Yes, I'm a Tourist

The kittens wreaked havoc and we sent them all
home with loving parents -- one went to Davide,
one to our instructor, Roselise, and another to
Mirline's family in Port-Au-Prince

Last week, my parents visited. For Sunday through Wednesday, we stayed in Hinche. We visited the boys' orphanage, the girls' orphanage, the feeding center, etc. Then they came around to some of my basic errands -- exchanging cash, making photocopies, dropping off supplies at the hospital. With no volunteers, my work was mostly at my computer and around town.

Nadene and Steve, the Co-Directors of MFH, came the same day as my parents, and it's always busy when they're around. Between all of the planned and unplanned meetings, the dinners, the hand-churned ice cream, the freshly baked bread, and the troubleshooting, the house is a busy place. I'm lucky to have bosses who are not only passionate and hardworking, but also know how to enjoy life -- especially in Haiti. The house transforms when they're here. Not only does the staff do a deep clean to prepare, but the mood is much more... open. Nadene and Steve troubleshoot aloud. They love volunteer input, they are entirely transparent with the staff and volunteers, and they really do have Haiti's women's best interests at heart.

On Thursday of that week, after most of the initial Nadene-and-Steve-craziness had dulled down, my parents and I took a private plane to Jacmel, Haiti, which is the art capital of the country. If you haven't been, there is a dirt air strip in the middle of Hinche -- and it's a major landmark in the city. To fly out, you first have to text message the American pilot, Roger, your flight time, locations, and how many people will be with you. When he arrives, you first have to chase off all the goats so you can take off. But it was a super easy flight, and gorgeous. We cruised at an altitude of 1200 feet so we were pretty close to the mountains. Haiti has incredible mountain ranges separating the lower altitude parts of the country from my home region, the Central Plateau.

Jacmel (Jakmel in Creole) is kind of like the New Orleans of Haiti. They have a yearly event called Carnival (Kaneval), where artists make huge animal and devil masks that they wear. Every artist prepares for months, and lots of artisans had old Carnival masks in the back rooms of their shops. Jacmel was also hit pretty hard by the 2010 earthquake (tremblement in French), so the rubble is very much still present. Since Hinche was hardly affected in terms of physical damage, the earthquake damage was easy to spot out from the usual Haiti neglect rubble. (Most of the effect was in the craziness that ensued when everyone fled earthquake-ridden areas to come to the Central Plateau; Hospital Ste. Thérèse, where we work, is the main hospital for the region, so MFH was also very much affected). However, because of its proximity to the water and road quality, it's been accessible for a much longer time than Hinche, which was much more difficult to get to before the road here was paved (which only happened in the past few years). Therefore, Jacmel has a lot more history than Hinche, it seems.

Our hotel was an old factory (along with the rest of the buildings lining our street), where every room was different, and the whole place was full of antique mahogany floors and furniture (Haiti used to have a booming mahogany industry, but they exported it all and the market has since been depleted). To get to our rooms, we had to walk down some brick steps through a canopy of flowered vines. Our rooms were side-by-side and were the only two not in the main building. We were the only visitors. Each room had huge archway doors that locked by means of huge metal poles with hooks at the end that you had to hook into a metal loop on the inside. The outside locked with a padlock. I had my own room with a mahogany king-sized bed. The room was lit by lamps.

Guess who??

We spent most of our time shopping for art. I ended up buying a burlap purse, a hand-painted paper mâché vase, and a hand-painted mobile with hummingbirds. I also got a really gorgeous painting of some Haitian women dancing. We bought 3 other paintings that are unreal. I'm so excited to see where they end up in my house!

We spent an afternoon at the beach, too, but it wasn't too impressive. To get there, we rode in a tap tap, the Haitian form of public transportation. Tap taps are super gawdily-painted trucks/vans that haul way too many Haitians and way too much stuff at once. I can't believe I haven't seen one topple over yet. You pay 25 Gds to get pretty much anywhere within a city (it's 250 Gourdes, or about $6 to get to Port-Au-Prince from Hinche, which is a 2 1/2-3-hour drive). On the way back, though, we got caught in the rain. We were all soaked, there was a woman practically coughing up her lung, a man was hanging off the back, and then the roads flooded about a foot and a half. Haiti...

Terrifying devil mask...

The next day, we went to a waterfall called Bassin Bleu (bleu = blue). We rode in the bed of a pick-up truck through a major river and up a huge mountain to the top, where we got out and hiked for ~20 minutes, each of us with at least one guide holding our arms. Then we repelled down a rope to the waterfall, where we had to swim through pool to pool and rock formation to rock formation to get to the big waterfall. The place is known for its blue water, but it was brown the day we were there because of all the rain the day before. We spent the afternoon at a resort's pool (because our hotel's pool was empty...?) overlooking the ocean. 

