Photo Album: DR

Hey everyone!
Click on the link below to see all the pictures from my week in the Dominican Republic...

RTW2012 PHOTO ALBUM: Domincan Republic

Lessons from the mountaintop...

The entrance to Rancho Wendy

Just got dropped off at the bus terminal.  They've sat 4 adults in a space built for 3 so I've got only half a cheek on my seat, the rest of my body weight pressing dangerously against the side door of the van, my backpack strapped against the back of the passenger seat by the seatbelt in front of me and I feel like crying.  Not because I'm uncomfortable but because I am filled with emotion.  Rancho Wendy showed me so much about both the beauty and difficulty of travel.  This place was exactly what I was looking for: off the beaten path, astounding natural beauty, real people living their lives, no American -heck- no tourist for miles.  I have traveled to places like this before.  I yearn for these types of experiences.  

Rancho Wendy also made me acutely aware of "privilege".  Noone was anything but welcoming and kind; still at times, I felt like the rich white girl trying to "hang" with the locals.  At a place like Rancho Wendy It's easy to forget you are basically at a hotel.  It's hard to separate friendliness from business when you are essentially living, sleeping and eating in someone's modest home.  When I arrived, Ramona, the owner, greeted me warmly; thankful that my Spanish was good enough to understand & be understood.  She offered me a coffee.  We sat at the dining room table drinking coffee & chatting.  Then her sister and nieces and nephews arrived.  Everyone moved outside.  Sitting in the yard, kids running around, the glorious green mountains surrounding us; I felt at home.  Then it hit me.  Los Quemadas was the Latin Doppleganger of Chuisano San Domenico; my family's hometown in Italy and the place I spent many a wonderful summer growing up.  The language, the food, the characters may have been different but the movement and feeling was distinctly familiar.  I got comfortable there real quick, which is why I did not hesitate when Tinga asked if I wanted to take a ride with him on his motor scooter.  

After a morning of hiking throughout the valley with my guide Carlos, I was spending the afternoon uploading and organizing my photos when Tinga arrived.  The three of us, Carlos, Tinga and I, sat around the computer as I shared with them pictures from my earlier travels in Cabarete, the beaches of the Turks & Caicos and finally pictures of Chuisano; which I told them reminded me very much of Los Quemados. 

"If you like the mountains and like to take beautiful pictures, I know a place very close to here.  I can take you on my motor if you like."  

It was late, nearly 5 in the afternoon.  

"I don't know.  Maybe tomorrow." I replied, " How long does it take?"

"Today, tomorrow if you want.  It's only a half hour there and back."

"Oh, ok then.  Let's go."

Tinga went for his scooter and then took me on the road and up the mountain.  We stopped every so often at a clearing so that I could take advantage of the photo op.  He chatted to me about a tourist who had been here years ago who became his girlfriend for 3 years and about his work in Santo Domingo and that he would be going back there in the morning.  I wondered on the way back if I should give him some money for gas.  After all, it had been a lovely & unexpected offer.  We got back and I thanked Tinga for the ride but not before getting his email address so I could send him some photos from our ride.  He disappeared and only later that evening did I remember I had not offered him any money to cover his gas costs. 

The next morning Ramona came up to me at breakfast and timidly asked if I had enjoyed my ride in the mountains the day before.  "Yes, very much"; I replied.  She then went on to tell me that Tinga had asked her to get my "payment"  from me for the ride and also explained to me that while Tinga had been employed as a Rancho Wendy guide in the past; he  no longer worked for them.  

I felt of surge of hot anger.  Tinga had never, not before or after our ride, asked or spoke to me about payment.  His proposal was nonchalant & friendly.  He was sneaky, making me feel like he was offering me a ride when he was actually booking a private tour!  

I felt a wave of guilt.  How stupid could I be? Of course he wanted compensation.  He had done something nice for me and I hadn't even offered anything in exchange.  I should have at least given him something for gas.  Here I am flaunting my digital camera and my laptop computer and I don't even give a poor Dominican kid a cent for taking time out to show me the countryside.

Then again, It's not very honest or sincere or kind to not be upfront about what is going on.  If you expect payment for something you should 1. be direct and ask for it before you provide your service and 2. don't disappear without a word and make someone else do the dirty work for you.  

