The name is catchy, right? I mean Fitness February just sounds so much better than Fitness January. Which is why it is the perfect time to pick yourself up, shake the sleep from you eyes, and go for a run. Well, at least it is here in the D.R. where running in shorts and a t-shirt is not a problem (I can't speak for all of you back State-Side, since I know you are probably curling up with a cup of hot cocoa right now and seriously considering hibernating away the cold until about April.). ButI intend to take full advantage. And in addition,  I've got some extra motivation......get excited for what I'm about to tell you..........I'm signing up for a 10K in the beautiful beach town of Las Terrenas! 
Ok so maybe it's not THAT exciting, but I'm totally stoked for it. I've never run a 10K (6.2 miles...although this one happens to be a tad longer at 6.4 miles) before and I think it could be awesome. Also notice how this fits nicely into my previous goal of running more this year, which is just nifty now isn´t it?

Not to mention, I have a partner in crime and training buddy, Sydney (who I will now be referring to as Syd the Kid, because it sounds more badass), to help keep me on track. 
And with just a little over a month (Exactly 4 weeks and 2 days) before the race, we don´t have any time to waste getting our tushies in tip top shape. 

Now I should mention we had the option of running a 5K instead, and we hummed and hawed over our decision. Both of us feel we could comfortably complete a 5K, so it sounded like a safe route to go. And neither of us have ever ran a 10K before (I have done 2 half-marathons, but that was almost 2 years ago and I´m nowhere near being in shape to run that far now), which definitely puts us outside our comfort zone, especially with less than 6 weeks to train. But as Lynne (my coordinator from CIEE) likes to say, "When you are out of your comfort zone, you are in a learning zone." And what are we doing in this world if we aren't trying to learn something new? So 10K it is!
Here´s the training schedule:

Now we can't have Fitness February without talking about food however. With that being said, my focus for this next month is to reign in my diet (which lately may or may not have consisted of a few too many empanadas and lazy nights in which spoonfuls of peanut butter straight from the jar constituted dinner).Now being a person whose idea of a perfect morning is lazing around Barnes and Noble with a latte and a stack of magazines or a few good books, and also being a person of a curious nature, especially when it comes to biology and health, and subsequently, nutrition, it's probably fair to say I´ve read my way around the diet world and back. And my overwhelming consensus: diets suck. Really, they truly do. Too many lists of foods you can't eat and its impossible to keep track of them all. It's overwhelming and restricting, and just down-right depressing. Which is why I like the idea of "clean eating." It's not a diet, it's just a healthy lifestyle that supports eating all-natural, unprocessed foods (i.e. anything that comes out of a can or box or with an ingredient on the label that you can't pronounce is a no-no), such as fruits and veggies, whole grains, lean proteins, and small amounts of nuts and dairy. So I'll be taking advantage of the D.R.'s year round supply of amazing produce to pack my meals chock full of wholesome goodness (expect more cooking blog posts to come!) Things I will try to cut back on: added sugar, processed carbs (anything with enriched flour), all things fried (adios empanadas!), exceeding portion sizes, and late-night snacking (extremely guilty of the latter.)
Two things I absolutely refuse to give up: chocolate and wine. I'm not giving them up because I like them. And I'm not into deprivation. So they stay. Don't judge me :-p 
Plus, if I follow the mantra "all things in moderation" they shouldn't be a problem. I'm also a fan of this chica's diet motto, which basically says that if you use portion control, and only eat when you are truly hungry, you can enjoy all the foods you love and still maintain a healthy lifestyle. 

So that's Fitness February in a nutshell. One month of trying to eat clean and one month of morning runs and exercise. 
And what's the end result I'm looking for here? Well it took my a long time to learn this, but fitness cannot be measured by a number on a scale and happiness should not be directly correlated to your jean size. I'm not looking to reach a certain weight or drop a certain number of inches around my waist. What I'm wanting is to feel "springy."
Yeah, you know the feeling I'm talking about. The one where you feel light and energized and ready to conquer the word. That feeling of being nimble and quick and prepared to take on anything. Where you can just pop out of bed, and hit the ground running. Springy. Yep, that's what I'm looking for. And if I lose a pound or two and tone up a little in the process, awesome, but those are just the lovely side benefits of the overall springy effect I'm going for. 
(P.S. I'd also like to run an average 9 minute mile for this upcoming race...but since its my first 10K I'm not going to worry over much about getting the perfect time)
So without further ado, here are a few pictures of my training process so far (Sydney and I actually started our running schedule together last week), along with my favorite motivational quotes. 

