Cómo me sumergí: My First Tank in Taganga I still remember kicking off my fins on Taganga’s tiny beach, sand sticking to the neoprene while
The Guayaba Incident That Changed My Lunch Game I still remember the afternoon my face ballooned like a beach ball outside a bustling “corrientazo” joint
That Night the Power Went Out on Calle El Conde I was halfway through a Presidente when the lights blinked, the fan died, and bachata
By James, your friendly neighborhood Brit who accidentally ordered twelve pineapples instead of twelve phone minutes during his first week in Santo Domingo, and has
Una tarde en diciembre: my first surprise “aguinaldo” Ten years ago, fresh off the plane and still tripping over my r’s, I heard a knock
The First Time the Hammock Chose Me I still remember the salty breeze that sneaked through the streets of San Pedro de Macorís the first
The Day My Blender Got Detained I still remember the hum of ceiling fans and the smell of caramelized coffee at Las Américas International Airport
Opening Beat: The Night the Conga Saved My Gig I still remember the humid Cali dusk when my phone pinged with a frantic voice note:
Last July, while I was zig-zagging between the pastel-painted balconies of Cartagena and worrying only about where to score the freshest ceviche, my stomach decided
From Surfboards to Stamps: My Annual Pilgrimage to the Immigration Office Ten years ago, I landed in Santo Domingo with a surfboard under my arm