For all the other wanderers out there....

I mean it.
It's OK. You are going to be OK. 
Society is going to tell you that you are not on track. And your family is going to worry. And people may give you funny looks and shake their heads and wonder what the heck you're doing. 
And you are going to start to worry too.
You will worry that maybe there is something fundamentally wrong with you. You will wonder desperately why you can't get things figured out. You may feel guilty, like somehow you have failed. And you will search frantically for a plan, something to cling to, something to make you feel as if you might have an idea where you are headed. Eventually, you will resort to drastic measures. Maybe you'll quit your job, maybe you'll spend a spring planting trees in Canada, maybe you'll move to a foreign country, maybe you'll become a wandering hippie or run away and join the circus.
You will meditate. You will read everything. You will travel. You will try yoga. You will do things that scare you. You will be poor. 
And eventually, somewhere in your search, you will realize, you are in love with your life. You are in love with every second of every minute of every day of it. You are in love with the challenges, with the new experiences, with learning new things, and you could not imagine settling for a life or a career that does not bring you the happiness you feel now. You won't have it all figured out yet, but you'll know what your life could be like. 
And you will realize that it's ok that you're life isn't following the plan you laid out when you were 18, because it's going to be better than that plan, way better. 
And you might not know exactly how, but things will work out in the end. 
Society is going to tell you that you need a 401K and should find a spouse before 30. People are going to say that  you that you need to start thinking about benefits and a retirement plan. Your family may wonder when you are going to settle down and start a family of your own. Your levels of "responsibility" may be questioned. 
But don't worry. 
Your success in life does not depend on those things. 
When has it ever been a good idea to measure anything by society's standards?
Live by your own standards. 
Follow your heart.
Don't settle for anything less than the best for your life.
And if it takes a while for you to find where you are truly meant to be, don't worry. Keep growing, keep learning, keep loving. Those are the measures of true success. 

Mangos and coffee for breakfast

Sunshine
That feeling of excitement when you buy your bus ticket to the beach
Occasional spontaneous motorcycle rides
Winding trails through tropical mountains

Roadside fruit stands
Guanábana
Bargaining for pineapples

Waving hello to everyone I see walking down the street
Fresh-squeezed fruit juice
Getting lost
Kisses for greetings
Kisses for goodbyes
Coconut carts

Morning yoga 

Merengue and bachata
Someone always wanting to dance with me

Hiking through tropical forests
Avocados
Diving into waterfalls

Homemade pina coladas in a pineapple and fresh mojitos

Clothes hanging on the line to dry
The smell of pica pollo when passing a comedor
Long walks to school 

Stray puppies

Mariposas

Food with friends

Blue that's bluer than blue

The world in color

My students
Perfect sunsets
Sundresses and Flip Flops

So what inspired this rather nostalgic list? Well, I bought my plane ticket home. I´ll leave it at that for now.

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.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Post workout stretch= best feeling ever.

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

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

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


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


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

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

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

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

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

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

So you may remember that upon my arrival in the D.R., I spent my first week in a hostal called The Hub. Little did I know then that this hostal was so much more than it appeared. In fact, to me it has become a little piece of home away from home. 
You may remember that the hostal is run by Elaine and Marcos, who also happen to live right above it with their two ridiculously adorable children. 
So here´s a little background info: Elaine and Marcos head up CIEE´s Service Learning Program here in Santiago. The Service Learning Program is something I wish I had known about when I was studying in college. I truly cannot think of a more worthwhile study abroad program. The students that participate not only have to take courses at the University, but they must become involved in and organize their own community service projects, consistently volunteering in the community, interacting in Spanish, and improving the lives of everyone they meet here. 
Not only do Elaine and Marcos help orquestrate these community service projects and meaningful experiences between the students and community members, but they also have opened the doors to the bottom floor of their home to provide extremely reasonable lodging for peace corp volunteers, non-profit groups, and wayward travellers passing through the city, who are often on tight budgets. 
In addition, (I know, right, is there anything they don´t do!), they also host a non-denominational "church" service almost every Sunday. 
This service is the thing that keeps bringing me back to the Hub. It´s usually a small rag-tag bunch of whatever peace corp volunteers are lodging for the weekend and a few core Santiagueros and ex-pats. Someone volunteers to strum out a few songs on the guitar while the rest sing along. We have a moment of prayer and a short lesson or reflection period, usually prepared and presented by one of the group members in advance. Coffee is free and every last Sunday we have a potluck lunch. The whole thing is so cute and quaint that I fell in love with it immediately. But it goes far beyond just being a lovely idea. This little church service has become a safe haven for me. A place for me to center my thoughts, to connect with people, to find peace.  Amidst the whir and buzz of falling into a new culture and new way of living, this place has become the one constant in my life, somewhere I know that I can go with whatever burden I am carrying. And I know that many others feel the same. The Hub is truly a blessing for everyone who enters through its doors and a little piece of home for those of us who are so far away from our own. 

