All young researchers doing social research have to undergo a number of courses entitled "research training", teaching you about statistics, how to do interviews and suchlike. They are mostly useless and irrelevant, but with the occaisional gem. What they never prepare you for is the practical and emotional sides of fieldwork.

Today's experience was Dominican public service at its very best. Having arranged an interview with the secretary of someone at the national parks office, I arrive to have them tell me that they have never heard of me, and that I should really speak to their colleague, who will be back in January. Not wanting to waste the effort I went through to get out to the office, I then head to the park services library archives (the three bookshelves in the basement). Having asked for a copy of the budget and annual report for the last 5 years, the reply comes that they think they have something to do with budgets from 1982, and will this do? It didn't matter anyway, as they had no idea where it was.

To make up for this, I try to go to national statistics office, to get hold of the budgets from them. Turned down by the doorman for not wearing a tie. Seriously. It certainly says something about the stupidity of the bureaucracy that archives are harder to get into than swish nightclubs.

The flip side of this, and the thing that makes this country such a fascinating place, is that people outside of officialdom are more than willing to share experiences and help each other out. At this time of year there is a huge rainstorm at about 4pm, which starts with some threatening clouds, a few drops which are promptly followed by rain so hard it hurts. Everyone runs for shelter. The trick is at precisely the right moment to be walking past somewhere with a large overhang and cold beer. The folk round here learnt that a long time ago, and this need is amply catered for. Everyone just gets chatting, the younger folk start flirting, and the older folk start taking bets on the outcome of the flirting. People are generally interested to chat to one another, something you would never see in the UK. They are often absolutely hilarious, more of which I am sure will come.

Through such a random incident, someone referred me to an American lady running bird watching tours in the south west. The Dominican Republic is a paradise for birds (an endemic and endangered species of parrot breeds where I am currently staying, and if it keeps on depositing just near where I am walking, it will shortly become more endangered), and lots of migratory species overwinter and breed here. A quick chat turns into a two hour conversation, the loan of a number of books, an invitation to spend a weekends birdwatching and a dozen phone numbers and contacts I should follow up. Plus I am now renting a room from a internet contact I meet up with for a quick chat about national parks.

The road traffic still makes me laugh. Today's sight was a fresh faced traffic cop directing traffic whilst chatting to his mate on his mobile. He was still blowing his whistle as he talked, so the friend was either very deaf or very patient. Suddenly bearing down on him at 40 mph come a dozen police motorcycle outriders and five big blacked out 4*4s - the presidential motorcade. The poor boy doesn't know whether to stop the traffic, salute or what. In the end, he just ignores it as if this huge kerfuffle wasn't happening. The president speeds through, and life continues once more.