I love being in the kitchen.  I really do. The simple process of cleaning, cutting, measuring, stirring....it's soothing. There's nothing better than putting a swinging Latin rhythm on in the background, slipping into an apron, and letting all the worries of the world just melt away, like butter in my saucepan. For a moment, I can get lost, just letting my mind stretch out and wander while my hands do the work, or letting it fall into concentration with the rhythm of chopping onions. It makes me happy. But the best part of course, the end: getting to create happiness and share it with my friends. 

Yesterday I decided to create some happiness in the form of Chicago Style Pizza. Could any meal say "love" better than homemade deep dish pizza? 
Now any good Illinioan (Illini?) will tell you that it all starts with the dough. And we're not talking your regular pizza crust here, we're talking a soft, buttery, biscuit-y miracle. 

Take advantage of the time needed for the dough to rise to make your sauce. 

2 tablespoons unsalted butter
¼ cup grated onion
¼ teaspoon dried oregano
½ teaspoon salt
2 garlic cloves, minced
1 (28-ounce) can crushed tomatoes
¼ teaspoon sugar
2 tablespoons coarsely chopped fresh basil
1 tablespoon olive oil
Freshly ground black pepper

"Heat the butter in a medium saucepan over medium heat until melted. Add onion, oregano, and salt; cook, stirring occasionally, until liquid has evaporated and onion is golden brown, about 5 minutes. Add garlic and cook until fragrant, about 30 seconds. Stir in tomatoes and sugar, increase heat to high, and bring to a simmer. Lower heat to medium-low and simmer until reduced to about 2½ cups, 25 to 30 minutes. Off the heat, stir in the basil and olive oil, then season with salt and pepper." (Recipe courtesy Brown Eyed Baker)

And if you have any leftover time, well you can use it to paint your fingernails. 
Oooooo pretty. 

Now its time to laminate the dough, if you chose recipe 1 that is.  Don't worry if you don't have a rolling pin, you can always improvise :)

Next step, cook up the rest of your toppings.  
For Dough Recipe 1, I decided to keep it traditional and go with the standard sausage topping. 
For Dough Recipe 2, since it was a healthier version made with whole wheat flour and olive oil, I stayed with the wholesome theme and made sauteed spinach., 

The end results were beautiful.

And there wasn't a single piece left-over. In fact, the spinach version, to my surprise, was the first to go. It even provoked the height of Dominican compliments, "Ya te puedes casar," literally translated, "Now you can get married," figuratively, "You really know how to cook." 

We spent the rest of the night chatting away, teaching each other salsa steps, and dancing off our meal: food for the body and food for the soul. 

When a friend invites you and your amigas to an all-inclusive horseback riding trip in the campo (countryside)...well you pretty much HAVE to say yes. So on Sunday morning, Christina, Amy and I piled into Jean's (pronounced like John but with a much prettier soft J sound) little car and headed out to Mao, a small town located about an hour outside of Santiago. 

Of course no Dominican road trip would be complete without a Presidente pit stop. 

Beers in hand, sun shining, and radio jamming, we continued our cruise down the high way. 

So the back story here is that Jean's family owns several rice farms. In addition to their many work horses, they also have about 5 horses that they raise and train for show. We were going to get to ride the show horses.  However, there was a minor problem: none of us girls actually knew how to ride a horse.  I mean sure we'd all ridden a horse before. Who hasn't been on one of those "horseback riding adventures" where you a pay a company to saddle you up onto a tired old creature that knows the trail so well all you have to do is sit back and wiggle your butt cheeks every now and then to keep them from getting saddle sore? 
Well this was NOT that kind of horseback riding. 
This was legit. 

Jean and his trainer, Jeancarlos, gave us a brief run-down of the basics (pull the reins right to go right, left for left, back to stop),  then threw us up onto the horses and gave them a nice swat on the rump, sending us galloping off.
Ok, so they didn't actually give the horses a swat on the rump.  But the horses did gallop off. They had a mind of their own, those things. 
After the initial shock of trying to reign in a 600 pound galloping beast wore off, we were able to steer the horses into doing a couple laps around the training ring to get our bearings. Then it was time to take our beauties out on the town and test our new-found skills. 

Once on the road, Campanero (my horse) and I took the lead. Apparently Campanero was feeling fleet-footed, but that was fine by me, apparently I like going fast too :)

Isn't she darling?

After trotting through the streets and waving at all the locals (gringas on parade!),  we made our way out of town and down to the river. That's where the real adventure began. 

