This is our balcony. Seeing the palm trees from the balcony is a constant reminder we are not in Oregon anymore. Mornings are spent here drinking coffee before the sun pounds down on it at about 3pm everyday. The balcony is a place for coffee to be sipped, bibles to be read, clothes to be dried on, and the place you run when a moto arrives honking and you don’t know if it is for you or someone else. It provides a place for retreat while being a place of practicalness.

This is our balcony view from the street. I think the average North American would see the balconies on the front of the building and wonder where the privacy is at, but that is the beauty of this culture. You do not retreat to your backyard with a high fence around it for privacy. You retreat to your front porch, in talking distance from your neighbor. We hear the conversations, and join in on them. Instead of running inside when our neighbor enters their balcony, we join in the beauty of this community. This culture thrives on the music of your neighbor, dominos being slammed, and joining conversations you weren't even a part of to begin with.

This is the street outside our apartment complex. During covid our neighbors and us would take turns running laps around here to stay healthy. It is the main road to our complex and where motos drive up with their deliveries and everyone comes out to take a look and see if it is for them. It isn't paved, but the city did tell us they were going to pave it (two years ago). It is home to mud holes when it rains and the culprit for all the dust inside our home.

On a cloudless day you can see the mountains beyond the trees and houses. We live in the mountains of the Dominican Republic, on the weekends Domincans from the capital retreat to our city for the “cooler” climate. The large houses you see here are empty during the week and filled with Dominicans on the weekends blaring bachata and slamming dominos until the early morning.

I initially did not love that it was on the front of the building. This meant every one who pulled up could see us and we would have to greet anyone who walked by. My insecurity in my Spanish kept me from enjoying the space the first few months as I was worried any conversation would go beyond the simple greetings and I would be embarrassed when I had to say those dreaded words “Lo siento, no entiendo”

Slowly, conquering my fear of failing in Spanish conversations, I began to enjoy my balcony and those who come and go from below. My balcony has helped me to better understand this culture and the people.