When My License Plate Betrayed Me Last August I rolled my old Yamaha out of my friend’s garage in Medellín, blissfully unaware that that day’s
From Mango Trees to Bank Statements: My First Brush With Dominican Paperwork Ten years ago, freshly arrived from rainy Manchester and still confusing plátano with
Last Saturday I cruised down the north coast from Santiago to Playa Dorada, windows down, bachata humming, convinced I had my day all mapped out.
“Póngase cómodo, compadre, pero no se quede sin luz,” my Dominican neighbor, Don Emilio, joked the morning my tangled extension cords finally gave up on
Uncorking Memory: The Night a Bottle Picked Me My first real Dominican wine purchase happened on a sweltering Tuesday, the kind when the Caribbean sun
When a Chimichurri Met a Arepa – My First Night Among the Trucks I still remember the humid Friday when Santo Domingo’s Malecón turned into
From a Burned Tongue to a Fluent Palate I still remember the morning I scorched my tongue at a tiny café in Santiago de los
My First Rooftop Revelation in Cartagena I was twenty-three, fresh from New York and still rolling my r’s like a broken lawn-mower, when I decided
I still remember the evening I realized my profile photo was sabotaging my dreams of side-income. I was sipping a morir soñando on a steamy
Un cordón suelto: the mishap that started my obsession I was two rumba-fueled hours into a Friday night at Cali Swing Latino when I learned