Mi Primera Maceta Dominicana: a Chlorophyll-Fueled Wake-Up Call The first time I tried to buy a house plant in Santo Domingo I asked for “una
My first Colombian eSIM almost stranded me in Medellín’s José María Córdova airport. I’d spent a decade in the Dominican Republic, so I swaggered to
Three years ago I was halfway up the fog-soaked switchbacks of Cerro Quitasol, outside Medellín, when the right shoulder strap on my trusty hiking backpack
El Primer Zapateo: My First Tap on Dominican Soil The first time I tried a flamenco-fusion class in Santo Domingo, the teacher—an ex-bailarina from Cádiz
Ten years in the Dominican Republic have tattooed more than sand-tinted memories on my skin; they’ve etched Caribbean Spanish into my tongue. Yet last month,
La boda donde aprendí que “gastar” no siempre significa “to spend” I still remember the smell of fresh coffee mixed with aerosol hairspray the first
A Morning at the Ayuntamiento The sun had barely cleared Santo Domingo’s pastel skyline when I strolled into the Ayuntamiento with a rolled-up blueprint, still
The Morning I Forgot My Name in Medellín Ten years of life in the Dominican Republic had convinced me I could handle any Spanish-speaking situation.
Una primera cerveza en Medellín No long-haul flight feels shorter than the one that ends with a cold pint. Last February I landed in Medellín,
My first brush with Dominican eco-tour guiding happened on a sweaty Tuesday when I was coaxed into interpreting bird calls for a group of German