Once Upon A Time

Once upon a time, I had a blog! And I had people that read my blog!

And then, I quit blogging because I had nothing to talk about.  No one wanted to read about my boring life!

However, I just closed one chapter in the book of my life (graduating college), and I am on to the next chapter--medical school (and moving out of my parents' house!)

I hope to start blogging again as many changes start coming my way!

An Ode to My Forgotten Blog

Oh, my insanely forgotten about, neglected, left-out-in-the-cold blog. I've forgotten you, I've left you in the dust. We were doing so well--I would update you for all those people to read, and then I came home to the world of college and the papers and tests and projects and exams took over my life. And there you were, on the back burner.

I have no more adventurous stories to tell, no language mishaps, no moments where I'm challenged extremely beyond my comfort zone. I have many things to share, but the mundaneness of what I'm doing next weekend or how much I hate my Spanish class isn't what it used to be.

I guess I should just come out and say it like it is: I forgot all about you.

So for now, I will bid you adeiu (I know dear blog, I should stick to Spanish). Before we part, I will tell you this: I have no forgotten about the Dominican Republic--it's engrained in me and it's a part of me. I even went back over Spring Break (I know, I forgot to tell you that too!). And get this blog, I'm going back again in three weeks. In the end, know this: next spring, you will be written in much, much more. (Hint, hint).

Pico Duarte Recap

Because my dear friend (and PD guide), Moises, has been reminding me about this post, I finally decided to do it...

My experience at Pico Duarte, the tallest mountain in the Carribean, was something I would equate to the volcano in Chile: I don't know how I got to the top, but I didn't die. Chris and I decided to climb Pico Duarte with a group called Camping Tours, who basically take care of all of the details so that you get to enjoy (as much as you can in that situation) your trip. I was extremely pleased with the guides and if you're deciding to climb Pico I would totally recommend them.

We left on Thursday morning of Semana Santa (April 1) at like, crack-o-dawn thirty. I think it was 3:30 AM, but early will suffice. If you know me, you know I don't do early.

We drove from Santiago to La Ciénaga and started with this route:

The goal was simple: get to the top, and get back down. And do it in four days.

We set off, and y'all--it was STEEP. It was never a straight up kind of path. It was up this mountain, down this one, around a curb, up again, slight down, etc. And for me, that was a huge mental block. To not be able to see where you're going, but to walk, and walk, and walk is disheartening.

We stopped Thursday night in Compartición at a little house looking thing.

We rolled out our sleeping bags on the cold, hard concrete floor, and drifted off into dreamland. There were complaints the next morning about bad sleep...I, however, slept like a baby. I was so tired from the day before that I would have slept just about anywhere. I opted for a mule to get to the top of the peak. It was 4 AM, and my knees were on their way out.

As we started to climb towards the peak, I saw the sunrise, and we were literally above the clouds. It was an amazing way to spend Good Friday.

Seeing the sunrise made waking up at 4AM totally worth it. Finally, we made it to the top! From the "Pico Duarte that way" sign, it's about another 45 minutes to an hour to the bust of Juan Pablo Duarte, the official top of the mountain. The views are breathtaking. Although we couldn't figure out which way to look, you can see Haiti from the top of the peak. I've also heard that you can see the lights of Puerto Rico if it's dark (but I would NOT want to be climbing that in the dark!).

Me with the man, Juan Pablo Duarte.

Reppin' Wofford College. I try y'all.

Day two was by far the hardest (even on mule). From the peak, we headed back toward Compartición where we had slept the night before to gather our stuff and head for Aguita Fria (I think?--The details are fuzzy at this point). Everyone was exhausted, and everyone had knee issues. The path down to Aguita Fria was basically straight down. (By the way, straight down on mule = NOT FUN.)

If you look really close in this picture--we're headed for the little red speck on the left cornerish. We spent the night in tents in Aguita Fria in a nice grassy field.

Day three, Saturday, was our play day. We relaxed in Aguita Fria and then went to the river--where I completely understood the term "Cold little water". Our guides and the mule owners had roasted a pig all day and it was dinner Saturday night. (The jury's still out on where the pig came from). We had campfire time and went to bed, ready to wake up and do it all again the next morning.

