DR

I was 17 when I went to the DR for the first time. It was when I first met Eduardo and eventually fell in love with him, but that place was much more to me from the beginning.

There is something unique and absolutely exquisite about Dominican culture. It is happiness and optimism. There is always reason to smile, to laugh, to dance. In the face of whatever hardship, in the Dominican Republic, the outlook is always positive. There are electric outages that make you so hot and stifled, but lovely ocean breezes that make you feel full of life. There is trash in the streets sometimes, but always amazing coastline and the most pristine aqua blue sea you have ever seen. There is less to "do" than in the U.S. but there are open air bars with cheap cold beer and bachata and reggae music blaring with people who will dance unabashedly until dawn.

Here's the thing. I had kind of forgotten about that stuff. The good stuff. Over the past few years, I'd lost my appreciation for the country that got under my skin so many years ago. And this time around, I found it.

I had a few days alone in Santo Domingo staying in a hotel in the most beautiful square of the city. Across a plaza from the first cathedral of the New World, adjacent to a park where men smoke cigars and women smile and pigeons put St. Mark's Square to shame. I read books and drank delicious strong but mellow coffee. I ate sandwiches with melted queso danes and borrowed a cigarette or two from German tourists who invited me to show them the real Santo Domingo. Done. We walked a few blocks and I showed them Ocho Puertas, the best bar in the world where I had the best conversations with the best people 10 short years ago.

Then, after some time of much needed solitude came the Zuber sisters. Neither had travelled to a developing country before. Italy or Australia, sure. But they had not been to a place where 40 men pile in the back of a pick-up truck or on top of a conversion van. Or where toddlers straddle their mamas and papas on motorcycles, helmetless. Just for example. Fortunately, both Zubers are outgoing, life-loving people who were ready to immerse completely. And, seeing them absorb and fall in love with Dominican culture was nostalgic and powerful for me. It reminded me of why I couldn't stay away from this place.

Upon their arrival, we headed to an all-inclusive resort half an hour from Santo Domingo. Not the best for cultural immersion you say? Au contraire. This particular place had no guests. Truly. There was a guy from Tampa, FL, a Canadian, a few missionaries, and us. Oh yeah, and a bunch of fantastic Dominicans on the entertainment staff. By nightfall our first night there, Brianna and Kelsey had mastered the basic Bachata steps, and within 24 hours had discovered how charming Dominican people can be. Friday and Saturday night wealthy Dominicans flooded the place and showed off their incredible Bachata technique, but we had already sealed ourselves in the hearts of the entertainment staff (equipo de animacion.)

The entertainment staff/ animation team was a group of folks there for the express purpose of making sure were, uh, animated. Having fun. And they also became our good friends. There were late night conversations over Presidente and Santo Libres about love and life and children and immigration and happiness peppered by Bob Marley, Akon, and of course, Aventura and Prince Royce. There was dancing until our shirts were soaked with perspiration. Because in the DR, you seal most everything with a dance.

On Saturday night, when the hotel discoteca closed at 2 a.m., there was much more fun to be had, so at the invitation of our animation team, we headed to Chocolate Bar, an open-air bar that showed equal appreciation for the Black eyed Peas and Antony Santos. There were men on motorcycles in the street outside the bar just as much a part of the scene as the folks inside the bar. There were Dominicans, Americans, Canadians, Haitians, and whoknowswhatelse. Every single person in that place was full of life. Most drunk, a few not, but all in motion. All feeling the beat. All in celebration. It was a place of no tears, no maudlin; only upbeat, only optimistic, perfectly Dominican.

A few of the animation team wondered aloud during our stay at the Talanquera Resort how I could have green eyes and be Dominican. No, no, I'm not Dominican. Just lived here for awhile. But you speak Dominican and dance Dominican. It's true, but I'd forgotten. And it was about time for me to remember.

On the last night we were in the DR, Johan was with us and our new dear friend Fosforito told me that you can tell by the way Johan stands, by the way that he walks, and the look in his eyes that he's Dominican. I suppose there's no denying that.

And the best part is that Johan's mama finally remembered all the wonderful pieces of the DR. I'm not sure when or how I forgot. But I need to make sure not to do that again. This little boy is apparently so Dominican that you can see it in his stance and before long, he will have perfected the Bachata step and put Prince Royce to shame. And we will go there every year and be reminded of the magical place it is, full of happiness and optimism. And even when we are not there, by the look in our eyes, you will know that we are.

And, well, if you're still reading this, you must care quite a lot about how I feel about the DR. So, you should probably come with us on our next adventure. Who's in?