We flew back to Port-Au-Prince in the morning, where my parents picked up their flight back home and I caught a ride with the Midwives for Haiti pink jeep that drives back and forth every Saturday to transport volunteers. What a week!

Doorway to my hotel room!

The mosaic boardwalk is still under construction. Ayiti is the Creole spelling of Haiti.

Wine bottle chandelier.

I wish I knew what this artist was thinking!

One of the guides climbed right up the waterfall and jumped like it was nbd.

Michel stayed with our stuff!

Doug leaps.

An example of the piles of garbage all over the place. (Sorry this one's blurry!)

Hotel lobby

La Florita

Kaneval mask!

Hotel bar

Am I a Tourist?

This post will just be an update, because it's been a while since I've done one of those and I've taken advantage of the downtime I've had to see some of Haiti. I love my job and Hinche, but I live at my workplace (as I've said a million times) and I never "get off work," so I really do need to take time away. I'm just going to talk. Here goes.

On Saturday, August 17th, Gladias left for the US. It was a busy enough day that I didn't feel overwhelmingly sad during the actual goodbye, but I'm definitely beginning to really miss having a best friend around. The disco just isn't the same without him and I feel much more lost not having him around. He really was my window into Haitian life -- answering whatever weird questions I asked and showing me how things work here. Sigh. We enjoyed his last few weeks as much as possible, though.

The view from inside the Tap Tap

A week before he left, Gladias and I made a pretty impromptu trip to Cap Haitian, or O-Cap. O-Cap is a city located on the northern coast of Haiti. The drive took about 2 1/2 to 3 hours in our beat-up Tap Tap, driven by Gladias's best friend, Eventz. Since we were driving a Tap Tap (Haiti's version of a bus service; you tap the vehicle to get on, tap when you want to get off), we picked up people on the way and dropped them off whenever they needed it. Since there are very few main roads here, everyone knew we were ultimately going to O-Cap. Most people didn't pay. Tap Taps are a good example of how Haitians share material items with each other like it's nothing. In the US we're pretty selfish with our material items, but in Haiti, you share what you have. Gladias and I paid for the gas to get to O-Cap, but all of these people we didn't know were driving along with us and not paying.

I look so pale standing next to Haitians...

Since Haiti is, well, Haiti, I frequently forget that I am in the middle of the Caribbean! The drive along the northern coast on our way to the specific beach we intended to go to was breathtaking. The water is beautiful and clear, the coast is rocky and lush, and the homes are more colorful than ever. We spent the day at a resort, paying only $5 to use their facilities and their section of beach. The place was full of foreigners, but very few other Americans. Gladias, Eventz and I immediately ran into the water, which was clear and the perfect temperature. I spent the whole day in the sun, and the Haitians couldn't understand why I didn't want to lay in the shade. For lunch, we all got the same thing -- spaghetti bolognaise with a side of French fries. I was giddy. I made friends with some Dominican UN people, drank a Prestige or two, and even saw some other friends from Hinche -- a huge coincidence. We went home that evening.

Gladias and I spent his last week enjoying each other's company. I tried to drive his motorcycle down the Hinche air strip (failed -- I was too scared and only made it a few feet), we spent a few nights at the disco and at The Place (the central plaza in town), and spent the very last night at his house talking in depth about the airport and his connecting flight to his new hometown. I met his mom and got to see where he lives. Though he was leaving the next day, his room wasn't prepared for him to be gone. It's interesting to me. When I left the US, my room was spotless -- partially because my mom wouldn't have it any other way, partially because I know she's using it as a hotel room, but also because that's just what we do in the US. But Gladias didn't prepare his room at all. He packed up his clothes and any necessary items, knowing that he can buy whatever he needs in the US. But everything else stayed -- from his stacks of textbooks on his dresser, to the knick knacks sitting by his bed. Something I also found interesting and really sad is that he didn't tell anyone. It's the Haitian way to not share every detail of your coming and going, especially if you're going somewhere like the US, so I get it. But even the next day when we picked him up in the jeep, loaded his suitcases in the back, and were driving away, we saw Eventz. Gladias spoke to him through the metal shell of the jeep, the two shook hands, and Eventz smiled like he'd see Gladias tomorrow. I realize Gladias isn't dying, but he's pretty much gone to these people, at least for a really long time. It was overwhelmingly upsetting for me to see his best friend smile like that and not know that he's leaving for a long time. Gladias had hinted to a few staff members that he was leaving "soon," but no one knew when for sure. I don't know why no one else was as shaken up as I was over this. I need to remember that he's in my country, and that I'll see him as soon as I get home. I guess I was just imagining how betrayed I'd feel if my best friend moved away and never said anything.