Getting ready for a sunrise run
And just so you know, I used pixler to give these pictures that cool vintage-y feel. 

A little pre-running stretch above and some pre-running motivation from the great Steve Prefontaine below. 

Post workout stretch= best feeling ever.

Wish me luck, but more importantly, motivation and good decision making!

As you may or may not recall from my last hiking adventure here in the D.R., we got a bit lost. But it was cool, I like being a little bit lost, that just means you have to find yourself. And you never know what you'll come across on the journey. In our case, we had a great hike despite not ending up exactly where we wanted to be, and a second perk, we found the trail to another mountain, La Loma del Chivo (the Hill of the Goat) which according to our Dominican guide, would provide us with an amazing view looking out over Santiago. We left our previous hike promising to return to conquer el Chivo one day. 
And that day ended up being very soon, the next weekend in fact! 
What can I say, we love to hike :)
Anyways...our journey started on a lovely Sunday afternoon. Once again we caught a Javilla Tours bus to Villa Gonzalez and paid a couple motoconchos (only 80 pesos each this time! our bargaining skills are improving) to take us to the "trail head." Trail head is in quotations because its not really a real trail, more like a path that a few farmers might use to get back and forth across the mountain. In fact, it was closed off by a barbed wire fence and we had to ask the kindly old men in the shack next to the gate if it was ok for us to pass through. Of course they didn't mind though. Once we were passed the barbed wire we were on our way!

The path started off quite lovely, nice and well-marked, with beautiful views of the tobacco fields swathed across the hillside. 

We snuck down into one of the fields for a closer look at the drying process. 

Yep, these leaves are going to make some fine cigars, I give my stamp of approval. 

A few minutes later in our journey, the lovely little path took on a slightly more challenging nature. 

We soon came to realize just why it was called the Hill of the Goat! Only goats were meant to climb this thing. We weren't sure exactly where we were going but there was one thing for certain, we were going straight up. I'm talking 45 degree angles here; direct route to the top. We did almost just as much climbing as hiking. The path continued to become increasingly steeper and narrower, until, thank the Good Lord,  it leveled off a bit in a wooded area, giving us a chance to catch our breaths and wipe the sweat out of our eyes......before it disappeared entirely....

Oh well, we´re just happy we don`t have to keep climbing up anymore! Time to head back down. 

We couldn´t leave without seeing the main event though: the promised breathtaking view. 

Lindsay looking lovely with the "yellow" tree. 

What? Rain? Where did that come from? Of course we shouldn´t have been surprised, the weather changes on a dime here. 

On our way down we decided to visit the creek from our last hike. 

The silver lining to a sudden downpour? Nobody cares about playing in the creek when you are already wet. 

We decided to try to hike down the creek bed back towards the city since that seemed way more fun than walking back along the road. 

I was just hopping along from rock to rock when Lindsay called me back for my camera. Fascinated by the array of colors on our path, she proceeded to snap this very artistic picture capturing the loveliness of the wet stones, in all their many shades, along with the bright leaves. 
Perhaps one of the loveliest qualities about Lindsay is that she never fails to see the beauty in everything. 

I took a slightly less inspired picture of a flower. Still pretty though, don´t you think?

In any case our artistic reverie was abruptly interrupted when we stumbled upon a group of men bathing desnudo (naked!) just a little further downstream. 
I quickly averted my eyes since my Catholic upbringing had me blushing like a school girl. So, of course, no pictures for you. We promptly changed course and headed back for the road, giggling as we pondered what the bathing men must have thought about a group of gringas bursting in on their bath. 

On the way back we came across an an intriguingly painted rock. What do you think it´s supposed to be? Lindsay saw "mushroom."

Sydney and I saw "girl pointing home". 

Which was a good sign, since that is where we were headed.  
We happily made our way back to the highway to await our bus. 
Overall, a good trip with a few surprises, just the way I like my adventures :)