My mind was spinning.  I was right…about both things.  Vasillating between anger and guilt, I wanted to find a comfortable space, a specific black or white answer as to how I should feel.  But reality lives in shades of grey and for the rest of my time in the Dominican I felt those opposing forces playing with my thoughts.  A day later, in the middle of a grueling hike, sitting in a little shack, where a local family offered some respite from the sun I pulled out my "sandwich", a hotdog bun with 2 crusty orange pieces of cheese barely filling 2/3rds of the bun's surface and chugged my bottled water.  I suddenly felt like I was eating steak & lobster in the middle of a homeless shelter.  I offered some of the remaining cheese and buns which were gratefully accepted but that did little to quell the uncomfortable knot in my stomach.  Or sitting here, now, in this cramped mini-van that passes for a bus, the bright red $100 backpack stuffed to the gills in front of me might as well be emblazoned with the familiar & stylish LV's of a Louis Vuitton luggage set.  

I don't know what the answers are.  I'm sure there are days I will feel like a poor vagabond traveler and those where my meager belongings will seem like an embarrassment of riches.  I set off with the egocentric goal of "figuring myself out" but I am also a person in the world, interacting with the world and the world is not gonna just sit quietly and be a background player to my turn as star of this journey.

my room at Rancho Wendy

Ramona fixing one of her delicious "cafecitos"

Tinga *aka* Jose Antonio

The beautiful mountain view....and me!

On the road in La Repubblica Dominicana

Traveling on the cheap is a practice in patience. I write this while waiting for a little shack to open up so that I can figure out if, when & how I will get to the lodge i am supposed to arrive at this afternoon. Rancho Wendy had a pretty professional looking website; written in proper English; with detailed directions on how to reach from all major city centers in the Dominican. And yet, the guy behind the counter keeps insisting that none of the Caribe Tours bus lines stop at my destination. Thankfully, he offers an alternative-Transporto del Cibao; which is actually little more than a piece of plywood sticking out of a doorway...oh & they don't open until noon and it's 10:15. Much of travel is waiting. My entire day so far was waiting. Woke up, got ready. Waited for the other girls to wake; waited for breakfast; waited for my taxi; waited for my turn at the counter and now waiting for the next office to open. Most of life is spent that way and not just on the small things. As kids we wait to grow up and as adults we wait for those accomplishments that we yearn for: job, house, marriage, kids. Ultimately we grow old and wait some more for our final destination; whatever we believe that do be. What happens in between the destinations is the meaty part of living. We always feel like we need to be doing. So we listen to music, read a book, write a blog post; anything to keep us from just existing in a place with no purpose outside of waiting; of just being in a moment. The simplest thing- Do nothing. Just be here.-is the biggest challenge in life. But this trip is about meeting those challenges. So I will log off and just be and experience the heat that threatens to overwhelm me; the creeping anxiety of not knowing exactly what I'm doing; the nervousness of being alone in a foreign place and the thrill of feeling that spark of adventure.

Below: The bus "office"in Santiago; in the bus-chickens in a pillowcase; mosaic street art in Santiago,sun setting over the mountains at Rancho Wendy.

Limits vs. Limitations

We are all just bumbling around trying to get love from and be loved by those around us.  It's all positively tragic because if we just loved ourselves the rest might just fall into place.  

Today was road trip day to the Blue Lagoon.  Like many trips it was far from direct.  1st stop was a sad little "zoo" where a couple of 10 year old Dominican boys helped us hold a rattlesnake; a baby hawk with 1 great majestic wing and 1 shrunken clipped wing; and poked at a crocodile in a cement cell until it snapped and showed us its teeth.  The day was not looking promising.  Then it was off to a wonderful farm were we sucked on cacao seeds, guanabana & coconut straight from the tree and that was all before the fresh fruits with honey that was served as our breakfast.  My favorite was the banana sprinkled with a mixture of 80% fresh cocoa & 20 percent sugar.  Genius!  Moving forward, I am sprinkling this on all my fruit.  Then it was off to sample the coastal beauty of Playa Calleton & Playa Grande; then a waterfall where a line of lithe Dominican boys jumped off the sloping edge for tip money and then FINALLY to the Blue Lagoon.

