Exasperation

Underneath the mess that is his brain,
Lies increased agony, fervently pained,
A disappointment lurks that's quite bombastic,
Repression is key for his mind's elastic,


He convinces himself the course is fair,
The weather lovely, eager to share,
The wisdom from the books he's read,
Indoctrinated like a Wizard's head,


The delf exposes a doughty side,
For it's strenuous to persistently hide,
The loathing he feels for his name,
Eliciting more than muddled shame,


The results he seeks - surmised perfection,
Annoyed he can't emancipate evil's reflection,
Although evil (in this sense) in a staged light,
Atypical from the normal blight,


Why is it he expects so much?,
Meaningful work, heroics, angelic touch,
For he wants held these in his grasp,
Expunged much effort to get them back,


Now frustrated by his defeats,
Even the mightiest - pathetically weak,
Ingrained in his head to strive further,
Retreat back in solemn demure,

It can be summed up in a few words,
Missed chances, impotence, forever lurk,
His manifest destiny's the greatest ever,
Unfortunately he remains disenchanted forever

Brother in Town...

Dylan, my 18 year-old brother, flew into Dulles airport yesterday from London. He spent approximately six weeks traveling through Europe. He has a multitude of crazy and entertaining stories to share. He took the trip as a cultural learning experience with his friend Alex. They both graduated high school a few weeks before embarking on their journey.

On his way back to Durango, Colorado (he'll be attending CU Boulder in the fall) Dylan decided to spend some time with his older brother (me!!!) in DC. It's great to play host.

Dylan is a wonderful brother. He's supportive, he listens, he looks up to me and is never demanding. He's smart, attractive, and athletic. He loves people. And he's fiercely loyal to those he's close to. Dylan is definitely the calmest and most appeasing (along with my Mother) in my family. For example, yesterday I caught him sitting on the floor in my apartment, so I asked him, "Why sit on the floor, I have chairs?"

He shrugged. He didn't mind. He's easy going. He has yet to find anything that pulls at his heart's strings. His passion. I'm hoping during the next couple years he'll mold himself into a more passionate person. I'm confident in his abilities and have faith in his progress.

So if the posts are slow, blame it on him ;). Also, am looking to post some photos of his visit with me, so stay tuned. We're going to 6 Flags on Saturday.

Meeting Cpl. Bateman

Last night was the sixth class (of ten) in my course with Professor Colman McCarthy. He was accompanied by a guest named Chantelle Bateman. Chantelle is a Marine who served in Iraq. After ingratiating herself with ROTC since her freshman year of high school, she dreamed of a 'higher calling.' Enamored by a television character from "A Different World," she glamorized the prospect of serving her country.

Plus, she wanted a way to help subsidize college.

So she enlisted in the Marine Corps and within a calendar year, was deployed to Iraq. However, during her tribulations in boot camp and on the wire, she became deeper and deeper dismayed by her decision. At the same time she began reading a phenomenal book by John Perkins called, "Confessions of an Economic Hit Man." - see hyperlink. This served as an impetus to her disassociation with United States military operations.

During our class, she gave an interlude of her background followed by an extensive Q&A. She spoke of being misled by recruiters, the sexual harassment she faced from fellow Americans, the complete destruction of her psyche in boot camp, etc...

She became increasingly agitated during her time abroad, listening to racial slurs huffed toward Muslims (by US troops) and asked her comrades if they'd call African-American's niggers if they were fighting in Africa (Bateman is African-American). She asked us to imagine what our worst fears were and have them magnified and persistent. Like rampant conflagration, a living hell.

She needed a way out.

When she returned to the US she was amazed and insulted by the lack of support from the VA. The acclimation process into everyday life proved more difficult than she imagined. She relapsed at times into the darkness she encountered in Iraq.

Fortunately, she got her feet set firmly on the ground and began working for IVAW (Iraq Veterans Against the War). Bateman now works tirelessly fighting US occupations abroad and is involved locally as well.

This course is perplexedly elementary, yet revelatory at the same time. The concepts of peace and non-violence seem so obviously true and righteous. Yet rarely, if ever, do most people take the time to confirm that notion or practice it. It reminds me of philosophy.

A clever philosopher can convince you thoroughly as soon as you accept her initial axiom. From then on, she's earned the leverage to persuade in one way or another. And you will be left gullible and vulnerable.

Therefore, challenge the principles of war. The righteousness of the death penalty. The traditions of carnivorous consumption. If ever something becomes non-negotiable, it requires not less analysis, but more.

Movie Review...

My Uncle Harold will belittle you until he's blue in the face. He'll ridicule your pitiable education and deductive skills without a drop of remorse. For, you are what you eat - you get what you deserve. He demands you matriculate in a field where one can be knowledgeable of something, anything. For then, you may be equipped with enough marginal information to engage him in conversation.

That is, without constant lambaste and scoffing laughter. After all, this is the man who once said he knew, 'Everything about everything.'

In comes Boris. Boris is the protagonist (gosh, that's ill-fitting) of the new film, 'Whatever Works' by Woody Allen. Like many of Allen's films, the audience's annoyance comes from the inherent flaws of his characters. Especially when his films center around people so deplorable. Intended of course.

Yet even the sourest of lemons can be used for lemonade.

