Memory/Memoria

This is my last entry from the Dominican Republic. All future transmissions will be from the United States.

I'm at Aeropuerto Las Americas, checked in, security cleared, and ready to board my flight to Philadelphia. I barely had time to marvel at the miracle of getting through immigration and security in 25 minutes, because I've never made it through airport bureaucracy so quickly. I suppose other countries roll differently with their air travel, because it took me damn near two hours to get through check-in, security, and other nonsense when I left SFO to come here.

Yesterday was my last full day in the Dominican Republic. I didn't do anything differently from a normal Saturday night. I didn't get sad and wax nostalgic for the country I'm leaving behind. I did start to remember home: the palm trees on the San Jose State campus, the weird green/blue carpet in my apartment, even the baseball stadium blankets I drape over my couch in my living room. I do think it's odd that I recollect images before people, at least right now.

When I came here in September I arrived in the dead of night. All I could see was the highway, street lamps, and darkness. It felt like it took a hundred years to get from the airport to my apartment in Distrito Nacional. This morning we drove along the coast and I watched the deep blue sea fly by. Thirty minutes later I was at the airport and I had to face that my adventure in the DR is over.

During the car ride I recalled my first days here. I remembered the first Saturday I was here, terrified and confused. My driver bought me breakfast and I told him my pastry was a pill. I remembered when I met Indhira, and when she took me around the city and out with her friends so I could see what it's really like to live here. I remembered all the people I met here and all the places I'd seen.

Before I got here, I thought of the Dominican Republic as a big black void in my mind. I had no idea what to expect and no way to form a mental picture. Now I can fill in the missing scenes with the memories I formed here. I can also answer the questions I had before I left: can I do this? How do I do it? What will I lose if I go? I answered to myself with a resounding yes, I can do this; just do it; and I lost the fear and uncertainty that held me back.

The adventure may be over, but the story is not. I have a few more journalism pieces to write and I want to write a prologue and a brief return to the US story.

I wasn't sentimental last week. Now I'm tearing up. Something about bearing my soul on the internet touches my heart.

Three months: values/Tres meces: valores

December flew by for me. That means I'm almost home. I'm in the library at UNIBE in between final exams right now, killing time by screwing around on the internet, which is my go-to activity domestically as well as internationally. I apologize for the gap between blog posts but rest assured that you didn't miss much between Thanksgiving and the last week of school for me.

The three month mark passed on December 2, a week ago. As with the previous milestone posts on my first and second month here, I chose an aspect of my journey to write about as I mark one of the final steps of my adventure in the Dominican Republic.

Since I've already beaten one literature concept into the ground, I'm going to steal another classic from one of my favorite narratives, the Wizard of Oz. The protagonists are all searching for heart, brains, courage, and a way to go home through the story, but each found they had their coveted qualities all along. You know all that. Here's the story of how I discovered each of those values in the Dominican Republic.

Dorothy met the scarecrow first and he said he wanted a brain. Once he got it, he spouted off equations and other boring nonsense. For me, the brains I wanted all along was the ability to speak Spanish fluidly. As everyone in the DR predicted, I am able to do that now...a week before I leave for the United States. It's true. Spanish has never been clearer or easier for me to understand. That doesn't mean I'm fluent. Not even close. But I have a grasp on the language enough to express what I want and to sort of follow what others want and I no longer break down in tears over misunderstands.

Then Dorothy met the Tin Woodsman, who is a lot like me in that we both have rusty old joints and shiny foreheads, but I do not dress is silver lamé. Give me about 40 years, and I might. My grandmother did. The Woodsman wanted a heart. This aspect was the hardest one for me to come by, because I'm famous for being closed off emotionally. Before I came here my career goals were to rule the world, one sports media outlet at a time. In my research I found all the good things baseball does in the DR, and I got a fantastic quote that I want to use for the non-fiction book I want to write: "mira que buena es la pelota," or, look how good baseball is. I gained compassion and concern for the young men who play baseball and can afford only one dream: to play ball in the United States. I want to work in development and management to give those young men the chance to dream about more: an education, a good life for their families, including a wife and children someday, and a life after baseball. If I deserve to dream of a future that includes those things, everyone does.