So I should probably start by prefacing this story with the fact that Dominicans are terrible at directions. 
Ok, so maybe that's a huge generalization and completely inaccurate. Dominicans aren't necessarily terrible at directions, many are just terrible at admitting when they don't know how to give you proper directions to where you want to go. 
Now to my American mind, admitting that you don't know how to get to a specified location is far better than sending a stranger off on a wild goose chase in the wrong direction. 
Is that how Dominicans see it though?
Of course not! 
Nope, instead it turns out that Dominicans are masters of "inventing" directions. 
Now I'm not sure the mindset behind this. Perhaps Dominicans just don't like to give the impression that they don't know their way around, especially in their hometowns. Or perhaps, and probably more likely,  to Dominicans it would seem extremely rude and unhelpful not to at least attempt to point a stranger in the right direction. Does it matter that they themselves don't know where the location is situated. Not one bit.  Best just to give the strangers your best guess and send them merrily on their way, happily believing they are headed on the correct path. I mean, at least you did the best you could to help them and you sent them off with a smile, right?
I know, I know,  it sounds crazy, but it's true. 
I wouldn't  be writing to you about this interesting  phenomenon had I not wandered streets aimlessly in the wrong direction, multiple times, after asking a local how to reach my destination. And nearly all my friends have reported similar incidents.  Most recently though, I experienced this lovely cultural quirk on a hiking trip to the highest peak in the Santiago area, Pico Diego de Ocampo. Being the highest mountain in the surrounding mountain range, you would think it would be a fairly popular location. Or if not popular, at least easy to find. 
You would be wrong. 
So the adventure started with Sydney, Davíd, and I catching the M concho to the Javilla Tours bus station on Saturday. From there we hopped on a guagua to Villa Gonzalez, a neighborhood on the outskirts of Santiago. We knew that the entrance to the hiking path was located somewhere in this vicinity. We just had to find out where. Since pretty much all information is communicated by word-of-mouth here (which is the catch-22 of having to ask directions), we stopped and asked two motoconcho guys if they could point us to the trail for Diego de Ocampo. And OF COURSE, they knew where the entrance was and would gladly take us there for 100 pesos each. First mistake. If I've learned anything about finding locations in the D.R., it's that you should always double-check your information. Asking one person is not good enough, you literally need to get the opinion of a minimum of 3 people in the surrounding area, 5 is even better. For certain at least 1 out of 3 of those people will give you directions in the exact opposite way of the others. 
We hopped on the motorcycles willy nilly though and let them drive us upwards a ways and deposit us at the foot of a path that at least looked like it might be the start of our climb. 
So into the woods we went. 

Happily on our way!

About 3 minutes into our hike another local showed up behind us, and for some reason or another, decided to join us on our expedition. I  think he lived in a house near the start of the trail and when he saw the motoconchos drop us off, he just decided that he was bored and a hike with some newcomers would be a nice addition to his day.  We explained to him we were headed to the top of Diego de Ocampo and he took it upon himself to be our personal guide.  

Sydney, our guide, and Davíd. 

Uggh. Flip Flops were a bad choice!! lol

We hiked for a good 15 minutes on some seriously treacherous terrain along side a picturesque little creek, until finally the trail ran into a muddy road. 
Ummm, is this the right way to Diego de Ocampo? we questioned our "guide." 
"Oh no, this path won't take you there, you have to go to another trail very far away to climb that mountain."
Thanks, guide, for mentioning that 15 minutes earlier when we told you we wanted to go to the top of Diego de Ocampo!
So faced with the decision of turning around and trying to find our way to the correct path, or continuing on, we decided just  to hike on. The hike, afterall, was turning out to be both beautiful and challenging, as we were spending most of it scrambling across rocks, dodging muddy paths, and skipping back and forth across the creek bed. So maybe we wouldn't make it to the top of Diego de Ocampo today, no problem, we could save it for another weekend.  You have to roll with the punches here and learn to appreciate what you have, even if its not what you originally planned or wanted. 
And since the hike was so pretty, we weren't having any trouble appreciating it anyway. 
And our guide was super nice, helping us across the creek and up tricky steep areas, even if I did question his directional knowledge. 
We continued. 

"We've been hiking for a while now, I'm kind of getting hungry...oh hey, mango tree!"

Sydney enjoy/destroying her mango

So the whole hike probably took us about 2 hours. We decided to walk back into Villa Gonzalez instead of calling up the motoconchos so that we could enjoy the scenery and the wildlife....like the tobacco field pictured above. 

And the occasional traveler on burro (donkey), still a pretty popular form of transportation in the mountains.

And a gaggle of guinea fowl, "guineas" in Spanish (not to be confused with "guineos," which are bananas)

And a herd of happy cows. 

So maybe we never made it to the top of Diego de Ocampo, but in the end, "it's the journey, not the destination."

