On blending in

Nailed it, right?

As I grow more acclimated to day-to-day life of the DR, I am more acutely aware of the smaller things that indicate my gringo status to locals.

There are, of course, the more obvious:

1. Terrible spanish

2. Blonde hair

3. Looking lost

While each of these items would raise the eyebrows of a Dominican in its own right, there are a number of more subtle indicators. These include:

1. Backpacks. Unless you are a 12 year old girl going to school, leave the mochilla at home. Briefcases are not really big here either. How, you might ask, does one cart around one's crap? Further research is underway.

2. Short pants. You might think that if you followed a line of longitude from the north pole, heading equitorially, you would encounter an increasing density of short pants. Not so in the DR. Nothing sticks out here like the pale legs of a northern tourist ensconced in bright floral swim trunks. I have been told that this is true for much of the spanish-speaking world.

3. Tennis shoes. Are you going to the gym? Perhaps to a basketball game? If not, leather shoes are de facto necessities for any near-fashionable male.

4. An inability to sing and dance well. My perspective with this one may be more questionable since the majority of my time is spent with professional musicians and dancers. However, I would venture to say that the vast majority of people here have kinetic and vocal skills that far exceed my own.

5. Walking on the sunny side of the sidewalk. Few among us enjoy vigorously sweating, and in the land of eternal summer, it is difficult to avoid. Walking in direct sunlight when shade is just a few feet away may provoke an odd stare or two.

6. Hesitantly walking through intersections. Like much of the global south, traffic rules aren't really a thing, so stride determinedly and pray that traffic stops.

7. Excessive timeliness. La Hora Dominicana. (+/-)2hrs for all plans.