'Whatever Works' is the story of happenstance and reluctant transformation. From repressed agony to indulgent hedonism Allen's characters charade their inner selves for years. Not until circumstance and hysterical epiphanies do the characters awake from their stupor and embrace their individuality.

And boy are they individuals.

This film teaches a story that it's better late than never. It carries the Shakespearean weight of
chance and fate. Each one of us has moments of uttermost failure, collapse, insignificance or even blatant hurt in our lives. What to make of these trying times? Why continue at all?

Ever extricate yourself (from yourself) and analyze how you got where you are? More succinctly, ask how the people you surround yourself with got to be such an integral part of your life's cast? It's incredible. Maybe you met your lover from a former lover who now hates you both. Maybe your best friend used to be an arch nemesis. Maybe during a moment of darkness and depression came someone who offered light and joy. People whom we never expected to impact us, often bear the greatest influence.

And so tells the film, 'Whatever Works.' It's a beautiful display of life's quirks and nuances. At times teaching us how not to behave, and at others promoting our instincts. A propitious example that if we carpe diem, and never lose hope, a greater plan may be in store for us.

Watch it.

Pics from The Trip Part 4...

Dad and I. One of the few pictures we have together.

A lonely windsurfer. Not to be confused with the much more difficult kiteboarding (which Pops and I did).

Downtown Cabarete. The main road around 3PM.

A view outside the bars of the DREAM Project.

A wonderful design in the stairway of the DREAM Project.

The donation room. Most of what you see came from private donors like us, or church groups from the United States.

A mural some students made of their friends.

Apple generously donated these modern computers for student education.

Previously the biggest philanthropic donors to the DREAM Project.

A library inside the DREAM Project. Most books were in Spanish. Some in Creole and select few in English.

Jesus and some locals at a tiny home. Promoting the status quo? Or enabling them for progress?

At the DREAM Project, a shaded area where students can eat and play.

Looking out from inside the DREAM Project.

A mural at the DREAM Project.

My first pic of the day from horseback riding.

A local boy who acted like a proud guard as he escorted us through the jungle.

The dogs in the Dominican were so friendly. Literally almost every dog we met. Except when the cats were around.

Me ready to rock and roll. Yes, the horses were small. And I felt bad. He got me back when we trotted.

Near the beginning of our ride.

Mmmmmmmmm. Paradise.

Growing up he always told me, "It's not how you feel, it's how you look." Case in point.

Our leader. I'd always beg him to slow down. No Mas Rapido, Por Favor. My groin was sore and I kept getting weird side cramps when we'd gallop.

Some scenery from our ride.

A few local girls we passed while horseback riding. They walked with us for about half mile.

Pops on a horse.

Me, The Racist???

Yesterday was my first day back to the gym. I excitedly laced my basketball shoes (which are actually running shoes) and stretched out. Before the start of our game, two guys playing on the parallel court came over assuming it was their game.

I calmly told them it wasn't, although they could have first dibs on the next game.

And begrudgingly, they complied.

At the end of my game (my team lost), the winning team had a player drop, and therefore were in need of a replacement. They offered me the spot. I accepted. Hence, I got to play against the guys who I shooed off the court fifteen minutes prior.

After feeling the exhilaration of the game and making my first couple shots, my jaw loosened up. I started to talk a little trash. Nothing attacking, just things a la 'too good', 'unstoppable,' or, 'by far the greatest player since Allen Iverson on these courts.' Stuff like that.

When the score reached 4-4, as I'm dribbling up the court, one of the opposing teams players ran off the court and another ran onto it. An illegal substitution. There are no substitutions allowed in pick up basketball unless one member of a team gets injured. In that case, the play stops, and we divvy up the teams again. This was not one of those cases.

So I said loudly, "Just cause you both look alike, doesn't mean you can swap out. This ain't soccer." That's all. ***It's also imperative to point out that the two people who substituted had the same haircut and color, same height and even same attire - which made it seem less conspicuous I presume***

Boy did I have it coming.

One of the opposing players comes rushing to my face cursing. Calling me a racist. Insinuating that I insulted his people. He said, "Oh, so we're just soccer players, huh? We all look alike huh?"

This scene escalated while my teammates separated us from any physical altercation.

I was baffled. I meant nothing by my statement, other than that what their team had done was an infraction. That's it. Now, it's as if I'm defending the KKK.

About 10 minutes pass and we get on to playing basketball. I cease my trash talking.

We win the game.

In the moments before the next game my friends at the gym all were as astounded as me by the interaction. My friends at the gym include, Blacks, Asians and Hispanics by the way.

They know me quite well. And easily know I harbor no racism and have no tolerance for any bigotry.

After the next game I approached the group of 'soccer players' alone. I was contrite. I said they misread what I said and I didn't infer any prejudice. They wouldn't have it. They shouted over me proclaiming, "Yeah, right!! That's what you said, man. And that's what you meant!!!"

Repeatedly.

I was mostly calm, but was getting nowhere fast. Finally I walked off and called them sensitive something's or another.

And it's still bothering me today. When I went over to reconcile I told them, even if I were a racist, I'd have to be a pretty cowardly one to shake your hand and apologize so sincerely after my remarks. They said that didn't prove anything and the damage was done.

It saddens me.

