Final departure.  I didn’t sleep well last night.  The power kept going off and I know when the power goes off because the fans go off and within minutes I feel like someone is trying to suffocate me.  It’s stinkin’ hot here.  It’s like last year’s summer back home minus the humidity.

We had to get up at 5:30.  (not a morning person)  I was just thankful that someone had the foresight to make sure we had coffee this morning.  I may have launched myself over the edge if there wasn’t.  I was sad to leave the kids.  They grow on you in mysterious ways.  Many of the days I was positive they were the reason I had to go in search of beer.

Susan and I were riding in style this morning, in the back of the tap tap. One more hurrah for the dust we were about to inhale.  Actually my cough has been really good down here, I don’t know why.

There was this big honking pig strolling down the street.  He was big for living in Haiti.  I don’t know why he was out and I don’t know why someone hasn’t snagged on to him.  I’m glad he decided to give us the right of way.  It wouldn’t have been pretty to take him out.  It reminds me of a time that a lady came down to the station to report that she struck a “grizzly” in the road.  I was pretty sure it wasn’t a grizzly or even a regular bear for that matter.  It was a pig.  I won’t mention who the pig ended up belonging to but it’s someone people in my family know.

On the way to the airport, we were amazed at all the people out in this predawn hour.  I was wondering where the heck they were all heading to.  No one has a job down here, where are they going?  It’s like morning rush hour.  It’s crazy.

The airport is not crazy, in fact it’s dead.  Nothing is open.  We check our bags without a hitch and I am so thankful we are only taking two suitcases home.  I have my carry on inside my suitcase.  It feels good having no luggage.  For some reason you have to go through two security checks as in shoes off, laptops out.  What a pain!  Then there’s the broken escalator, and getting frisked.  I walk to the man for him to pat me down.  He says, “oh no, you go to her”. Personally, I wouldn’t have cared if I knew it was going to make me get through this faster.  I’m waiting for the breakfast place to open so I can snag some Jo.  They are seriously not in a hurry to open up.  You’d think I’d be used to that by now.  I’m not.

We find out there is one kiosk gift shop down stairs.  I told Susan to check it out.  I think she was jones’n to go check it out.  She did.  Unfortunately for her, she forgot her passport and they wouldn’t let her get through the last checkpoint.  She tries to explain it’s upstairs and offers for me to throw it down to her.  The man was not at all impressed by that idea.  He had to walk her up to get it.  I’m secretly glad I didn’t go first, now I’ll look like the well versed traveler, well aware of the airport policies. 

It’s going to be a full flight all the way home.  On our way from Fort Lauderdale to Chicago, I spotted Scotty Pippen in first class, I try to stop a gawk for a brief moment but the irritated passengers behind me don’t like me slowing progress.  I gave him the nodding/knowing look which was reciprocated.  That was good enough I guess. 

And now that I am back on U.S. soil, it feels pretty darn good.  Food, variable heated shower, my bed, my family, no mosquitoes for the time being, no roosters at the crack of dawn.   I’ll just say that my trip was an experience of a lifetime.  I’m so glad Jamie was able to take us to see everything.  We were able to see many different sides of Haiti.  As much as this country is a pit, there are small incremental signs of progress which I hope do not stall.  Maybe some other country can have some disasters for awhile so Haiti can start repairing this broken country. Believe it or not, there is beauty here; you just have to look for it.  The people here want to trust but are still skeptical of everything that has happened over the last hundred years or so.  They want to believe too, but they don’t want to get their hopes up.  They own nothing, yet they live the best they can and don’t complain.

I might just come back for some more harrowing adventures down here.  There’s so much to be done, I don’t know where one would start except at the beginning.  Maybe tomorrow or in a couple of days, I’ll post some new photos.  I’m trying to find a photo sharing website to put all my pictures on so my non facebook people can see what this place is about.  No photo can accurately depict what our eyes have seen, what I’ve smelled, and felt, tasted and such.  Seriously, this place is sensory overload but for some strange reason it secretly calls you back.

Anyway, thanks for tuning in to my little maniacal world.  10-42.

Whoops I did it again just like Brittany Spears.  Actually I didn’t do anything.  I had no internet or power most of the day.  I just don’t see how you can get your power turned off without notice even when you pay your bill.  So not fair.

My day did not start as planned…they ran out of coffee.  This is not good for me or anyone I may come in contact with.  Actually I had what I believe was about ¼ cup of day old coffee.   I was in a fit of rage for a short period.  There are no coffee shops for me to even walk to go get my fix.

I woke up with a  boat load of new mosquito bites this morning. Every night I take my cold only shower and then spray myself down with mosquito spray before bed.  It just doesn’t seem right.

So today was horse therapy and my whole Paco fix. We took the kids in the pick up today.  There are really no car seats to speak of here.  They’d look at you like you had three heads if you asked about them.  Kids just pile in just like the older days here back home.  Susan and I had to be in the bed of the truck with the wheelchair since the cab was full.  I did not want to point out to her we were sharing the ride with a cockroach.  She had already noticed.

