Memory’s Hands

I’ve been living in the Dominican Republic for the past eight months as a study abroad student at the Pontifical Catholic University Mother and Teacher in Santiago de los Caballeros, Dominican Republic. My adventures have been many, yet I have been living a life to which, many times, only I, my journal, and a select few family members are privy.

 The other day Sitting on the patio of a friends house in a small mountain community outside of the city as thick fog covered the mountains, and the cool of night approached, I thought to myself, “this is too much beauty just for me!”

My days here pass like dreams that fade into the hands of memory not capable of holding them, and I wonder, why do I travel if not to share, to be a bridge?

I recently stubbled upon an Annie Dillard quote, which got me thinking, and motivated me to put the final, imperfect, touches on this blog. “Similarly, the impulse to keep to yourself what you have learned is not only shameful, it is destructive. Anything you do not give freely and abundantly becomes lost to you. You open your safe and find ashes.”

My time in the Dominican Republic is ending, and I have kept many experiences to my self, yet now heeding the advice of Dillard, I feel the urge to start depositing more of what my travels have shown me in safer places than the hands of memory.

The good new is I’m only completing a chapter in this year and I have more travels to come. In a week I’m leaving for Haiti and other Caribbean islands where I will spend the rest of the summer.

For now, to mark the start of this endeavor, I wanted to leave you all with a few images from a recent trip to the colonial city in Santo Domingo and a few Dominican scenes from a place that always is performing  for the curious viewer.