It saddens me that they walk around so sensitive and looking to get offended. It saddens me that they travel in a huge group for fear of having their rights trounced. It saddens me they've probably experienced real racism at some point in their lives. It saddens me they ignored my conciliatory gesture and scoffed at my stories of righteousness.

Someone told me later, "It's cool, Conor. We all know you're not a racist." And I replied, "Thanks. It seems the only way you can judge that is by avoiding these kind of encounters though."
So it made me question whether I am a racist.

Do I harbor feelings that subconsciously come about in my expressions?

Though after that question, there was a follow up. "Where were those guys from anyway."
I paused. I spent at least 20 minutes looking into these men's faces, and returned to look again.
"I have no idea." I couldn't even tell what nationality they were.

They all looked Caucasian. Which maybe substantiates my ignorance, but the point is, I wasn't even sure who I was supposedly offending.

Pics from The Trip Part 3...

Me in the water at the 27 falls.

Oooooooo. That's a little chilly. Note the farmer's tan. I evened it out before I left.

Our guides. Probably discussing the existence of man. Or maybe, trying to figure out why I wasn't pointing the camera at me for once.

Some scenery before the 27 falls.

Our guide talking to a Dominican spy. He swam with our cameras, wrapped in a t-shirt and a plastic bag above water. Even after dives, they'd remain dry. This guide liked to sneak up behind people and make an eerily, loud donkey sound. What a jackass.

Just a glimpse of our day.

Breathtaking. That's about all there is to say.

Where all the hours swimming paid off. We had to swim upstream against the current. I did the backstroke. And if you couldn't...well the guides just picked you right up out of the water.

One of my favorite pics. The ladder, made of wood in the foreground, with some rapids in the background.

It's expressions like these that really do justice to the term Idiot America.

Me. Don't be concerned. It's an illusion. I'm not jumping in that small gap. I'm jumping behind into an even shallower pool of sharks and piranhas.

Can you say cannonball in Spanish? Me jumping.

Don't try this at home...Matter of fact, don't try it anywhere.

We got to go on the other side of water. A small jump where you can swim underneath.

Slick and slimy above us. Our group. The couple on the left are from Buffalo, NY. They just started dating, both college students. In the middle is Pops. The couple next to me were from Virginia and San Diego. One was a doctor who worked in the ER. Great to have with us, eh?

Of course they send me down first. How about the loco kid from DC??? Sure, why not.

One of the biggest jumps of the 27 falls. You can see that this is about a 20 foot jump. A couple feet in the wrong direction and you're hitting shallow water. Beware.

Pre-slide. Gorgeous.

Body-sliding. The sides were smooth from years of water pressure. Ahhh, refreshing.

Pics from The Trip Part 2...

Pops. Who says you can't teach an old dog new tricks??? Look at that cap. Stylish. Even has a chin strap.

Not many people can do Tai Chi and surf at the same time.

Quite possibly a ten foot wave. Or higher. Hard to tell when they're that epic.

A woman selling hairstyling. She would approach tourists on the beach and try to sell them a service of hair braiding. Men sell jewelry and music and DVD's. All wear the same uniform. It's a union affiliated with the local municipalities. The men always said, amigo, regaeeton. And I was like, Do I look like I like that stuff? And they would reply, Regaeeton. Ok, ok, ok, Merengue. No thanks. Ahhhhh, regaeeton then amigo????

Mi chica. Inside the Internet Cafe. She would allow me to go on for free sometimes. She spoke in Spanish almost the entire time I was blogging (amazingly distracting - which is maybe why my posts came out weird). Laughing. Asking if I had a girlfriend. She's quite voluptuous for only 16. Not that I noticed. She noticed me itching my arm one day. Came over 5 minutes later, lifted up my shirt, and applied cream and massaged it into my arm. Transcended the language barrier.

Quite possibly the funniest thing in the Dominican. That blockade is manned 24 hours a day. Each time a person/motorcycle/car/bus needs passage a man pulls down the lever. Up, down. Up, down. With a huge grin on his face. What a life.

The Internet cafe as seen on the back of the bus. A man who looked like Rico Suave ran the place with his hot, young nieces. He had modeling pictures of him up everywhere. How narcissistic huh? I mean, what kind of guy takes photos of himself all the time.....um, scratch that.

Pick a board, any board. Except that one. Oh, and that one. Matter of fact, I'll pick you out one.

The sign of our camp at the beach. Everyday between 4-10 people would accompany us from Camp.

One of the instructors. Paddle hard. Paddle hard. Ohhhhhhh. You gotta paddle hard.

Bliss. The sight looking left from Encuentro Beach. The current is so strong it will push you into the sand over there. We had to wear shoes to surf because of the reef. And you had to wear shorts too. What a pain.

Paddling out. Rash guard was SPF 40+. Did better than the sunscreen (SPF50).

Proof. You have to click this one so you can see it full size. Love it. Makes the hundred times you mess up worth it.

Pics from The Trip Part 1...

