Development

I hate saying it, but it was just nice to be in a “developed” country. First of all, I regained my anonymity. I was no longer getting constantly approached by vendors and beggars (there were many fewer of those). I was just another face on the metro. And the metro, lord do I miss clean, efficient, reliable, modern, affordable public transportation. There was no need to negotiate the price of my metro ticket, no waxale (Wolof for bargaining), just buy it, wait a few minutes and get on the train. Tracey was saying that the metro system in Madrid was not as fast and clean as others in Europe, but it was the best subway system I have ever used in my life. She needs to come to NYC where every day you see rats the size of small children, can cut through the layers of grime on station walls and dig like an archeologist for clues of a previous civilization and where every New Yorker is a champion at the “hear the rumbling, leap to the edge and tilt your head to the point of losing balance to avoid all of the other heads doing the same thing, just to see if the train is coming game.” At least in Madrid (like in DC) they are nice enough to tell you the train is coming. Beyond the metro, there were some of the other advantages of overdevelopment like cultural diversity, and cleanliness. Then, of course, it was nice to be in a country where I could speak the language and where people knew where I was from, so that rather than getting the dumb stares I usually get when I say La Republique Dominicaine, I got affirming looks when saying La Republica Dominicana. Even if all they did know was the beaches, still it was nice.