Stories Beneath the Surface.

El temblor de mi primer comentario: cómo casi pierdo un amigo anfitrión Tenía apenas dos meses viajando con Airbnb cuando decidí escaparme de Santo Domingo a Medellín para probar eso que los paisas llaman la eterna primavera. Mi anfitrión, Andrés, me recibió con un pocillo de tinto y la sonrisa fácil que caracteriza a los […]

La primera vez que metí la pata… y aprendí Tenía apenas dos semanas de vacaciones en Medellín cuando creí que mi español callejero ya era digno de telenovela. Salí del ascensor, vi al portero —un paisa de bigote impecable— y disparé un “¿Qué es la que hay, manín?” sacado directamente de mi barrio dominicano. Él […]

It happened on a misty Friday evening in Medellín’s Laureles district. I, James—an accidental Dominican veteran who drifted across the Caribbean a decade ago and somehow picked up an apartment lease and two cats along the way—found myself staring at a black-smudged chalkboard inside Cervecería Libre. The bartender was polishing tulip glasses, the hum of […]

That One Time My Beagle Betrayed My Accent Why a slobbery tennis ball became my Spanish teacher Ten years in the Dominican Republic have ironed most of the gringo creases out of my speech, but every so often a rogue syllable squeaks through. Last month I was in Bogotá’s Parque El Virrey, throwing a tennis […]

“Pruébalo, mi hijo.” The vendor’s voice floated over the humid Medellín morning, her hand already slicing a chunk of maracuyá for me. I’d been in Colombia barely forty-eight hours, still juggling Dominican slang in my head like an overripe mango. And yet, in that bustling plaza, every aroma—coffee, cilantro, papaya—felt eerily close to my decade […]

Un lunes nublado en Medellín Last month I found myself pacing outside Colegio Arco Íris, a cheery building painted in primary colors just south of Laureles. My god-daughter, Camila, was clutching a folder full of certificates, her shoelaces untied, and my Dominican accent clearly amused the tiny doorman. We were here to enroll her in […]

My first salsa night in Medellín could have been a disaster. I’d drifted into El Poblado straight from Santo Domingo, still using the breezy Dominican “¿Qué lo qué?” I’d practiced for years. The hostess blinked, amused, and told me every mesa in the club was “comprometida”—booked. Luckily, a trumpet player overheard my mangled request, leaned […]

From a Misplaced Backpack to a Linguistic Breakthrough I was already sweating when I realized my faithful blue backpack hadn’t made the transfer from Medellín’s Terminal del Norte to the Caribe Express coach bound for Santa Marta. Ten years in the Dominican Republic have taught me that no hay mal que por bien no venga, […]

El billete digital que me salvó la noche I still laugh at the memory: a humid Tuesday in Santo Domingo, my moto-concho driver waiting impatiently while I fumbled with torn pesos, only to realize my last bill had floated away in the Caribbean breeze. Ten minutes later I was heroically scanning a QR code with […]

From Santo Domingo to the Sierra Nevada: My First “¿Qué tan duro es?” Moment Ten years of calling the Dominican Republic home have gifted me a laid-back Caribbean swagger, but they also lured me into a comfy coastal routine. Last summer I shook that sand from my sandals and flew to Santa Marta, Colombia, bent […]

That Night in Laureles When My Name Turned Into a Metaphor Ten years of Caribbean sun have bronzed more than my skin. They’ve toasted my accent, too, so when I stepped into a Medellín café called Catalina sin Mar, the barista cocked an eyebrow at my lilting Dominican ¡Qué lo qué! The monthly open-mic was […]