As we were heading down the road, cool wind in my hair, the refreshing splash of the germ laded water hitting my face.  I was half tempted to see what it tasted like but thought that could be a bad decision later on.  I like to live a little on the wild side you know.  I’ve grown accustomed to be caked in dust, it’s kind of like a dirtier version of baby powder.  It gives a lot of texture to my hair I can tell you that.

So here we are heading down the road with the kids and about 10 minutes later, we pulled over.  Jamie got out and advised us one of the kids decided to have a seizure.  It was a little freaky and for a minute Jamie thought the girl died.  We hung out trying to get her stable but it didn’t happen.  I told Jamie that she wasn’t dead at least.  Sadly if the girl would have departed this heavenly earth, there would be absolutely positively nothing we could do to change the events.  The ambulances here take forever as in hour plus, there are no AED’s, heck, I don’t even think people know CPR down here.  I told her just remember the “staying alive” song and go from there maybe throw in a breath for shit’s and giggles.  You will die here and you will have to like it.  There are no other options.

I think it freaked our driver out because the girl was in the front seat next to him.  Personally, I think the nannies put on a too too tight headband on her.  We found out later that she has had seizures in the past…we didn’t get the memo on that. Two of the kids I would say kind of knew something was up.  The once boy Cade, likes to belt out very high pitched screams unannounced which mostly scare the crap out of me.  I do like Cade, he’s kind of like me, impulsive.  I would say the biggest difference is I don’t pull food out of my friend’s mouths to eat.

So my plans with Paco were dashed…I was so sad. Gertrude’s sister took the keys so we pretty much stuck.  People in Haiti don’t trust anyone.  I don’t know what we did for a couple of hours after that.  It’s a blur.   A group I think from Help Haiti comes here once a week to see the kids.  They came at lunch.  I’ll just say due to all the change of structure and routine it turned into a disastrous lunch time hour.  It was like “Shark Week” gone wrong.  Once one kid sets the food deprivation tone, it went downhill from there.  It was though kind of humorous to see this group thinking, “what the hell is going on?”  I wanted to say “you”.  I think it was funny that a young college age guy said I think this kid is full they won’t eat anymore.  Honestly, that does not happen here.  Ever!  Ever meal is a clean plate or in this case, bowl, club.  Food never ever goes uneaten.  Again, ever!  Yeah I know it’s like 3 cups of food for a 2 year old but they honestly eat it like it was their last meal.

It was like a food fight gone wrong.  My friend Jamie was feeding a boy who was crying and would not swallow his food.  Susan decided to sing some Beetles tunes to calm him down so he could finish.  Appropriately she was singing Hey Jude because the boy’s name was Jude.  It calmed him for a minute.  I was on protective watch for the stealth food stealers.  I am getting good and see the signs of impending chaos.  I was the food body guard per se.  Well this one boy ( the regurgitator) was on the prowl today apparently still in starvation mode.  He put up a diversion by grabbing Jamie’s water bottle.  And in a quick one two move, had a fistful of rice and slop gravy.   In the process of this, food went flying eventually landing all over Susan’s head, neck  and who know where else.  It was like slo mo, and nothing could have been done to prevent this event from occurring.  Sadly, the kids thought   nothing of picking the food out of her hair and eating it.  Gross!!!!  Of course they eat it off the floor so I guess out of clean hair is probably cleaner in a sense.  She exited to shower off the remains of a third world lunch.  I’ll just say it looked like head lice on steroids or maggots covering her head.

We spend a good part of the day outfitting the kids with some replacement clothing.  They have loads of clothing but for some hoarding reason, do not want to use it.  We took care of most of the boys.  You would have thought they were getting a new wardrobe and we even let them pick out things they liked, which they never get to do.  Each child here has a dishpan size bin with their name on in.  In the bin is everything they own. Obviously it is not a lot.  I can’t imagine everything I own in a dishpan.

I’ll just say this about the clothes fitting session, I am glad I did not buy these as gifts somewhere.  There are 10 year old boys wearing size 6. The 3-4 year old in 18-24 months.  It was a real pain in the rear to find clothes.  I think the biggest size we used was a 10 or 12.  These kids are dinky.   Every kid has a herniated belly button, I don’t know why.  I tried pushing them in like you do for those punch balls but it doesn’t work so well.  They don’t roll up very well.  It looks an appendage  coming out of their stomach.

The kids loved their clothes.  By the end of the night some of the clothes sustained damage.  Nothing is safe here from being damaged. 

Jamie was going to get the girls taken care of this week.  My mom had made some dresses.  Mom, they look awesome!  The 8’s will fit a teen.  It crazy but I guess when you only eat rice and cornmeal you don’t really grow too much.

These kids here actually have it pretty go in the grand scheme of things.  And when I say these kids, I mean the ones at this orphanage.  They get three squares a day, a bed, showers, and some love. There are many kids here who get a meal a day, no showers, no bed and a little love.