Now an immense amount of credit needs to be given to Jeancarlos here. It was his lot to ride Scrappy. Scrappy (our affectionate nickname, I'm unsure what he was actually called) was a dappled gray with, too put it mildly, a rambunctious nature.  In fact, I'm fairly certain the horse was trying to kill Jeancarlos on a number of separate occasions throughout the trip, as he would spontaneously break into wild bucking streaks in an attempt to throw off his rider.  Jeancarlos not only managed to ride and reign-in his ill-spirited mount, but, like a true Dominican, he did so one handed-- the other hand being occupied by an open bottle of rum. And the most remarkable part: never once while the horse was pulling his rodeo bronco stunts did Jeancarlos spill a single drop of rum. 

It's getting deep boys!

At one point, the saddle on Amy's horse fell off--- Amy fell off with it. 

But sliding off the saddle was child's play compared to the next leg of the journey. Eventually we came to a particularly muddy spot of the river that had to be crossed.  The ground on the bank appeared to be solid, but as soon as the horses stepped onto the area, they would sink nearly up to the top of their legs in mud. There was drier land just to the side of the mud pit, but unfortunately, this land was occupied by a number of stumpy thorn trees with low hanging branches. The panicky horses, trying to escape the sinking mud pit, would rear up and leap towards the drier ground (with alarming force, might I add), inevitably hurling us frightened riders into a net of needles.
Eventually we all managed to untangle ourselves, but not without a few good scratches along the way. But what´s an adventure without a few battle scars?

Salvache, our trusty side-kick!

Jean and Jeancarlos led the way down the river, sharing the bottle of rum between them, and discussing where would be an appropriate place to stop and play. 

And by play, I mean swim. Fully clothed of course, since none of us brought our bikinis. And what the heck, we were already wet and muddy anyways. 

We splished and splashed and sipped on warm wine and rum until the sun sank down to the tops of the trees. 

Then it was time to hop back on the horses and hustle back to town before night-fall to russel up some grub. 

Jean led us to a local outdoor grill right on the riverside and ordered up a feast. 

Truly Dominican style food with all the fixin's: grilled pork and barbecued chicken, piping hot tostones, and mofongo. 

What's mofongo you say? Well sir (or madam), you don't know what you are missing. Probably one of the most traditional Dominican dishes on the island (right up there with sanchocho and mangú), it consists of fried tostones that have been mashed up with garlic and formed into the lovely  "upside-down bowl" shape you see above. The inside of the bowl can be stuffed with any number of goodies, but this particularly naughty little fella was stuffed with chicharrones, crispy fried pork skin dripping with greasy goodness and lending a nice smoky flavor. Serve it all up with a side of chicken broth for dipping, and you´ve got one serious meal on your hands.

Covered in mud, still dripping wet, and looking like wild barefoot little Indian princesses,  we saddled up our mounts and trotted back home under the stars in a daze of food-induced happiness and the best kind of adventure-worn weariness. 
Mucho amor y gracias a Jean y Jeancarlos!

The adventure started with a pre-planning session at Bella Terra Mall on Saturday night. Ok, so maybe "pre-planning" session is a bit of an exaggeration. We really just went to see Ryan Gosling. 
Fine, I'm exaggerating again. Ryan Gosling wasn't at Bella Terra Mall (Darn it). But he WAS in the movie we went to see: Fuerza Antiganster....or as you Yankees might know it, Gangster Squad, newly arrived in the D.R. this weekend after its initial release in the U.S. over a month ago. 

Of course we had to treat ourselves to a little snack.

I mean, what's a movie without the traditional popcorn and beer combination?

After a good two hours of thoroughly enjoyable gun-slinging, we were finally ready to get down to business...over mojitos of course (blackberry, strawberry, and chinola flavors).

Let the planning begin! 
In about a half hour it was all settled. We'd meet at 9:30 a.m. Sunday morning to tackle the highest peak in the Santiago province: Diego de Ocampo. 

For those of you Santiagueros looking to adventure to Diego de Ocampo for yourselves, catch an M concho to a crossroads called "La Reforma." Wait there patiently for the "guagua para los cocos" to pass by and flag it down. Then hop in, pay your driver a whopping 20 pesos, and sit back until he drops you off in the nearby town of "Los Cocos." 

Now once you arrive in Los Cocos you have two options: Option A, make friends with a local and find a ride up to the entrance of the actual hike via jeep/truck/motoconcho. Option B, walk it yourself. 
Being well and seasoned adventurers, we opted for B.

Little did we know, the walk just to get to the entrance is probably 7 or 8 kilometers in itself, straight up hill. 
Locals kept stopping us to ask where we were going, and then laughed incredulously when we told them our final destination.
"A pie?!" they exclaimed. 

But we didn't mind. We had all day to enjoy the sights. 

Hydration is key!

Mountain top baseball. Probably the most awesome baseball field on the planet. 