So that's how I found my heart. I had the capacity to love something so much it transcended my budding megalomania and turned into compassion. That picture I chose, with the little robot guy, represents me perfectly. His headphones are plugged into his heart and he's listening to what his heart says. I think all along I had the compassion and caring in my heart, but I just wasn't listening to it.

Courage is something I've never lacked. My former roommate, a great gal, once described me as a "freight train" when it came to getting the things I wanted. I decimate things that stand in my way. Courage in the domain one masters is easy. Having that same quality in a brand new place is a horse of a different color. (Come on, I had to go for the easy joke with the silly picture.) I had to double up on courage to come to the DR in the first place, and then follow through with the usual activities I mastered in my domain, this time in a different language, in a different culture, and with a totally different set of standards.

I knew that I had the courage to do these things all along. But there was another aspect to courage that I did not expect, nor did I define right away. No matter how brave a person is, that person can do very little without needing help from time to time. In the US, I'd rather disembowel myself than ask for a hand. Here, I am required to ask for help because I'm not the master of this domain. I found it wasn't a scary awful horrible thing to lean on another person from time to time. I found it was helpful to build bonds and relationships with people, thus boosting the heart factor, and it helps me to learn new skills, which is brain food. It helps a lot that most Dominicans here have been exceedingly kind and helpful to me and really made me feel at ease.

The Lion was the one who wanted courage and he was awarded it in the form of a medal. So far fellow posters on my usual sports blog haunts have been asking me "hey, how's the DR?" over the last few weeks and have been fascinated by my stories. Perhaps my medal of honor is the intrigue from my peers for traveling to foreign lands.

Dorothy herself just wanted to go home. Believe me, I'm there. I can't click my heels together, though. I have to wait until Sunday and crowd onto an overbooked flight (twice!) and bite my nails with worry over being detained at customs over the rum I'm bringing home. Unlike Dorothy, I am torn between two aspects of home. It's time for me to get back to my life in the US: work, school, friends, family, and Sam. But I've really come to love the Dominican Republic and I feel comfortable here. It's a place I would like to make my home someday and I get sad thinking of when I will see this beautiful country again. As I've mentioned a few times before here, I struggle a lot with a sense of place and belonging. I have trouble finding my place in the US, but I found my place quickly in the DR. The thought of leaving that domain behind, mastered or not, makes me sad and it makes me wonder what was so different about finding my place here versus questioning my place in the US. I think that will be the most challenging value for me to bring home.

The Wizard of Oz went on for several books. My life also has several volumes. This story is almost over but there are still a few chapters to write. We haven't yet reached the conclusion. Stayed tuned, my friends.

Feast/Banquete

Happy Thanksgiving, everyone! I just finished my over the top foodening at Il Cappuccino. Around this time, most of my beloved friends and family on the Best Coast are getting ready to sit down at their tables for their own foodenings. My dinner was so delicious I'm compelled to write about each course in detail, because I would do the same were I fixing and eating dinner in the US.

This is also the post where I try my hand at being a food writer. In case this sportswriting thing doesn't work out, I can turn to writing for Bon Appetit. It's awesome to get paid to write about sports if you're a huge fan like I am, so I gather it would be awesome to write about food for someone who loves to eat as much as I do.

Italian food is among my favorite cuisines of the world. Mexican, Japanese, and Caribbean foods are my other favorites. I rarely go out for a delicious Italian dinner, so I took advantage of the great Italian place down the road from me.

Vino: I have to start this portion by telling you that I'm not a wine connoisseur. I know red, white, rose, Pinot, Chardonnay...and that's about it. To tell you the truth I'm not even a big wine drinker, but I've come around on red wine here thanks to attending FUNGLODE to-dos where appetizers/wine are served. I make it a point to go to those to-dos, mostly for the free food and booze.

So I can't tell you exactly what was in my glass today, but it was a Pinot Noir and it was quite good.

Entrada: Carpaccio del atun (Tuna steak carpaccio)

I love tuna steaks and I love sushi so this is a natural win for my taste buds. It was served with a slight sprinkling of cracked black pepper. I appreciated the simple presentation because it allowed the flavor of the tuna to shine. I also love tuna for its very meaty and hearty texture. It's among the top of the fish varieties out there for its close qualities to cuts of poultry and beef.