After we finished we decided to set out for a walk to find sugar cane for Susan.  We got a little lost and I think we ended up in someone’s yard.  A nice lady told us to follow her to get us back to the main road.   We would have just backtracked but she took us through a broken wall, behind a school, through a large smelly garbage pile and eventually made it back to the main road.  Lo and behold, the sugar cane dude was pushing the wheel barrow.  We got our fix.  I found it highly ironic that we were chastised for spitting out the used sugar cane.  Like we were littering, oh please, look around people you have got to be kidding.  Maybe they like all the garbage is a form of art or they are blind.  Speaking of blind, I can’t believe how many of the kids have cataracts.  I thought you got those when you hit AARP eligibility not as a child.

After that we did some other non news worthy stuff…can’t remember.  But eventually we ran out of stuff do so we did what most people do (speaking for me), we went in search of an early happy hour.  I grabbed three empty beer bottles to exchange for fresh cold ones to take as roadies.  We walked to the market area.  This area stinks to high heaven and is full of flies.  I smell meat that’s probably been sitting out all day, that or it’s a dead dog.  We finally procured some Prestige and the lady was amused by our tactics or walking and drinking.  I don’t think they do that much.  We caused a stir as we paraded our very cold beer down the stinky path. Some were met with jealously and others cheering as the crazy U.S. chicks doing their own version of girls gone wild in Haiti.  They come to recognize us for being out daily.  I don’t dare take photos because I don’t want to get yelled at.  There’s a goat’s head on a table and boy do I want to take a photo.  I won’t.  I don’t’ want to anger the natives.

One crazy thing here that baffles my mind (not hard to do) is that I find so many teeny tiny things that these kids find and put in their mouths.  Small button batteries, beads, nuts, bolts, nails, pen cap, tiny toy wheels, you name it.  That child safety organization would have a hay day here.  It’s a Mecca for small choking hazards.  I swear there’s a secret stash where they get this crap. No one thinks anything about it.  I don’t know the rocks may move stuff along in the digestive track but I don’t think a pen cap would.  I took so much stuff out of there mouths it was crazy.

I learned that Haitian’s think we have so much because we put “In God we Trust” on our money.  I heard it straight from a Haitian mouth.  If I was a Haitian, I’d see about getting that on their money, which by the way is disgustingly gross and smelly.  It makes U.S. money look sanitary.

Haitian’s occasionally eat cats.  Totally gross.   I hope the Kibby we ate wasn’t cat Kibby in disguise. But they also like them as pets probably to keep the rats from eating their children.  Dogs in Haiti are just that, dogs.  Some are pseudo pets.  They think we are nuts for having them in our homes, on our furniture, beds and everywhere else imaginable.    I thought it was funny that every animal in the Port au Prince area roams free but up in the sparsely populated mountains, they are tied up or are in pens.  I don’t know how they know keep track.

I went out across the street and filled up a container of dirt.  If I call it soil I will get in trouble so I am defining it as dirt.  A boy came up and in broken English asked what I was doing.  I told him I was getting some dirt.  He asked why and I said caused I wanted to take it home.  He could not comprehend why the heck someone would take dirt home.  I just like to collect dirt and sand from countries I visit.  Hey, I won some blue ribbons in the fair for some of my collections. 

I even went out and started finding old bottle caps and pieces of tile.  I looked like a white garbage picker.  I got a lot of strange looks digging junk out of the ground.  I might try to do something with the collection of abstract items I have discovered.  I even found some money.  They kind of leave me alone when I go into digging mode, I don’t think they know what to make of my antics.  I forgot to get my sand from the beach when we went to Jacmel and Jamie promised me she’d hook me up before she came home.  I told her if she didn’t, I’d have to beat her about the head and neck area.

I’m glad my time here is winding down,  its way to much unpaid work to keep up with two blogs daily.  The lack of power here holds me hostage from my creativity.

I can think no more.

I woke up way too early this morning because of a rooster.  It was still dark. I am not a morning person.  I have never been a morning person and I will never be a morning person.  Then you add in 40 something kids into the mix.  Every day we say “kid or kid?”  because the goats and the kids sound the same

I was happy to be hanging around here today due to the PTSD I sustained the last couple days.  Last night I nearly lost my mind.  Since Gertrude is still gone, that means pretty much everyone else is still gone.  No keys to the beer area.  I cracked out the airplane bottle of vodka and sucked it down.  I have never drank vodka straight and I do not think I will attempt it again.  I was thankful for my Nexium.  I had contemplated running but I figured the vodka was easier and less sweaty, besides I don’t think they have any good running paths.  I know, I’m such a loser.  I felt much better after that.  I am not sharing my ordeal of last night because what happens in Haiti, stays in Haiti. My friends and family would not let me return.  I’m alive and well and so that’s a good thing.