After what seemed like miles of walking, we finally caught the first glimpse of our actual destination. See that peak in the background....that's where we were headed! Looks pretty far, right? Ya, that was my thought exactly. 

Good thing there was a strategically placed bench to take a quick break. 

Hot sun, rocky path, steep hill. Things were getting rough. 

Giant fallen tree blocking the path. No big deal. 

Time to earn those buns of steel.

3 1/2 hours and a few muddy tennis shoes later, we made it!
 Valió cada segunda de la pena. 

I´m queen of the world!

If we had any hope that the hike back down would be less treacherous, that illusion was quickly shattered by the number of times we fell on our butts trying to keep from tumbling down the mountainside head first. The goats didn´t seem to have as much trouble. 

Let´s take one last long look at that infamous peak where Diego de Ocampo, a rebel slave leader, hid away between his plantation plundering campaigns. 
Kudos to you, Diego, because that was one tough climb.  I´ll be feeling that in my legs all week. If I were a Spaniard, I wouldn´t want to follow you up there either. 

A little ice cream victory celebration was just the trick to make us forget our aching calfs and quads. 

We left Diego de Ocampo sweaty, sun-burned, sore muscled, and all smiles. Just like proper little adventurers should be. 

It had been a long week. My body was drained from last Sunday's efforts in the 10K and my mind was exhausted after meticulously planning lessons, grading presentations, and correcting an overwhelming amount of essays, and I still wasn't caught up. So when Sunday rolled around, I was more than happy to put off my "get-up-and-grade" attitude and head and to the Hub service for a mental rewind. 
And, as occasionally happens after all the prayers are said and the coffee is drunk, a small crew of us attendees decided to head out for lunch. Apparently a new Lebanese restaurant had opened up, and it had already been pre-approved by Fabian and Ambar (both peace corp volunteers), who were excited to share their recent culinary discovery with the rest of us. 

Located in a tidy little space just perfect for lunch dates with friends, the first thing you'll see upon entering is a tempting display case full of Lebanese goodies: lamb kebabs, mint salads, hummus, baba ganoush. Whatever Lebanese style food you had your little heart set on, they had it. And to top it off, an array of sticky sweet, traditional Lebanese pastries made with almonds, honey, dates, and phyllo dough. 

And in typical Middle Eastern style, there was even a Hookah if you so desire.

If you are a bit unsure about what Lebanese fare consists of, the most popular and widely-known food is Shawarma....also commonly referred to in the U.S. as a Gyro. I highly recommend this as a starting point if its your first adventure with Lebanese cuisine. Although really, you couldn't go wrong with anything on the menu.
Three of us, myself included, went the Shwarma route. We had the options of choosing our meat: lamb, chicken, of beef; our bread: pan pita (thinner), or pan kebah (more traditional gyro style);  and our sauce: tahini, tatziki , or spicy. 

We all came up with different combinations, but were universally pleased with the final results. 

The others chose meal combinations with a little more variety, and happily passed around samples. 

The crowning joy of the whole meal though? Dessert of course. I had had my eyes on a honey almond cake since we first stepped through the door.  Dense and satisfying. I had absolutely no regrets.

Baklava was another popular and equally scrumptious choice. 
Also, my snap-happiness with the camera may have started a minor hand modeling competition. 
Just look at Jake's elegant positioning: the curve of the wrists, the arc of the knuckles.  A masterpiece I tell you. 

It could only possibly be out shone by Amber's refined, simplistic approach: the single finger. 

Modeling competition aside, the food was excellent: everything bright and fresh and bursting with flavor. The menu is a tad on the pricey side for a Dominican budget, but well worth the occasional splurge. 

I left lunch feeling rejuvenated, both body and soul (amazing how good food and good friends will do that for you), and ready to tackle the stack of Academic Writing essays that were still patiently awaiting the blur of my red pen. 

If you want to enjoy a little slice of Lebanon for yourself, they're located on the 27th de Febrero, right next to Pala Pizza. Or you can check them out here. 

Race day started at the crack of dawn (i.e. un chin antes de las 7:00 a.m.)

Since our hostal was located a considerable distance from the starting line, we took advantage of the little-over-a-mile walk to stretch our legs and enjoy the early morning views. 

Soon we were walking up to the starting/finishing line on the beach.
(The race was set up as a down-and-back, so the start and finish line were in the same place)

Pre-race pic! Don't we look pretty! 
Don't worry that's all about to change. 

Chugging some water, chatting, and shaking out the pre-race jitters. 

And we're off!

And now....a series of unflattering running pictures. 

Look how calm and focused Amy appears. 
Me on the other hand, I'm all splaying arms and legs and flinging hair. 

