The air was suffocating. It was the type of hot that when you stepped into it, you immediately shrunk back into your own skin to defend yourself from its shock. There was silent chatter in the air between families, and the sun shone brilliantly from above the bungalow roof. I was twelve years old, waiting for a bus with my mom, dad, and brother. There were probably twenty-five other people waiting too, but they spoke Spanish, so we kept to ourselves.

Back at the hotel, my parents had decided we’d do something together as a family. They settled with dune buggying over the country-side of the Dominican Republic. We were told we would go as a group with other people (those around us who were also waiting for the bus) and we would all have to follow directions from a tour guide. Luckily, he spoke Spanish and some English, so nobody would get lost.

When the bus arrived, we boarded and started the drive across the country-side. I remember halfway through the drive, the bus pulled over for a good fifteen minutes because there was a mix up of passengers. One family had to get off and wait for a separate bus to come and get them (at least, that’s what I thought, since I couldn’t actually understand what was going on). The view from where we stopped was magnificent. Pulled over on the dirt road, we were parked on top of a hill overlooking a lush green valley. It was full of overgrown, tropical grasses and shrubs. And when the valley ended, the mountains began, against a blue sky with a few white clouds, covered in palms and jungle trees. The plants tangled together wildly, it made them look dangerous, yet alluring. The sight was nothing like what I’d seen at home.
When we reached our destination, tables were set with people behind them selling various things. I remember a lot of jewelry, all in the brightest of colors. After twenty minutes of looking around we were assigned a dune buggy. Two people could fit in each vehicle. My brother and dad went in one, while my mom and I went in another. In-between the seats, was a place we could put our things. We had a digital camera, a hat, water, and two bags of candy, gumdrops and Canada pink mints.

We got COVERED in mud, visited a beautiful private beach with clear turquoise water, and swam in a cave (one where one might find a giant hole and an unexpected pool of water). Rays of sunlight slipped through cracks onto the surrounding walls of the cave. What I enjoyed most, was not the soft sand beneath my feet, or cool water away from the sweltering sun, nor was it speeding through unfamiliar land on dirt roads following strangers to who knows where.

What I enjoyed most was being able to see the perspective of those living in the world around me.

As we continued our drive back to where we were assigned our dune buggies, we passed homes. They were made from different pieces of metal and wood, connected together somehow, and shaped into shelters. There were no windows, just square holes in walls. There were no doors. No floors either. Just empty spaces where a human could enter, and worn out dirt leading into, what I imagined, a tiny room that smelled of earth.

The people were all dark brown and sun baked. They went about their business like everything was adequate. What I witnessed was completely normal; it was their life. They had no money. The animals, cows and horses, or a dog here and there, were so skinny, I could see their ribs. People walked along roads carrying machetes or other farm tools. Their lifestyle was so different from mine; it was eye-opening!
I’m not sure how it started, or when my mom decided to hand out the first gumdrop, or why even. Each time we saw a child we pulled over. Sometimes it would be just one or two children. Other times six or seven, all crowding around our cart. Some of them were young, some older than I. A few of the really young ones were completely naked and if I recall right, I don’t think any of them had shoes. They weren’t afraid of us. Two strangers, who did not speak the same language, who didn’t even look like they did, with pale skin and shoes and unwoven jewelry, motioned them to come toward us. Somehow, they understood. We rushed, so we wouldn’t fall behind the group, who were speeding away in their dune buggies. Every time we gave a child candy, even in our rushed movements, their faces lit up with curiosity and thoughtfulness. After, the mothers would wave from their shacks, as we hurried away.

I think this trip means so much to me because I learned that even though we were literally worlds apart, we aren’t so different after all. Deep down, we are all curious, we all need, and we all want. Seeing the colorful gumdrops in their dark hands, reminded me that we are all just people. We may live differently, and talk differently, and look different, but deep down we share that one thing- the strive to survive.