Entree: Cannelloni con espinaca y queso ricotta (cannelloni with spinach and ricotta)

I went into this foodening really wanting a big-ass steak. Because really, what's better than a big-ass medium-rare steak? But then I saw the specials and one of them was the cannelloni. Pasta rules on its own and the only way to improve it is to stuff crap in it. I cook pasta at home often but I rarely go with stuffed/filled pastas because I can't make them from scratch and the frozen varieties are hit or miss.

The cannelloni came out smothered in cream sauce with a drizzle of tomato sauce over each tube. The filling was delightful and the sauce was especially delicious when sopped up with the two kinds of bread from the breadbasket--good crusty French bread, and focaccia baked with tomato on top.

I ate the whole damn breadbasket and I'd do it all over again if you put the bread in front of me.

Postre: Tiramisu y cafe con leche

Tiramisu is another one of those slam dunk dishes for me. It and creme brulee trump all other dessert options. Even chocolate. The tiramisu was absolutely lovely and delicious at Il Cappuccino. It was presented more like a layered cake: a thin layer of the coffee soaked ladyfingers, a thicker layer of the egg yolks/marscapone, and a liberal dusting of cocoa and cinnamon on top. The ladyfinger layer was more uniform that just stacking the cakes under the other stuff, like a real bottom layer of a cake. The middle layer of marscapone was creamy and refreshing, a necessity between the rich coffee soaked cake and the cinnamon/cocoa dust on top. I also detected rum in the cake, which tied the whole thing together.

The cafe con leche was the perfect balance to the variety of flavors in the tiramisu. If you ever find yourself in Latin America, do yourself a favor and drink as much coffee as you can. I love a good cup of unsweetened coffee with a rich dessert and following my tiramisu with a stiff cup of Dominican joe was perfection.

The service was lovely today. I got a waiter who was very interested in me and where I was from. He asked me how to say things in English--like what the English equivalent of "bon appetit" would be. Here they say "buen provecho" when serving your meal. I don't know what I would say to my dinner guests upon serving them other than "bon appetit" other than "enjoy your meal" which is what I told the waiter.

I did not pig out. Each dish I enjoyed wasn't enormous and it allowed me to finish each one and to savor them. I usually pig out on Thanksgiving. The turkey and the carbs (mashed potatoes and stuffing)  are the best part of the meal. By the end I'm too full for pumpkin pie. Come Christmas, I'll do the very same, complain about my searing stomachache, mainline Tums, and then eat my pie at midnight while watching Golden Girls episodes On Demand.

I very much enjoyed my non-traditional Thanksgiving and I hope all of you are enjoying yours, traditional and non-traditional alike.

Giving thanks/Dar agradecimiento

Most (if not all) of my readers are gearing up for Thanksgiving tomorrow. Let it be known that Thanksgiving is one of my favorite cold-weather holidays and one of the few things that gets me through the fall/winter months. I hate being cold and I hate being without baseball, but cooking a humongous meal  for my family and friends and chowing down with them takes a little of the pain away.

Here I am in a beautiful tropical country where it's warm and sunny and there's baseball the day before Turkey Day. That fact depressed me for weeks prior to the event. It sucks enough to be apart from your family and friends and to be all alone on any given day, but when it's one of the biggest deals of your home culture, it sucks even more.

That's right. Indhira went home to New York. Her time here was up about a week ago so here I am fending for myself for the next three weeks.

As I saw it, I had two options: one, continue to be depressed about being alone (not just for Thanksgiving, but for the duration of my time here), or two, make the best of my time here.

I chose the latter option.

My Thanksgiving plans involve me going to Plaza Lama, a supertienda (kinda like a big box store a la Target or Wal-Mart) and finish the rest of my holiday shopping. Tomorrow evening I'm going to Il Cappuccino, this delightful Italian place down the street from my apartment, where I will treat myself to a full Italian dinner: pasta, steak, bread, wine, and the most decadent dessert in the house.