Drying off, iguana style.

Happy Easter! Day four, Sunday, we woke up, took down the tents, and headed off for Santiago. Once we reached Los Tablones, we knew we were close. Everyone was exhausted. I ended up going to the hospital right when we got back in Santiago for my knee (I wanted to experience the health care system, but this was not my idea of doing it!)

Me and my mulo.

Llegamos por fin! We made it!

I was really surprised by the weather during the trip. I knew it was going to be cold, but I had no idea. I'm the kind of person that thinks 100F (38 C) is hot, 90F (32 C) is comfortable, and 80F (27C) is reason to break out the parka. I hate being cold. Well since I was packing for the country with the eternal summer without giving thought to cold weather, I was extremely unprepared. I basically begged people for warm clothes before going (which is why you may look at pictures and be like.."You don't go to Kenyon College", or "Who's hat is that?" or "Who's pants are those?!")..but even then, it was extremely chilly. Camping Tours recommended a scarf and gloves, and I thought that they were just exaggerating how cold it would be--I was so wrong. If you climb Pico, take some gloves! All weekend we rocked the socks and flip flops trend during down time.

I can't exactly remember what we ate during the trip, but it was good. Camping Tours definitely took care of us. They had guides and guys that cooked and it was phenomenal. No one went hungry!

I was really surprised at the vegetation in the area as well...In 2003, there was a forest fire that took out a lot of the trees in the area. So you get to a point where everything is burned and not exceptionally pretty. A little disappointing, but beautiful all the same.

The group dynamic amazed me during the whole trip.

Going in to it, I knew Chris. There were 5 other gringas, all English teachers in Santiago. There was also the Tres Locos, or three crazies. One lives in Connecticut, Amaury in Santo Domingo, and one in Azua (near Santo Domingo). There was also two doctors, one works for Camping Tours, both from Santiago. We also had the tres amigas..three young girls from Santiago. And get this--one of them had her dad, and her SEVENTY SOMETHING YEAR OLD GRANDMOTHER with her. Seventy something people!! Holy Cow! I hope when I'm in my seventies I can make it up Pico. There were two men from Spain and also two other women. Plus our three guides. I think that's everyone--so so sorry if I forgot you!! It was amazing. I definitely had a great time with the other American girls and it was nice to spend some time with new people! After our trip, we had a "Pico Duarte Reunion" and Chris and I went to see Amaury afterwards as well.

During my time in the DR, but especially during the Pico Duarte trip, I realized that I am stronger than I think I am. I can also always push myself further than I think and do more than I'm willing to admit. Funny how you find that out in a completely different atmosphere.

All in all, it was an amazing trip. Will I do it again? Probably not. Should you do it?

DEFINITELY.

Running Around

So since I'm still unemployed (do you know of anyone hiring??) and have very little no life, I've started something new.

If you know me in real life, you know that I jump around. Not literally--I do that too sometimes--but figuratively. I jump from hobby to hobby to hobby like it's my (unpaid) job. If you know my dad, you know that I inherited it. It runs in the family.

SO. Without further ado, my new "thing": a mini-triathlon.

300 meters swimming, 20 K bike, 5 K run.

Sounds horrible, no?

The worst part (or maybe the best?) I'm stuck with it. A friend and I are planning on doing it mid-September through the YMCA. I'm excited.

If I can stick with it for that long.

Week Three

Short posts are overrated. It's a long one. But a good one. (I hope).

I've been home now for exactly three weeks, and this is truly the first time that I've felt like I could be coherent enough to blog.

Coming back has been terrifying, heart-wrenching, inspiring, difficult, and humbling. The first week, I was at a complete lost--I didn't want to hang out with people, didn't want to talk about my experiences, I simply wanted to be. I wanted to be alone and sort out what was going through my head.

Week two was by far the hardest. I went to school to visit my friends, and it was hard to see how they had changed, how I had changed, and how we meshed differently than we have in the past. I realized how much I had missed out on in their lives, and it was difficult to share my experiences with people who can't fully understand them.

