August 21, 2008 - Santo Domingo, Dominican Republic

The last few days have been quite busy for me. When I arrived on Sunday I was very warmly welcomed and greeted at the airport by some fellow Bahais. We proceeded to take the well-worn (in the sense that is is very well used, yet in very good condition) road into the city of Santo Domingo. We all agreed that hunger had set in, so we set off in pursuit of sustenance. After satisfying our appetites with some wonderfully greasy, yet delicious fast food, we made our way to my temporary place of residence. Once my bags were set down in my room and I had made the required salutations, I flopped down on my bed and was out like a light during a black out. My light remained out and the black out persisted for a good 19 hours. When I finally came to, it was early afternoon on Monday. I drifted into the kitchen to find a most wonderful sight: a large prepared Dominican lunch, fully equipped with rice, beans, platano, salsa, fried fish, and of course avocado. It truly was a sight for sore eyes, especially as the amazingly delicious Dominican food had been my downfall when I lived in the country previously, causing me to gain over 20 pounds. Once I had consumed as much delectible food as I possibly could, I set out to meet a Dominican girl who could potentially be my room mate for the duration of my stay in the country. Having spoken to her previously online, meeting her in person was quite easy and her apartment was everything I was looking for. Once the meet and greet had come to an end, I made my way to a bank to open an account. The bank had unfortunately run out of the paperwork required to do this, so I proceeded to 2 other banks, both of which informed me that I would need 2 or 3 letters of recommendation, 1 of which had to be from my bank in the U.S. Feeling fully worn out from this long ordeal, I went in pursuit of a cell phone. Without a bank account, however, this was a pursuit in vain. I went on my way back to the house on foot, not realizing just how far of a walk it would turn out to be. After meandering past about 15 long city blocks on one of the major city roads, I turned up onto another road in search of the house where I was staying. Finding the house turned into quite the wild goose chase, as I had forgotten the name of the street. I walked around the neighborhood for over half an hour, up one street, down another, more or less going in circles. Finally, on the brink of collapsing and completely drowning in sweat, I found the house. The next morning I had orientation and a Spanish placement exam for my university program. I was a bit wary, as I had no idea how many students there would be. Upon meeting the director and the students, however, all my reservations disappeared and I felt very comfortable. After class finished, I continued on my journey to find a cell phone, accompanied by a fellow student. After over 2 hours at the cell phone store (it took much longer than was necessary due to computer problems one after another), we each emerged with phones in hand. I then treated my fellow student to his first taste of public transportation in Santo Domingo, which, unfortunately, proved to be quite an unpleasant experience for him, as his other phone (a brand new Blackberry Pearl) and the 2000 pesos in cash (about 60 US dollars) in his pocket were stolen. With this news in mind I made my way to the house as quickly as possible, trembling ever so slightly for fear of being robbed myself. When I arrived home I showered and changed as quickly as possible and went to the 19 Day Feast at the Bahai Center downtown. It felt quite strange to be back there for Feast after being away for over 2 years, but it was very nice to see everyone again and to see that nothing had really changed. The next morning I started class, getting there via public transportation. After class I went with some classmates to one of the nearby local beaches, accompanied by family members of one of the girls in my class. The weather was perfect, the water was warm and clear, and the company was great! We rode on a banana boat around the beach, getting thrown off 1 or 2 times. When the sun began to droop down below the horizon, we loaded up the car and headed back into the city. Returning home, I bathed and changed and those of us that went to the beach met up at a bar/lounge relatively close to my house. The music was loud and the dancing was very fun, although it seemed as though we were some of the only people making use of the dance floor. I returned home that night triply exhausted, from the beach, the dancing and the hour.

August 17, 2008 - Santo Domingo, Dominican Republic Airport

As my plane starts to ever so gradually descend on the island of Hispanola, I look down on the sprawling lush countryside, tiny rural villages, and the web of dirt roads that connect them all. The island is quite beautiful, I must say. From its lush countryside to its dry deserts to its mountain peaks to its white sand beaches to its thick jungles, all in all this country, or the island as a whole for that matter, is unique from all others. As I gaze out over the island, I am hit by a feeling I had not expected to feel, that of dread. It hit me hard and suddenly, making me feel slightly sick to my stomach. All of a sudden hundreds of questions were running through my mind, questions that I had thought were not possible to think because I had been so sure in my decision to move here for this year. What was I thinking deciding to come here? I was leaving behind my homes, those in Canada and in Montana, and going back to a country that I had wanted to leave after 5 months when I had lived in it before. This move was under completely different circumstances, though, as I would have complete freedom and won’t be bound by the restrictions put on volunteers for a year of service. But will that make me like the country more? Had I really thought this whole thing through, or had I just focused on the fact that it was economically in my favor and I favored the climate? These questions clouded my mind for the remaining time it took to land in Santo Domingo, tying my stomach in painful knots. As the wheels touched down on Dominican soil, the occupants of the plane erupted in cheers and clapped their hands together with joy, for they were home. This brought a smile to my face, yet I did not join in, for my dread was overshadowing any other emotion. I tried to make my way calmly through the mad rush to exit the plane and once out I made my way down the many ramps to immigration. All visitors were made to first buy a $10 tourist card before going through immigration, only to give it to an officer a few feet away. Immigration took very little time at all, as the officers barely even glanced at my passport or the immigration form I had filled out and they promptly stamped my passport, welcoming me to their country. The baggage claim was utter chaos and bags came out in very slow intervals. After 20 minutes or so at the baggage claim I continued on to customs, very thankful that both of my bags had made it there intact. The customs officer did not even glance at the customs declaration as she ushered me past her into her country. Next comes the exit, which, to me, is one of the most stressful parts of arriving in this airport. The passengers exit the doors, leading them to a long, wide walkway, with small portable fences on either side. Packed in behind these fences is a multitude of people, all awaiting loved ones. Before I walk out those doors, memories of the other two times I had done this ran through my head. All I could remember was the awkward walk you take down the walkway, with all eyes on you, as you frantically try and pick out your welcome party from the crowd. The last two times it had taken me much time to find them, but, luckily for me, this time they were fully visible and near the start of the walkway. The stressful situation that I had anticipated had, thankfully, been averted.