The last time I went out for Thanksgiving dinner was right before my grandmother died. It was just the two of us and we went to Mimi's Cafe for their holiday turkey dinner. We ate, drank wine, and toasted to a year that sucked overall but it was okay because we had each other. It was one of the last good memories I have of my grandmother.

I can give thanks while I am here. Here are the things I appreciate about being in the Dominican Republic, and other things in my life:

The weather. I wake up with the sun streaming through the blinds onto my face every morning. The oppressive heat from September has cooled to a mellow, pleasant tropical warmth. Even the rain is charming. Sometimes it's soft and sometimes it pours like crazy and I love watching every minute of it from my balcony. After the rain everything smells fresh.

I value my time alone here. I need time to myself in any setting, to recharge my batteries and do my own thing, but I'm also happy to be alone here because it's forcing me to get out there and do things, which requires me to ask for help. I'm going out to eat more often and I'm going shopping tomorrow alone, things which would have terrified me when I first got here.

The people are lovely, in every sense of the word. From my English-speaking cab driver to my grocery boy to the InteRDom people to the security guards at my building, most of the people I've encountered here are helpful and kind. Whenever I felt alone or like an outsider in this culture, those people have endeavored to include me.

I love the culture here. Aside from the obvious things like music, dance, and fried food, I value that tomorrow and Friday aren't big ass deals like they are in the US. I get annoyed when everything is closed in the US for a holiday and I loathe the hype around Black Friday and Christmas shopping in general. I've seen far too many obnoxious ads for Black Friday and for jewelry stores on the American TV channels here and each one of them makes me want to throw up. I get to sidestep all of that here for the next few weeks. I can go shopping tomorrow, even!

I'm thankful for baseball. Everywhere. Everyone who plays it. Everyone who works in it.

I'm very thankful for my MacBook Pro. It's been my window to the world I left behind these three months here. I've been able to keep up with my friends, complete the work for my online class, and it's become my best friend here. It's just so very handy. I did a complete project for my online class, using solely my laptop: I shot and edited video, put together a PowerPoint presentation, edited photos for said PP, and slapped all three together using programs and software already included on the machine when I bought it--save for MS Office, which I got from my boyfriend. I love this thing.

I am thankful to have strong people behind me in the United States, people who loved me enough to encourage me to go on this adventure and people who love me enough to welcome me home from my adventure. I would not be here if it weren't for Sam, my roommate Phil, my best friend and surrogate sister Jenna, my advisors at San Jose State, my various bosses and coworkers and colleagues in sportswriting and at Santa Clara Swim Club, and I know I'm forgetting some people.

I am thankful for all the lessons I've learned here, about myself, about my two cultures, about Spanish, and about how I look at the world. I will never be the same person I was when I left the US and I really like the person I'm becoming.

I'm thankful that I can return home in 17 days, but I'm thankful for the time I have here. I'm thankful for the views of the sea from my balcony and the banana and coconut palms growing in my neighborhood. When I go home I know I'll see oak trees, gray skies, and concrete jungles. I'm enjoying the beauty of this country for as long as I can.

I am thankful for the culinary tricks I picked up here. I'm going to wow them back home with my slick Dominican cooking skills. Even though the only thing I can replicate to Dominican standards is tostones (fried plantains), I still make other Dominican dishes that are at least edible.

I am thankful for the credits I've earned here that will get me another semester closer to graduation at San Jose State and I am thankful for the future opportunities that will come thanks to what I've done here. One already has come--I was accepted into SJSU's Provost's Honors Seminar this spring, a class for the top 25 students at the school. It's by invite only and it will look great on my resume. Hopefully it will make my applications for grad school a slam dunk.

I wish all of you the best Thanksgiving with your family and friends, and don't get trampled if you do venture out on Black Friday.

Grocery boys/Los muchachos de comestibles

One of the best things about living in my apartment and my neighborhood is that I have a big kitchen and a grocery store within walking distance. I was really concerned about having a space where I could cook and a place where I could get food to cook. I love going out for meals, but after a while that takes a toll on your wallet and your figure. Plus, cooking centers me and I love making food, plus I get the fun of experimenting with Dominican recipes in my kitchen here, with the food resources to make it happen.

