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.