That's "Sweet corn cake" to you. And its a beauty. I first tried this little gem in the mountain town of Constanza where a local colmado was selling it for breakfast. It was so scrumptioius that I went back after lunch to see if I could get another piece, but alas! It was gone. 
And so I've had a serious craving for it ever since. 
Problem is, I haven't been able to find it! Upon furthering questioning, I discovered that this tasty treat seems to be a regional thing, more popular in the mountain towns of Jarabacoa and Constanza than in my home-sweet-Santiago. So with a serious craving and no arepas to be found, what was a girl to do? Tie on the apron strings and make it myself, of course. 
I found the original recpipe at El Fogoncito, but changed it around a little to suit my needs. 
So first let's start with the ingredients:

• 1 pound of corn meal. (1 libra de harina de maíz)
• 1 standard-size can of evaporated milk (1 lata de leche evaporada)
• 1/2- 1 cup raisins (1/2- 1 taza pasas) to your liking. These can be omitted if you hate raisins, but I would a bit more sugar in that case. Also, the traditional recipe is made with regular raisins, but I sprung for the fancy golden ones)
• 1 teaspoon vanilla (1 cucharadita de vainilla)
• 1 tablespoon butter (1 cucharada de mantequilla)
• 1 standard-size can of coconut milk (1 lata de leche de coco)
• 3/4 cup brown sugar (3/4 taza de azúcar moreno)
• 1 teaspoon cinnamon (1 cucharadita de canela)
• 1/2 teaspoon salt (1/2 cucharadita de sal)

1. First things first, you will need to preheat your oven. No, I cannot tell you what temperature to set it to. With my "Dominican" oven, I just turn on the gas to about the middle setting and throw in a match. The oven gets nice and toasty in no time, but I have NO IDEA what temperature I'm cooking at.  For you trying this at home, I'd say shoot for around 350 F. 
2. Next, In a large bowl, stir together the corn meal, evaporated milk, vanilla, raisins, and cinnamon and let sit. 
(another important note is that this recipe is super forgiving. I don't have a measuring cup or real teaspoons or tablespoons, so all measurements were approximate. It still turned out great!!)

2. Now take out a large pot and pour in your coconut milk, sugar, butter, and salt, and bring it just to the point before boiling. 

3. Once little bubble start to form, toss in your corn meal mixture and stir vigorously (over low heat) for about 5 minutes.  It's time for your arm workout of the day!

The mixture will start of being somewhat soupy, but will soon thicken up. Continue stirring until it comes to a pudding like consistency. 

4. Now, grab the prettiest mold you can find (or in my case that beat-up old tin thing you see pictured below), grease it up and pour in your now gloopy concoction. 

5. Now feel free to lick the spatula! 

6. Throw the whole thing in the oven and wait for it to get nice and crusty golden brown. If you are using a Dominican oven, just keep your eye on it and make sure it doesn't seem jiggly or soft in the middle anymore.  If you are using a real oven, I'd say this will take probably about a half hour. 

7. Pull it out and...the hardest part....let it cool. 

8. Ooooh and Awwww as you flip your beautiful dessert onto a plate to cut and serve. 

8. Enjoy the dense, slightly sweetened, crusty on the outside, warm on the inside, golden morsel of sunshine that you have just created. Perfect with a steamy cup of coffee or washed down with an ice-cold glug of creamy milk. 

9. Smile. All is well in the world. :D

My favorite little spot for a treat, i.e. the best mojito you'll ever taste. . 

With a lovely little patio for enjoying the warm Dominican nights and a small indoor bar area, this relaxed little joint is perfect for a casual night of good conversation. 

Plus the menu is chock full of delicious drinks and tasty "tapas". Although, do we really consider chips and taco dip a tapa? Let's be real now. (Tapas are from Spain, not Mexico). I suppose I can let that one slide though,  since it was pretty scrumptious. Plus the chef took the time to write "R" for  "la Rue" in cheese whiz on the top. Now that's what I call presentation ;)

But who are we kidding, its the Mojitos that keep us coming back! From Chinola (the crowd fave) to Frutas del Bosque (mixed berry, and my selection of choice), these syrupy sweet and tart little concoctions of fresh fruit and mint are hard to beat. And even harder not to suck down in less than 10 minutes. Be careful ladies and gents, these are too delicious to order just one! And with all the different selections, you should probably order at least two ;) 
Or even better, bring a few friends and try them all :D

Find more info here.

The name was enough to grab my attention. "Vino A Beber," in Spanish,  translates as "He/she came to drink." It already sounds like a great bar. But throw in the fact that "vino" also means "wine" and we now have a very clever play on words. One can only assume that he/she came to drink wine. So now we have a witty bar serving up wine. Could it get much better?
Well, why yes it could....check it out...

They have a room surrounded with three walls full of wine! 
Doesn't that just look like the best seat ever?!

