Update: be sure to read to the update. It's funny-ish.
I walked the road today and asked every woman who didn't look scary if she knew of a house I could rent. I decided to stay away from men. Men in this country are too much work to figure out.
I made it about an hour in the sun to a friends house and dropped into a chair. She said I could live with her and as much fun as that would maybe be, I'd feel better if I had my own space to lock up. I've learned that things here aren't always as they appear. So I went forward.
I went to the house of another woman I know. She had a space, but she is going to use it as for an Internet business (which I fully support!), and the other houses were falling apart and to be blunt, way to close to my project partner for my comfort. This woman kept insisting that he should be there helping me find a house. In all honesty, he'd probably be great at finding me a house, but I want him involved in my personal life as little as possible and finding me a house and knowing the ins and outs of my entire transaction feels like a security threat to my sanity.
She and another woman discussed for a long time other places I could live and people I could live with, but I gave up and turned around.
I saw my original friend sitting near her house chatting with a man. I think he is her husband. I mentioned my house hunt again. I find people don't mention this to other people, but if I mention it they get to talking and things maybe happen.
Well the husband suggested this would be store located two spots down from their house and directly next to a funeria. I checked it out. It's all secure and made of cement and cute. It doesn't have a bathroom, but part of the deal is the dude will probably build me a bathroom. So we have it. Friday I am going to chat with the owner and try to work out a deal. I'll get to actually look at the inside and really consider the option. Homeboy needs to build me a bathroom and hopefully pull up some form of running water (fingers crossed) and I may work out a deal for the casa.
After this morning (my doña went off on the little girl and hit her and told her basically that she was worthless crap and I think it's because she and I were up during the rainstorm laughing and having a good time), I have to move out.
(The little girl walked past me and looked at me, but didn't say hi, we just waved, and my doña crabbed her head and turned her toward me and told her to "saludar Amanda!" I just can't live with this any longer or I will hate Dominicans due to a semi-isolated situation.)
I already feel better just being in this part of town with different people. I haven't found the spot where I can use my flota phone and call all of my peace corps friends, but I will and it will be great and I'll use up the flota and get to know Dominicans and be happy all the time... Except when I'm not.
So I'm eating lunch with my friend near the house I want to get. My project partner creeps up like a creeper because his day isn't complete if he isn't creeping. He chats with other people, says he has somewhere important to be and can't stay so he leaves.
Not 10 minutes later he is back. He wants to talk to me. Says he heard I was looking for a house. He wanted to tell me about a house he knew of. My friend asked him about the house he said he had. It is apparently big with three bedrooms, but my friend asks him about how it's so not secure, clean, or close to any people. His response is that it's basically good because its super close to his house... No sir. Bye. She tells him I have a house and he leaves. As he is walking away my friend looks to her daughter and says "El loco viejo!"
Really?! I confirm. "Did you just say he was a crazy old man?!"
"Yes. Yes I did!"
Ha. Okay. So it's not just me who thinks he is crazy. One of his people, his friend in confianza thinks so too. I feel validated.