10 kilometers (6.2 miles) later, the finish line was in sight. Nothing had ever looked so beautiful. I was seriously struggling by kilometer 8. To make matters worse, I kept thinking I was a kilometer ahead of where I was actually at. Each time the kilometer marker came up I experienced the crushing disappointment of knowing that I still had an extra kilometer to run than I thought. You might have thought that I would realize, after one marker sign, which kilometer I was on, but nope, I think my mind was boggled by pain (clearly evident in the following picture).  On the plus side, it might have made me run faster since I kept think I was closer to the finish than I actually was. 

I tend to prescribe to the belief that if you look pretty while you're exercising, your probably not doing it right. 
In my case however, I might be doing it a little too well...

Amy rounding the final turn!

Sydney finishing strong!

sweaty post race smiles!

Just as soon as the race was over, I peeled off my shoes and made a bee-line for the ocean. ¡Qué alivio! Nothing could have felt better more perfect than sinking into the cool waters. Of course, Sydney and I followed up our swim with some good ol' yoga stretching. 

Finally the results were up! Too bad we couldn´t really figure out what all the numbers meant...
Later I found the results online. My final time: 54 min. and 7 sec. That´s a PR! (It´s also my only record, lol, as this was my first 10k). And not to mention, that´s a 8:45 min. mile average, 15 seconds faster than my goal average!! Not bad for only 3 real weeks of training (my previous illness knocked me out of training for about 2 weeks). Needless to say, I was thrilled!! I also found out that I placed 7th out of the 49 women who were running the race. Not too shabby at all :D

This was Sydney´s first real race! 

Wooo! We were all winners in my book.
For more info on the Las Terrenas 5k/10K click here.

We went to celebrate at the French pastry shop...officially one of my favorite spots in Las Terrenas. 

I tend to stand at the counter for far too long trying decide what I´m going to choose, but can you blame me?

Tummies full, and coming down off our running and sugar highs, it was now time to find the bus back home. 

And that´s when our troubles started. (Important note, it was precisely 12:00 p.m. when we left the Pastelería to catch our 12:15 bus.) First, we were given bad information about where the bus to Santiago would pick us up (can´t say this was super surprising, you already know my thoughts on Dominican directions). After almost an hour of waiting, it was quite obvious that we had missed our bus. We talked with a few more locals and found out there were no more direct buses to Santiago, which meant we would have to take a bus to the town of Sanchez and find a connecting Santiago bus there. Wonderful. 
Well we got to Sanchez without a hitch but had to wait another 45 minutes for our connecting bus. 
Finally on board, we settled in for the 3-3 1/2 hour ride. 

About a half our into the trip, the bus pulled off to the side of the road. Apparently there was something wrong with the tire. 
"Ok," I thought, "We´ll change the tire and be on our way."

This was not to be.
I´m not sure exactly what all was going on outside, lots of banging around and cars stopping to see if they could help, but it was taking FOREVER. 
An entire hour and fifteen minutes later, we pulled shakily onto the road again. 

Once more I told myself, "Alright, it´s all good, we´re on our way now."
Once more, not to be. 
Not 15 minutes after we left, the back tire was smoking!
We rapidly pulled off to the side. Our bus driver and cobrador (the guy who collects the money) leaped out of the bus and scrambled to find water to throw on the fire. This was not a good sign.
Another 15 minutes of dousing the tire with water, and we pulled back onto the road again. 
15 minutes later, we were back on the side and the tire was smoking again!!
The driver and cobrador ran through the same motions.
We went through this disastrous little routine (driving 15 minutes, spending 15 minutes putting out the fire on the tire) 2 more times. You can imagine we weren´t getting anywhere fast. In reality, I´m not sure how our driver kept managing to find sources of water. Once we used the hose from a car wash. Another especially comical time, we found a roadside well. The driver worked frantically to pump the water while our chubby cobrador filled up, I kid you not, a water bottle with the running water and rushed hurriedly to throw it at the bus. It reminded me of the circus scene from Dumbo, when the clowns are trying to put out the fire in the burning building with a leaky pale of water. 
Finally, the bus driver pulled off to the side and said we all had to get off and wait for another bus, ours wasn´t going to make it to Santiago. (I´m not sure why we were doing this now and not an hour ago, but possibly it was because our driver finally could no longer find water).
Honestly though, I was happy to get off that bus. 

Problem was, there wasn´t another bus coming by that would fit all of us. So we had to wait for two mini guaguas to come by. The first came in about 10 minutes and half the passengers boarded. Our little troupe waited for the next, which didn´t arrive for another 20 minutes. We were all trying to keep a positive outlook, but our spirits were waning...