They serve tapas! (And it a reasonable price might I add). And everyone knows nothing goes better with wine than a few tapas to munch on. 
They also serve all different styles of coffee, so if you need a little picker-upper before a long night (of wine drinking), or maybe after a long night (of wine drinking), you're covered. 

The owners of the bar are from Spain, so this place has some serious international flare. Not to mention the owners are the waiters! So you know you will be getting top-notch service. 

There's plenty of seating, in either the inside area (where you will be tempted by the walls of wine), or the outdoor patio, surrounded by twinkling lights and sultry music wafting on the warm night air. 

Which means it's perfect for bringing friend and just kicking back to relax. And if wine isn't their thing, don't worry, they also have the best beer selection in all of Santiago, with lots of imports that you simply can't find anywhere else. 

You could spend days sampling all the different types of beer. And weeks sampling all the different wine.  What's that you say? Challenge accepted!

If I fall of the grid for a couple of weeks, well, I think you'll know where to look. 
For more info check out vinoabeber.com

The adventure began at 5:00 a.m. Well actually, it started with a 4:50 a.m. wake up call from Linea Junior, the guagua company in which we had reserve seats to take us to Constanza. So bright (or rather, dark), and early, I stumbled out of bed and into the night to await my guagua. I was apparently the first passenger on the shabby little bus, which was empty save for the driver and the cobrador (money collector).  Once aboard we silently made our way through the city collecting the rest of the Constanza-goers, including Sydney, along with her boyfriend Davíd and visiting mother. When we finally picked up our last passenger, we curled ourselves up in our tiny seats, huddled against the cold, and tried to let the mildly jostling rhythm of the bus put us to sleep for the next few hours. 
Our bus deposited us onto the drizzly streets of Constanza around 8:00 a.m. beneath a haze of gray clouds. The weather was not looking promising. We were cold and tired when we arrived. The winding hills up into the mountain did not make for good sleeping on the bus. Lucky for us, the bus stopped right next to a lovely little comedor that was just starting to serve up breakfast. We went in to dry off and fortify ourselves for the day. 

If the sunshine yellow walls and warm manner of the doña who owned the comedor were not enough to lift our spirits, the cafe con leche certainly was. Nothing like a steaming cup of coffee with warm milk and sugar to chase away the chill of the morning. 

Breakfast was a hearty affair: Fried chicken, Chicken guisado (pictured in front there), queso frito, and boiled yucca and rábano (both dominican root vegetables) with pickled onions. Yes I realize that this sounds like a strange breakfast by American standards, but its pretty standard fare here.

The rain had finally stopped by the time we finished breakfast, and now that our tummies were full, we were ready to burn some serious calories. See that mountain right there....well that´s not the mountain we hiked....I just thought it made a lovely picture. The mountain we hiked was shrouded in fog, so I didn´t get a good photo of it, but it was just as tall, maybe even taller, than the one pictured there. 

Our goal was to climb to a shrine, El Niño Dios, located on the top of a mountain just outside of town. Getting there is simple, just walk down the main road through Constanza and keep following it to the outskirts of the village. Eventually the paved road will turn into dirt and will start taking you on a windy incline up to your destination. 

On the way there, you´ll pass by lots of plots and fields chock full of every sort of veggie. Constanza is one of the main agricultural centers of the D.R. since its climate is cool enough to produce crops that wouldn´t survive in the hot humid weather found on the remainder of the island. 

Picking onions

Picking carrots

Baby lettuce and potatoes

Too pretty not to snap a picture of. 

We met this guy along the climb, but when I tried to stand closer to him for a better picture, he put down his horns and stared menacingly at me. Clearly he did not want to be friends. 

The happy trio: Sydney, Mama Kaiserman, and Davíd. 

The climb was long and steep and invigorating, although the last half mile tried particularly hard to kill us. We huffed and puffed our way to the top and finally arrived at the pale pink shrine on which the Niño Dios statue stood with open arms to welcome us. 

The view, I imagine, would have been breathtaking, had not a chilly wind blown a cloud over the valley. 

With the rain drizzling down once more, we only lingered long enough to meditate on the thrill of the journey up the mountain in the company of good friends and the happiness of being able to conquer the top. Then we were off again down the steep slope of the hillside. 

The clouds cleared on our way down the mountain for a slightly more breathtaking view

Along with being the land of vegetables, Constanza also seems to be a leading producer of young children and stray puppies.  Above, boys huddling together to draw on a cement post. Below, girls entertaining themselves with paddle-ball and a tired old pup snoozing in the shade. 

