Why I love the Dominican Republic

Yesterday I was sitting out front of Martina's house after lunch. The sun was shining, Venicio and a couple of Haitian guys were pasting cement over a concrete wall that borders their house making it look more adobe style. Yeimi, Fran's wife and daughter of Martina and Venicio, was sitting in the chair next to me, picking the paint off her fingernails and Natan, Fran's littlest, was sitting on top of Bo-Bo's dog kennel rocking back and forth violently while he told me a story I understood little of. It was one of those moments in life where I inherently knew I needed to soak up every detail because I knew I'd never get this day back. Then something more wonderful happened. One of the Haitian guys turned from his work to ask Venicio a question about his shoes. I didn't really hear the question, but I did hear Martina run from inside the house and start publicly 'telling' on her husband some anecdote regarding the shoes. She made fun of him so loudly and they were both laughing and then they started pinching, tickling and hitting at eachother playfully. A husband and wife in their fifties, married for over 26 years, acting all giddy and silly, laughing hysterically. Then Venicio grabbed her in his arms, hugged her tight and said, "Mujer!" (woman). I didn't know whether to laugh or cry. I laughed.
There are moments like these that come and renew my spirit, that lift up my heart and when I think to myself, 'I love the Dominican Republic'. Shortly after I headed back to the art site to open up for our afternoon students. I got there a little early and so decided to start back on a painting that has been giving me trouble. I have some how lost communication with the originial idea and it keeps transforming, yet not yet into what it will be. Anyway, I took it outside to spray another layer of gold spray paint on it to subdue some of the other colors. As I was shaking up the can, three of our new teenage art students loudly barged in. "Amy! Que tu haces? (what are you doing?)" Jose Daniel asked and so I explained and then he patted me on the shoulder and said to his friends (I'll just write it in English for y'all), "See! I told you guys she was amazing. You're even better than Profe (Francisco). You are such a Tigeraza (have no idea how to translate that except to say a combo between 'fierce' and 'the bomb') !" I gently full-nelsoned him, commanded them to 'get to work!' and we all laughed.
Francisco finally came in to work. He had vertigo yesterday because of an ear infection (or rather, water had gotten in his ears when he went swimming in the river). I poured in some Hydrogen Peroxide mixed with water (something he'd never heard of) and he delightedly giggled at the sound of it fizzing in his ears. He felt almost immediately better and then we started joking around. He playfully teased the art students, I told him all the 'bad' words I had learned since I'd been here (I didn't actually know they weren't appropriate until I said one and he, with shocked expression, asked me where I'd learned that word). He thought it was hilarious.
What a jovial day.
I love the Dominican Republic.