I don’t think I’d be accused of exaggerating if I told you the people of the Dominican Republic are some of the most joyful people we’ve ever encountered.

It was our last night in the Dominican Republic.  Nearly 11:00 p.m. we had been relaxing by the pool and watching the stars for a couple of hours.  “Excuse me ma’am, sir, can you please tell me why the ship is here but there is no one at the pool during the day?” asked Manuel, a young man working at Amber Cove.

Hysterics of the what if scenarios. What if you woke up tomorrow morning to learn your life would never again be the same? Would you get out of bed to face the unknown, or would you retreat back under the covers?

What. If. Two seemingly innocuous words. But put those two words together and watch out! What if? Two little words that can either set you adrift or set you on the right path. Or, just maybe, push you out of your comfort zone.

On Being Thankful

I’m thankful.  At a time when the world at large seems to be caught up in a manic spin cycle, I’m taking a moment to remember the good in the world; goodness we’ve been gifted with in our lives. I think it’s something we all tend to forget to do, I know I’m guilty of it.  Especially, in the past few weeks with the fueling of ignorance spreading like wildfire by presidential hopefuls and the mass media.  Why not lead the news with acts of good and kindness such as the little boy who wants to personally thank all of the NYPD?

I had you at the word, chocolate, right?

Kashan, Iran. “To me a lush carpet of pine needles or spongy grass is more welcome than the most luxurious Persian rug.”  – Helen Keller

Standing in the kitchen preparing stir fry veggies and fried noodles for dinner, I giggled to myself as I watched Abi slice a piece of sourdough bread for himself.  Homemade Chinese food with a slice of bread.  Makes me smile every time.  Life’s bread.  I swear it’s in the Persian gene pool.

Put me on a train and you can pretty much color me happy.  I’m still waiting for someone to build railroad tracks across the Atlantic Ocean and I’d never fly again.  Love trains.  Hate planes.  It’s that simple.

I’m beginning to understand why people return to Spain to walk the Camino de Santiago more than once.  When we reached Santiago, the end of our journey, I was beyond exhausted and thought to myself, okay, that was a once-in-a-lifetime experience.

Ask anyone who has walked the Camino de Santiago if they know what a Spanish Tortilla is and I’m betting they’ll say, “Yes!”