We did some physical therapy on some of the kids and worked with a few others to teach them how to eat.  The nannies would rather just feed the kids themselves instead of teaching them to eat.   It’s kind of pathetic.  There’s nothing we can really do to change it. I don’t freak out anymore when kids eat food off the floor or take it off of their lap or pull it out of their mouths..  I still get gaggy with the bodily fluids.  I’m quite a sight to see when I start gagging.

There’s a boy who I don’t know what he’s got going on besides taking his clothes off and on all day long.  When he eats though, after he’s done, he repeatedly regurgitates his food in his mouth.  This goes on for about a half hour.  I can’t even look at him or I will regurgitate my food.

The back wall they were building at the church

Hand carved alter

We went out and handed out more of the hygiene packs to families.  The people were very appreciative of everything.  Father Matt from St. Patrick’s in Yorkville had given me a bag of religious items to take down here.  He had said a prayer for me before I left so I felt like I was on a mission from God and I did not want to shuck my responsibilities, lest I be going to hell.   Well I think I actually have had a glimpse of hell while I’ve been down here.  Although it is hot, it’s not hot enough to burn all the garbage.  We walked to the church to meet with the priest but he wasn’t there but there were a bunch workers building the back wall to the church.  The older women were pumped to get a rosary and a guy named Ramie took the bag because he wanted the priest to see what we brought before it was gone.  It was kind of funny because Ramie wanted my friend Jamie’s number.  I told her if they had kids they could be Ramie Jamie or Jamie Ramie.  She wasn’t amused.

Representing Chi town albeit upside down.

Goat Alley

It was really hot out so we decided to go in search of some beer.  We were in luck.  Beer down here is about a buck.  We wanted to make sure they were very very  fret (cold).  For the most part they were.  We asked the guy if we could take them on our walk and we would return the bottles when they were finished.  In Haiti, you never get the bottle.  I think they get money for them.  We were looking for some sugar cane since Susan has never had any…City girl.  We didn’t find any. 

When we got back I saw one of the guy’s who works here, his pig and dog escaped.  I went out in search of the pig. My farming experience was finally going to pay off 40 some years later.  Jamie thought I was nuts.  I am.  I first tried wrangling him back to his area.  I don’t trust the dog.  The dog is in charge of guarding the pig.  I don’t know how you train a dog to guard a pig but apparently it can be done.  I then found a cane and thought I’ll steer his little pig butt back into the area he escaped from.  I think the dog thought I was going to hit him so I stopped with the cane.  I gave up and let them go hang out in a soccer field.  Eventually the owner got them back in and they both had dinner together.  I don’t know what the dog will do or think when the pig gets called to the bacon and pork chop place in the sky.

Harmonious dog and pig

Tomorrow we will take the kids back to horse therapy and I will gawk at Paco for the hour.  We were trying to take care of all the arrangements for the kids rides, but apparently the guy who is supposed to take us, had a big gate crash down on his head.  The guy who was describing it said his head and eyes were bloody.  I bet he won’t come.  Jamie may be taking us in a tap tap and I told her I hope no one else hops on for a taxi ride thinking we are legit.

Bike repair 101: fire and gasoline

One of the cute kids here!

That’s all for the night.  I’m cashed!

Heaven and Hell

Well again I am starting with the adult blog first.  I am having guilty feelings for not addressing the youth of today first.  I thought/needed to tell the tale of my trip today.  It’s a scary and violent tale and I am actually surprised I am alive to share my harrowing ordeal with you.

First the good stuff.  We went to church with the kids this morning.  It was a very exciting morning.  It was a Catholic service.  We went with a handful of the kids this morning, as they go every week.  When we arrived, there was no church.  It was what I would call a makeshift church.  When we got there, the service was already in session per se. It wasn’t bad manners to be a little late, it was just Haiti.   I was walking with Christina one of the little girls at St. Joseph’s.  I wanted to see what this was all about.  A scout looking guy grabbed my arm and took me inside the “church” 

The church is like a lean to; it has pretty nice/new metal roofing.    There are no sides and the pews are just wood planks…not comfortable.  There were a ton of people inside.  A boy who looks like a scout (he’s dressed in scout clothes) took me to a pew and pointed for me to sit down.  So I did.   Jamie and Susan were still back under the tent outside. I don’t have my interpreter with me so I will be winging it.   I was sweating up a storm and I realized it was because I had been in an all out sprint moments before because I brought my camera and forgot the card. 