Is a trip to the grocery store all that different here as opposed to the United States? It depends on what your criteria is. In terms of what I shop for, what I buy, how much I buy, and where I buy it, there's not much difference. The grocery store I frequent is laid out exactly like every other grocery store I've been to in my life. I buy staples like beans, rice, meats, bread, fresh produce, herbs, spices, and oil. I buy yummy things I don't need like ice cream, sweets, and crackers. Fortunately staples are very reasonably priced here (for me, anyway) and I get a great exchange rate with the US dollar. I shop once a week and I buy enough stuff to cook meals for a week, plus stuff for breakfast, and I replenish any staples that are running low, plus things like cleaning supplies and toiletries as needed.

As for the variety of things I buy, I've found some cool options here. I found these amazing six grain rolls that are delicious with Nutella. That plus a glass of Tropicana OJ (lots of pulp) is my usual breakfast. Yogurt flavors here come in dulce de leche, guava, and chinola (passionfruit). Beans galore. GALORE! Black, red, pink, white, pigeon peas. I love beans so this is outstanding. Naturally the selection of fresh produce differs here, and most of it is dirt cheap. I love fruits and vegetables so I love this. The avocados here are three times the size of the Haas avocados in the US and they cost about 17 pesos a piece. We're talking 50 cents for an avocado that can feed three people. That's the dream, right there.

Also, items tend to be referred to as their brand or product names. Diapers aren't called such here. They're "pamper." Want matches? Ask for "fosforo." The brand of matches.

So I buy my groceries once a week, usually on Saturdays after school, or Sunday mornings if I'm feeling extremely lazy. I shop with the idea of what I want to cook in mind--no different from my plan of attack in the US. I've taken to buying split bone-in chicken breasts because it saves me at least 150 pesos and I'm a pro at deboning meat. I buy a lot of sweet peppers and onions and tomatoes and I make a lot of stewed dishes.

It's easy to take care of your business at the grocery store, too. My grocery store has a Viva payment kiosk. Viva is my cell phone provider here and I can add minutes to my phone there. It also has a photo center and you can buy cigars there, too.

Shopping and buying the groceries is only half the battle. You have to get your groceries home, too.

I live in downtown San Jose and I'm within walking distance of everything. I walk a few city blocks to the grocery store. But as you know, it's hard to get a lot of groceries home without a car. I usually recruit my boyfriend to help on grocery runs and we use this rolling cube cart thing he has. It's not very big, but we've managed to cram a lot of stuff in there using creative methods.

Here however, I have no cube and no car. The first time I went to the grocery store without a ride I wasn't sure how to get my stuff home. Indhira told me the guys who bag the groceries will push the cart to your home--for a tip, and provided that your destination is within a reasonable distance to the grocery store.

Enter the grocery boys. Most of them are young (18-20) and very attractive. It's quite satisfactory to have a cute boy schlep your stuff around.

Relax. I only look. I don't touch. I'm too old for these children, anyway.

These grocery boys have a dangerous job when they carry my groceries home. The grocery store is on one of the busiest streets in Distrito Nacional and the sidewalk has been torn up since I got here due to construction projects. The grocery boys have to walk in the street, with traffic, because the sidewalks are either blocked off or so rocky/uneven that the cart wheels won't go over them.

More than a few times, grocery boys have recklessly pushed the cart into traffic. One of them ran with the cart then rode it. I would have felt awfully guilty if he died a horrible splattery death because he was carrying my groceries home.

Last week I ended up with a grocery boy who speaks English! He goes to La Universidad Autonoma de Santo Domingo (the public university) and works two jobs, at the grocery store and at a hotel. He's learning English at UASD and he speaks very well. Now he insists on carrying my groceries home every time I shop there. We practice our languages together. He told me (in English) that he's studying engineering at UASD and he wants to go to school because he lives in a bad neighborhood and he wants something better for himself. As a working student myself, I sympathize.

Plus he's the cutest of all the grocery boys. Shut it. I'm allowed to enjoy the company of men. A little bit.

It's definitely different shopping here. In the US, once you pay for your shit, you're pushed out the door. Here, the typical Dominican quality of accommodating and helping people extends to the poor confused American who shows up once a week to drop a few thousand pesos on groceries.

