Days like these.

Today I woke up at 9:30 to the smell of sausage frying and the sound of deliberate discussions of whether to fry or poach the eggs (with the follow-up discussions being – how do you actually poach an egg?) After heaving myself out of the bed and shrugging on my swimsuit, I shuffled into the kitchen where a large mug of deep café was shoved into my molasses hands. My nose buried in that life-giving aroma took me from 1^st to 3^rd gear instantaneously.

After breakfast on the porch me & the girls hurried to clean up breakfast (1 of 2 mind you, 2^nd breakfast…yes, Hobbit style, would be at our favorite French Bakery around the corner) and piled on the sunscreen before trundling off to the beach. We walked for about 15 mins away from the center of town until we reached a small cove where we plopped ourselves down, scoring a patch of shade and settled in for the morning. Can I just be honest? There is nothing in this whole world more glorious than crisping in the sun & just when you think you might turn into a human version of a potato chip – diving into a liquid sapphire. Just glorious.

After a few hours at the beach we returned to our hostel to shower, change & pack up, and head out for 2^nd breakfast. The early to rise, Sunday morning breakfast crew had already ravaged Le Boulangerie Francese, so upon our arrival – the pickings were slim. Some café con leches were ordered, cinnamon rolls, baguettes, chocolate ganache tarts – for starters. If you're not a foodie yourself, this post probably doesn't mean much to you – but if you are, and you've lived in a country of rice & beans…you'll understand the EUREKA of damn authentic pastries. The baguette was not so ceremoniously ripped apart by my overzealous Polish friend as I sliced up avocado (YES, they're FINALLY in season!!!) and we spread the green butter. We must have looked like Peace Corps workers the way we were reveling in the simplicity of a perfect French baguette.

By the time we were all wishing we hadn't eaten that last bite – it was time to hop on the last bus out of Las Terrenas headed back towards the capital. As we rolled out of the town, we continued to make stops & fill up the bus, until makeshift seats made of wood slabs are put down the aisles to sit 5 across. Our "little engine that could" bus winded its way through the mountains of Samana Peninsula as I marveled (head out the window like a golden retriever) at the GREENESS of this place and the voracity with which everything living thing grows.

As we descended – our brakes were screeching like banshees and the on again – off again AC indicated that our bus wasn't in the best of conditions; which did nothing but throw gas on the fire of sardined Dominicans and Americans. Windows were flung wide open as we screamed down the highway, with rum being shared among passengers and people yelling for the driver to put on another CD that had more than just 4 songs. In the midst of this milieu I couldn't help but grin – I love the chaos. I love the disorder. What is understandably disturbing for foreigners – I have come to live & embrace in all of its VOLUME and ridiculosity. Nosotros gozamos aqui, we enjoy ourselves here.

I got home & went on a run, got to tell off a presidential guard that was hitting on me – and came home to divine curry. Eggplant, onion, broccoli, tomato, cilantro, coconut milk & green curry paste – squeeze of lime & salt served over some brown rice spiked with crushed red pepper, perfection.

Today was wonderful; it is days like these where I have to pinch myself to remember how I came to be so lucky. Good food, good company & such a beautiful country.