Another residence in the surf camp. 
Standing by the pool, looking out. We actually moved into the one on the bottom in the middle. 
The pool. Very relaxing after a long day in the ocean. A great way to unwind and get the salt off ya. 
Looking at some of the huts where others stayed. Looking from the steps of Tarzan House. 
Ahhhh, too early. Me in front of the camp about 6AM. 
Thought this was a pretty cool shot. Conserve!!!
Looking right as soon as you walk into our room. 
Desperate times call for desperate measures. 
The patio directly outside our room. Upstairs overlooking the swamp. Mosquito haven. 
As soon as you walk up the stairs, turning right. Be careful,low clearance. My Pops cut his head banging into the open windows. 
Looking down from the steps. 
Our kitchen. Upstairs in the Tarzan House. 
The Tarzan house. Our house. Until we moved out about halfway through. 
The walkway into the Camp. 
The grill where the cooked up the wonderful ribs and churassco. 
The sign you see when you first walk into the Camp. 
Breakfast is served. A look at our dining area. Note the bright colors. 
The bus we rode everyday to and from Encuentro Beach to surf and to Kite Beach to kiteboard. Builds your ass up per the bump ride. 
On the lagoon at Ali's Surf Camp. Pops early in the morning with some coffee. 

Experience in Dominican Republic Part 7...

Tonight will be my final blog from the Dominican. I depart the DR tomorrow at 4:20PM headed to Miami. Like always, parting is such sweet sorrow. I miss certain aspects of living in los Estados Unidos, yet will surely miss the salt water, wonderful company and breathtaking scenery.

I am one beat up boy.

This afternoon, while surfing, I got caught in the wrong place at the wrong time. A 4 foot wave crashed atop my head immediately submerging me. I was in fairly shallow water and the force threw me against the coral. To add insult to injury, my board slapped me in the back of the head, slicing the back of my head open. It also crashed into my back, feeling like a cheap shot to the kidney.

I walked to shore shooken up. Then I touched the back of my head and looked at my hand. As red as a stop sign.

If I had been in any other environment I probably would've rushed to the hospital for stitches. But, being the stubborn guy I am, I went back in the water hoping the salt water would clean and patch it up.

It did, more or less.

About an hour and half later it was still slowly dripping blood, but what's remaining is a pulsating memory and a stiff back.

My head is throbbing.

In better news, my foot is healing!!! And so is a massive burn I got from brushing up against the muffler of a motorcycle (look for pictures on this and much, much more soon). I'll have a scar for sure.

Back to good.

Yesterday Pops and I traveled to the Dream Center, an extension of the Dream Project. In fact, the extension. We toured the facility with a man originally from upstate New York. He had been working in Cabarete for the center since its inception.

He told us that the mean salary for most citizens is US $2,000 a year. Only 8% of children graduate from high school. 50% don't graduate the 5th Grade. Almost every one of the kids who attend the program live in poverty or extreme-poverty.

It's almost unfathomable. But it's reality.

Thankfully the center receives funding from agencies like USAID (which has recently been cut due to the economy) and other American and foreign businesses. For example, Lehman Brothers were actually the biggest donors to this philanthropic cause. And obviously, that is no more (although Barclay's, who bought them out, may begin a new relationship). He said donations are way down this year, and now more than ever donors are saying, 'not this year.'

I took plenty of photos of the center and also the nearby community.

One of the primary problems facing the Dominican is corruption. For example, we were told if we donated the gloves to a local school, the administrators would likely sell them and pocket the money. The corruption is rampant and hardly disguised.

Much of the money from tourism doesn't get funneled down to the locals. Part of this is due to unfinished projects from foreign investors (unfinished hotels/condos). And part is because Haitian workers will work for much less than Dominican's (their version of Mexicans in the US).

Which, creates great racial tension.

There are so many tragedies in the sandbox, it's hard to wipe your feet. Although, I'm quite pleased that Pops and I made a small difference.

Tomorrow we will probably surf in the morning until 11AM, then pack and be on our way. A good friend of ours named Daniel, from Switzerland, is turning 29 tonight so Pops and I and a girl from Germany named Jenny will take him for a drink at a nice spot by the beach.

Please anticipate many photos and further reflections from this amazing experience. Stay posted.

Experience in Dominican Republic Part 6...

Last night, Pops and I talked business. I picked his brain on some succesful business deals he's made, and asked him some tips he's learned from some failed investments. He told me that he wished I was accompanying him to Panama *where he travels after DR* so I could be a 'fly on the wall' as he meets with attorneys to discuss business ventures.

I recapped some of the childhood experiences I had watching my Father interact with fellow businessmen. My father understands the importance of a strong work ethic and due diligence. He doesn't believe in taking the easy way out. It's no surprise then, to marvel in his achievements. For good fortune will only take you so far without effort.

Today we went on a bike ride with a 26 year old woman from Belgium. She was tall with midlength blondish locks. She had piercing grey eyes and a wide, girlish smile. She told me that I was very quiet for a public speaker. I asked her what perception other tourists have of Americans.

She said we are quick to befriend. Nice to everyone. She wasn't judgemental.

Because of my weight, I struggled during uphill portions of the ride. I zoom downhill without fear, but uphill I'm crossing my fingers for the nearest plateau. Middway through, at the bottom of a hill, I wiped out.

It's not half bad, as the mud braced my fall.

The rainstorm last night produced a multitude of rain puddles throughout our journey. If it weren't for the immersion into a nearby stream, you would've mistaken me for Sasquatch per my appearance was so muddy.