Our guagua arrived, we boarded and and sat patiently expecting the bus driver to take off. 
But he never did.
After 10 minutes of waiting I looked around to see what was going on. At this point I didn´t think anything could surprise me. 
I was wrong. 
I realized that the new driver and the old driver were now conspiring to tie our broken guagua onto the back of our new guagua with a rope. 
WHAT??!! 
Were they really serious right now? 
Anybody could see this was a bad idea.
When they had the rope knotted as sufficient as possible our bus driver hopped in and put the guagua into gear. At a snail´s pace we crept into life. But just barely. We couldn´t possibly travel at more than 25 mph while hauling a giant broken bus behind us--and we still had 2 hours of travel ahead of us. At this pace, it was going to turn into more like 4. 
Once, the rope partially snapped and we had to stop to re-tie the broken bus onto the back. 
The second time it happened, we were near a gas station. The drivers hopped out to discuss the situation with all the bystanders at the gas station and they made several more failed attempts, over the course of the next half hour to re-attach the bus. In the end, they decide to throw in the towel and leave the broken bus behind. The first good decision made all day. 
We arrived back in Santiago at 9:00 p.m. You may remember our adventure started at Noon. That´s 9 hours of traveling!!
I could have flown back home to Illinois in that amount of time. 
On the bright side, I suppose things could have been worse. I mean, we can always be grateful we weren´t being chased by dinosaurs....

Birthday Breakfast! We started Saturday morning off right with an early breakfast at the little French pastry shop in the center of town. 

Now I'm not a French food expert, but I do, however, consider myself a breakfast connosieur. And as a specialist in this department (I've eaten quite enough pastries, pancakes, and muffins in my lifetime to call myself a specialist), I'd say it doesn't get much better than this. 

Davíd went for a mountainous pastry stuffed to the brim with a sinfully delicious amount of cheese and a steaming cup of hot chocolate; Sydney set her sights on the creamy tomato quiche accompanied by a sweet peach tart. 

I ordered a croissant stuffed with cheese and bechamel sauce (akin to Davíd´s order), which I finished embarrassingly quickly (hence no picture). 
Now there was probably enough cheese in that croissant to fill up a normal girl for two meals, but apparently I am not a normal girl. And since it was my birthday, I decided to treat myself to a warm apple pastry to round out the meal.  Happy Birthday to me.  :D

Next it was off to Punto Popy, a nearby beach, to pick up our registration packet for the race. 

We snapped a few pics and wandered around a bit, but we couldn´t find anybody who looked like they worked for the race. Finally Sydney checked her email and we realized the registration pick-up didn´t start until 10:00 a.m. That meant we had a half hour to wait around. 
Sounded like the perfect opportunity to squeeze in some morning yoga to us!

At last, with registration completed and our brand new race t-shirts in hand, it was time to find a guagua for our trip to Samaná. The agenda for the day: whale watching!

I´ve said it before, but I´ll say it again, I love truck bed guaguas. 

Isn´t she beautiful? And that dress is just perfect.

Forty minutes later, we arrived in the colorful little port city of Samaná. There we met up with our friend Amy, who had kindly organized a whale watching expedition for us with the Whale´s Samaná company. In no time at all we were out on the open sea. 
Now for a little background info on whale watching: 

We left the dock in high spirits, quite sure that Free Willy would be flipping his fins hello and dramatically leaping over our boat in no time. 

Well at least that´s the vision I had in my head (yes I realize Killer Whales and Humpback Whales are not the same species, but this is my daydream so don´t ruin it for me!). 
Turns out that was not to be. But we were blissfully oblivious to this at the start and went on dreaming our Free Willy dreams while huming the Gilligan´s Island theme song as the boat left the dock: 

Ha! Now try getting that song out of your head.

Also, I bought a hat. Just $2.50 for that little beauty. 
So I may also have been experiencing what I like to call, "bargainer´s high."

I just love this pic of the Samaná coast! So colorful! It could almost be a painting. 

The whole gang

We passed Cayó Levantado (an island off the coast boasting a whole army of reclining chairs and a 5 star luxury hotel--looks like the perfect place to take your honey for a trip away from it all) and continued merrily out to sea. 

The whole time our tour guide was pumping us up with facts and stats, regaling us with whale tales, and even passing around pictures of leaping whales and a mini replica!

Too bad that replica was as close as we´d get to a whale for the next 3 hours. 
Apparently the whales were being shy today so we headed out quite a distance in order to find them. Our guides kept mentioning that they were seeing "spouts" in the distance, so we would turn the boat this way or that and travel another couple miles towards the so-called "spout." We would arrive in the spot and sit and wait. With no sign of the whales after 15 or 20 minutes, we would move on. After a while I was beginning to think that the scouts were merely "saying" that they were seeing "spouts" in order to keep us passengers from getting too restless. 
It wasn´t working overly well. 
The worst however, was when our guides insisted they saw two whales in the distance. We dropped anchor in the aforementioned location and waited, eyes glued to the water. Apparently most whales will resurface every 10-15 minutes for air. Well the 15 minutes passed and no whales popped up. The guide told us to be patient and to keep scanning, these whales were just "long divers," meaning they could hold their breaths for 20 or 30 minutes.  