Exhibit A: Thanksgiving. The Hub opened its doors not only to the CIEE service learning students and interns, but also to any ex-pat missing home on this important holiday. Everyone was asked to bring a dish to pass and something thankful to share. Before long, the table was groaning with the weight of all the food acquired: everything from classic American mashed potatoes to Dominican pineapple pie. And somewhere between the mouthfuls of turkey and bubbling conversation something special happened: strangers, friends, and relatives all became family for one night. That´s the magic that is the Hub. 

CIEE Service-Learning Family

Marcos and Elaine had a turkey cook-off. Marcos deep fried his, Elaine went with the classic roasting method. We weren´t allowed to know who´s turkey was whose, and at the end of the meal we were forced to vote, even though they were both absolutely delicious!
The competition was tight, but Marcos scraped out a win by 1 vote.

Elaine and the Service-Learning students. Love them to pieces! Take a good look because these kids are going to change the world. 

Annie and Porscha in a tickle fight. We were told to dress "pilgrim chic" for the night. I think Porscha nailed it. 

Happy taste buds and tummies all around!

Thanksgiving dinner was Lindsay's first night at the Hub. In her regular email update to friends and family (which I was lucky enough to read)  Lindsay described her first experience with the Hubsters. She was kind enough to let me borrow an excerpt to share with you all. This is just one example of how the Hub has become a source of love and support whenever we need it most...and who am I kidding...that is all the time here. 

Joe was thankful to have someone to play with. 
P.S. This is just the most adorable picture ever. 

Cheers to the Hub!
 May God forever bless you and all who enter under your roof

So remember when I said that sometimes I get really bored? Well, today was one of those days. I got out of class at 10, went to the store, and came home, just to find out that the electricity was out. Great. There went my laundry idea. Well at least I still had my computer.  I could always use my time productively and do some facebook stalking until the power came back on, right? Wrong. It died within the hour. And there I was, stuck, with the day stretching out before me and nothing to do. I had only one other option left: to grade the stack of papers I had just brought home. And that option was not looking appealing. So instead, I picked up my notebook and started to write. 
You may have, by now, guessed that I kind of like writing, and it was a far more tempting outlet for my boredom than schoolwork. Well anyways, I started writing and what came out was a poem. Strange I know, but poetry has been on my mind a lot lately. I have a Dominican friend that's been helping with my Spanish and a lot of the time he gives me songs and song lyrics to look up, and lately some Spanish poetry. I always loved poetry when I was younger, but since it was relatively uncool to admit that as a teenager, I pretty much set it aside. Oh the misguidance of youth. But in any case, I remember reading a poem when I was in middle school (no idea what it was called, what it consisted of, or who the author was) by a Spanish-speaking author. The important part was that the poem was written in English, and apparently the woman poet who had written it had moved from her native country to the U.S. Our English teacher at the time told us that this author believed that if she could write poetry in another language, it meant that she truly had a grasp of that language. I have no idea why I still remember that. In any case, I don´t know if that´s true or not, but I decided to give it a shot. And well, here is my attempt. 