The ride was called El Choco Loco. It's 44 kilometers *with an extra 20 or so to and from base camp. We were all exhausted and ate pizza afterward on the beach.

I'm slowly reading, 'Mere Christianity,' by C.S. Lewis. It annoys me that Pops thinks it's garbage. I'm not even sure he's read it. After 8 days, we finally got in our first argument.

He said I'm so wrapped up in myself that I never offer to help out. I tried to defend myself, but he wouldn't allow me to speak by talking over me. So I spoke louder, hoping he would cease, but then he was accusatory and said stop yelling. It was an exercise of futility.

I desperately, and helplessly tried to defend myself to no avail. Every time I made a point, he countered with something irrelevant of what I just finished saying.

Eventually I grew tired and walked out.

Collecting my thoughts, maybe instead of arguing I should've acquiesed. Just try harder in the future. Although, it's unfair for him to be so dismissive and agitated. Just because he's not knowledgeable of my efforts don't mean they don't exist.

Nonetheless, he made some valid points, so I won't hold a grudge. He's done so much for me, that it would be nothing short of audacious to be anything but contrite.

Oh lord I hate how mature I'm becoming.

Anyway, keep up with my thoughts of the day and respond if you so desire. I'm interested to hear your reactions.

Experience in Dominican Republic Part 5...

Almost got hit by lightning today. Seriously. I was out surfing (my friends call me Laird btw) and a tropical storm came pouring down faster than you can say Adios. Pops and some others stayed out in the rain, but once I saw lightning I headed for shore.

This was around 5PM.

Then, about six of us corraled into the back of the bus (which has a rusted metal bottom) and braved the storm. About 5 minutes into the ride, as the rain ferociously pours down on us we hear an earth-shattering loud crack. I look up, and next to a 15 year-old girl sitting a few spots away a bright flash appeared. She covered her head and screamed.

I thought she got hit. It stopped my heart for a second by the sheer jolt. Thankfully, she was ok, albeit very shaken up.

Today I am officially a surfer. I spent about 3 full hours in the ocean and got up on the board repeatedly. I leaned into the waves and caught some of them effortlessly. It was a euphoric experience. Check one off the life to-do list. Pops is struggling, but hats off to him for giving it his all everyday. His attitude is off-the-charts (his words as he sits patiently next to me).

Horse back riding yesterday was an adventure. We trotted and I was flummoxed that I was getting bad side cramps. It didn't help that I had to pee like a race-horse, pun intended.

We traversed the scenic countryside in a lush jungle. We passed a number of impoverished shanty's. Some of the people we trotted by were deformed or had down syndrome.

Yet, they were out, smiling, playing backgammon (quite popular here) or dominoes and watching baseball on TV and listening to regaeeton.

We galloped through some dirt roads with small homes for sale on both sides. One prevelent thing you see here is everything is se vende. For sale. The recession has hurt this country quite a bit indirectly. Tourists aren't vacationing here as often or as long. Therefore the jobs in the tourism industry have diminished.

Today we found a non-profit called the Dream Project that helps youth in the Dominican further their education. It's partially funded and directly sponsored through USAID. I spoke with the director of the office for about 10 minutes and she said she will take Pops and I to a school where they have a summer camp a las Miercoles. Wednesday. Ill take some photos, but there may not be children there to receive the gloves and balls. At first I was disappointed.

Then I thought of my motives for doing this donation. Were they to satiate my desire to do good? Alleviate my guilt? Was it to brag on this blog by showing photos and please my readers? Sadly, I'm partially guilty of all those.

So I altered my outlook.

I may not get to see the happy expressions from the youngsters, but I know they'll exist nonetheless. And the pictures I get will be of the summer camp at the school methinks. Additionally I spoke in Spanish for 15 minutes to a housecleaner at our surfcamp. She told me that sus ninos (her sons) play baseball. She was so happy when I offered her a couple gloves to take to them. Even though I won't get to see their elation, her's satisfied. It was beautiful. She was very pround.

So Wednesday we will at long last, donate our baseball goods.

Unfortunately, today the storm borrowed the wind and therefore we were unable to kiteboard. A difficult profession methinks to invest so much into something we have such minor control over. So we sat on the beach for 2 hours hoping it would pick up. It didn't.

So we retired to the camp and switched rooms. Now we have our own kitchen and our own bedrooms. Oh, and the bathroom is seperate so no more having to listen to Pops go #2 with the door open. :).

A vacation is subjective to the individual. It is what you make. Some lounge on the beach all day. Some are missionaries and bring religion and relief. Others come for the alcohol and prostitution. While others immerse in extreme sports and hiking and snorkeling.

In Cabarete, you can do whatever you fancy. For any future tourists, I recommend going through Iguana Mama tours. They seem to run things efficiently. Exchanging money is done for the best value at Janet's Supermarket. The rate is consistently higher than anywhere else. Horse back riding is also highly recommended. Also, the 27 charcos, although don't go part way. Definitely eat one night at Ali's Surf camp and order the churrasco. Please, please do it. Assuming you're not a vegetarian. You will thank me profusely afterward. Also, find a way to go to playa encuentro (can pay any local 30-60 pesos). A most peaceful beach with spectacular scenary and the greatest waves for beginners.

