Why I Ended Up Translating Epidural Dreams at 3 A.M. I never planned on becoming the unofficial interpreter for my buddy Tom and his Dominican
Two springs ago, I tucked a packet of ají dulce seeds into my carry-on, thinking customs in Bogotá would ignore such a humble souvenir from
The Morning the Ground Wobbled Under My Coffee Two weeks ago, at 7:14 a.m., my Santo Domingo apartment rattled hard enough to make my espresso
El Débito Fantasma: The Morning My Coffee Cost RD$14,000 It was 7:40 a.m. in Santo Domingo when my phone buzzed with the unmistakable trill of
A Coffee Spill That Spoke Volumes Ten years ago, on my first week in Santo Domingo, I ordered a “café con leche” and tried to
First Sips: The Night I Mistook Dish Soap for a Hop Infusion I still blush when I remember the first time I tried to brew
If you had told the twenty-three-year-old version of me that one of my most vivid language lessons would involve a tiny gold stud, a bottle
“¡Salud por Duarte!” The first time I heard that shouted across a Santo Domingo colmado, I nearly clinked my beer early and splashed the poor
El Cilindro Aventurero: A Gas Cylinder Confusion That Taught Me to Listen I still remember the first time I tried to trade in an empty
Where sand meets slang and safety meets salsa, Spanish Vocabulary becomes your passport to pitching in without missing a beat. Why My Saturday Mornings Smell