This week has been bearable. I've started to adjust more. I've made plans with friends from both high school and college to hang out and to get back in the swing of things. It's hard going from being busy every single day, having tons to do and little time to do it, having friendships and relationships to maintain, and trying to process it all to coming home to nothing, friendships that need to be rekindled, no job, no school, no nothing. It's hard.

I didn't realize how much I was leaving behind until I came back. Don't get me wrong, I knew I was leaving lots behind. I just didn't realize how much I would miss my life there. I get caught up in the details here, in the complications and requirements, while there I was more care-free and live-by-the-day.

During our trip to Bahía de las Águilas, I journaled one day on the beach. This was during my last week, and I want to share a little bit of my thoughts:

"There have been very few moments in my life where I have felt right where I needed to be doing exactly what I needed to be doing. And then I came here. I've gone back and forth on this since I've been here, but I feel in my heart that this is where I belong. How do you leave that? How do you willingly walk away from a place where you feel absolutely right? I know one thing, you do it with tears in your eyes and a broken heart.

How do you go back to a life that wasn't satisfying, when you've found something incredibly satisfying? How do you return to a comfortable place when you've been constantly challenged for the last four months? There was not a single day here when I woke up and thought "Today is going to be easy". Maybe there were days that were easy in comparison to the days before them, but there was never an easy day like I have at home. How do you return to a life of complacency, of ignorance even, after you see some of the things I've seen here? How do you leave behind people that you've formed bonds with, come to love, and feel like you belong with? How do you leave behind compañeros, who you've struggled with, laughed with, cried with, and learned with? How do you leave behind a place where you learned more about yourself than you ever thought? How can you leave a place where God daily revealed himself to you? How do you go back to searching for beauty when it's been evident in so many people and places for the last four months? How do you leave behind a family that has become your own? How do you return to what you were, taking with you who you are now and continuing that life?"

Although I've found temporary answers to some of these questions, I still go through this struggle every.single.day. And my final conclusion to all of these questions is: I don't know. But I'm finding out.

And on my next to last day, I wrote again:

"Tomorrow is the day that I've both dreaded and feared. In some ways, it's both a blessing and a curse. At the beginning, I counted days. 'I've survived 10 days, I can make it 10 more'. By mid-February, I had stopped counting and starting enjoying. And recently, I've started counting again, but in the other direction.

Before I came here, someone told me that I wouldn't want to go and at the end, I wouldn't want to come home. I cried when they told me I had to go. And I'm crying when they're telling me that I have to leave.

I think about how far I've come in just four short months.

Before coming here, I didn't know what it meant to listen. Learning another language forces you to do that. It forces me to listen to what people are telling me. I've become less reliant on people around me and more reliant on myself. I don't feel like I have to be surrounded by people 24/7, doing nonsense things just to pass the time. I'm content just sitting and being alone and without distractions.

I know that I'm going home a better person. I've learned and lived, but mostly, I've loved. I've tried to take every experience and every opportunity for what it was. I've tried to say "no" and took everything as it came. While I'm not ready to go, I know that in time I'll be okay.

And I know that I'll be back."

I feel like everyone's favorite question to ask me is "How did this change you?". (Everyone's other favorite question is "What did you miss the most?" And the answer to that is Sweet Tea. I mean really, was that even a question?) I feel like the best answer is how DIDN'T this change me. I know that's super vague. But really, I feel different in every aspect of things. I feel like I've really been stripped down to WHO I am during the last four months. I intentionally left home behind..and although that's a hard thing for a lot of my friends to hear, it's the truth. I knew that the drama would be there when I got back. I knew that I wouldn't miss anything of super high importance. I also knew that I would come back and people would love me just like they did before I left. (And they did). For my sake, I had to leave behind the Wofford World. (Or Wofford Bubble as it's affectionately called).

