Personal Narrative: Growing Up In The Dominican Republic

I believe in finding yourself in others. In the 21st century when you grow up you are surrounded in a world of technology, ungratefulness, and high expectations. Before I went on this life changing missions trip that was my mindset. I was ungrateful,and jealous of what I did not have. But now my values and my mindset has changed I now am grateful, and I am jealous of the people who have so little and are still so happy.

My parents and I moved to the Dominican Republic when I was thirteen years old. Living there as a young American came with many challenges. One of the biggest threats against foreigners was violence, and within a year I experienced it firsthand. A week before school began I was mugged by two assailants: a man on a motorcycle and another man on foot. I remember the day so well because it was the first time my parents allowed me to explore without supervision.

I have always felt that there is a difference between a house and your home because a house is where you live, but your home is where you feel that you are connected to your loved ones. Your home is where you breathe and all you feel is peace. My entire life I have been adapting to new environments, which makes me feel comfortable about leaving for college, meeting new people and studying the career that I have always had a passion for. At the age of 6 my parents decided to move to the Dominican Republic, which I considered to be a different world.

Sitting in the crook of a cushioned armchair, I watch the smiling faces of infants flash across the screen of my aunt 's TV. I shift my weight to fold into a more comfortable position, only to be met by a cry of protest. I quickly jump up, my maternal switch being flipped, and begin to soothe. I whisper an old lullaby and hold her hands in mine. Once she has calmed down, I rewind to the beginning of the recorded Huggies commercial, as I had done hundreds of times before, and allow my grandmother to laugh and coo at the toothless grins on the television.

As I walked out of the airport, unfamiliar faces surrounded me. I was beginning my first week in the poorest country in the Western Hemisphere -Haiti. We rode in an open air box truck to where we would be staying, bouncing out of our seat with every bump along the way. I saw people washing dishes, bathing and going to the bathroom all within the same water source- while on ride to the compound. Throughout the week, children laughed and took many pictures with me.

Growing up in America and having a parent from another country comes with many perks and stories. In case you haven't read the title or wondering which parent is from another country; My father is from a small island in Central America named Belize. To give you the brief history about Belize, Belize first inhabitants were the Mayans from the beginning of time until the fourteenth century due to them mysteriously declining in population. The Mayans had a huge roll in the Central American countries. This due to the fact that they developed the idea of hieroglyphics, which back then was the only fully known writing system of the pre-Columbian Americas-as well as for its mathematics, astronomical system, art, calendar, and architecture.

Moving to Dominican Republic as a young American came with many challenges. One of the main challenges was crime; crime is one of the biggest problems for tourist. I moved to the Dominican Republic at the age of 11 with my parents. I was in middle school when I had my first close encounter with crime during the summer, a week right before school started. I was robbed by two assailants, one on a motorcycle and the other man was walking.

I had the grand honor of being born into a culturally diverse family. Although Dominican culture dominates our customs, we are 25% Middle Eastern from Lebanon, and 25% Spanish from Barcelona, Spain. The cultures have all laced into each other in such a way that I find it utterly ordinary to eat Arabic food while listening to Dominican music while serving Spanish desserts. My parents came to America at around the age that I am now, met each other, and my mom had my first sister at 18 while my father was 22. My mom went back to high school to finish her GED while my father enrolled in an institution that he never got around to finishing because his english was not well.

Imagine life in four walls: no dining room, no bedroom, just the kitchen and a shared room for three. To go to the bathroom or kitchen, it had to cross the courtyard. That was my house. I was born in the Dominican Republic and I lived with my grandmother and my sister who is two years older than me. That one room was where we ate, slept and lived.

The Cuba Experience - Prepare To Be Surprised I'm obsessed. I can't get Cuba out of my mind. It fills my thoughts during the day and my dreams at night. They're confusing thoughts, as hazy as the smog that hangs over Havana.