After another hearty meal at the same comedor, we arranged for a trip back to Santiago. The four of us squished into the back seat of a truck (where I eventually shifted to the floor) and started our 2 and half hour venture back to Santiago.   

We rolled back into the city around 5:30. A lovely little day trip if I do say so myself. 

I'm back in the land of sunshine and flip flops. Its a new semester and a new year and I already feel it in my bones that things are going to be good. The moment the plane touched down on a steamy, star-studded Dominican night 2 days ago, my heart did a little dance, and it hasn't stopped yet. It just keeps swinging right along in beat with the merengue in my head (my heart dances way better than my feet :D)
I'm not really sure why my heart is so happy to be here. Perhaps it is the promise of a new year. Or maybe the knowledge that I am so much more comfortable and capable of navigating myself in this strange world. Perhaps it is the freshness of a clean slate, an island full of possibilities, and a stack of goals to keep me happily occupied. 
Deep down though, I suppose I know the heart of the matter cuts much deeper.  Last year was a year of turmoil for me. I flipped my world upside down when I quit my steady, well-paying, awful job to move half way across the world to a poor island country where I knew pretty much nothing and no one and would be fairly poor myself.  
I had to throw off every doubt and fear and shackle that ever tied me down to the life I thought I was supposed to live and  seriously re-evaluate what I, myself,  truly wanted out of my life. It wasn't easy. I worried about being able to support myself living outside of the U.S. and what my parents and friends would think. I worried about losing relationships with people I loved back home and I wondered if it was too late for me to try to live abroad at this point in my life. I worried a lot, but never voiced those worries to anyone, because I already felt crazy enough and didn't need anyone else to help convince me that this might be a bad idea. Instead, I kicked all those petty little fears to the curb in pursuit of the one thing I had always known that I really wanted to do, and I did it. I jumped in. It was like climbing out of my safe little above-ground swimming pool at home (which I would never swim in alone at night because of the completely absurd fear that a shark might eat me) and diving head first into a rolling ocean (where the possibility of being eaten by a shark is very real!). That was some tough stuff.  I spent the semester just trying to keep my head afloat as I learned how to tread water in this new culture. But I relished every moment of every struggle because I knew that if I could make it out of the rough waters, I could make it anywhere I wanted to go. 
And I learned sooo much. 

First of all, I learned that being poor sucks. But not near as much as being rich and hating your job. 
Second of all, being poor isn't so bad. You learn what things are really important to you in life. For example, air conditioning is not a necessity, but the occasional girls night with a bottle of wine should never be undervalued. And having a car to get around is nice, but learning the value of your own two feet is even better. 
I overcame stereotypes I didn't even know that I had, and helped others to overcome them in me. 
I learned how to budget, somewhat, and how to bargain a lot.
And I realized that you'll never get anything you don't ask for; the door will never open unless you knock. 


Ok I'll knock it off now with all the cheesy metaphors. 
What I'm really trying to say is, my heart is light because it knows its place in the world right now. I know that this is where I am supposed to be. And I have returned to this island with a new sense of purpose. Last semester I was treading water, this semester, I intend to fly. 


