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!

So you may remember from a while back that I mentioned that I am taking a Capoeira class. Ok, you don't remember, no sweat, I'll remind you: I'm taking a  Brazilian martial arts class called Capoeira, but more on that later. In any case, my Capoeria master is also involved in several other forms of martial arts and is well-respected in the Dominican professional fighting world. Not to mention, one of his students, Diego, is arguably one of the best Tae Kwon Do and Mixed Martial Arts fighters on the island (and a friend of mine!)
A couple weekends ago, Diego was invited to fight in a professional MMA show at Ocean World Casino in Puerto Plata and my Capoeira master was invited to referee. 
And since I had nothing going that Saturday and have never seen a real MMA fight in person, I thought it would be cool to check out the action. 
I was right. It was awesome. I´m talking hanging-on-the-edge-of-your-seat, ruthless, cringe-worthy, white knuckle-excitement kind of awesome. 

The cage. Cue scary music. Once you step in there, you're on your own. No one is going to save you. You´ve got to stick it out for 3 rounds with a professionally trained fighter who wants to kill you. 

I arrived at the casino at 8:00 p.m., but in classic Dominican fashion, the actual fighting didn´t start til 9:00 p.m.. That´s ok though, it gave me a chance to check out the surroundings, order a drink, and settle my jitters. I have to admit, I was really nervous for all the fighters. There were supposed to be 8 fights, if I remember correctly, with Diego fighting in the 6th. 

I flinched and cheered and gasped through each and every round. 

Boa, my Capoeira master, refereeing. 

Knock out. Brutal!!

Pre-fight Picture (Diego is on the right)

In the heat of battle. 
It´s a good thing the other people sitting at my table were also cheering for Diego (even though they didn´t know we were friends), otherwise I might have had to throw a few punches myself. 

Waiting to hear the winner....

 Diego´s victory dance

Post celebration with the coaches
For more cool pics, check / Para más fotos vacánas, chequa: Noche de Gladiadores on Facebook

It's fair to say that when you move to a third-world country on a tropical island, you inherently take the gamble of contracting a strange islander disease. 
Well, I lost that game of Russian Roulette. 
But let's start this story from the beginning. 
(Disclaimer: No need to worry, I am now A-OK and can appreciate the humor of the entire situation.)
It all began two Wednesdays ago. The day started like any other day: I woke up and went for a run. I finished early since it was sprint day on the schedule, came home, showered, ate a good breakfast and started preparing for my 10:00 a.m. class. After breakfast however, I started feeling really tired. Abnormally tired. I attributed it to the fact that my body was still adjusting to the earlier mornings and longer runs that had become part of my schedule as of late. And at any rate,  tiredness isn't a good excuse to cancel class, so I made my way back to Pucamaima to teach Academic Writing. 
We were just getting through the first couple exercises when a wave of nausea hit me. 
"Hey guys, I'm not feeling too well. I'm sorry if I have to run out of here real quick." That was the last thing I told my students and the last thing I remember. 
I woke up on the floor with all my students huddled around me (apparently I had passed out): nothing more bizarre than blinking awake with all of your students worried faces looking down at you.

Anywho, they called the building security man, who helped me up and walked me over to another building on campus containing Pucamaima's free clinic. 
The young doctor/nurse/intern? (not really sure of her official title, but lets go with doctor) there helped me to lay down on a cot in the back and put a cool compress on my forehead while she asked me all sorts of health questions. Yes, I had oatmeal and an apple for breakfast. Yes, I exercise regularly. No, I don´t eat street food. No, I´m not under a lot of stress. She couldn´t figure out why I passed out but told me just to lie down until I started feeling better. 
So after about a half hour of lying around feeling like a dork with an ice pack on my forehead,  I decided it was time I should try to go home. I got up and told the doctor I thought I was OK to head out. But as she was talking to me I started to feel nauseous again. I sat down on the chair in front of her desk and then, Bam. 