The day Gladias left, however, my first visitor came. Bobby, my boyfriend, exited the airport about 20 minutes before the jeep arrived at the airport, and we picked him up before we did anything else. The day was so bittersweet and it was really weird mentally preparing myself for a huge goodbye and a great hello. I was dreading losing my best friend, but so excited for Bobby to come. Talk about some major conflicting emotions!

We said goodbye to Gladias next. When we got out of the jeep at the drop-off area, the vendors tried getting me to buy their items and the airport staff tried to help me find my check-in area. It was odd to them that the white girl was staying but the Haitian was leaving, haha. Once we hugged goodbye, off we drove to a restaurant, where we would eat lunch in almost first-world luxury before seeing off our two volunteers whose flights were much later in the day. I got a burger and fries, obviously. Then we drove home, Emmanuel and his wife, Gaelle, in the middle of the jeep, Bobby and I in the back.

On the way back, I kept trying to feel something about my surroundings so I could explain Haiti to Bobby. But I couldn't. It's like I'm so used to my environment that I'm no longer emotionally connected to the suffering inevitably happening everywhere. I kept forgetting where I was, and I've recently realized that I think that's just what's happening. I'm living in Haiti and it's no big deal anymore. I spend so much time in my luxurious, comfortable home and talking to people from home, that I don't always realize where I am. At the same time, when I ride through town on a moto and see everything around me so clearly, I'm just used to it. I'm not sure if I'm just used to my surroundings or if I'm less conscious of where I actually am. I think that's just part of what I should be feeling after being here for three months. One semester of college is 3 months, so this marks the longest I've been away from home and familiarity. Interesting, eh?

Bobby and I attended Yvanèse's wedding the first night. It was held in Pandiassou, and we knew almost nobody there. We arrived an hour late after our arrival home from PAP, thinking we'd missed the mass but would be there for whatever followed. When Yvanèse arrived in her white UN jeep, she wanted picture after picture with me...and Bobby. Haitians lined up with their cell phones and cameras to get pictures of us with the couple. I don't get it. The mass didn't begin until 2 hours after it was planned to, and Bobby and I were stuck in this sticky back room with all the husbands and no view of the altar. I guess the women sit up front and men sit in the back? I didn't get that memo. Throughout the ceremony, people were in and out quite a bit, so once we'd had our fill of stifling heat and mosquitoes, we, too, stepped out. We left before the reception, because it was already dark and we'd been there for 3+ hours already. The jeep never got back until 11 that night!

The next day, we went to Bassin Zim, the waterfall. Monday was a day of errand-running. Tuesday, we hopped in the Jeep with the Mobile Clinic midwives and got out at Lascahobas, the town where Emmanuel, one of our translators, lives. Mobile Clinic continued on to a different town. We saw his house, met his 1 1/2 year old daughter, ate Paté (classic Haitian street food), walked around town, and visited a pool. Wednesday was more errand-running. With no volunteers around, there wasn't a ton to do. Thursday, we got up early and drove to Port-Au-Prince to the beach! Kaliko is a resort about an hour outside of the city. It's pretty luxurious, although still very "Haiti." There was no hot water, lizards in the bathroom, no shampoo or conditioner, and the TV barely worked. But the beach and pool -- and passionfruit vodkas -- were wonderful.

I should also mention that Bobby brought me a ukulele that I had shipped to my house in PA. I originally wanted to bring my guitar here, but it was just too big to bring with me. When a volunteer brought her ukulele a few weeks back, I realized that it's a much better option -- it's just a mini guitar! Duh. It's been great having it. I'm keeping up with music, learning a new instrument, and singing again.

Kitten update: they're back. They're monsters. I can't wait for them to leave. As I write this, I'm watching all three of them chase a huge moth together. They're cute as heck, but they've wreaked havoc on this otherwise calm and clean home, so they really need to go. Since Ina May kept them away from everything for several weeks, they've become terrified of humans and run away at the first sight of one. I needn't so much as look at them before they sprint away. Don't even get me started on their "messes." Let's just say it's a really good thing we have plastic covers on all unused beds and that a volunteer brought us some new plastic covers this week. What a mess. The only semi-good thing they did was kill a rat...but then the ginger kitten carried it around and got its blood all over the floor. Sorry, I really should spare you the details. Lesson learned: give Ina May Depoprovera. Anyone willing?