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.