FIN – 27 MO. (+6 DAYS)

Beloved readers,

Sadly, the time has come for us to part ways.

It’s not you. It’s me.

In truth: it’s probably you and me. I am no longer DominicanMully but Looking-for-a-job-in-a-crappy-economyMully. There are millions of me out there. I am not offended by the fact that is not as interesting. You probably want to continue reading new blogs about the DR.

So let’s call the breakup mutual shall we? Our relationship has been one based on laughter, support and learning, hasn’t it?

Tales of computer labs, electricity and pests. Beautiful people, beaches and mountains. Cholera, earthquakes and development conversations. Poop stories.

Yes, it’s been wonderful.

You guys gave my experiences additional value by witnessing them and learning from them. Technology really is incredible, no? Thank you so much for your dedication and support during my two years in the Dominican Republic. It was wonderful.

Hasta luego,


No worries! The blog will still be up in its current state so everyone can relive every awesome moment. You can search the archives by category or using the search bar found on the right of the site’s main page.



Hey guys! This an excerpt survey that ran in an internal publication for Peace Corps Volunteers, The Gringo Grita. Working on the publication was one of the funniest things I did with other volunteers. Parts are serious. Others, you’ll see, are not.


(yes, this picture was hand selected to run with the survey) Continue reading


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A lot of Peace Corps people joke about the American perception of what we exactly we do. The banter usually results in inappropriately lofty expressions like “changing the world,” “saving the world,” “spreading peace,” “saving babies,” “shaking hands and kissing babies,” “magic” etc.

The truth is: I have kissed a lot of babies (not in a weird way), and I might have  spread some peace despite my boughts of sweaty frustration. And, although I never did this, I totally could have saved a baby if I had ever come across one that needed saving from drowning or touching a hot pot. Continue reading


Isla Saona, La Republica DominicanaTime is running out. I have 28 days left in the Dominican Republic as a Peace Corps Volunteer and then it’s off to the Real World. (All of those Capitalized Words in the second sentence make you nervous too?!)

I am developing some sort of separation anxiety from the life I’ve created here. In 28 days, I will board a plane and say goodbye to everything I have introduced into my life during the past two years: other volunteers, my Dominican family, frequent chatter about poop, long discussions about world politics and development by candle light… etc.

It’s enough change to make a girl freak.

My solution? I week-long beach tour around the country.

Food. Drink. Friends. Fun. Sun. And the prettiest blues you’ve ever seen. Continue reading


Doing laundry beachside in Baharuco. Photo Credit: Jackie Gilles.

Seco. Sin una gotita de nada.

Dry. Without a drop of anything.

The six barrels sat empty behind the house beside the rain tank that had been collecting dust for weeks.

Laundry. Laundry had become like this unspoken, yet ultimate fantasy for most of us. As if we thought, “Laundry, what a luxury! Can you imagine clothes that don’t smell like a Caribbean day’s sweat? ¿Eso será algo ricismo, no?” Continue reading


One of the best decisions I’ve made in my service happened recently: I moved back into real Dominican life by moving myself in with a family down the street.

Let’s just say that my last couple of weeks have been filled with more hilarious moments and love than I can even begin to describe here. But I thought I would give a typical snap shot of my day-to-day:

It’s 7 a.m.

I scramble through my sheets to find the ugly glow of my Peace Corps cellphone alarm. I shut it off. My lime green mosquitero provides me with a mini labyrinth to crawl out of every morning. It’s tied to a curtain that hangs in front of the closet – a curtain that is also tied to my sister’s mosquitero.

I’ve laid out the sneaks, shorts, sports bra, and socks the night before. Just have to find my iPod, and it’s time for my morning walk/run. Continue reading


Dominican festivals pretty much follow the same sort of formula. Loud music + tons of  people + bottles, and bottles of cerveza.

The Dominican Carnaval party throws additional components into the mix (for better of worse): clowns with the ability to hit you in the rear with Nerf balls attached to strings or sticks.

That’s right: scary clowns with the licence to wallop whomever. My question: aren’t the clowns themselves scary enough? I mean, COME ON! Continue reading