By this time we had already been wandering around in the open ocean for more than 2 hours and some of the passengers were not handling the rocking of the boat too well. Being anchored only made matters worse as each swell of the waves sent our tummies tumbling. 
The poor woman sitting just down the isle from me had been throwing up for over an hour, and Sydney wasn´t in prime form either. 
The 20 minute and 30 minute mark both slid by without hide nor hare of the whales, but our guide was adamant; keep waiting, she said, these whales are just "really long divers," a whale can hold its breath for up to 40 minutes if need be. Finally after 40 minutes we were informed that another spout had been spotted, but way away in the distance. 
I was pretty sure the staff were inventing things by now. I had just had my eyes glued to the ocean for 40 minutes and hadn´t seen a thing. 

We sloshed our way over to the spout sight and began our waiting process once more. We had now been on the sea for 3 hours and the disappointment of the passengers was palpable. We were all ready to head home. 
About that time a spout of water shot into the air followed by a giant grey tale sinking below the water. Our boat sped off for a closer look! 5 minutes later 2 impossibly large sea beasts were arcing gracefully threw the air. Finally! The whales!

And now, a series of missed whale shots. Turns out for such big animals, they are a bit tricky to capture on film. 

Oh there he is! If you look close you can just barely see him below the surface of the water. Ok so not super impressive, but checkout the whale samana facebook page if you want to see something a little more interesting. 
In any case, we spent the next 20 minutes following a pair of whales around as they splashed and spouted along the surface, until our time was finally up. Thank goodness. The whales were lovely, but they would have been 10 times lovelier had they decided to make an appearance in the first 1-2 hours of the trip. 

4 whole hours after our departure, we were back on dry land once more. Overall, not the best experience. I can´t say it was Whale Samanás fault, obviously they can´t control where and when the whales will pop up, but I doubt I´d shell out the fairly handsome some of money they charged to do it again.  
On the plus side, I did get to see two whales leap Free Willy style. 

A quick snack purchase and we were back on the guagua to Las Terrenas. 

We arrived at our hostal a little before 8. With a long day behind us and an early morning race in front of us, the girls and Davíd decided to hit the hay early. 
I, on the other hand, went out in search of a nice dinner (I had skipped lunch in order to splurge on some good seafood for my birthday) and a wifi connection. I couldn´t end my birthday without a skype session with my twin sis after all. 

Fresh fish in salsa verde and roasted potatoes

Welp, turns out eating dinner alone at night on your birthday is a bit depressing. Double that sentiment when you skype with your twin sister back home who is throwing a raucous party surrounded by all your dearest friends, who you suddenly realize you miss terribly. For the first time since I arrived on this island, I felt homesick. 

My twin, Maggy (the beautiful blond in the middle),  and the rest of my lovely ladies, getting ready to head out for some birthday karaoke. 

But don´t cry for me, Argentina, all I had to do was remember where I was and how much I truly have to be thankful for to knock out the birthday blues.  One look at at a 10 year-old shoe shine boy has a way of really putting things back into perspective. Besides, I didn´t have time to waste on wallowing, I had a race to focus on for tomorrow!
(But as a side note, I still really miss all of you back home!)

Stay tuned for Las Terrenas Day 3

Time for the show down! After 5 weeks of training, it was finally time for Sydney and I to pack our bags and head to Las Terrenas for our big 10K race. Of course we may have had an alternate reason for choosing to run the 10K in Las Terrenas, aside from wanting to challenge ourselves that is,  i.e. Las Terrenas has one of the most stunning beaches on Earth.  And a Sunday race guaranteed us that we could have Friday and Saturday to enjoy the scenery and everything else this lovely little town has to offer. 

The day started bright and early on Friday with an 8:15 guagua ride on Transporte Sámana. Running late like my typical self, I didn´t make it to the bus station on time, but no worries, they were able to scoop me up a little farther down on the route. All´s well that ends well and Sydney, Davíd, and I settled in for our 3 hour bus trip. 

The guagua dropped us off in the little town of Sanchez where we caught a connecting ride in a truck bed up and over the mountains about a half hour to Las Terrenas. I think Truck Bed might be my new favorite way to travel (aside from motoconcho). What better way to get where you´re going then with the sun on your face and the wind in your hair?

We arrived safely around noon at our hostal, Jardin del Caribe, you can find room pictures and booking info here.