I think more than anything, I'm more aware. Aware of situations going on around me. Aware of how I treat people and how people treat me. Aware of how blessed I truly am. My neighbor remarked to me the other day that knowing me, he knew that my heart bled for every single kid I came across in my community that was less fortunate. More than y'all know. I know I have a big heart, and I have a heart to serve. I've always known this. I just didn't realize how big it was, or how great that desire is to serve. And now I know. I've given the Peace Corps a lot of thought since I've been back, and I've also thought about Doctors Without Borders or Partners in Health in the future. For now though, I'm looking into volunteering somewhere in the area that I can continue to quench my desire to serve. (If you're local and know of a place--let me know!)

Y'all already know that I'm planning on hopping on a plane there the second I walk through the Wofford gates in my cap and gown. (Just kidding, Mom. Kind of). Y'all know that it's all about the people to me. I felt like I was in my campo the whole four months--everyone was that friendly. People accepted me like I was their kids best friend for 18 years--the way that my friends parents accept me here. I was in awe of the people.

And that awe has followed me back home. I have to admit, I was a little surprised when no one yelled "Rubia!" at me when I walked through Target the other day...but I digress. Through Facebook and through email, there have been so many people that have shared a piece of their hearts with me. I absolutely love it. I love that people have reached out to me and thanked me for writing my blog--it reminds me what I loved so much about the country.

But really, I need to thank y'all--all of my readers. Without y'all, I wouldn't be here. I would be writing for my mom and my aunt (love y'all!). I would have given up a long time ago. I hope you've seen that not all Americans are what the movies portray. Through this blog, I've been real--no facades, no expectations, no nothing. I've shared my heart openly and willingly, and truly, I owe all the thanks to y'all.

Because y'all are the best.

For all three of you that still read my blog..

You can look at my pictures from the Dominican Republic in their entirety by stalking my Facebook, because Blogger is just TOO SLOW and I lack the patience to put 2,478 pictures on my blog. That's an exact number.

My Facebook.

If it wants you to add me as a friend, you can add me. I don't bite. (Usually).

Enjoy! :)

On Re-Entry

I never thought that going back into the country where I was born, grew up, and generally happy (before I left it) would be so hard. The Dominican Republic changed me in ways that I couldn't have imagined...some of those changes I can put into words and some of them I cannot.

When I first came to the DR, I was SO shy. If I didn't know how to say something, I didn't. I usually faded into the background. If you know me, you know that I'm not shy, until I meet new people. Imagine me in a new situation--the people are new, the city is new, the country and culture is new--it was basically a disaster. In four months, I've become bold. Not overbearing or demanding, just more sure of how to communicate what I want/need. (I think if I had learned this earlier I would have switched families before I did).

I also realized how complacent I was. I (and the majority of my friends) can dictate my daily routine to you without problems. EVERY day for me is the same--wake up, eat breakfast, class, lunch, lab, dinner, homework, bed. Always. Without fail. I think this is better described as comfortable--and that's a hard thing to admit and to overcome. It's hard to force yourself out of the comfortable and into the unknown, but I did it. Now that I'm back into the comfortable situation that I left, I'm trying to force myself to not fall back into the same routine. I'm trying to find ways to challenge myself. In the DR, every single day held (at least) one challenge. Every day. There was nothing comfortable or familiar about my life there, and at the time I saw it as a challenge or something that was hard for me to get over. Now, all I want to be is challenged.

I was so ignorant, (and still am, in some ways). I look at my perceptions of what the Dominican Republic would hold for me, and I couldn't have been more wrong. I feel more educated, more enlightened. My only problem is how do I tell that to my friends and family? How do I share with them everything I learned and all of the lessons that I learned?

I hate starting every sentence with "When I was in the Dominican Republic..", but I feel like I've been doing a lot of that lately. I've been trying to keep my mind occupied here, and haven't allowed myself much downtime. I found out my first night here that downtime is when the sadness comes. (And it's SO quiet here compared to what I'm used to!) I've surrounded myself with people, and am planning to go back to school tomorrow to see all of my friends.

My only problem now is that I have yet to come up with an answer to, "I'm so glad you're home!" In my heart of hearts, I can't agree. I'm glad to be back with the people I have here, but I feel incomplete and not quite whole.