'let's go to the mini-mall and get Wendy's' to 'We're gonna pregame in the common room, then hit the happy hour at Playa Blanca, and from there hit the clubs,' and everything in between.

8 of our lil group of 12 decided while en route to the mini-mall in the free resort shuttle to have the driver take us to Veron, the closest town next to Punta Cana. It's too small to be on google maps which already makes it legit. For a small fee he'll take us to a bar he says is legit by the locals' standards and everyone agrees to go for it.

After several minutes of driving on Veron's main street, passing innumerable mini-marts all blasting either bachata, merengue, or salsa and one dope looking Harlem style lit up Basketball court along the way, he drops us off at Veron Tropical. Immediately a waiter whisks us over to a table. I was very down with the looks of the place. Open area but with a thatch covered roof, lots of tables all surrounding the nice dance floor in the middle, some strobe lights and a smoke machine..and yes, lot's of beautiful women. I should mention that of the 8 of us, Patrick and I were the only male reps (seen in picture above, waiting in Punta Cana for the shuttle to show up). We all sit down at our table and I order a Presidente (THE Dominican beer), Pat orders a vodka cranberry, and the waiter comes back with 3 tall boy Presidentes, a handle of Absolut, and a small oceanspray cranberry juice. Naturally the men were ordering for the whole table, how silly of us to forget this!

Looking around, I was catching the eyes of a few of these local ladies. And they were smiling right at me. Add to the fact that the Celtics were looking real good against Orlando on the slightly banged up big screen tv and the night looked pretty promising. So as I'm drinking my beer and assessing the situation of the dance floor and watching the C's pour it on the Magic, I'm getting pumped up and start a conversation with a dude who works there who was also watching the game. Pierce hit a dagger three so I was talking my man The Truth up to this dude. The guy is more interested in the ladies Pat and I are sitting with and wants to know which of them is my wife. I say 'nah man I have no wife, no lady friend. Pretty single. Como se dice single?' Libre, he says. 'Word, soy libre. Viva la revolucion!' And we both give a fist pump in the air. I ask him how many of the ladies in the bar/dance hall/club he thinks are libre, and this is where I hit reality. He shakes his head and says, "no, no..por dinero." And lemme tell ya, reality bites. We're in a de facto whore house. All the women in the place. Oh, man! And here I am thinking that a few of these women are giving me looks and smiles because I'm fresh blood in small town Veron, because I'm a silly gringo, because who knows why. But now it all makes sense--these girls are interested in one thing and one thing only, mi dinero..caramba!

I guess it was good that I found out sooner rather than later. On one level, a man's ego should never get too high--it's not healthy. So it put me right back down on earth to realize these ladies didn't like me for me. On a much more practical level, though, it probably saved me from some possible trouble because I undoubtedly would have tried dancing with one of the mistresses and there's no way things would have ended well. With my newly acquired knowledge and dashed hopes of getting to know the locals in a more naive and honest way, I still decided to dance with one the women who had been eying me. After all, I figured, I am finally in a real situation to try some latin dancing and I have nothing to lose because I'm a silly white boy in a whorehouse who can't really keep up either way, so what the hell? I tell the woman, "no puede bailar por que soy gringo de estados unidos, ensename a bailar por favor!" We dance and I lead her pretty horrifically offbeat while also trying to talk to her in whatever Spanish I can come up with. Even though I didn't really know what I was doing, I succeeded in twirling and spinning her a few times, enough that she more than once gave me a surprised smile. After the dance ended though, she claimed it was too hot so we parted ways. I thought that was gonna be it...

Sometime later we were getting our cash out to pay the bill and something like the 5th dude of the night comes up to me and asks what the deal with all the American girls is, if we need a ride anywhere let him know, if we need drinks let him know, which of the girls are single etc etc. Like we were the pimps or something--it was pretty ridiculous. As he is talking to me, the woman I danced with comes over and interrupts and with the help of his translation gets the message across that she wants to come home with me. I am flattered, and I do crush on that smile of hers, but I am skeptical because of her profession. "Lo siento, no tengo dinero..." He explains that she doesn't want money, that she'll go home with me for free. "I looove you!" she exclaims with a coy smile. Ok, soI am admittedly very unsure of what to do at this point. I try not to over think in this sort of situation so I decide to take a chance and go with it. "Vamos, lady!" The two of us take deck outta there and grab the first taxi we see back to the resort. This was last night, and she is still with me right now, sitting next to me as I type this. As ridiculous as it sounds, I think I've finally found the one! Listen, Ellenas might be a prostitute, but it's not her fault. With no education, money, or other options...I mean, everyone's gotta make a living...right...? Whatever you're thinking right now, get used to it people, she ain't goin anywhere anytime soon.





