Day One

I had'nt actually expected to start my blog on day one, but so far, it's been eventful enough that I figured I had better get started before I forget.

Who'd have thought that even an airport shuttle would be an avenue for the work of the Holy Spirit? God is full of surprises.

For the first time in about 15 years, I had to fly out of JFK (this was in order to get a direct flight and a better price). But, of course the shuttle doesn't GO directly to JFK, it goes to Newark, where you have to change for another shuttle to JFK. I arrived at Newark airport a half-hour before the next shuttle, so had to wait. I was the ONLY passenger on this enormous bus all the way from Jamesburg to Newark, and there were only two of us on the van from Newark to JFK.

It turns out, of course, that the other guy was on the same flight headed to the same city in the DR. (Puerto Plata) We got to talking -- hard to believe, I know, considering how shy I am -- and talked about politics. He was a Dominican American and we were comparing stories of corruption in New Jersey with stories of corruption in the DR. Suffice it to say things are worse down here. (e.g. there are something like 500 generals in the Dominican army which is a fraction of the size of the American army -- this is, of course, so that people in power can get their cronies to earn big salaries, and more importantly, big pensions. Is any of this sounding familiar, people?)

Anyway, it turns out this guy lives in Freehold and is interested in looking for a church.

BTW --- in case youever need to explain to anybody where St. Peter's Church is located forget about 'white clapboard,' National Historic Register, wrought iron fence, 18th century steeple -- just tell them we're across the street from Rita's Italian Ices. 90% of Western Monmouth County residents will know exactly where we're located.

One other blessed moment -- when I checked in to the hotel -- not quite as straightforward a project as one might think, considering the credit card machine was on the fritz, the reception attendant couldn't find a pen, spelled my name wrong eight ways from Sunday (try explaining a French surname in Spanish -- especially when 'v' and 'b' sound almost identical in Spanish. After trying for about 5 minutes, I was almost ready to sign my name as Frank Hetver, but decided against it since it wouldn't match the passport) -- turns out that the radio in the hotel reception was playing Christian music. Mind you, this was not STAR 99.1, but it was different from most of the music I've heard here. A nice reassurance for me of God's faithfulness.

The hotel is lovely -- right across the street from the malecon ("sea walk") is probably the best translation. The 'tuquoise waters of the Caribbean really are turqoise. A good place to spend my first day and night 'de-compressing.'