The place was clean, the staff friendly, and the rooms sufficient for the very reasonable price we were paying. However, the location is definitely a little off the beaten path. It was located on a side street well removed from the beach (a 15-20 minute walk). Sydney and I are walkers by nature, so it wasn´t too much of a hassle for us, and it was nice to be surrounded by locals instead of tourists, but a place a bit closer to the beach would have been more ideal. 

Our next stop, a light lunch and a long walk along the beach.

Stunning. That´s really the only word I have to describe this beach. Just stunning. 

We couldn´t resist purchasing a little snack, dulce de mani (kind of like peanut brittle), before returning to the hotel to throw on our work out gear. Then it was back to the beach for a sunset run. 

Running on the beach is tough stuff! Talk about a calf work out. Nothing a little Yoga couldn´t fix though. And little did I know, I had a professional Yogi with me. Since Sydney´s Mom is a yoga instructor, Sydney knows all the moves- she guided me through all the yoga poses like a pro. 

After a hard run and some amazing yoga, it was time to rehydrate and power up with some fresh coconut water and coconut meat- my newest favorite snack on the planet. I´ve had coconut water before, but I´d never had the vendor open up the coconut to take out the deliciously sweet all-natural meat. I had no idea what I was missing!!

Then it was time to get all cleaned up for dinner and dancing. 
We ate dinner at Dan´s polar bar, I nice little outdoor joint with a variety of American and Dominican fare and prices that are more reasonable than the fancy beach-side eateries favored by tourists. . 

Next it was time for bachata lessons at La Bodega. Sydney and Davíd, both amazing dancers, promised to show me how it was done. We got there early, around 9ish, so we had the floor to ourselves, which was just fine with me: that meant that nobody was there to witness my amazing lack of rhythm. 

Sydney and Davíd took the floor first to teach me the basic steps. 
It´s worth mentioning that there are 3 major dances here in the D.R.: Bachata, Merengue, and Salsa. 
When I first arrived I could scarcely tell the difference between the three--they all just sounded like Latino music to me. After a couple weeks however, I started picking up the subtle differences. Merengue, the easiest to dance, is fast paced and simply consists of swinging your hips back and forth,1-2, 1-2, 1-2,  in time with the music. Bachata, on the other hand, is a 1-2-3, pop, 1-2-3, pop. A bit more difficult for the rhythmically challenged.  And Salsa...well let´s not even go there. 

Next it was my turn!
Davíd was wonderfully patient and after a couple songs, my feet finally had the 1-2-3-pop down, even if my hips still needed a little practice---classic white-girl problem. 

Here´s one of my favorite bachata songs, so you can get the picture. 

The three of us whirled and twirled the night away, until about 10:30 p.m. that is. Then it was back to bed so we could rise and shine early in the morning. We had big plans! But more on that in the next post :)

On Sunday morning, after a hearty buffet breakfast, my parents and I went off the reservation (resort), in order to get to know Puerto Plata a little better. And what better way than to get a bird´s eye view than from Puerto Plata´s Teleferico: A cable car that runs to the peak of the nearby Isabel de Torres mountain. 
The only problem, actually getting to the Teleférico.
The resort would have gladly called a taxi to come pick us up, but they also would have happily charged us $45 for a round trip to and from the Teleférico. What!?? Upon further inspection, we descovered that all of the resort´s transportation costs were ludicrous. A day trip to Sosua: $70 USD. A day trip to Santiago: $120 USD. You may remember that a one-way bus ticket between Santiago and Puerto Plata normally costs just $3 USD!! 
So of course there was no way on God´s green earth that we were using the resort´s transportation. Instead we headed out to the street to see if we could flag down our own taxi.
We didn´t have to walk too far though, as another couple taxis were lined up and waiting to go just outside the resort´s walls. However, we ran into a similar problem with them. These taxis were lying in wait just outside the resort so that they could catch unsuspecting tourists and lure them in with their "fair" prices. They only wanted $35 for a round trip to the Teleférico! Hah! Well I bargained and bartered as best as I could, but in the end could only get the trip down to $20, when I knew it really should have only cost about $10. C´est la vie, I suppose. 
Anyways, we finally arrived at the Teleférico, and after about a 10 minute wait in order for a broken wheel to be changed (I guess we should be glad they caught it and fixed it!) and fending off several tour guides that wanted us to hire them to walk around with us up top, it was finally time to board the cable car. 

Mom was a bit nervous. Although I can´t for the life of me figure out why. What could be safer than journeying up the side of a mountain in a claustrophobia-inducing little box, suspended hundreds of feet above the ground by a rickety cable built in the 1930s?