Next thing I know I'm waking up on the floor again with about 5 staff members surrounding me. 
Ok so apparently there seemed to be a real problem here.
They helped me back onto the cot and decided I was severely dehydrated and that I needed an IV and drip bag. I asked if they could just give me some water, but they were afraid, since I had said earlier that I felt nauseous, that I would throw it up and insisted the drip bag would work better. I wanted to argue but wasn't really in the right state to do so, so I watched as they pulled out a needle and prodded my arm to find a vein. 
Now the thing is, my veins are apparently kind of hard to find, doctors and nurses in the past have had trouble with them. And when you are dehydrated, your veins shrink even more, making them even harder to locate. So I could foresee potential problems ahead, which is why I asked again if I could just have some water. 
The doctors were adamant though. 
So they stuck the needle in my left hand, but to no avail. The fluid started creating a bubble under my skin instead of going into my vein. Not a super pleasant experience. 
They decided my right hand would have a better chance. 
They stuck the needle in my right hand, and dug around some, and then dug around some more. And it hurt. A lot. Finally they found it. But it hurt so much that I ended up throwing up. They should have just given me the water. Oh the irony. Anyways, with the drip bag finally attached they left me to re-hydrate.
Unfortunately, the needle was not  actually inserted correctly. I know this because although part of the fluid was probably going into my vein, a very large painful bubble was slowly swelling under my skin where the rest of the water was leaking out. I called for the doctor who came in and promptly removed the IV. 

So with no IV attached, the only thing that was left to do was wait. The doctors had already called Lynne (the CIEE director from whom I also happen to rent a room), to notify her I was sick and that she needed to come pick me up and take me to an off-campus lab to have some tests done. 
When Lynne finally arrived, she helped me out to her car and we drove off to the lab to get some blood-work done (apparently a common way of finding out what's wrong with a sick person). At least the doctor there knew what she was doing and didn't have any trouble drawing blood on the first try. I was extremely grateful, as needles were beginning to scare me a little. 
Lynne took me home, got me to my bed, mixed up a giant bottle of water with rehydration salts, and told me to drink as much as I could. She had to go back to work, but the results from the lab tests would be in at 4 and she would call me then. 
I layed down, sipped as much water as I could without fear of throwing up, as my head and tummy were still doing flip flops at this point, and fell restlessly asleep for the next 4 hours. 
That's when the phone rang. 
It was Lynne. She had just received the lab results and had taken them to the clinic at Pucamaima for the doctors there to look over. My white blood cell count was extremely high, signaling some sort of infection, which apparently had the Pucamaima clinic staff all worked up because they told her to take me to the emergency room immediately. She was calling to tell me to pack a bag (in case we had to stay the night) and get all my documents in order since she was on her way to pick me up. 
By this point every muscle in my body was aching and I felt so weak that walking was a monumental effort, all in addition to the unpleasant feeling of having to vomit but not being able to...so emergency room didn't sound like such a bad thing. 
Now it's important to note that Lynne took me to a "clínica" (which is a private hospital) verse a public hospital, which is apparently where the poor go to die. An extremely disheartening thought. Although I have to admit I was grateful we were going to the clínica. 
Now I don´t have much experience with emergency rooms, so I don´t have a lot to compare it to, but the private clinic emergency room was packed, and I mean jam-packed with people. There were no actual chairs, instead everyone was sitting on collapsible plastic chairs that the nurses would set up and take down as people came and went, and there were a few cots out in the open where young children were curled up. There were also about 8 curtained off rooms containing cots, which were all full, and which is where, I am assuming, the worst cases were being kept. Nearly everyone was hooked up to an IV or medication of some sort. And everyone looked miserable. Nurses rushed around hastily asking questions to the new patients as they entered, patients grimaced as shots and IV bags were administered, and children whimpered and wailed in equal measures. 
After about a 20 minute wait, it was my turn and a nurse came by to ask questions and get me started with my own IV bag. Perhaps out of fear of the needle digging into my hand again, or perhaps just because I felt really sick, I told her I needed a trash can. 
"Ok," she said. 
"No, right now."
She pointed to a red, toxic-waste, garbage can behind me, which Lynne swiftly pulled over and into which I proceeded to vomit. A lot. Right there in the middle of the crowded emergency room (that cleared up the seats around me fairly quickly). Embarrassing.  And gross. Not to mention, the garbage can was filled with bloody cloths, which I am sure only helped me to vomit more. Anyways I felt better after I had finished and the nurse got me all set up with the drip bag, which she was able to do with the skill of a professional, and for which I was over-joyously thankful. She then disappeared back into the crowd and I would only catch glimpses of her sweeping by over the course of the next 3 hours. 