 

I’d say about 20 minutes later, I realized they were sending a collection box around the church.  Well I didn’t have a purse so I gave it to Susan while we were walking.  Shortly before the collection box came to me, I had this “bad, very bad” feeling.  I must confess I brought some weaponry down here, again the trust thing.  I realize my knife I was wearing around my neck was now in my sweaty lap inside my dress.  If I got up, it would have fallen and I could have started mass chaos or pandemonium or whatever you call something bad as in riot.  I was thinking any moment I will stand up and the knife will fall to the ground and I will be taken down by the secret society church security guards.  Ok, Rhonda get it together I said,  I did what any other nut job would do,  I reached down inside my dress from the front and somehow grabbed the weapon  which was laying precariously on a sweaty thigh. I am sure someone witnessed this apparent lewd act I was performing on myself.  After I retrieved the knife, I put it back in the sheath and vowed to rubber band it the next time I run with a knife.   I made the exchange with Susan and told her to watch the knife since apparently I was having difficulties. I gave Christina $5 to put in….that’s a lot down here.   

I am sure I followed exactly 1 % of the mass today. I may have followed some of the Creole mass slang.  I felt rather stupid, the priest talking to the congregation, the congregation laughing and I make the attempt only to look stupid.  What are they laughing about?  I hate that!  Finally, I understand the Eucharistic part of the mass and I’m thinking, oh yeah, but then they lost me again.   We prepare, or I prepare for the “peace be with you”,   for a moment I was Lady Gaga or Madonna, everyone wanted to give me some "peace", a touch or a peck on the cheek.  It was freaky for a moment but everyone wanted to be my BFF for that 2 hour service.  It was kind of cool and I was flattered by the attention..  Next came the actually communion segment, I was kind of looking for some clue as to when I should get up and go.  The look of people gave us since I think we were the three “blanc’s” attending mass that morning.    I thought that would be a cool band name, instead of the one  named 4 non blondes, we could be the 3 blanc’s, well actually I am a non blonde but it just wouldn’t make sense down here. 

In a nut shell, mass was really interesting.  Here are all these very poor people, dressed up in their Sunday best.  I imagine it like church 50 years ago.  There are no name brands here

The men are wearing dress slacks, dress shoes and a button down shirt.    Shoes shined to a beautiful shine, women wearing no less than 2” heels.  Hell, I barely made it walking in my keens.  There are no tee shirts, shorts or short dresses here.  All the women are wearing dresses; every little girl has a dress that is no shorter than their knees.  It is America without name brands, because they really don’t care about the status of materialist things, they just want to survive.  They look like your regular run of the mill, middle class citizens.  It could have been any church anywhere in America.  The little kids have no Cheerios, toys, or phones to play with.  There are no booklets to help us along.  It wouldn't have mattered because I can't read Creole.  Everyone knows the mass by heart.  You would not know by sitting in here that these people are dirt poor.  I’m still trying to figure out how they get their clothes pressed.

Susan and I go up for Communion, everyone is staring at us, watching every move. It’s kind of funny.  When we get up to the Priest, he smiles at me. I think, yes, I scored! After church, we walk the kids back home and wait for our ride to show up.  An hour later he arrives.  He’s really a cautious person in general.  He does a complete safety check on the car but the point I become a little, I’m not sure if I want to say concerned.  I’m thinking maybe something more to the effect of, what is in store for the day.  Oriol asks Jamie if we are Christians and she says yes.  He says lets say a prayer before we leave on our way.  I should have been subliminally alerted to the fact that today will be no ordinary day.

I am anxiously awaiting our departure.  The kids are running amuck at the orphanage.  Again, half the staff decided not to show.  There are many meltdowns ensuing here.  I’m expecting to come back and find the staff that did stay, tied up and all my possessions remaining there to be sold on the black market.

Now from this point forward I will name this segment, “A Trip to Purgatory” or through Purgatory.  I think I could get it into a movie with a title like that.  I have seen a lot of Port au Prince except for the area we were now heading.  I would say in general its poor, run down, your run of the mill poverty at its best.  I was not prepared in any respect for the trip today.

Again, traffic moves at a snail's pace.  It makes any traffic jam in the U.S., look like a cakewalk.  I’m not kidding it took basically two hours to go just a few miles.  It doesn’t help that there is not one sign of a traffic control device except for the people who get so sick of sitting in traffic that they just get out and start directing on their own.  This area is the old downtown I guess where the Haiti Palace used to be.  There are about five lines of traffic in a two lane road.  You have the motorcycles going between the cars as well as people weaving in and out.  Some motorcycles must have got sick of the way traffic was going in the opposite direction, which they now decide to just drive up on the sidewalk coming at us.  It’s really really hot out and we are thankful for the air conditioning that manages to barely emanate out of the vents.  It’s not nearly enough.  At some point, the air just stops working.  I instantly know this when I realize I cannot breathe.    I feel like a bug trapped in a jar.  We have to roll down the windows which I am totally not digging.  Everyone is staring at us.  I shove   anything that looks like we have money down on the floor out of sight.

 

These are turning into some serious pissed of Haitians!  There are so many people everywhere, there’s no room to move.  I feel like I am suffocating.  Some people are looking at me like they would like to kill me.  I slid down into the seat in an attempt to blend in.  I don’t want to drink anything even though I have no spit in my mouth.  I know there is no bathroom in my horizon. In fact the only bathroom I will know will be the one at point A and the one at Point B.  