La Mariposa

Si yo fuera otra cosa, sería mariposa
Sin dirección salvo la brisa
Flotaría entre belleza y belleza
Tocando el cielo y la fresa
Una vida que sale como risa

Si yo fuera otra cosa, sería mariposa
Doradas del sol mis alas
Y todo que toco
Crecería un poco
Y yo dejaría una sonrisa en sus almas

Si yo fuera otra cosa, sería mariposa
Sin pesa, ni preocupación, ni hogar
Nunca podría estar perdida
Ni saber la brevedad de la vida
Sólo pudiera amar
Sólo pudiera amar



P.S. Neal, this one was inspired by you 
P.S.S. Spanish speakers out there, I realize there are probably grammar errors here, please forgive them. I´m claiming creative license :)
P.S.S.S. English Speakers, you can just copy and paste this into google translate if you want to get the "gist" of what this says, although it won´t translate exactly correctly.
P.S.S.S.S.  Wow I feel really nervous posting this. Not sure why since I have been pretty uncensored about what I write to you guys so far. Don´t think I´m weird! Or do. I guess it doesn´t really matter, lol, I probably am. 

Close-up of a Dominican butterfly wing. Love. Now I want to paint it. Maybe that shall be my next boredom project. Also, please note that I stole the above photo from depositphotos. Gotta give credit where credit is due. The one below is totally all mine though :)

So I bet you are wondering what Murphy´s law has to do with the picture from Bay Watch posted below. Well no worries friends, all will be explained in due course. Now let me set the scene. 

Yesterday I was invited to go for a jog. The PUCMM is a pretty large university and the road that circles it's interior stretches about a mile around. It's a pretty popular place for running and exercise, and I had been wanting to take a spin on it for a while, but I just hadn't gotten around to it. Mainly because its just been so hot in the late afternoon that I couldn't stand the idea, and since I have classes in the morning, its not really feasible to walk there, jog around, walk back, and get myself ready, all before class. Unless I get up at 5. And no...just no. 
But anywayssss...I got invited to jog yesterday at around 5:30 p.m., which was nice since it had cooled off sufficiently by then to make it tolerable. In fact, it was cooler than normal and gray clouds were starting to gather on the horizon. Nonetheless, Alexis, Lindsay, and I all put on our running shoes and headed out. Almost as soon as our feet hit the pavement, it began to sprinkle. "What's a little rain though?" we thought, ever optimistic "It will be refreshing." And for a while, it was. Running in a lot of rain though....not so much. About half way through our second lap it began to downpour, a steady, drenching rain. Soon it was more like swimming than running. 
Still, this would not have been so terrible if I had not chosen to wear a little white athletic shirt for the day. I was just running along, minding my own business, trying to keep the torrential downpour out my eyes when I passed by two men running in the opposite direction. One of them yelled at me as a I ran by "la ropa se está apretando!" or something along those lines, I´m not sure because I was caught off guard and my Spanish still isn´t super great. I was slightly confused as my mind tried to work its way around the English translation of what this man had just announced to the world: "the clothes are tightening?" I thought to myself. Then I looked down and realized exactly what he meant. Gah! my clothes were soaked and sticking to me like glue. I was pretty much a running wet t-shirt contest. Needless to say, I was mortified! But I was only half way around the track and still had another half mile to go! By the time I made it the rest of the way, the rain had eased back to a minor drizzle. Go figure. When I get done running, the rain stops. 
In any case, I was relieved to have finished the last half mile without seeing anyone I knew. I wasn´t really in a fit state to be seen by students or faculty. 
And that´s when I realized I had left my keys and cell phone with the security guard who works in the building where I give classes. (Security is tight on campus and there is a security guard for each building...and then some).  Oh. no.
But there was no way around it. I needed my keys so that I could get home as fast as possible and get out of these clothes! So, sopping wet, I hesitantly walked back towards my classroom to collect my things. Since I don´t normally stay on campus this late all I could do was pray that none of my students would be around.  But of course, no such luck. Just as a I had almost made it through the security door to safety one of my students walked by.
"Teacher! What happened?" He exclaimed as he took in my appearance, obviously bemused. 
"Oh I just got caught running in the rain," I mumbled as I tried to cross my arms over myself and move away. 
"You look good." He said, flashing a smile at me. 
I´m pretty sure my cheeks turned 10 shades of pink.
"Umm, thanks?" I mumbled, because what else do you say to a student who is complimenting you because you may or may not look like you just walked out of a scene from Bay Watch. 
I´m going to go die of embarrassment now. 