Well, no worries,  we arrived safe and sound the whole 2,500 and some feet above our starting point. The main attraction at the top of the mountain (aside from the braathtaking views) is a Christ Redeemer statue (a smaller replication of the famous one standing guard over Rio de Janeiro, Brazil) and a lovely botanical garden to wander around idly. 

My parents know an impressive amount about plants. Even on a tropical island which they have never before visited, with thousands of species of shrubbery, trees, and flowers, they were able to meander through the wildlife and rattle off the names for about half the plants we saw. They are really quite amazing. If I know half as much as they do one day, I´ll consider myself a lucky girl. 

Another great thing about visiting parents....gifts! Like this swishy little retro number. I just wanted to twirl and float through the garden all day. They also brought me mounds of chocolate (which I consumed at an alarming rate), and new work out clothes and tennies for my upcoming birthday. They know me well :D

All good things must come to an end though, I suppose. And after our nice little hike it was time to catch the cable car back home. 

Parents sure know how to treat a girl right. 
They arrived in Santiago late last Thursday. I took them for a spin around the Monument (the only truly touristic place in Santiago) and a lovely Dominican meal of pinchos, casabe, and yucca, and  then sent them to bed so that we could get up bright and early to tour the city on Friday. 
Our Friday city tour started off with a walk into the city center to do a little Larimar shopping (the famous blue stone that's only found here in the Dominican Republic), and ended with a nice meal at Square One (my favorite lunch time spot) and a tour of the PUCMM campus. Then it was back home (by concho, of course. I couldn´t let them leave without experiencing the Dominican Republic´s infamous transportation system) to pack our bags and catch a taxi to Javilla tours for a $3 bus ride to our all-inclusive resort in Puerto Plata. 

The view from the lobby of our resort, Be Live Marien. Doesn't that just look like paradise on earth??

The weekend was a blur of beach and pool, blue skies and white-capped waves, buffets and piña coladas, beach volleyball and sunburns. 
Not a bad way to spend a couple days if I do say so myself. 

We eventually made our way down the beach to the city market. It´s probably safe to say that one of Mom´s favorite pastimes is shopping...and bartering over prices seems to be right up her ally. 

Larimar

 Mom, fighting for a good deal. . 

We came away a few pesos shorter and a few souvenirs richer. Everybody was happy. But this guy in particular sure was glad we stopped by his shop.  

I spent my evenings by the pool, sipping wine and grading exams. Not exactly thrilling, but surprisingly relaxing and maybe even a little restorative. Plus, the bartender kindly stopped by to give me some M&M Peanuts one night. Chocolate and wine? What could make a girl happier?

Dinner Saturday night was quite the affair-- a traditional Dominican smorgasbord, if you will. Complete with tamales, langoniza (Dominican sausage), and fried batatas to start off. 

The main event was spit-fire roasted hog

Although the chiva (goat) wasn't bad either. 

Criolle style seafood and rice, along with fried zucchini and tostones also made an appearance. 

For dessert? Dulce de mani (a type of peanut brittle), rice pudding, a pudding made out of batatas (sweet potatoes), flan, and stewed fruit. 

Free entertainment was also provided every evening....although I can't say that I was super impressed. The dances and moves seemed a bit outdated to me. 
But there also happened to be a casino located just outside the resort, which kept me well and entertained for a night. I had never gambled at a casino before, but I managed to turn my Dad's $20 into $45!  Apparently I was having a little beginner's luck at the black jack table. $25 dollars worth of winnings was plenty for me though. And not coincidentally, it was exactly enough to pay for 25 hours worth of internet at the resort (yes, the all-inclusive resort charged for internet, isn't that ridiculous?!). But in any case, I left feeling pretty proud of myself. 

On Sunday we started out with an early breakfast: fresh-squeezed juices above, and traditional Dominican-style salami, mangú (mashed plaintains), and roasted pineapple below. 

Mom and Dad opted for more standard American fare: omelettes.  

A hearty breakfast was just the ticket to fortify us for our trip off the resort. I couldn´t let my parents do too much relaxing after all. So we finished are food and made our way out to the street to hail a taxi to take us to the Teleferico...but more on that in the next post. 
As it turns out...two and a half days at a resort is just the right amount of time for me. Don't get me wrong, the resort we stayed in was lovely, but after a few days, I start itching to get off and explore the local culture. Not to mention I love cooking my own  meals or trying new things from local restaurants, so generic buffet style food loses its appeal for me after a day or two. If you are looking for a hands-free, relaxation vacation, an all-inclusive is perfect; but if you're more of an adventurous soul, it's probably not the right route for you. 
Sunday night I left my padres at the resort for the rest of the week while I caught a bus back to Santiago in order to head back to work in the morning. Overall, I was thrilled to spend some quality one-on-one time with my parents and just wish I could have spent more of it with them!