So let's take a look at those goals I was talking about early.  
Now if I've learned anything about goals, its that you have to be specific. You can't just set a goal and hope it will get accomplished. That's like blowing a dandelion seed into the wind and hoping it will float down somewhere it can grow. Just doesn't always work. Nope, if you are going to set a goal, you need to have a plan of action to make it happen. Which, I suppose, is partially why I'm posting these goals. If I throw them out there to you in the cyber world they become real, no longer just ideas swimming around in my head. Now I've got some accountability. 
So without further ado...the goals, and the action plans. 
1. Start running again. 
     a. wake up earlier and dedicate a half hour each day to going on a run. 
        (I just found out my schedule consists of mostly afternoon classes, so that will make this goal considerably easier. 
        Plus, this goal has the added benefit of helping me get to know the winding streets of Santiago a little better.)
2. Run in the Samana 5K. 
    Samana, you may remember, is a beach town about 4 hours away. I definitely plan a return visit, so combining my 
    running goal with the 5K race held there seemed like a no brainer. 
3. Become involved in community service.
    There is so much need here in the D.R. that I almost feel ashamed that I haven't become involved in anything yet. The 
    problem is just scheduling and finding the right place for my time and few small talents.  Even if it's just something 
    little, I feel I have a lot to give and I can't leave this island without making a difference in some way. 
3. Climb to the top of Pico Duarte, the highest mountain in the D.R. 
     a. Research, plan a weekend, make arrangements, invite friends, and just do it. 
4. Travel more on the island. 
    a. Visit Haiti
    b. Visit Bahia de las Aguilas (ranked as one of the top beaches in the world)
    c. Visit Constanza
    d. Visit Laguna Du Du
5. Finish my Advanced Spanish Grammar book
    a. Dedicate time each week to completing a chapter in order to help me brush up on the trickier parts of Spanish 
       conversation
6. Learn how to sing a song in Capoeira. 
    What? I didn't tell you I was taking Capoeira classes? Ok well I'll get to that in another blog post, but for now, just know 
    that its a Brazilian martial arts class and its seriously challenging my rhythm and coordination capabilities. 
7. Decide where I want to go from here.
    a. Ok, so this one is a little trickier. The big decision, I think,  is whether or not I want to go to grad school.
    If so, should I become a full time student or try to take classes while I continue to work. And if I continue to work, do I want to do so in the U.S. in my previous field of teaching Spanish, or do I want to stay here longer.  And then, if I decide to go to grad school, what should my degree be? ESL? Linguistics? or maybe I should switch gears completely and hit up the Biology, or International Business routes. Heck ,maybe I should be doing something with Writing since I seem to be doing that all the time. 
    If not, do I want to return to teaching in the U.S., or do I want to try my luck at some other venture. Who knows? The doors are wide open here. I was hoping with a little time and a little more research, the answers would be revealed, but  I've learned not to place too much faith in just hoping things will figure themselves out. If you want something to happen, you have to make it happen. So feel free to throw me a line if you have any comments or suggestions, and I'll keep digging into my options.  

So with the semester stretching before me, and with CIEE's annual kick-off dinner at Camp David Ranch Hotel on the top of the mountain, its hard not to be happy about the start of the new year in Santiago. 

Ryan, above, and Lynne, below: CIEE's behind-the-scenes talent

A few tasty appetizers to start the night right: Beer battered shrimp, Eggplant Parmesan, Mozzarella with pesto and prosciutto. 

CIEE's newest teacher recruits: Christina above, Danielle and Amy below. 

Santiago is just so beautiful from this vista The lights twinkle like stars and it makes me feel like I'm looking down on the sky. Or maybe, in the words of Shell Silversteing, "falling up."  

Since I´m only back in the U.S. for a little over 2 weeks, I knew I had a limited amount of time to get my fill of winter before returning to the ever-steamy island of forever summer that is the D.R.  So when a chance came up to join a ski trip to Colorado, how could I say no? I mean, you can´t get much more winter-y than Winter Park, CO. Plus, with friends, road-tripping, skiing, and a New Years party thrown in, it was pretty much a no-brainer. I had to go. 
Let´s recap :)

It was a pretty large, modge-podge group that decided to head west, 17 in total. The leaders of our group had rented a huge lodge nestled in the snowy hills at the foot of the mountain and had kindly arranged to take two vans to transport us out there. 10 of us would be making the trip from Naperville, Ilinios to Colorado via the vans. The others opted to fly or were driving out from other locations. That left 5 of us in each van, which we packed up to the brim with suitcases, snow skis, and of course, snack food. 
We left the bleak Illinois landscape at 8:00 p.m. on the 27th, hoping to drive through the night and make it to our destination by noon. 

I couldn´t resist packing some plaintain chips,  an impulse purchase at T.J. Maxx of all places. Nothing like bringing a little bit of the D.R. with me!

Standard road-trip fare: Reeses Pieces, water, Red Bull, coffee, 5-Hour Energy, and some kind of music-playing device. We were set for a good trip. 

We were cruising along making great time when our little expedition hit its first snag, a broken-down van at 6:30 a.m. in No-wheresville, Nebraska. The temperature outside: -6 degrees Fahrenheit. Not cool. 

So what did we do? We piled 3 of the passengers from the broken van into our still-functioning one and headed to the nearest town to hang out,  while 2 others stayed behind to wait on the tow truck and take it to the nearest auto-body shop to find out the news. 

Broken-down van not going to get us down!

