I did two days of community service helping the children in the poorer parts of the country learn English. One of the girls taught me how to step:
I've decided that I could seriously move to another country and teach children English after I graduate. It would be a joy.
Monday, July 12, 2010
Sunday, July 11, 2010
He Will Cover You With His Wings
Within the last two weeks I’ve been robbed, spent a fabulous weekend at an all inclusive resort in Punta Cana, got attacked by mosquitoes (I counted over 50 bites on one leg), went kayaking in the Caribbean Sea, performed poetry for the U.S. embassy, taught kids in the mountains English, went white water rafting, and best of all, I’ve eaten French toast! Yes, I do believe that these past two months have been some of the best two months of my life, although if you would have asked me two weeks ago what I thought about living here I probably would have told you quite the opposite. It’s only as my study abroad experience is reaching its end that I’m beginning to appreciate everything for the blessings that they are.
Now, let me tell you what happened to my class ring. A couple Saturdays ago, just two blocks from my host family’s house in Santo Domingo, me and my close friend Arcena were waiting outside of Greg’s apartment to go on an exploration of the city. We were planning on just hopping on the train and just going somewhere for adventure’s sake. These plans were rudely interrupted when a young guy about my age approach me on the street at two in the afternoon. At first I thought he was trying to talk to me like most men on the streets in Santo Domingo try to do, but this time it felt a little different. He was too close to me. I backed up and spoke in nothing but English. My defenses were up.
“What are you doing? Get away from me!” I yelled at him while retreating. His eyes were worrisome. His eyebrows squinted down to give off the look of anger, wrath, seriousness and strength. But his dark brown eyes weren’t steady. He continued to mumble to me in Spanish when I heard a word that I recognized. Anillo.
“Your ring,” he was saying in Spanish, continuing to step closer to me. “Give me your ring.”
“No,” I yelled. Pretending like I didn’t understand I kept backing up telling him to get away. Why not my purse? Why nothing else? I looked quickly at his hands to see if he had a gun or a knife. His companion waited for him on a motorcycle in front of the street, there was no where for me to run. Suddenly, he grabbed my hand and yanked my ring from my finger. Pulled it straight off. And my gold class ring was gone.
Class of 2008, Raiders, Alyssa, number 6 inside of a volleyball, high school badge, and a cross. I hope he stared long and hard at that cross engraved on the ring that he stole.
My body trembled. My eyes watered. No tears fell. I felt like the ground after an earth quake. 2 o clock, broad daylight on a Saturday afternoon, I was mugged. And my ring was gone. The strangest part was that he didn’t want my purse or anything, just my ring. Later, we were to conclude that he had to have been watching me, which made the situation scarier. For the next couple of days I was distraught. I kept having flashbacks to the guy, I was scared when I walked in the streets, and I kept having “what-if” wars. You know after something major happens (or doesn’t happen) and your brain won’t stop replaying the situation, asking yourself “What if I would have done this” “or what if I would have done that”. It’s a very unhealthy practice. I hated the Dominican Republic. I wanted to go home.
But I kept praying, and soon God healed me. I realized that I was blessed, nothing bad that bad happened. I wasn’t hurt, I could be dead, and it was only a ring. I made a thank you list, giving Him gratitude for everything good in my life. The experience was a test of my faith, and I believe that everything is everything. All is good. It could have been much, much worse.
-The Girl With the Monkey Mind
Now, let me tell you what happened to my class ring. A couple Saturdays ago, just two blocks from my host family’s house in Santo Domingo, me and my close friend Arcena were waiting outside of Greg’s apartment to go on an exploration of the city. We were planning on just hopping on the train and just going somewhere for adventure’s sake. These plans were rudely interrupted when a young guy about my age approach me on the street at two in the afternoon. At first I thought he was trying to talk to me like most men on the streets in Santo Domingo try to do, but this time it felt a little different. He was too close to me. I backed up and spoke in nothing but English. My defenses were up.
“What are you doing? Get away from me!” I yelled at him while retreating. His eyes were worrisome. His eyebrows squinted down to give off the look of anger, wrath, seriousness and strength. But his dark brown eyes weren’t steady. He continued to mumble to me in Spanish when I heard a word that I recognized. Anillo.
“Your ring,” he was saying in Spanish, continuing to step closer to me. “Give me your ring.”
“No,” I yelled. Pretending like I didn’t understand I kept backing up telling him to get away. Why not my purse? Why nothing else? I looked quickly at his hands to see if he had a gun or a knife. His companion waited for him on a motorcycle in front of the street, there was no where for me to run. Suddenly, he grabbed my hand and yanked my ring from my finger. Pulled it straight off. And my gold class ring was gone.
Class of 2008, Raiders, Alyssa, number 6 inside of a volleyball, high school badge, and a cross. I hope he stared long and hard at that cross engraved on the ring that he stole.
My body trembled. My eyes watered. No tears fell. I felt like the ground after an earth quake. 2 o clock, broad daylight on a Saturday afternoon, I was mugged. And my ring was gone. The strangest part was that he didn’t want my purse or anything, just my ring. Later, we were to conclude that he had to have been watching me, which made the situation scarier. For the next couple of days I was distraught. I kept having flashbacks to the guy, I was scared when I walked in the streets, and I kept having “what-if” wars. You know after something major happens (or doesn’t happen) and your brain won’t stop replaying the situation, asking yourself “What if I would have done this” “or what if I would have done that”. It’s a very unhealthy practice. I hated the Dominican Republic. I wanted to go home.
But I kept praying, and soon God healed me. I realized that I was blessed, nothing bad that bad happened. I wasn’t hurt, I could be dead, and it was only a ring. I made a thank you list, giving Him gratitude for everything good in my life. The experience was a test of my faith, and I believe that everything is everything. All is good. It could have been much, much worse.
-The Girl With the Monkey Mind
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