With that, ciao for now. One more post to come methinks before the photos and the recap....

Stay posted.

Experience in Dominican Republic Part 4...

Today I'll be riding los caballos. Pops and I are going horseback riding for a few hours. I think we're going in the mountatins (as opposed to the beach). Fellow campers promoted this trip and said it's a must-do.

My foot is healing slowly but is still quite painful. I grimace when I misstep and change shoes. Hopefully tomorrow I will surf in the morning and try my hand (or foot really) at kite-surfing again. Pops told me that our feet are the worst spots to endure an injury. I disagree. Whenever I have an ankle injury, knee injury, back injury etc. I'm limited just as much. Our bodies are spectacularly connected. Nonetheless, having injuries reminds me to apprecaite times when it's healthy.

A couple of buddies from the camp have been face planting consistently on the kiteboard, but are perservering. They leave tomorrow so they don't have the advantage I have of more opportunity. The elements have to line up perfectly for a successful run. Like our bodies, if something's not harmonious, you're limited, or in kitesurfing's case, you faceplant. Thankfully you're landing in water and not on land, that's for sure.

Yesterday was a very lazy day for me. I spent the entire dia by myself as my dad had a 4 hour kiteboarding lesson. I went to la playa and swam around. I finished 'The Reason For God' and 'The Singer' and am middway through Colman McCarthy's 'Strength through Peace,' a collection of essays by proponents of peace across the globe. Soon I will begin C.S. Lewis' 'Mere Christianity.'

I've also done some local reading of newspapers and have skimmed through a book about the Jewish people and God. It's nice to have so much time to recreationally read. I rarely have this luxury so you better believe I'm indulging it.

I also played catch with some of the gloves we brought for the kids around dusk last night. It was a nostalgic feeling and took me back to days that my father used to hit fly balls to me in the dry, yellow grass of Phoenix.

I miss Phoenix often. I rarely visit because my family no longer lives there and I don't have a car anymore. Hopefully within the next year I will return to my old stomping grounds. When's the last time you visited where you grew up? Do you miss it too? I believe there's a statistic that a majority of people remain within 50 miles of their birthplace when they settle down.

I'm a tad nervous about my job prospects. The president of the organization I work for sent out an email detailing a conservative budget for 2010. My current contract expires at the end of July and they have not solidified a spot for me in the Fall. I'll keep you guys posted on any developments. As a safety net, I'm hoping to apply to other positions once I return.

Quickly, here is what a typical day is like for me here in the DR.

7AM - Wake up to my Dad going #2 with the door open. Yep, nothing better. Almost like hammering blindfolded.
There are two shuttles that depart from our camp to the beach for surfing. The first at 630 and the second at 8:30. Guess which one I'm usually on ;)...
Breakfast is served late (til noon). It's always the same thing. Two eggs, any way you want them. Two thin circles of salami. 5 small pieces of fruit (generally watermelon, papaya, pineapple). A bowl of sweet yogurt and two pieces of bread with butter.
Lately I'm picking at it, too redundant. I'm not as hungry as before, but I'm also not exercising as much as before. Tomorrow morning I may try the banana chocolate pancakes (you have to pay extra for).
830 - Take bumpy bus ride to the beach. Grab board and hop in. We ride in the back of a small van/bus that has no absorption. No suspension. You feel every bump of the road on your butt, sitting on a hard woodened bench. So that's what 'feeling the countryside' is all about????
11 - We eat the breakfast.
1140 - A bus departs the camp for kitesurfing
1200-330 PM - Kitesurfing lesson at a windy beach for approximately 3 hours. We put on the helmet and vest and collect all the gear.
330 - Relaxing, having a snack at the cafe by the kitesurfing. Recollecting the epic air I didn't get :)...They serve Dominican dishes and wonderful pineapple smoothies that I can't get enough of.
4 - Walk back on the beach to camp. The most peaceful time of the day. There is often cloud coverage at this time. I walk with Pops or with others from the camp who enjoyed the ferocious winds.
5 - Arriving back at the camp, we have two hours before dinner is served. Usually I take a shower and read. Pops goes down to the pool and reads and passes out. Sometimes fellow campers will be sharing a beer or two and we chat. After I get out of the shower I take my second shower. In mosquito repellant.
7-9 - Dinner. Varies everyday. Yesterday we ate fried chicken with french fries. (you have to purchase your own drinks every night). They don't allow outside drinks. Trust me. I know. I was chastised right quick one night. Other times it's fish and rice. Sometimes pork and potatoes. Always a meet with a side. Decent size portions. Think more Denny's, less Chesecake Factory.
9-Midnight - Free time. Pops and I, being the gluttonous Americans that we are, often frequent a gelatto or ice cream spot about 20 minute walk away. When we return we both read until we fall asleep.

Obviously the days vary pending on our itinerary (or lack thereof). But that's a fairly accurate guideline to what life's like for tourists in the DR.

Experience in Dominican Republic Part 3...

Today was the best day of our adventure thus far. Pops and I went to the Salto del Rio Damajagua at the 27 Charcos or 27 falls. There are 27 spectacular waterfalls to slide off from, to admire. to leap from and to rope up to. I have some phenomenal pictures.