  .

 I’m preparing at any moment to people to flip our vehicle over, rip us out and tear us limb from limb as a punishment for adding more traffic to the mix here.  It didn’t happen.  I still try to smile and wave at some people.  Most do wave back.  There’s a lady in front of us sitting in a tap tap.  She’s pretty old, and she keeps patting her chest.  We all decide that if one of us unexpectedly dies, we will have to leave them behind.  Ambulances and police cars blare their sirens in an attempt to move.  It doesn’t   happen.  Nobody is going anywhere anytime soon.

I cannot believe the amount of garbage!  You can’t even begin to appreciate (or not appreciate) what a hell hole this place is.  It’s truly indescribable. Even with all the photos I took, you will not even understand what it is like at this moment in time.  I cannot find even an adjective that will do     

it justice.

Among all the trash, people are selling vegetables, clothes, TV remotes, sugar cane, water, pop, plantain chips, everything is sold here.  There is a strong flow of fifthly water coming down from the mountain.  It carry’s everything it comes in contact with. We saw a fat pig in a river of sludge, just having a hay day.  I can’t even imagine what it is eating nor do I want to.  There are kids in a concrete ditch area bathing.  I find it ironic that a boy is butt naked, totally lathered in soap, and rinsing in this black water.  How clean does really think he’s going to get?

One of the reasons we are not moving.

Where dust comes from

I’m getting agitated and claustrophobic and am realizing soon I will go stark raving mad!  I will jump out of the car and just run aimlessly down the street screaming at the top of my lungs until I am killed by someone who cannot take anymore of my antics. 

There’s a few feet of water in the roadway and some vehicles have stalled, other ones overheated and others simply gave up and died on the street.  This is what is compounding our lack of forward progress.  They have these big charter buses down here which in theory sound like a good idea but as far as a practical sense, totally too big and further tie up traffic simply because they cannot navigate.   I only caught the tail end of the conversation but the buses are called “Obama” because maybe he had them brought down or something.  Either way, it’s supposedly a   “positive” Obama thing.

I’m secretly thinking, “I can’t believe we have not had an accident since everything whizzes by us inches away”.  I don’t want to jinx us.  I mostly don’t want to crash because I don’t want to explain the whole car rental ordeal to my husband.  I’m hoping in my mind, that I will not have to max out the credit card on this car.

Before we left, we were told it would take about a few hours to get to Jacmel.  We are already 2 hrs. in and haven’t even left town.  Believe it or not, eventually we make it out of the blokes (like  blow-kees as in traffic jam).

Instantly, the noise level is taken down to levels I can began to use my brain again  Oriol says we should get gas, because the gas gauge doesn’t work and soon we will have to drive across the mountain to the other side.  The first gas station is closed and we make it to the second on.  I am pleading for Jamie to commandeer me a Prestige to take the edge off.  It didn’t happen and I think it was a good thing since there is no bathroom on the horizon.

Mountain House

I’d say within an hour after we left the gas station, I realize I’m a little woozy.  I eat a little snack.  It didn’t help.  Now I realize that I am woozy because I am smelling gas…quite strongly.  We asked Oriol to stop, one so Jamie could pee and to see why we are smelling gas.  The gas cap was on nice and tight, but about 5 minutes later, there is a nice big flowing puddle.  Finding out your vehicle is leaking gas in very rural area in the mountains is a bit unsettling.  Secretly I was wondering if they had any yurts for us to use up in dis dem parts of the hills. (bad attempt at some strange slang).  We would be crashing at someone’s house up here or taking refuge in a church.  We are in the middle of nowhere.

Mountains

Oriol is a cautious driver, very very cautious driver. So much so that he is white knuckling it the entire entire trip.  He won’t talk on his phone or eat while driving.  Unfortunately, he is driving so slow that even the most overloaded tap tap passes us.  It’s too slow and the gas is killing my brain cells by the minute.  We don’t know how badly the gas is leaking and have no choice but to drive. 

Overlooking Jacmel

Jamie had got the directions to the hotel from their website and once we finally made it into Jacmel it said it was about a 7 minute car ride.  They lie.  Time has no boundaries in Haiti.  In fact, I don’t believe they even use time in the sense we do.  It’s maddening!

We make out way down the little gravel road to the hotel.  It looks like we are at someone’s house.  No valet, no grand reception area, we have to be directed where to go because you don’t 

know.  I cannot wait to flee the highly gasoline scented vehicle. 

When you check in here, you have to show your passport and rooms are charged by the person not the room itself.  $55 a person for a sterile and sparsely decorated room.  It would be the equivalent of a 1-2 star back a home.  The beds are clean, there is liquor, and hot water and wi fi (the wi fi is like how it was back in the day when you plugged it into your phone line), we have a pool and the ocean at our disposal..  

We are living la Vida "loco"!  Beautiful beach and sunsets!  This could be anywhere in the Caribbean. We are sucked back into reality when we think about the car. 