Lest I forget I was on a mission of growth and not purely sight-seeing; the universe provided me with another chance to fight the fat girl fear I have been harboring for decades.  A zip line. Over the water. *gulp* .  I couldn't do it.  Again 1 by 1; the girls whooped as they hung for dear life from the makeshift zip-line (basically some handlebars rigged through a nylon cord) until they reached high above the center of the lagoon and let go into the cool fresh waters below.  The fear was real.  This time there was no safety net.  My mind was chock full of images of me unable to hold on and tumbling down; my body limply bouncing off the rocky edge until it met the water with a low thud...ya...I'm not doing that.

No worries.  There was another option.  A jump, off of a clearing, straight down.  No fuss, No rocky edge.  Just run into the air. I was scared.  I didn't want to do it.  I had to do it.  A big middle finger to the fear inside me.  My friend counting down behind me.  5...4... God it looked like a long way down...3...2... 

It wasn't like I had never done this before.  Some years back I had somehow managed to jump off a 25ft cliff at Rick's Cafe in Negril, Jamaica.  Again, with the help of the crowd counting down behind me.  Once was enough.  I had vowed, never again.  

Here I was...again.  The fear felt silly; surmountable.  I had to push past the limits of my fear.

...1...

I closed my eyes and felt the air rush around me.  a moment of stillness.  my heart in my throat. then...

SMACK!

My "culo" hitting the water.  I knew right away;  I was not coming out of this jump unscathed.  Still even as I felt my back seize up while navigating my way back to dry land; I felt victorious.  And then I remembered.  Years back in Negril, after my jump,  I had bruised my coccyx and couldn't sit properly for the next 6 weeks.  I had pushed past my limits and was ecstatic.  But I had also failed to recognize my limitations.  I'm just not a girl who can jump from great heights; at least not physically.  And that is OK.  The question is, how do you determine a limit that you must push past from a limitation or restriction whether physical or other?  Don't know if I have that one figured out yet.  Some lessons need more than one chance before sticking.  But today as I care for my bruised bottom and soaring ego, I can say with conviction this time...Never again.  

It's so hard to load photos from here but here I am with the baby hawk.  

Hoping to load more pics soon!

Wanting to fly...but scared to try

Childhood so fantastically screws each & every one of us...for life. Or so it seems. And for me the moments that come back &mess with me are not the the big ones..the epic highs or dramatic lows but quiet moments; seemingly insignificant moments that burrow into your psyche and unconsciously establish your sense of self. The presidential physical fitness challenge is one of those such moments haunts me to this day. For those who missed out on it, the presidential physical fitness challenge was a standardized fitness test they did at school that measured your developing strength, speed etc. It included things like sit-ups, push-ups and shuttle runs. Seems harmless enough.  
I must have been 12 or 13 years old.  The task looked unbelievably hard yet I watched as person after person stood before me readily holding the bar in front of them overhand grip, with elbows bent.  The challenge was to see how long you could hold yourself up in this pull-up position without letting your chin fall below the bar or dropping your arms.  I thought it looked hard.  Everyone was doing it for at least 30 seconds.  Maybe it wasn't that hard.  I was after Marissa Scopa; blond, bubbly, tiny, popular, a cheerleader.  She held on for over a minute and 30 seconds.  Everyone was impressed.  I was supposed to follow that performance; nerdy, chubby, weak, me.  I climbed up, held onto the bar and attempted my best flexed arm hang.  It didn't last very long.  Actually, it didn't last at  all.  To add insult to injury; Marissa (I'm-freaking-part-monkey) Scopa was holding the stop watch.  
 "um...what was that? 1 second"

The gym teacher allowed me a 2nd attempt.  I mustered all the mental & physical strength I had.  I was prepared now.  The 1st time didn't count.  I hadn't known what to expect.  I had wisdom on my side now.  But little else. Again, I dropped immediately...like an anchor.  And so my time was recorded, graciously, at 1 second.   