August 16, 2008 - Salt Lake City, Utah Airport

I enter the airport from outside through a long covered ground walkway, as I have done many times in the past. The warmth of the sun’s dying rays, as the day winds to a close, hit my face as I walk under this sheltered pathway. I enter the airport and a blast of icy air-conditioned air hits me, making me shiver. I climb the escalator to the main terminals, searching around for something remotely interesting to do, but finding nothing but a few fast food places and a number of stores that lack both charm and appeal, hosting the typical, generic airport products. I venture forward, finding my gate, although my flight will not be departing for a brutal 5 hours. The airport is slightly less deserted than the last, but still I would not describe it as bustling, like so many airports are. As I cannot find nothing worthwhile to eat or browse, I decide to find myself a place to set my things down and possibly take a nap, even though I slept through the entire previous 2 hour flight. I search for an acceptable nook. This proves to be more difficult than I had imagined. Finally I spy an abandoned airplane pillow sitting in a deserted, carpeted corner, even equipped with an outlet to charge my ipod. The pillow beckons me over, a sign as my father would say. I lay my things out and place my sweat shirt over the small white pillow , so as not to touch it. The place I have chosen to be my resting place for the next 5 hours resides right next to the formidable glass smoking room, which seems to lack a door. The faint smell of cigarette smoke wafts over to my resting place every now and then, providing my new-found bed with a pleasant aroma (please note sarcasm in voice). I look into the room and to my surprise two young boys walk into the room and light up their paper cancer sticks. They don’t look like they could be even over 16 years old. After they have finished with their toxic inhalations they remain in the smoke filled room talking, so as to not only get the first hand death smoke, but also the even more deadly second hand smoke.

August 16, 2008 - Spokane, Washington Airport

Well it has been quite an interesting start to my next world adventure, my year of study abroad, and I haven’t even left the country yet! Running on 3 hours of sleep, what feels like a rough hangover, and the odd sensation of a slow recognition that I am actually leaving, off on my next great adventure, it is dawning on me that I will not see my family or most of my friends for around 10 months. Having been living in Canada for the past 2 school years, I have become accustomed to the distance in physical terms between myself and my parents, but this new, exciting move I am about to embark on pushes the limits of physical distance to a whole new level. I will no longer be able to simply pick up a phone, push a speed dial button or shoot a text message into the wireless world of communication and be instantly connected with my family. For the next 10 months I will be on a new plane in the world of communication, one where it is much more difficult to connect with home. As I sit here in this slightly deserted airport, after a day full of events leading to my departure from my family occurring much sooner than expected, I am starting to feel that somber pang in my chest due to the distance already grown physically between us, knowing all too well that the distance will only continue to grow ten fold. The final image of my parents through the car window as I pulled away, leaving them in a highway pull out in a very isolated, rural area next to their broken-down car, was that of the sadness in their eyes that they unsuccessfully tried to conceal with smiles and words of farewell. They, too, knew well that their darling daughter was leaving the nest yet again, only this time I would be flying off to whole different world, far from home. As I sit here now, that excitement that has been rushing through me for the past few weeks is beginning to subside slightly and nerves are beginning to settle in. They are common worries that one experiences as they go head-on into a new move: Will I enjoy it? Will I grow apart from those I love? Will I be accepted in this new place? Will it all work out as planned? Of course, there are no answers, for the future is absolutely littered with uncertainty. The only way to quell the nerves is to reassure myself that it will be an amazing new adventure and whatever is to come, whether it be good or bad, will fill the pages of the book of my life with more excitement and experiences than could possibly be jotted down if I were to play it safe and succumb to the nagging nerves. So, as I sit here, I pull myself together, hold my head up and shall now proceed into the storm of uncertainty that is my year of study abroad in the Dominican Republic - my next great adventure.