More Than an Experience – It Was Life Changing
On a recent vacation to the Dominican Republic, my family and I took an excursion through the countryside of Puerto Plata. It was a 45-minute ride, our tour guide joked that we’d get massages along the way. What he really meant was that the road was so bumpy we were bound to get a few back cracks in transit.
Walking onto the property of one local family felt like stepping back in time at least 100 years. No electric or water lines were leading to the home, just a few shared solar panels that generated limited electricity.
For water, large vats of saltwater from the ocean were delivered monthly. The family would burn wood to make charcoal, then place the charcoal into a large clay pot that served as a natural filter. Within an hour, the salty water transformed into cool, clear drinking water. Perfect for cooking, bathing, and staying hydrated.
So Far Away, Yet it Felt Like Home
Hens, roosters, and baby chicks roamed freely underfoot as we walked the land. A strong banana tree stood tall in the back, flanked by a cherry tree and a plantain tree. The home was a two-room, weathered, humble structure housing two adults and six children. There was no insulation, just 2×4 boards with space between the slats, offering easy access for whatever small critters might pass through.
And yet, the home was cozy and full of life. I sat on the couch, admiring the small trinkets lining the shelves—each one clearly meaningful to the family: a cat, a Care Bear, an owl, a bird, a dinosaur, and an open Bible. Family photos—at least ten of them—were placed with intention. Some were clearly old, maybe even photos of loved ones who had passed, but still very much present.
We crushed coffee beans by hand and sipped fresh, steaming cups. Later, the owners offered us homemade passion fruit push-up pops. It was a small gesture, but it felt like a gift of great value.
Toward the end of the visit, the translator opened the floor for questions. One thought had been circling in my mind: How do they pass the time?
I’d seen one woman cooking over the stove. Two others were sitting in chairs on the porch. The children, I assumed, were at school.
So I asked, “How do they spend their days?”
The translator smiled gently, tilted his head toward the porch, and said, “They do this.”
And that—of all the beautiful, earthy, simple rituals I observed—was the most glorious of all.
My body stilled in that moment. I let the realization soak in: This is what it means to just BE.
A Life Altering Lesson
Their homes were not dilapidated. They were lived in, loved in, and welcoming. These weren’t people to pity—they were soulful, grounded, and profoundly wise.
Of all the traveling I’ve done, this was one of my favorite experiences. Not because of the scenery (though it was beautiful), but because I got to witness a life built around being rather than doing. And what a gift that was.
It’s almost heartbreaking, isn’t it? That we in the Western world have to learn the lesson of stillness. Of enoughness. Of simplicity.
And yet, that’s what life keeps trying to teach us—over and over again.
This family didn’t just share their home with me; they shared their wisdom.
And I hope you feel it, too.