Although that moment was over 20 years ago; I felt the exact same way today when I encountered the flying trapeze at the Extreme Hotel in Cabarete.  Yup, Extreme Hotel; offering a skate park and circus grounds right next to the pool.  The girls I was traveling with were acquaintances at best.  We didn't hang in the same circle but had some of the same friends.  They had been nothing but nice and kind to me; allowing me to stay with them and become part of their group.  The guys working the trapeze had offered a free try to one of them.  So now, there was a chasm between us.  They were the Marissa Scopa's of the world and I was..well..I was still the 13 year old version of me.  I watched as they, one by one, put on the harness belt; climbed up the ladder; got in position and let go.  I watched as they each went flying through the air; holding onto the bar as they swung gracefully back & forth before dropping into the net below, walking to the edge and somersaulting over and out of the trapeze net.  It looked like a piece of cake when they did it.  I knew better.  Everyone thought I wasn't doing it because I was scared of heights but that wasn't  what I was scared of.  I was scared of being in yet another situation where I was the fat girl who couldn't do that thing everyone else did.     
 I am always acutely aware of being the biggest girl in the room.  That is how I see myself.  It happens immediately; automatically.  It doesn't seem negative.  It's just a objective ordered practice.  But it affects me negatively.  I boil my self worth down to a number on a scale.  And it always keeps me from doing things.  Taking my cover-up off at the beach or flirting with the guy at the bar or trying my hand at the flying trapeze.  This trip is supposed to be about trying to break free from those things that are keeping me down.  And the way I see myself in relation to others is not serving me at all.  There are so many other ways to see myself outside of pure body mass.  Why not compare intellect, or wit, or ability to stand on 1 leg?  Or how about not comparing at all?  How about just being?  Each one of us is forever destined to be larger or thinner than someone else; taller or shorter; smarter or dumber, but you are always going to be you in the world.  Why not connect instead of compare?  That's where the work is.  Who knows, I may revisit the trapeze elsewhere along my travels and the next time I will climb up, hold on and most importantly...let go.        
  

I've got a new name!

via/ˈvīə/

Traveling through (a place) en route to a destination

via (in Italian pronounced vee-ah)

 Way, street, road. e.g. Via Condotti.  

 Also means away. e. g. vai via go away

 Can be used as a command to mean go. via!

Thanks everyone for all of your helpful (& not so helpful) suggestions for the new incarnation of my blog.  As you can see I have decided on "Via Cristina".  It's the perfect word for me.  After all it's a word both in English & Italian; although originally made in Italy...just like me!  The above definitions speak for themselves.  I am most certainly on a route to a destination, albeit both the route and the destination are unclear to me at the point.    But I am traveling through...through the world, through this life, through my comfort zones hopefully. Maybe I'm not even searching for a destination but rather searching for the edge; pushing my own boundaries; moving toward a horizon that will open up to a new frontier.  No matter how far my travels, whether it be a neighboring island; like North Caicos, or across the other side of the world; like Hong Kong, I will still be home.  I will still be firmly living on Via Cristina.  And so with this new identity and spirit and focus it is time to set off and go!  

Via!

...Cristina :o)

The Caribbean Queen needs a new name

     I began this blog about 3 & a half years ago first and foremost as a means to keep in touch with my friends but also to keep perspective as I transitioned from the "urban jungle" to the "island life".  As with most things, I started with excitement and passion; certain that this would become an intimate online chronicle of my new life.  The reality was a tad different.  I quickly found that facebook was a much simpler and less involved way of keeping in touch with people.  It's much easier to post a status update that simply says "poo! :(" rather than to coherently try and explain in prose why your day sucked.  And so the blog quickly faltered.  
     Now I find myself at a similar juncture; moving from "island life" to "professional vagabond"; traveling the world on a journey that I hope will be as much about experiencing the new places around me as it will be about discovering the frontiers within.   
    Change is good and the next 6 months of my life is going to be all about it.  Changing places, countries, culture, people.  Changing planes, trains, buses, cars, ferries.  Changing clothes, schedules, thoughts, goals.  Changing perspective.  And so it seems only fitting that the name of this blog change with it.  I will no longer be a caribbean queen but a gypsy traveler; a child of the world.   Following is what I have come up with so far.  Let me know what you think or suggest your own name.  What should I call the new incarnation of my blog?


