La Muñequita

The best part of being in the Dominican Republic so far is seeing everyone’s reaction to Cora, and I don’t expect that will change. I know Dominicans are accustomed to travelers, but it seems they’re not so used to seeing two Americans with a smiling, eleven month-old gordita strapped to them whose chubby legs flop around like snow-white marshmallows. At least not in the places we’ve been to so far, which for me and Charlie is always a bit off the beaten path. In fact, other than the babies who live here, we’ve hardly seen any at all which makes our tiny tourist stand out even more. I’m still trying to decide if that means we’re cool or crazy – it depends on the moment – and so far I’ve had more of the latter. 

I know the moments when I feel temporarily insane for doing a three-month trip with a baby to a country with non-potable drinking water are due to the fact that Charlie and I are traveling in our normal style. We didn’t alter things much for Cora, which means she’s basically along for the ride. If we had, we’d be staying in nice resorts with air conditioning, other tourists, private beaches, clean swimming pools and easily accessible restaurants. Instead we’re taking buses, staying in unique but rustic Airbnbs, venturing out in the community to find produce markets, line-drying our laundry, living on avocados and trying to stay cool with shade and plastic fans just like everyone else. It keeps these extended trips affordable and we like a bit of a challenge, but mostly our goal is to experience the culture and speak Spanish with locals. With Cora, this has been easy; she attracts them like a magnet and she loves the attention. So while I may see everything through my mom-lens and have small panic attacks every day, Cora is having an absolute blast.

Since our arrival over two weeks ago, nearly every encounter has been the same. Whether it’s ladies chatting on front porches, men gathered around plastic tables playing dominos or kids swinging in the park, as soon as they see Cora they stop and stare in amazement before flashing her an adoring smile. Most people reach out to touch her as we pass. Then they gasp and laugh at her squishy rolls and call her a muñequita, or little doll. Young girls run over and tug on her chubby fingers and stroke her rosy cheeks. Sometimes they ask to take her picture. No one is shy about it. Thankfully most people are polite, except for the woman who rushed over and plucked her from my lap before I could stop her. I wanted to deck her, but I knew she meant no harm. There’s a strong community vibe in the Dominican when it comes to children. Everyone looks out for them and shares some of the responsibility. And every person sends us off with the same parting words: Que Dios la bendiga. May God bless her. Our Dominican Spanish teacher, Héctor, told us it’s like a superstition here; when you see a baby, you say a blessing. We hear it at least ten times a day but people say it so genuinely it doesn’t get old. She is a little blessing after all, and a cute one at that. 

While I appreciate the kindness, the invasion of personal space has been a big adjustment for me, though I am warming up to it. It’s hard not to; Dominicans are extremely friendly, relaxed and quick to smile. It’s the perfect atmosphere for Cora to practice waving and interacting because everyone talks to her and waves back. She mimics my high-pitched “hola” in her sweet sing-song voice as she waves her whole arm up and down and rolls her little wrist in the air. She always waits for a response and keeps at it until she gets one, which of course she does. It’s delightful for everyone involved and I love watching her confidence grow from each exchange. It definitely helps ease our concern about taking her out of daycare – that she’d miss out on socialization. I’m not sure who’s more social, Cora or the locals, but she’s adapting to the island vibe just fine.