Anyways, everything happened up through the part of me being unsure of what my next move should be. In reality, I decided there was no way taking this woman home could end well no matter how pretty the smile. Instead I distanced myself and the 8 of us piled into our waiter's sedan with all six girls in the back seat and Pat and me up front.

It was only the next morning at breakfast that after relaying the story to our T.A. she informed us that indeed Veron was pretty well known for its prostitution. Great, thanks for the heads up on that one! All in all, it was a pretty fun night. Big C's win, funny experience all around, nice bonding moment with the group.

I'll post again in a couple of days max with an update on my research project. I just emailed in a 6 page proposal a couple of hours ago so we'll see how things are shaping up when I hear some feedback on it.

Much love to everyone and shavuah tov
Love, Jonah

Punta Cana, Dominican Republic

Hellooo Everybody (aka Mom, Zoe Jick, and Debby Iken),

Been a while since my last post, and much longer since anything consistent. This is about to change...

I just wanted to say Hola from my semi-resort room in Punta Cana. I arrived in the hot n humid Dominican town at 12:30 this afternoon, and I will be spending the next five weeks on a Columbia U summer science program doing research in the Punta Cana Biodiversity Center to fulfill my remaining six science credits while also having a legit good time. After the program ends in late June, I will take a ferry out to the D.R. village of Las Galeras and meet up with a couple, Cindy and Jose, where I will learn some organic farming skills (part of the ever growing WWOOF movement) until mid August.

So, since I just got here today, I don't have too much to report just yet. There are 12 of us on the program--pretty tiny by all standards, with a T.A. from Spain named Lisa and our professor, named Jane. [Edit: Actually, her name is Jenna!]

Going Kosh will be very tough. It will include rice and beans. And rice and beans. And sometimes pizza for dinner. This diet, coupled with the fact that we are not allowed to throw our toilet paper into the toilet because the sewage system is still one of the 'developing' things in the country (so instead we dispose of it in a garbage pail next to us), is reason enough to keep checking the blog this summer because there could be some very interesting, and potentially quite smelly, stories that come out of it.

With that, I am going to do my reading and pass out.

Much love,
Pepe/Jonah

The Last Challenger

In honor of Guitel's one year yahrzeit, a memory:

Setting: Camp Ramah, New England. The last Shabbas afternoon in Tent City, i.e. the Nivonim Kfar. The sun is shining on this late August afternoon, and I am in my standard attire (slippers and shorts with a jersey strewn on a nearby bench should I actually have to don clothing for a modest-- or more likely boss-like, passerby). My boys Alowe, Rhoda ben David Grill-Abramowitz, and I are in the mood for one of our favorite Palmer Pastimes, Wiffleball. We put out the challenge, and mow down all opponents in two straight six inning games. You gotta understand, I kind of dominate Wiffleball.

With the afternoon sun glaring on, our third and final challenging squad, led by Niv08's finest, Josh Guitelman, strolled up to the playing field (comprising of the Kfar Moadon's see-through top down tarp wall as the all encompassing backstop and a Tcan on top of a crate as a strike zone). I honestly don't remember the other two people on his team, because this quickly became a duel between Guitel and me. I call myself a pitcher and a hitter. Never until that game had someone matched me pitch for pitch, strike out for strike out. And lemme tell you, each of us was striking out everybody, including each other. Usually, other teammates take a turn hurling their best stuff (as we all know sharing is caring). I was not giving the ball to anyone but me, and neither was he. The innings passed, still no score. A stray ground ball single here, a bloop dropped double there. I think I flied out to the edge of the warning track (identified by the lady tents) once in the 10thish inning.