Travel...in
Wanderings within
Sightseeker
Soul Drifter

Reverb11 Day 31 Fiesta (celebration)

What are you celebrating today? What will you celebrate in 2012?

Today I am celebrating making it through this month of blogging.  I may not have always been timely but there is always a festive mood when you complete a goal.  I put myself out there in a way I have not in quite some time.  This project of writing and publishing my thoughts and hopes and fears about the year that has passed and the one that has yet to arrive; it was emotional.  It's one thing to look back and reflect or to look forward and set goals; it's another to share it & I have tried to do so honestly.  Sometimes I edited but sometimes I hit publish before I had to time to think it.  
I'm celebrating getting through the tough times this year.  I'm celebrating the highs.  I'm celebrating the fruition of some things that I have been working on for a long time.  I'm celebrating my growth and celebrating my failures too.  What will I celebrate in 2012?  God, who knows!  I don't know that I could have predicted the twists and turns of this year in Dec. 2010 so I am wise enough not to make predictions now.  I only hope that I keep turning my attention to those things which bring me joy and continue to part with those things that are no longer useful to me.

Reverb11 Day 30 Karuna (Compassion)

Here at Yoga Freedom, our motto is “compassion + action.” What compassionate actions do you aspire to in the coming twelve months?

Whenever you start exploring spirituality, whatever path you choose, compassion always appears as a central tenet.  The yogic path is no exception, speaking of compassion regularly.  I have been thinking a lot about it lately; having compassion for myself and others.  I have found that when I struggle with my life instead of accepting what is, I become quick to judge and harbor resentment; first for others and then I start feeling bad about that and turn that judgement inward.  Whether it is snapping at an incompetent waitress or shutting down at work or purposely ignoring someone who is trying to reach out to me, it becomes a vicious cycle.  One that serves to separate me from the world around me rather than connect me to it.  And that is an integral component of compassion.  It connects you to those around you by not only recognizing their experience but spurring action.  You see when you have compassion, it is not enough to simply to understand or sympathize with someone else's suffering but to foster a desire to alleviate it.  
My desire is to have compassion be a focus of my life in 2012.  And as with everything, I will start with myself and try to have compassion when I encounter my perceived shortcomings.  If I can give myself a break when I make an error or hurt someone else, then I will be better able to extend that same break to someone else.  The biggest hurdle is to have compassion for someone who is causing you pain or has hurt you in the past.  I recently learned about "non-violent communication".  The guy who invented it Marshall B. Rosenberg, is kind of amazing.  Listening to him speak was a life changer.  He has gone into war-torn countries, fortune 500 companies and tribal communities and diffused situations by just using loving compassionate words.  He said something that struck me.  
"All perceived insults and criticisms are just a tragic expression of an unmet need."  Isn't that beautiful?  When you truly sit with it and have that has a core belief, you can start to see all negativity as cries for help and from that place, compassion can arise.  I'm certainly no expert.  Not even close.  But maybe in 2012 I will only ever try to hear "please" when negative people or situations enter my world and try to respond with "how can I help".

Reverb11 Day 29 Poesia (poetry)

Write a poem. It doesn’t have to rhyme.

"Write a poem it doesn't have to rhyme
Write a song it doesn't have to be in time
All it takes is a moment of stillness
A moment of realness
To look inside and see beyond
Sing from your heart 
Write from your wisdom
Share from your soul
Let love be your anthem"

Reverb11 DAY 28 Agradecimiento (Gratitude)

What eleven things were you most grateful for in 2011?


1. My friends- both old & new who showed up for me when I needed.
2. My parents- it's been a long road but 2011 was a new chapter for us.
3. A working healthy body- I am often negative about my body but it works and it has   taken me to great places and I know it has not even reached it's full potential.
4. The sky in Provo- the sunrises, sunsets, starlight, the billowy clouds.  
5. My work- as much as I bitch I have gainful & steady employment at a time when many are not as lucky.
6. Music.  
7.  My Dog...he may no longer be with me but he helped me through some lonely times and shared some happy ones.
8. The perks of my job, like free core fusion/yoga classes.
9. The ability to travel.
10. Recognizing I have lots of love in my life.
11. This life and the small growing recognition that I am connected to everything and everyone in it...