 

In the morning (it is now Monday) we call the rental place and explain that gas is all over.  The interior stinks so bad its nauseating.  The car place says they don’t have an extra car in Jacmel to exchange.  They will drive one here from Port au Prince and assure us they will arrive in three hours.  Like that’s going to happen.  We were supposed to have the returned by 7pm but I think we will be ok.  I also know that we probably won’t be back until a lot later and will have to take a motorcycle back home once we drop the car off.  It should be interesting will all of our stuff.  We have to check out of our room in about an hour and we will be prisoners here until our new car comes.

I’m going to make the most of the day and drink heavily because I know something else will fall apart as far as plans.  Jamie just wanted to be mad.  I told her she was entitled to be mad.  Even the best laid out plans will inevitably fall apart  It’s just the way it goes..  I told her I am glad of that in a sense that they did, it would not make for an exciting story for this reporter.

Well today I am writing my adult oriented blog first.  Usually I do the school one first and my brain is fried by the time I get to this one.  Today my head is packed with all sorts of stuff I want to share.  I need to give a big shout out to God for keeping me alive today.  I was positive I only had one of my lives left after yesterday and I think I used another 6 or 7. 

The very productive group from Ohio left this morning via, New York to Colorado to somewhere to home.  That is a very long flight home.  They did a lot of stuff here in the physical sense.

I have learned that even though these various mostly religious groups come down, they all could have a reality show on some channel.  Like “The dark side of mission work” , “Housewives of mission city”, “Jersey Shore goes to Haiti” or some other crazy thing.  I heard some not so Christian stuff emanating from the mouths of the youth.  I was like, say what?  I was slightly intrigued to what could be going on.  It’s not like going out on the town and taking a potential late night “score” away.  What could these folks be all up in arms about?  I heard a lot of talk of the Lord, but not in a good sense.

Gertrude, the woman who runs the show and the roost here, went somewhere for some fundraising stuff.   It’s like a free for all here.  No one shows up to work, the kids are little shits, it’s not even organized chaos, it’s just chaos and I can’t wait to get out for the day.

The regular kids act exactly like the kids at home.  If one kid get something, all the kids think they have to get it or a hissy fit ensues.  Some poor Eagle Scout made some wooden toys, I’m pretty sure at this time, they have been dissected and disemboweled.  Ok, not disemboweled because they are made out of wood. 

I had brought some of my old cop cards down and now all the kids call me “hey po-leece” followed by “bang bang”.  I think female cops down here are far and few between and they look at me like I have three heads when I tell them what I did.  So far I have not seen them used at dartboards nor have a circle around my head with a line through it.

Important service announcement:  Before I forgot, I need to give a big shout out to my cousin Andrea who is getting married today.  I’m bummed I’m missing the big ceremonious occasion but at least it’s for the cause.  I feel good that I will have nobody taking incriminated photos of me to be used at a later date.  My family is very very close and any family reading this can attest to that.  My cousins are like my siblings. Ok, enough about that.  Good Luck Andrea and Sean!!!!

Now back to the story.  Since Gertrude is gone, our driver just didn’t feel like coming to work today.  An eternity later, we were finally able to find someone to take us to Teach Haiti.  (www.teachaiti.org)  We took two suitcases of stuff to them.  Both the sewing machines, the jewelry supplies, paper box stuff and some school supplies.

After a 2 hr. grueling ride, still in town mind you, we made it there.  I was nearly choked to death from the diesel, and everything else. We had to go to some school where someone was supposed to again meet us,.  Didn’t happen.  We took two boys who knew the way.  I was sitting next tone of them.  I think they were scared initially, like “stranger danger” here.  When you give a kid some M&M’s, it solves the worlds problems.

Believe it or not, there was a lot going on in Port au Prince as far as construction.  Today must have been the big day to decide to start every project known to mankind. 
There are no flaggers, cones, or safety measures far as I’m concerned.   They would eat OSHA down here.   I was worried only once we were going to be crushed by a grader, driving up a steep embankment and that he would roll over and crush us.  I was hoping it would be a swift death and not some agonizing ordeal because I knew it would hurt a lot.  I’m not kidding, I wouldn’t even call some of the roads gravel or “off track” roads.  There is no category for this kind of road description.  I was getting claustrophobic mostly because of lack of clean air and high heat.  I was thinking of bringing a canary with and when it was close to dying, I’d try to escape.  Try would be the key word here.   I was close to being strapped down and tied to the roof for the safety of the other passengers.

When we finally arrived to the school, it was kind of like an unceremonious occasion.  Here we were bringing gifts in these two really heavy (and I can attest to the heavy part). I felt so unappreciated.  One of the kids, I’ll just call him Stefan, it was similar to that.  He walked us to a band of motorcycles.  Band sounds much better than just some guys hanging out by motorcycles.  Stefan told them where we needed to go.  It would be about a buck a person.  Before Stefan left, he asked us to find some younger siblings who were adopted by people in Oregon and that we could find them on Face Book.  We told them we would try to find them. We are looking for James Conner,  I wish it could have been something of a more descriptive name.  Very benign, I wish it was like James Orcandicannicz or something like that. 

