Personal Narrative: My Trip To The Dominican Republic

It was my first time in the Dominican Republic, away from my parents and traveling alone. It was also my first mission trip and I loved every minute of it. As I sat and looked around the village of slums and shacks, I saw that the people were so giving and friendly. They had next to nothing, and yet they were still volunteering to give more.

When spring break began my parents gave me the opportunity to have 2 weeks of spring break, where I would spend the first week hanging out with my and fiends and the week they go back to school I go on a cruise. While I was on the cruise me and my family visited 4 different islands over the 8 day voyage. On the third day on the boat we visited the Dominican Republic, on the fifth day we visited St. Thomas, on the sixth day we visited Puerto )Rico, and on the seventh day we visited are final island Grand Turk.

When thinking of my memories it’s as if you were surfing through TV channels. Some making me wish I could go back to that day and relive it. Some I hope I will never have to relive. Most memories make me smile and think of how much I want to be little again. Although at that age, all I wanted was to grow up and live my own life. My memories can range from being at home to being anywhere but home. Although, some stick out more than others. One of those few fond memories is going to the Dominican Republic with my family.

In 2015 my grandmother died. When I received the news I was on the couch and my mother told me “Miguel we have to talk” I was sweating because my mother was so serious and she told me that my grandmother was dead, and in that moment all I could think about was being back in the Dominican Republic, growing up with her, imagining the moments I spent in her house and the mornings that I sat in her living room, watching TV and smelling her amazing food wafting through the pass-through window from the kitchen. Then I snap back on reality and realize the future my grandmother would want for me.

What was the process of my conversion like? I’ll begin with this year, all the way back to my trip in Guatemala. I struggled to understand what belief was and what being a follower of Christ really was. I was trying to understand the faith with my own intelligence, which constantly failed me. On top of that I was living without morals, saying, doing, and thinking whatever I pleased. This all, plus sickness, made my trip to Guatemala very challenging. As the year went on I still tried to live in Christ on my own will, which isn’t living in Christ at all. I would read his word but only some days instead of every day. What I didn’t realize is that I need his word every day. Because this world is evil and unclear, but his word gives ultimate clarity.

Despair , a sharp tenderness in my feet every step i took, the smell of plastic and boxes flooded my nostrils like a tsunami , this is how i felt after my first officially as a working american .

Brian turned his stare to Mr. Smith and voiced his displeasure. “Maybe I was not understood, Tim… I want Ms. Loran to accompany Mr. Johnson and me to the Dominican Republic. She can provide valuable assistance to Mr. Johnson since the main language in the country is Spanish, and she is fluent in the language.” I should not be surprised to learn he was aware I spoke four languages, but I was.

I was always careless about all of my valuables,that was until they were all gone. It was Christmas vacation of 2011 and my mom was planning a flight to go to Dominican Republic to escape the cold Boston weather. My mother could only pick between me and my sister to go with her and naturally she chose my sister. She was probably still mad at me for times she has bought me electronics and video games that i don’t even touch anymore. I wanted to stay home by myself while they were away but she practically forced me to go to New York where my dad lives. I wasn't against the idea of seeing my dad I just didn't want to go a state where he was the only person I knew. But it was already decided so I got my stuff ready and got ready to leave and left in a transportation bus to New York. When I arrived there my dad was waiting for me in front of the apartment that he lived. Before even entering in his house his took me out to eat.I didn’t even have time to unpack. About the time we were eating my mom and my sister were arriving to Dominican Republic. After me and my dad finished eating he asked me

In the summer of 2011 when I was the age of thirteen, I reached the biggest milestone in my life; which was going to Nicaragua all by myself. I could remember the day when my dad booked the flight and thinking how my siblings and I would experience where my parents grew up and how things worked in their hometown. It was not until a few days later when my dad walked into my room; seriously but not furiously and said, “Son at your age, you should feel so lucky that you guys have a better life than your mother and I had. The ticket I bought, was for you and only for you; you are the only one going on this trip so, then you know what your mother and I went through to be here to give you guys the life we wanted as a kid.” I did not understand what

One August day in the Dominican Republic, my dad took me to La Sirena – a gigantic market. Walking from the parking lot to the market, sky-high, slender-stemmed palm trees surrounding the building. I felt a hot breeze flow across my skin. We entered the air conditioned market, and the sound of Dominican accents and music filled my ears. The market reminded me of a Wal-Mart, except Spanish music was playing, and each aisle was filled with Dominican products and goods in Spanish print.

Since traveling to Nicaragua, I find myself perplexed by the Nietzchean idea that language is the enemy of experience. It is difficult to explain in words an experience that is both awe-inspiring and awful, edifying and heartbreaking, beautiful and atrocious. If my time on the Bucknell Brigade was either entirely great or completely horrible, it would be easier to write about. But since the memory inhabits a confusing and ambiguous space between two intense opposites, my voice had withdrawn into silence.

From December 30, 2016 to January 6, 2016 I traveled to Punta Cana, this is located in a Caribbean country called Dominican Republic; it has beautiful beaches and clear waters. Traveling to Punta Cana was an amazing experience. As a result, I had the chance to enjoy the wonderful all inclusive hotel, relax at the Rock Spa and meet great people. I also had the opportunity to travel with my boyfriend and friends so this also made my experience in Punta Cana delightful.

"I can't go on the service trip to Dominican Republic," I reluctantly explained to my teacher. "I don't receive health insurance," I confessed to my doctor. "I don't have federal financial aid, so I can't finish college," I tried to explain to my friends why I was leaving Oakwood University. On my college applications, I chose the best fit to describe my citizenship status from the limited drop down list, "I don't currently hold a valid U.S. visa." As an undocumented student, my life's themes have been "I can't" and "I don't.” I experienced a eureka moment when I read Invictus: “My head is bloody, but unbowed…/It matters not how strait the gate, /How charged with punishments the scroll, /…I am the captain of my soul.” I aimed to change my

Since returning from a service trip to the Dominican Republic in 2016, I have strived to be a leader in my school in nearly every way. On this trip, I learned the power that an individual can make on a community. Whether the work as pouring concrete floors, digging sanitary latrines, or building water filters, communities were overjoyed with our work, and since then listening to stories of how we changed lives is truly inspirational. Since then, I have applied this learning of the power of an individual to tackle numerous problems in my community. Last year, I learned of a food pantry in a local Latino community known as the Guadalupe Center. It was two weeks before Thanksgiving, and they were nearly entirely out of food. Only a couple small

Brian stood up and while gazing at me told Mr. Smith, “I like her idea. I wish for Isabel to accompany David and me to the Dominican Republic today. I want my baby sister home as soon as possible.” Mr. Smith replied, “Mr. Ross, Mr. Johnson is one of our best criminal lawyers and more than capable to handle this case on his own. Isabel is a brilliant attorney, but she is inexperienced.”