As I started to re-hydrate a little and more focus returned to my eyes,  I started to take stock of my surroundings a bit more and make some observations:
1. Sitting in a plastic chair for more than 2 hours is probably one of the least comfortable things in the world for a sick person who just wants to lay down.
2. Nobody knows how to work themselves into a state of hysteria like a 5 year old child afraid of needles.
3. Apparently it's socially acceptable to try to hit-on sick girls in a hospital. Even as I was sitting in the emergency room, minding my own business while the IV delivered the precious water, looking pale as death, a man still tried to pick me up No joke. His leading line, "What happened to you?", followed by an "Are you married?"  
Seriously? I wanted to laugh. 
Obviously he had missed my Exorcist throw up scene about an hour ago. Had he witnessed that he might have re-thought starting a conversation with me. 

In any case, after nearly 3 hours of waiting, the doctor finally made it by to see me. She talked to me for all of about 3 minutes. Apparently my high white blood cell count was not much of an alarm to her and she prescribed some anti-nausea medicine and acetaminophen with B vitamins and told me to go get another lab test done on Friday. 
That´s it?
Well, I can´t say I wasn´t relieved to hear that I didn´t have some sort of life-threatening infection, and the IV bag had definitely been a necessity, but come on! 3 hours waiting to receive a prescription for acetaminophen? I was not impressed. 
Oh well, I was relieved to go home. 

Well if you are wondering how things ended up. Turns out the Pucamaima clinic was right and I did have an infection of some sort. The test results seem to have been a bit unclear but it may have been Salmonella (who knows where that came from). Anyways, I spent the next 5 days recovering and went back to school on Monday. However my weakened immune system must have picked up another lovely little bug on campus because I woke up Tuedsay again with a small fever and a pounding headache. Can't seem to catch a break, can I? Don't worry though, by Saturday I was feeling better and now and I can finally say I feel back to my old self! Thank goodness. And for the worriers out there, no need, I am 100% A-OK, healthy, and happy once more. 

In the end, it wasn´t all bad. I got to see a Dominican emergency room first hand and learned some new Spanish medical terminology 
Me desmaye= I fainted
Suero= drip bag
Aguja= needle
Mareada= dizzy/ nauseous

Not exactly win-win, maybe more like lose-win?? Who knows, lol.

Back to the beach! After a month back in the country, I'd say its about time I found my way back to one of the D.R.'s most precious resources, and this time around I even made it to a beach I haven't been to before, Playa Ensenada. Although it's a bit of a hike, about 2 and a half hours on a one-stop bus from Santiago, this little treasure was worth every bit of car-sickness I got from sitting in the very back seat (bad decision. will remember this for future bus trips.)

A little background info: Playa Ensenada is a 1-kilometer stretch of golden sand and shallow waters hugged by a nearby mountain range. Off-shore coral reefs keep the waves small and the waters very calm here. 

A small dirt road, lined with an array of colorfully run-down shacks and shanty's offering the day's catch, runs along the stretch of the beach. 

But if you haven't quite worked up an appetite yet, no worries, just sit back, relax and soak up the sun. 
Or cool off wading around in the shallow waters. 

Or take a little walk to admire the stunning views. 

Until the smell of fried fish and tostones wafting through the air makes your tummy grumble, that is. Then its time to choose your shack and eat up! (Best to go for one with a couple good fires going :)

After a hearty lunch it was time for a little adventuring. A small "island," Cayo Arena, lays just off the coast of Playa Ensenada. And with just 500 pesos (13 dollars), you can catch a sweet little 20 min yola (the name for the boats pictured) out and back. 

But make sure to reapply sunscreen! The Dominican sun is unforgiving. 

A study in blue.
See that, that's where we are going! Out into the wild blue yonder!!

After a bit of a choppy ride, and some spashes to the face, the island finally appeared on the horizon.

So I suppose I should tell you that the real reason everyone heads out to Cayo Arena is for the snorkeling. The whole island is surrounded by a coral reef...and not just any coral reef...one of the best snorkeling reefs EVER. Since I don´t have a waterproof camera, I can´t show you the amazing-ness hiding just beneath the water´s surface, but we are talking Finding Nemo stuff here: Beautiful coral in odd shapes. Big blue fish, zippy little silver ones, and oodles more darting to and fro.  Gentle, lapping ocean currents causing everything to sway back and forth as in dream. And then all of the sudden, the whole scene drops off and there is nothing but deep, endless ocean stretching for miles. 
Breathtaking. 
That's the only word I have to describe the experience. 
And well, I also have this picture from Finding Nemo below to help you visualize, but believe it or not, the picture isn't far off from the actual thing. 

After snorkeling, it was back to the beach to let the sun and the wind dry us off. 