Every time I stepped to the plate to face him, I felt like I had a shot to win the game with one swing of the bat. And literally 95% of those at bats, he struck me out. This was intriguing to me. Guitel had this one pitch that was simply unhittable that day. I had killllled Guitel's stuff before, but he was coming at me with some seriously pro-grade shit. On the one hand, I wanted to win, and I wanted to win now. But the grimace and scowl combo I kept giving him belied the honest excitement and pride I had in the lil guy. Well, at the time the most frustrating part of that game was the fact that it had to be interrupted for the afternoon Mincha prayers. Naturally, we promised we would finish the game right after we got back from the grove. But of course, this was not to happen...some of us made it back after Mincha, others didn't. It was after all the last day of camp and campers had things to do, people to see. Our edah as a group had an agenda, each tent had their own last night programs, there was the B-side dance to prepare for, and as you know very well, the rest is history.

Fatefully, that game never did finish. But perhaps it wasn't supposed to be. I have never played such a legitimate competitor since that last Shabbas afternoon of Niv08. Indeed, Guitel was the last challenger.

As I gear up for the Columbia Intramural Wiffleball tournament coming up in a couple of weeks and as your one year anniversary has just passed over so many of us on this rainy Passover day, your spirit, your nasty wiffle pitch, and really you, Josh, are missed.

With love,
Jonah

Hey, what's the chemical called...

לא יודע איך נקרא הכימי בראש,
הכימי שגורם לי להתגעגע לארץ, לאהוב בחורות, ולרצות לחגוג באותו רגע,
אבל נראה לי שמתאים לכימי הזה את השם "אהוד בנאי"
11.2.09

Sabbath Musings/הרהורי שבת

אני יושב פה בספריה בליל שבת: קורא וחוקר מאמרים, מקליד במחשב, ובקיצור לפי החוק מחלל את השבת.
בכל אופן, אני הייתי בבית כנסת, התפללתי (עם כוונה, דווקה!) את קבלת שבת ומעריב, השתתפתי בקידוש, הבדלתי בין חול לקודש ושאבתי הנאה מהשבת עצמה. אז גם הגשמתי את מצוות השבת. למרות שכתיבה וקלידה הם "דברים אסורים", אני מתלבט אם להתווכח סיכסוכי הארץ גם בראש וגם בכתיב באמת יעצבנו את אלוהים. אני ממש עירני על הפרושים, אבל פשוט לא חושב שהם חילולים

for the economist

a haiku:

Her gain is mine, too
This makes our slope positive.
Giffen's Paradox?

Iran is Testing (missiles and mindsets)

Iran is not going away anytime soon.
Right after reading this article from professor and former Condoleeza Rice cabinet member (not to mention member of my mishpacha) on the Wall Street Journal website I saw this picture on the NYtimes.com:

Oh boy is right. The caption under the picture said, and I quote, "Iran showed new defiance Sunday by test-firing three short-range missiles near the city of Qum." Iran's case of classic showboating comes just after the U.S.-British-French joint statement announcing the location of the site. Meant perhaps to show that 'we know what you're up to and you won't get away with it,' Iran's response is a clear indication that is does not care what the West thinks. In fact, it has and will continue to ignore international pleas for talks and negotiations, will continue to train fighters for proxy terrorist wars abroad, and will continue to suppress its myriad oppositional dissidents at home. President Obama continue to push for economic sanctions that will force Iran back to the nuclear negotiation table. While some countries (a la France and England) have vocally supported the president, noticeable others (China and Russia who not surprisingly has vested economic interests with Iran) have not. Sanctions are useless unless everyone is on board.

Iran tested three missiles on Sunday and plans on testing out some longer range ones on Monday--not coincidentally on the Jewish holy day, Yom Kippur. Testing mid range missiles on the most important Jewish day of the year (a day in which Israel has already been surprise attacked in the past, lest we forget) is sure to goad the already fragile mindset of the Israeli people and government. This is exactly what Ahmadinejad and company want: a provocation that would not be large enough to be considered an outright act of war, but would prompt Israel to preemptively strike Iran. It is assumed that any Israeli military strike would provoke a larger, Middle East war--something that would be very costly and probably no Israeli wants.

Iran pushed dangerous buttons today, and barely anyone even blinked. It will do the same tomorrow, and will continue to do so on until it is stopped. Whether it is through sanctions that actually 'cripple the economy' or through a decisive military strike, who is going to step up and do something?