Cultural

How a Faded Photocopy Almost Derailed My Wheels Ten years in Santo Domingo have taught me that the real Dominican rite of passage is not

La mudanza inesperada que me hizo hablar con los muebles Three months ago, my landlord in Santo Domingo decided to renovate. Overnight, I found myself

A Fever, a Fan, and the First Form: My Baptism by Waiting Room I was twenty-four, new to Santo Domingo, and sweating more than usual.

El día que mi serie se congeló y empecé a vivir la aventura del router I was halfway through a Dominican crime drama, popcorn in

Cuando la fiebre te tumba en un domingo de playa I was waist-deep in the teal water of Playa Cosón, Samana, when my friend Andrés

Ten years ago, my first colmado order in Santo Domingo was a comedy sketch featuring my shaky accent, a sweating phone in my hand, and

When My First “Puente” Caught Me Off Guard I was still that bright-eyed, freshly relocated gringo who believed every nation’s calendar obeyed one universal rule:

Ten years ago, when I first swapped Boston blizzards for Santo Domingo’s sticky afternoons, I thought I was reasonably fit. Then a cheerful trainer at

If you had told the 23-year-old version of me—fresh off a winter flight from London to Santo Domingo—that a decade later I’d be pedaling through

My carry-on still smells faintly of mangú and guandules from the last time I flew out of Santo Domingo’s Las Américas International Airport (SDQ). Two