So the other day in class, we were talking about self-awareness. I had the students take the Jung personality test to help them get a better sense of their strengths and weaknesses, plus there were lots of good new vocab words on the test for us to discuss! So, win-win :)  In any case, I ended up taking the test myself, and woah, it was dead on. According to the Jung personality test there are 16 different personality types, each corresponding to a 4 letter combination. My combination was INFP.  But while I thought the test was really awesome and scarily accurate, I kind of just set it aside after class and didn´t think much more of it. 
However, I´ve been in a bit of a funk this week. Having lots of mixed emotions. I´ve loved my time here so far, but at the same time, a little thought in the back of my head keeps asking me what the hell am I doing here? I want this time to be a productive growing period, in which I can hopefully figure out what it is that I want/need out of life. But those things are still eluding me. I took a long time to reflect on things the other day and for some reason the personality test popped back up in my head. I decided to do a quick google search for careers that would be good for an INFP personality type. And then I stumbled onto this site, which relayed the following info: 

INFPs do not want just any job or career. They want to do something they love, something they are passionate about. They want to use their creative gifts and abilities in ways that bring personal fulfillment and contribute to the greater good; settling for a mediocre or mundane career seems unacceptable to this personality type. Money is rarely a strong motivator for INFPs, who generally care little about material comforts or possessions. They’d rather be doing what they love and living in a shack than get rich performing unsatisfying work.

The quest for a suitable career cannot be divorced from INFPs’ search for identity. Before settling on a career path, INFPs want to know who they are and where they fit into the fabric of the working world. They want a career that capitalizes on their unique abilities, coincides with their values, and ignites their drives and passions. Because most jobs fail to consistently inspire them, INFPs often end up feeling restless and dissatisfied. Even those with a college degree may struggle to find long-term career satisfaction.

What! So it´s not my fault I´m so messed up about all this stuff? Good, well that´s comforting. The article went on to say the following:

INFP career-seekers may feel stunted by any number of perceived barriers. They may be afraid of taking risks or feel they don’t themselves or their skills/interests well enough. Some may look at their track record of unfinished projects and wonder if they will ever find what they are seeking. It is important for INFPs to recognize that this is all very normal. The fact is that they need to experiment and experience life in order to find themselves. They differ from INJs in this respect, who feel they can know what they like or what they might be good at without needing to trial it first. INFPs need to realize that all their “dead-ends” are not in vain. All of their experiences and lessons learned can be internalized and integrated as part of their career development. Moreover, despite the apparent challenges of finding their career niche, INFPs typically have a reasonable number of good career options.

Ok, well it´s good to know that all this is normal. Still not that comforting that I need to run into a bunch of dead ends before I find my path in life, but I guess if it´s what I have to do, its what I have to do. Any prayers for my continued growth and a little enlightenment on finding my right path would be greatly appreciated. Abrazos fuertes, I miss you all.

On another note, I suppose it was appropriate that I had a teaching conference yesterday, and that the main quote discussed in the conference was this: "Life is not about waiting for the storm to pass, it's about learning to dance in the rain." And well, after feeling a little down all day that day, I tried to do just that. I dragged myself off my all-together too comfy, but slightly depressing bed, and headed out for the night in an attempt to get myself out of this funk. 
Lindsay, Sophia, and I all met up at the "Casa de Arte," a mini-cultural center here in Santiago. They were holding a "Fiesta de Palos" celebration, which is a traditional African celebration popular among the slaves brought to the Dominican Republic and which focuses mainly on the use of percussion. 
The night was all fluttering candle light, and swinging rhythms, set against a backdrop of vibrant Dominican artwork.  And somewhere between the driving beat of the drums and  the flowing rum and orange juice cocktails, I found myself being dragged out on the floor to dance. Nobody was safe from this and I guess I was no exception.  I can't say that I completely shook off all my blues, but it was a good start. 

Lindsay ran into her old dance professor, who tried to teach us a thing of two. 

Now shimmy!

Sophia, the dancing queen