At 7:00 a.m. we rolled into Paxton, Nebraska and parked in front of the first open establishment in sight, Ole´s, an old-timy looking bar/restaurant with a blinking Miller Lite sign in the front window. Is 7:00 a.m. too early for a beer? The sun was just starting to chase away the shadows as we stomped the snow off our boots and made our way through the front door.  A group of old farmers were sipping on coffee at the front table and a plump elderly waitress greeted us with a warm smile in the dim morning light. But as we made our way farther into the sitting area, we soon realized that this was no ordinary small-town bar. The stuffed jaguar prowling over the fireplace was our first clue. We had stumbled onto quite possibly the most fascinating restaurant we could ever hope to kill 3 hours in. It turns out that Ole´s is not only famous for their excellent food (go for the omelettes, they won´t disappoint), but it also masquerades as a zoo of dead safari animals, all hunted, killed, and mounted by one of Paxton´s own (way before this kind of thing became illegal). 
Slightly tragic? Yes. A little creepy? Maybe. Super interesting? Most definitely. You could waste a good hour just perusing through the restaurant and peering at the old black-and-white photos and extremely large trophy heads hung on the walls. 

Plus they even had a pool table to pass the time.  We all ordered breakfast and crossed our fingers, hoping to hear from Bill (whose had stayed back with the broken-down van) soon that the problem would be minor and we could be on our way again in no time. We would have no such luck. Turns out, the car had a busted transition. Definite major problem. Bill ended up having to scrap the van since replacing the transition would cost more than the van itself.  He called to deliver the bad news around 8:30 and the boys took off to go rent another vehicle from North Platte, the closest town with a car rental. Us girls stayed behind to play a few rounds of pool with dead antelopes for an audience. 
Finally, at 10:00 a.m., we were on the road again. 

The rest of the trip flew by without a hitch and at 4:00 p.m. we uncramped ourselves from the close quarters of our cars, stretched, and lugged our luggage into the very spacious and absolutely gorgeous lodge that would be our home for the next 5 days. 

That´s only half the luggage!
A quick trip to the grocery store, some unpacking, some air mattress inflating, and a short discussion over who would sleep in the 5 bedrooms and who would take the couches and air mattresses, and we were all set to hit the hay for the night and hit the slopes in the morning. 

The rest of the days were pretty much spent in the same way: roll out of bed at 7:00 a.m., snap on the ski boots, wait for the shuttle, hit the slopes around 8:30, ski til noon, eat lunch and warm up our toes, ski again until 3:30-4:00 p.m. (or until our fingers and toes feel like they might freeze off), file into the shuttle home, collapse into a heap of tiredness on the couch, crack open the beers and pour the wine, eat dinner around 6:30 or 7:00 p.m., entertain ourselves with ping pong, pool, and the hot tub for the rest of the evening before falling into deep sleeps, wake up, stretch our sore muscles, and repeat. 

Lucky for me, My Dad and Mom also decide to come out to Winter Park for a little winter time fun too. That way I didn´t have to sacrifice any of my precious little time with them. They rented a nice room in a very convenient ski-in and ski-out resort right on the mountainside. I got to race down some slopes with my Dad and ski in to hot soup and a warm fire with my Mom, then head back out to more slopes and fun times with friends. Perfect.  

We legitimately used the ping pong table for ping pong the first couple of nights, but who are we kidding? We all knew it was only a matter of time before it would be converted into a beer pong tournament. 

Just another minor car problem. Way to go Blake ;)

Soon New Year´s Eve rolled around and we had to break tradition with our comfy sweats and cozy sweaters to get all jazzed up for the night. Just look at those girls glitter. 

Starting the night off right with a little shot of rum :D

Soon it was time to call the shuttle and head out to Ullrs Tavern to dance in the New Year.

We rolled out of bed in 2013 to find the ground covered with a couple of inches of fresh powder and snow still drifting down lazily.  Perfect for our last day of skiing. The previous night´s festivities had us all moving a little slower...and some of us slower than others...nothing a little banana coudn´t fix though. 

Frozen eyelashes! It was so cold on the last day, that when my goggles fogged up, they immediately froze and I couldn´t get them to defrost. I had to ski down the slope with my eyes half closed (which I don´t recommend!) as snow flakes pelted me in the face and froze onto my hair and eyelashes for a lovely ice princess look. 
(This picture reminds me of the lyrics "snowflakes that stay on my nose and eyelashes" from the song My Favorite Things in The Sound of Music.....can´t help but smile when I hum that song in my head)

At 5:00 a.m. in the morning, we waved goodbye to the snowy peaks of Colorado and began the long journey home. 

I can safely say I got my fill of country music, classic rock, cold weather, hot chili, cozy sweaters, warm fires, knee-high socks, Blue Moons, snowy evenings, good friends and loving family. Except for the last two, because I´ll never get enough of those. 
Farewell winter, I´ll be back to the land of eternal summer soon.