Travelogue/Sobre viajes

I took some trips over the last several weeks and I realized I did a great disservice to my blog by not posting pictures or writing about my adventures.

I'll condense them for you by posting links to my photo albums and providing brief descriptions of my travels.

In early October I went to the beach at Boca Chica with my roommate and her friends. Boca Chica is east of Santo Domingo. There aren't any suitable beaches in Santo Domingo, so you have to go east for the best ones.

I took the pictures from this set at different intervals of the day, from afternoon to sunset. I was told that this beach was "ghetto" compared to the resort beaches in the DR. I was still in love with the sky, the sea, and the sand. Seriously this water was WARM and clear and gorgeous.

The rest of the photos are here: http://www.facebook.com/media/set/?set=a.10150314886931373.337181.731621372&type=1&l=eb2c2fdb6d

The next trip I went on was an excursion with my history class to the ruins of a colonial sugar plantation and the Columbus Lighthouse.

The ruins of Engombe was a fun trip to a natural protected area not too far from Santo Domingo. The ruins included the sugar mill, the main house, the slave quarters, and the chapel.

The rest of this first set is here: http://www.facebook.com/media/set/?set=a.10150331387681373.340547.731621372&type=1&l=cdb6ad361a


Then we went to the Columbus Lighthouse, a massive museum near the Colonial Zone that celebrates Christopher Columbus' voyage to the Americas and the history, culture, and contributions of each country in the Americas. There's a ton of stuff to see there, so I'll let you read the captions on each photo.

The rest of the photos from that set are here: http://www.facebook.com/media/set/?set=a.10150331471121373.340556.731621372&type=1&l=cabf035ae8

Towards the end of October I went on a boat trip to Rio Chavon and Isla Saona. Saona is an island off the southeastern coast of the DR and is a frequent stop for tourists. It is the pristine and gorgeous tropical paradise that comes to mind when thinking of the Caribbean. We also voyaged on the river and saw cool and wild stuff. It was the best parts of the DR, the untamed and natural beauty of the country.

Lots of photos are in this set: http://www.facebook.com/media/set/?set=a.10150334868421373.341244.731621372&type=1&l=d958263b95

The next trip was a voyage to the north, to the second largest city in the country: Santiago. First we visited the Hermanas Mirabal Museum. I mentioned the sisters before here.

I met Dede Mirabal! She's the only surviving sister and she still lives in the house where the sisters lived. She's the coolest woman ever. I'm on the far left, in case you care.

We also went to Centro Leon, which unfortunately didn't allow cameras, and we went to my internship coordinator's family home in Santiago.

I met my internship coordinator's dad, who is the coolest dad ever. He grabbed a machete and led us to his plot of platano trees, where he cut off a branch of platanos for us and pulled up a yuca plant like it was nothing.

The rest of the pictures are here: http://www.facebook.com/media/set/?set=a.10150340230816373.342310.731621372&type=1&l=a2e6edaa80

Last week we went to the east again, this time to La Romana and San Pedro de Macoris. Unfortunately the trip was kind of a flop. The cave we visited with cool Taino paintings didn't allow cameras. And we didn't get into Altos de Chavon because the security guard or whatever wouldn't let our car through the gate.

So our tour guide took us to San Pedro de Macoris and we saw some of the city's oldest sights. Like the first firehouse in the country.

And the symbols of the town in the middle of the city: the railroad, the sugar plantation workers, baseball players, and crabs.

And a quick trip to Baseball City, where several MLB teams have their Dominican academies.

All this and more, here: http://www.facebook.com/media/set/?set=a.10150354896646373.345487.731621372&type=1&l=9e7301c2d5

My most recent trip, yesterday in San Francisco de Macoris, was to a cacao plantation. We toured the cacao tree groves, followed the process from harvest to chocolate bar processing, watched them make chocolate in both the old fashioned way and the mechanized way, and ate chocolate.

Cacao pods! Not what you expected? Not what I expected either.

We went for lunch at a delightful place in town, where Christmas came early.

The rest of Sunday's pics are here: http://www.facebook.com/media/set/?set=a.10150359310251373.346103.731621372&type=1&l=d4778c4f90

That's the extent of my travels in the DR. No other trips have been scheduled. And now we are caught up. I hope you enjoy my pictures as much as I enjoyed taking them.