We left camp about 7AM and drove past the airport in Sosua through Puerto Plata, then down to Imbert. A young couple in college was with us from Buffalo and a couple from southern Virginia as well. Everyone was extremely fit and athletic. It was a perfect group to go with. When we arrived we quickly put on helmets and life-vests. Last Thursday, two tourists died at the very falls we played in today. A husband and wife traveling from Florida with their two sons, ages 16 and 19, were caught in a ferocious current. Both parents were carried by the water and were recovered furter down the river, lifeless. Thankfully, other tourists were able to rescue the two sons. Quite tragic and today was the first day that the falls reopened for tourists.

Accompanying us on our journey were two excellent guides, Yunior and Tocan. They used their leverage to assist us in climbing and pointed out hazards. They also made sure the water was deep enough and the current weak enough to experience.

The 27 falls are in a lush jungle. We wore shoes (I didn't wear socks but others did) and swam with our shirts on. The first half of the trip was predominantly uphill hiking and swimming upstream.

Sidenote - I injured my foot badly on a rock yesterday piercing all layers of my skin while kite-surfing. I've been limping ever sense and mustered enough resilience to make it through the tour. I don't complain, because I'm sure my Pops and our friends are all battling one ailment or another, so I wasn't going to let it deter me.

The water was a crisp 70 degrees or so, perfectly refreshing. It was crisp and alleviated some of the exhaustion we felt from the sun and humidity. It was a water-hike in every sense of the word. We maneuvered around gravel and slippery stones in shallow and deep water, only pausing to waterslide off the rocks or to sky off of them. The grandest jump we all accomplished was 25 feet high!!! My Dad showed much courage and although being at least 25 years older than everyone, kept up and never complained. He participated in all the jumps and kept his self-aggrandizement to a minimum ;).

It was truly an indescribable experience. One minute you're pulling on a rope dangerously balancing on 6 inches of space, then next you're free-falling into chilly water with a current. WE must have jumped 15 times. We were thoroughly tired after the 3 hour trek.

When we returned, so did the pain in my foot. I poured (what I thought was water) disinfectant all over my wound and yowzah!!!! Better believe it cleaned it up though.

We ate a buffet of rice, macaroni salad, chicken, soda, salad and beans. Typical feast of the Dominicans. BTW - they eat much meat - chicken, steak, fish, pork, veal. Also eat many potatoes. The food has been much better (my personal preference) compared with Vietnam and Israel.

On our return trip we studied the landscape (sugar cane fields and various agriculture). Many people were outside their shops working and men were in the scolding sun pouring cement and building edifices. We passed a plant where they process the best rum in all the Dominican, and another field of cocoa beans.

Eventually we stopped at a famous shop called Kanoa. There, they sell native cigars and jewelry, along with paintings, wood sculptures and other souveniers. They sell a stone you can only purchase in the Dominican. It's a breathaking blue with shades of white in it. The color of the sea.
Unfortunately, my foot injury prohibits me from doing much tomorrow, so I will likely be taking a trip into nearby towns and giving away the baseball gear to children, and reading on the beach. We may go horseback riding as well. We still want to go mountain biking and do more kitesurfing and surfing. With another week left, I'm sure we'll have plenty of time.

I've been doing much soul searching while here as well (typical when I travel and have much time to ponder). I'm beginning to realize that an alteration in my demeanor would do me well. Less abrasive, more accepting. I also have a better grasp of what it is to love someone. To set aside personal biases, judgments and anger and how to forgive. Pops may think I'm being anti-social but many times I'm aloof in my thoughts. At the same time, I remind myself to embrace the moment and cherish the fleeting minutes remaining in this wonderful environment. I've met many fascinating folks whom I've learned from and listened to. I have a tendency to overanalyze in introspection, (which can be selfish when done in excess) so I'm cognizant of my behavior and enjoy the day.

Anyway, I hope I didn't bore or disappoint. Thanks for the comments, they really do pique my interest and keep me afloat. More to come....

Stay Posted.

Experience in Dominican Republic Part 2...

Whew. I apologize for not posting more frequently. I have lots to tell and not much time to do it (that's life for ya, eh?). The internet in my Tarzan House isn't currently working so I'm in downtown Cabarete inside an internet cafe.
Pops and I have been surfing and kite-surfing the past two days. We woke up at 6 to greet the sunset and the early break. The teaching is very minimal and it's primarily trial and error. Mostly error the first day. Today I was able to catch my own waves (without being pushed into them). What a wonderful feeling. I get so much satisfaction from the work getting into the wave. Pops is hilarious wearing goofy outfits and an even more unique facial hair and hair design. Think - welathy homeless. That's the look he's got. A mix between a Ho Chi Minh and Mickey Rourke.
Anyway, the bond we continue to nurture is truly special. I can't begin to express my gratitude that he decided to invest his money and time into this trip for us. We learn from eachother every day. I have much to learn.
The people we have met in this have been awesome. Ranging from international tourists from the UK, to a former finacial analyst from Switzerland (working for UBS). Recent college graduates from New York City. Teenagers from Germany. Three long-time bachelor friends from the East Coast. An Israeli, a Floridian. All fascinating in their own rite.
I also met two people who were extremely interesting. One had a PhD and she worked undercover in Iraq for an international anti-terrorism group. The other was in Iraq as well as a telecom contractor. More specifics to come.
The food has been excellent. WE get fed in the morning and at night. And of course, the Americans eat twice in between.
I've been getting devoured by mosquitoes, so I bathe in OFF and cover up during dusk and dawn. One of our friends has over 200 bites. They bite everyone but Pops. (Must be the vegetarianism???)
I'm still reading The Reason for God by Timothy Kellor. It's really a transformative book. Less for it's religious orthodoxy and more for it's rich philosophy. I read and reread things over and over again. Although I haven't been reading as much as I'd like because we're so busy surfing for the mornings and learning to kite surf in the afternoons.
Cabarete has no hirises. It's made up of abandon hotels and single -story shops. There are no trash cans. Zero. Most people travel by walking, and some have motor-scooters. It's a very poorly developed country. We will be donating our gloves, bats and balls soon after we get to know some of the locals.
I have a million and one things to say, so please ask any questions in the comment section. I hope to post again tomorrow, if not, the following day for sure.
Thanks for reading...

