El timbre que me cambió el oído The first time the school bell rang at 2:05 p.m. in Santo Domingo, I realized I had exactly
Uncorking My First Cata de Vinos in Bogotá I still remember the exact shade of crimson that pooled in my glass the first time I
When the Wi-Fi Crashed and My Accent Got Me a Front-Row Seat I still remember the humid Thursday morning when I landed in Bogotá for
From Burned Pasta to Polished Carrara: My Accidental Classroom The saga began when my rental stove erupted and charred a pot of spaghetti so badly
Inked Beginnings: Island Curiosity Meets Andean Needles I still remember the sticky Santo Domingo heat the day I decided a simple palm-tree outline would mark
A Coconut Crashes my Morning Run I was halfway through my usual dawn jog on the Malecón in Santo Domingo when a coconut the size
El recibo que me delató como extranjero Una tarde de julio, a las tres y pico, entré en la Biblioteca Pedro Henríquez Ureña de Santo
Ten years ago I was sweating through my first July in Santo Domingo, wrestling with ceiling-fan screws and the subjunctive mood at the same time.
My First Sail to Saona: A Lesson I Didn’t Know I Needed The morning sun over Bayahibe looked harmless, but the glint on the water
From a Bogotano Parking Lot to My Laptop in Santo Domingo I thought I had outgrown rookie surprises after a decade abroad, yet last December