Some things don't change/Algunas cosas no cambian

I visited CDN's studios in Santo Domingo this morning. CDN's motto is "the national leader in news." I don't have enough information to confirm or deny that, but I learned that CDN has exclusive rights to broadcast Major League Baseball and the Dominican Winter League games in the Dominican Republic.

I met Ambiorix Vidal, the sports producer of the network. He's very young (mid 20s, and I am very old) and a former ballplayer, and when he spoke to me of his station's mission for baseball broadcast he smiled from ear to ear. That's why I came here--to find others who understand why baseball is so beautiful.

The details of my interview with Sr. Vidal are coming up in a future article. He showed me around the CDN studios. Our tour took me back nearly 10 years, to my first year in college and my first professional aspirations in broadcast journalism.

I got to see CDN's main television sets. Studio A has setups for four desk sets, plus a green screen and a few panels for sports broadcasts. It's not the largest or most advanced set in Santo Domingo, but it has everything necessary to produce a news broadcast. They have HD cameras and their typical news broadcast uses a two-camera setup, different from the three-camera set up I was trained on back in the day.

There's also a studio for programs broadcast on CDN2, geared for women and children, and a separate studio for cooking shows. We got to watch a bit of a live cooking show broadcast in progress. We also saw the editing rooms, the control room, and the radio studios. CDN produces radio and El Caribe, a newspaper in Santo Domingo.

When I started college I was a broadcast major and I was hellbent on being the very best sports announcer there ever was. Deep down, I also wanted to be a news anchor. I met one of the anchors for CDN's news program and was reminded of why I never could have been an anchor. She was tall and gorgeous with flawless cheekbones. Now, I have some damn good bone structure too, but next to this Dominican beauty I felt like Frumpy McStumperson, all fat and squat and awkward. They don't put flops like that on the TV.

But then I remembered the real reasons why I got out of the broadcasting game. Things really haven't changed all that much in how news is produced. The major changes have to do with the switch to digital broadcasting and HD--soon to be 3D, which I'm sorry, is gimmicky as a mother and annoying for people who wear glasses to see. I HATE those tacky 3D glasses and using them every time I want to watch TV? The hell with that noise--and non-linear editing, i.e., editing via computer programs instead of physically manipulating the videotape. I started out right as the industry straddled the line between linear and non-linear editing and I was taught how to edit videotape as well as via computer programs, like Final Cut Pro.

All that means is that I could get back into the game after a few crash courses in shooting, editing, and producing video. The question is not if I could do it. The question is if I want to, and the answer is a big fat resounding NO.

Basically in broadcasting, a few people do all the work while everyone stands around watching you do it. In my production classes, I ran the board in the control room. I ran the sound board. I ran video tape. I was floor manager. I was on camera. I did everything while the other nosepickers stood around doing nothing. It was enough to throw my headset at them.

Plus half the classes were girls and you can guess their motivation for a BS in broadcast journalism: "I want to be on TV! Tee-hee!" After a while, the women who were serious about production defected. One really smart girl who had a lot on the ball and who produced solid news reports just up and left in the middle of the semester because she was tired of the bubbleheads who didn't actually do a damn thing but always were on camera because their only talent was to sit there and look pretty.

Those frustrations pushed me pretty close to the edge, but I eventually found that I enjoyed the writing side of things more than the production side. I gave script writing a try, both film and broadcast news, and I didn't care for it as much as I thought I would. By the time I was completely exhausted with broadcasting, I was offered some opportunities to write about sports on the internet--back when that was still a novel concept--and that took its own course.

I enjoy the interviewing process a lot. Sometimes I think having my own newsmagazine program a la Anderson Cooper, with interviews and stuff, would be great. I love learning new things about people, places, and events, and I love to hear the stories that come out of my questions. I get a deep sense of satisfaction from turning the interviews into articles which introduce previously untold stories. At the end of the day, I'm a much better writer than a speaker and I flourish when I write.

My visit to CDN was still a valuable and fun experience. I got to relive a time in my life that I rarely give any consideration to, and I got to see that I made the right choice after all. Those are the best moments.