Experience in Dominican Republic

This afternoon I arrived in the Dominican Republic. We were greeted by a standing band and

two go-go dancers who took photos with each newcomer. Bienvenidos indeed.

We are staying in the "Tarzan House," at Ali's Surf Camp. I will be posting more photos of my accomodations shortly. We purchased kitesurfing and surfing lessons for 3 consecutive days beginning tomorrow. Our bus to the beach leaves tomorrow morning at 6:30AM. We surf for three hours, then return for breakfast around 10AM.

At 11:30AM we depart to kitsurf for the afternoon.

We met some of the other guests today at the camp. One is a man who resembles Leo Dicrapio (save more masculine - I know, perfect :)) He was an attorney for 10 years and now he is taking a break after the housing bubble busted. He lives and worked in the UK. Thick accent. He's accompanied by a pretty brunette who just graduated from University of Tampa with a degree in Marine Biology. There is another young man from Switzerland and a couple of young, black men from New York City.

Breakfast and dinner are included as part of our package. Tonight I ate delicious flank stake and a baked potato with salad and bread. Breakfast is very standard.

The pics are from DC, Miami (South Beach) and the Dominican. Look for more.

The pics are taking up to 10 minutes to load each, so I may be posting most when I return to the US...sorry.

In Florida..

Wanted to update everyone on where I'm at for my trip. Yesterday I left Washington D.C. for Florida. I had a quick layover in Charlotte, NC and arrived around 10:00PM in West Palm Beach. I'm visiting a close friend of mine, Ashley (see pics from earlier this year). She moved down here to study for the GRE's with her family in preparation for a job that begins for her in August back in D.C.
Today is scorching and very humid. We're going to workout and check out some beaches on the keys. Last night we ate some fondue at a unique wine/bar type atmosphere in Del Ray.
I'll be posting pictures so keep posted. I leave for the Dominican from Miami midday Monday. Until then, it's getting a base tan and exploring our southern most tip.
Stay posted...

What it Means to be a Christian

Secular people have a tendency to dismiss religious people as unintelligent, brainwashed, fanatical, fundamentalist...the list goes on and on. They frequently criticize religious people for being at odds with science and maintaining ugly prejudices.

And they wouldn't be far off. But they would be stereotyping. It's unfair to blanket the bed that is Christianity and judge the individuals who practice it through a scope that includes everyone who calls themselves a Christian. Methinks this is a common mistake many atheists/agnostics and other non-believers make. Which hypocritically, shows prejudice.

I believe it's absolutely imperative to question the existence of God and your individual faith (or lack thereof). That isn't as simple as it sounds. Growing up like a sponge, without any direct funneling into a religion, I gathered information as it came and made up my mind accordingly. But my information comes/came from experience, books, teachers, parents, friends and other sources. These must be questioned. My nonreligious background must be critically examined.

I've begun reading "The Reason for God," by Timothy Kellor. Now, he isn't the first Christian apologist I've read, but he's one of the best. I do not agree with each argument he construes, yet he has opened my eyes to some of the paradoxes in my own life. He's done an adecuate (to understate) job of challenging my anti-religious sentiments.

Much of what he wrote I am going to further examine. Being the logician that I am ;).

If anyone arrives at their faith (or lack of) through brainwashing, and cannot defend their allegiance they passionately adhere to, you shouldn't respect them. They don't deserve it. And unfortunately, many of the spokespeople and pedagogues misrepresent Christianity and are full of vitriol. Which further alienates people on the fence and seculars. They're also not knowledgeable of the tenets that comprise their faith.

Also, Christianity has been utilized as a tool to oppress, molest, use violence and deplete society. All of which can't be taken lightly or dismissed. For sake of this post I reference solely the individual practitioner and their beliefs. I'm recusing the group or organization.

I doubt I will ever broaden my mind enough to support organized religion, but I note that it's important not to chastise those (particular Christians) who may have more to offer than we originally believed...

More Hints...

Lawyers are the ones who ask to approach me,
The end of the cigarette is a butt (which seeks relief),

What am I???

Riddle

No two of me are identical, but we all serve a common purpose,
People use me at their discretion,
Like the end of a cigarette, I offer relief,
I can press with the best of 'em,

Approaching sometimes requires permission,
Capitalism gets the best of me when vacant...

What am I???