I sit in a thoroughly modern, bright, somewhat humid airport food court pretty much like any other but for the occasional group of burly men in t-shirts with RESCUE printed on their backs. Israeli is my guess.
I wait the arrival of my companion to Barahona who will also provide the rental car. It's a few hours wait but I am thrilled to have access to my computer and the blog. And to people watch.
All my concerns about going through customs were allayed;rescue workers--or white people who might be construed as such--seem to be waved right on through. Thanks DR!
This is a venture to challenge the senses:
the touch this morning of my sweet soft bed
the taste of the first pot of Duncan Donut's coffee at JFK
the smell of the flight attendant's after shave
the sound of the planes engines, lulling me back to sleep at 6am
the sight of the beautiful earth below, holding its mysteries and making me wonder how it can actually shift and move, wreaking destruction, only a tiny bit of which awaits me.