The colors! Oh the colors!

After a little over an hour on the island, our captain rallied the crew and we all hopped in the yolas once more to take us back to the mainland. All good things must come to an end I suppose. But not before a little detour through the manglares (mangroves). 
Mangroves are pretty much the coolest trees ever with an amazing underwater root network that is vital to the ecosystem in the area. Not to mention, they have roots that drop down from their branches! Crazy-cool looking. 

With a pretty decent sun-burn and a smile on my face, it was finally time to head back to the bus (front seat this time!), for a good long nap where I could dream about planning my next trip back. 

February 2nd just so happens to be National Crepe Day, a French holiday whose only purpose is dedicated to stuffing oneself full of the scrumptious round treats. 
Ok, so that's not the only purpose. Turns out, if your a good little Catholic, you'll know that February 2nd is Candlemass, a feast to commemorate the purification of the Virgin Mary and the presentation of baby Jesus (Oh you're Catholic and didn't know that? Don't worry, me neither). In France, this holiday is called la Chandeleur, Fête de la Lumière, or Jour Des Crêpes.
Now I'm not sure exactly what crepes have to do with the Virgin Mary, but apparently this day is also a day to celebrate the oncoming of spring, which is why, I'm told, the crepes are so important, as they are symbolic of the sun, you know, being round and yellowish and all. (Note, it's also Groundhogs Day in the U.S.....so maybe some holiday crossover here with the oncoming of Spring idea?)
In any case, I wouldn't have known ANY of this had I not been invited to a crepe party hosted by my lovely French-speaking  Belgium friends who couldn't let the day slip away without celebration. 

So the evening of Candlemass, we all headed over to Pierre and Anne's place, pans, crepe toppings, and drinks of choice in hand, in order to pay proper respects to this lovely little holiday. 

Anne and Pierre of course were master crepe makers. 

But most everyone tried their hand at the stove at one time or another during the night.

The real party was going on outside though. That's where Anne and Pierre had set up an entire buffet table of jams, and jellies, nut butters, and chocolates, and fresh fruit. Oh the possibilities!

My crepe had a smiley face. If that's not a sign it's going to be a good night, I don't know what is. 

My first and favorite spread: nutella with chinola marmalade.

And now: A series of unflattering photos of us all stuffing our faces with deliciousness.

YUM!
Needless to say, with bellies full of crepes and smiles on our faces, the rest of the night was a smash hit. 

Nothing like a little crepe making to bring people together and bring out the best in everyone. 
Thanks Ann and Pierre!

Before there existed the Keurig and Mr. Coffee single-serving coffee makers and with their fancy coffee packets and many-flavored pods, where the touch of a button will supposedly deliver the perfect mug of your favorite morning vice, there was an old-school method for creating the perfect cup of joe: La Greca. 

This little beauty is a Dominican household staple. With just three pieces, its about as simple as it gets. No coffee filters, no pods. Just pure and simple old-fashioned goodness. 
(P.S. Please forgive the not-so-prettiness of our Greca. It has been used fondly and frequently for years now and all the love has left its mark)

Step 1: Fill the bottom piece with water. 

Step 2: Set the middle piece on top of the bottom pieces and scoop in two spoonful's of your favorite brand of coffee (Santo Domingo brand is the most popular in these parts).

Step 3: Add a dash of cinnamon. Ok so this part isn't really a Dominican thing, I just found that it tastes amazing. 

Step 4: Screw on the top piece, turn on your burner, and plop the whole thing right down on top. Now all you have to do is wait. 
Or if you are like me, you can take this time to turn your perfect cup of coffee into the perfect morning mocha.  . 

All you have to do is grab your Almond milk (of course you could use real milk too, but we're trying to keep this a nice a low calorie beverage, plus I love the slightly nutty flavor it gives) and fill a mug half full, then warm it in the microwave for about a minute. 

By this time, your Greca should be steaming, the tell-tale sign that you've just brewed a wonderful mug of goodness and it's all set to go. 

Fill the rest of your mug with your just-brewed coffee and two heaping spoonful's of cocoa powder. We want this baby nice and chocolaty. 

Lastly, sweeten to taste. For me, that's one teaspoon of raw sugar for just a hint of sweetness. 

Your mocha is best enjoyed outdoors in the morning sunshine where you can watch as the world comes alive. It also goes well with stacks of paper that need grading and late-night movies with friends. Up to you :)
Have a beautiful day!