Reverb11 DAY 27 Metta (lovingkindness)

The metta mantras are: 

“May you be safe. May you be happy. May you be healthy. May you be free from suffering.”

a

To whom do you wish to send metta? (Don’t forget to send it to yourself, too!)

Thank you to everyone who has been reading this! I send mega-metta your way and to everyone who has crossed my path in 2011.  In thought, in word, in action, you have all had an effect on me...

mwah!

Reverb11 DAY 26th Seva (service)

How did you serve in 2011? Do you plan to volunteer in 2012?

When I was a kid a was always looking for opportunities to serve.  At church, I was an altar server.  At school I was in the key club; president of the key club to be exact.   In the community, I was a Girl Scout, always doing service projects.  I organized a Christmas Chorale concert with the members of an Elderly Day Care Center and won the highest award in scouting for it.  I gave blood, gave money, gave time.  I can't remember the last time I really did service for an organized group.  I always say, I want to, I'm going to and then the time passes.  The event is over, the goods have been collected, the money has been counted.  

I have so much...this is certainly something I should connect with again in 2012. 

Reverb11 DAY 25 Milagro (wonder)

Illustrate your own personal wonderland — real or imagined. What’s the weather like? Who else is there with you? Use vivid detail.

My own personal wonderland...well honestly it keeps changing.  Had you asked me at 21 when I first moved to New York City; I would have told you that it was the realization of my own personal wonderland.  Had you asked me a couple of years ago when I first moved down to the Caribbean; I would have told you that island life was my personal wonderland.  As 2011 winds down, when I think of what I would want in a personal wonderland; its changed yet again.  This year, more than ever, I found myself missing the seasons.  Not just the experience of the different weather but also how the change of seasons changes you.  My school days might be long over but fall always brings me back to those days when I was starting a new grade and thinking about my hopes for the new school year and planning my first day of school outfit.  As an adult, whenever I started feeling the crisp in the air, the leaves change, I still felt that giddyness.  I miss the cold sunny days of winter; the bustle of movement in the city as the holidays approach, hot chocolate with peppermint & whipped cream, sitting in a coffee shop as it snows outside.  I miss the optimism and freshness and cleaning of my inner and outer space that comes with the spring and the flowers and the gentle rains.  I know I am probably romanticizing it but..hey it's a wonderland!  My wonderland would be filled with the people who are far away from me, friends, family even those I have had a falling out with would be there.  My wonderland would be filled with abundance of food and books and music and art and anything that you could get creative with.  And I would work and serve and it would never seem labored.  And I would have time and energy for anything and everything I ever wanted to do...well that is definitely an imagined wonderland!

Reverb11 DAY 24 Regalo (gift)

What was the most cherished gift you received this year? What were the most thoughtful gifts you What was the most cherished gift you received this year? What were the most thoughtful gifts you gave?

a

For it is in giving that we receive. ~Saint Francis of Assisi

I gave myself the gift of time this year.  As I stated in a previous post, I have traditionally been a workhorse so the ability to take 5 weeks off this summer for myself was truly the greatest gift I was given.  And that was time well spent.  I feel the experience changed me or is changing me and when I look back I will see it as the first step in a new path, a changed direction in my life.  I was given other gifts special gifts this year, things and time and words that touched me.
I have always seen myself as a very giving person; always willing to give time, money, goods, services, whatever is needed whenever it is needed.  But this year I began to notice that my giving was not unconditional and that I secretly harbored a score card of when I did nice things for people and whether or not I was thanked or compensated in any other (non monetary) ways.  So that is going to be part of my work in 2012; to give freely and whole-heartedly.  

Lord, make me an channel of your peace.
Where there is hatred, let me sow love;
where there is injury,pardon;
where there is doubt, faith;
where there is despair, hope;
where there is darkness, light;
and where there is sadness, joy.

O Master, grant that I may never seek
so much to be consoled as to console;
to be understood as to understand;
to be loved as to love with all my soul.
For it is in giving that we receive;
it is in pardoning that we are pardoned;
and it is in dying that we are born to eternal life
                                                                         ~Prayer of Saint Francis of Assisi