Back to the motorcycles.  I have that lack of trust thing and mostly believed I would have to use my knife and all my police training to survive in the Haitian wilderness.  The motorcycle thing was awesome!  It was like going off roading as a passenger without any control of the situation…do not like this part.  It dissipated quickly as the fumes from a diesel truck taking off.  I should have paid guy 2 bucks for me whacking him with my camera repeatedly  in the back of the head and torso.  I think I got a lot of pictures.  It was funny watching the local’s doing double take of us tackling the unpaved, deeply potholed roads. 

We ended up walking a few blocks to finally go get some well deserved lunch at Kokoye.  I ordered the “surprise”  I just wanted whatever she thought I’d like.  You could say I’m somewhat of a risk taker.   We also ordered something that was called Frit Kibby.  We asked what Kibby was and the girl said meat. That did not make me feel better.  Kibby Kitty?  Kibby Dog?  Kibby the goat?  Or Kibby the person?  Either way, it was tasty.  I am praying I don’t find out it was soylent green.

After the numerous near death experiences, I needed numerous Prestige’s to take the edge off and get rid of the trauma I had just experienced.  After lunch (thank you Laura Abraham), we walked to the grocery store.  I was odd man to be in charge of the backpacks outside so we didn’t have to check them…again I didn’t trust anyone with my stuff.

The hard thing about being in Haiti is that I know exactly zero Creole and zero French beside some miscellaneous food items. I can’t even fake it.  It totally blows!  I feel so stupid, well more than normal.  At this point in the day, my shoulders are sunburned and the straps on my backpack feel like Brillo pads.

We had to co-mingle with the Haitian folks in the tap taps.  There were so many people in there, I literally felt like a sardine packed in the can.  There are no exit rows in a tap tap.  We are all a bunch of hot messes, and I swear I can feel the breath of those next to me we are so jammed packed.    I’m self consciousness of something while crammed in, I must confess, I forgot my razor and have been wondering at what point I will forage for a razor, then I contemplate getting my legs and pits corn rowed.  Actually, I’m not sure you could corn row a leg but I am sure you could take care of your armpits.  I may have to find some primitive tools like the cave women of yesterday (or millions of years) and come up with a solution.

Tomorrow we are supposed to go to Jacmel to meet the child Jaime sponsors.  So far, most of the drivers fell through or were trying to extort more money out of us.  It was maddening!  We were already paying for someone’s room at the hotel we were visiting, we were paying for their food and gas.  I’d jump on that in a minute.  Free vacation overnight!  Nope, in Haiti, they also want you to pay them for too.  Greedy bastards!   Come on.

Eventually we make the executive decision to rent a car.  Ok, at this point I need to address my husband,  (Tom, I rented a car that some person will drive.  I will use the remaining bubble wrap I brought down and  will wrap the Hyundai.  I have not met the guy who will be driving it, but I am told he’s responsible.    We will use a lane of imaginary traffic and will be praying we don’t crash.  I am mostly confident we will cross the mountains in one piece.  Don’t worry it’s only a 1500. deposit.  Please keep an eye on the credit card statements.  Love, your wife)

We just got sick of getting jacked around with the car things.  I am quite impressed Jamie drove us without a problem back to the orphanage without one misstep.  She needs to lay on the horn slightly longer when turning but other than that, it was fine. 

We told the guy who’s taking us tomorrow to be here at 10am, because everyone here is at least 1-2 hours behind what you tell them.    His name is Oriol ( might have the spelling wrong but I know it’s not spelled like the bird) 

Tonight we had a special desert served, Pop tarts.  Who would have thought?  I think since I slept good last night, minus the issue with my shorts, I will have a night of fits trying to sleep and I will wake up crabby needing a sacrificial cup of coffee.

As I am going through some of my pictures you may say, “man, that photo is outta whack”.  This is  a correct statement but I must add that as the journalistic reporter on assignment, I am often hanging precariously from and off the back of a truck or the back of a motorcycle,  and I still like green eggs and ham.

Reporting live from where the streets have no name. I'm serious, they really don't.   Good day!

Express Partout means express bus as in 2 hours to get to your destination

He means business!

I think there was a sale of children.

It shows a car smashed into a pole and it says something like watch your head. How about just not crashing?

This is one of the "roads" we went on the motorcycles, aka highway to hell

A chiropractor's dream

The younger jealous brother of Comp USA

When one lock just won't do....get more.

We were driving here on the motorcycles.  Sidewalk?

We were here but I don't know really where here is

This is Stefan,  tell his siblings who live in Oregon hi from Haiti.

Shit doesn't roll down here, it flows.

Kibby the mysterious meat

Shirley

Paper beads at teach haiti