Day 1-2

Golly, it was a long trip here. It feels like we have been in Haiti for days….but really it’s only since about 7:40am today, their time. We travled all night; we were in four different airports and several vehicles. I managed to catch a few hours of sleep on the plane with some help from my pal Ambien. And I took a nap today, when we got to the hospital. That adds up to a grand total of……about 5 hours of sleep for the last 36 hours. Yay! Baggage was a pain the in the butt. We paid SO MUCH for extra/overweight luggage. I mean, we did have a lot. But hardly any of it was for ourselves! I mean, American Airlines gave us one suitcase each free, which is nice. But…eh. I think they could have been a little more lenient. Southwest doesn’t charge for baggage. Too bad they don’t fly into Haiti.

Haiti is HOT. Sheesh. It’s 6:40 right now, and blistering. Luckily, we’ve got a fan by our beds. We are sleeping on the top floor of the hospital. It’s got a roof on it, but it’s open on almost all sides.  It’s humid, too. The forecast is in the upper 90’s with thunderstorms. That’ll take some getting used to. Of course, by the time I’m used to things here, it will be time to go home.

When we were flying in, the landscape was dotted by hundreds of blue squares. My dad informed me that they were the standard blue tarps, only they were being utilized as roofs. Yup, the tent cities are still there, with people by the thousands. And “tent” city is if you’re lucky: a large amount of these mini-structures consist of cardboard walls, tarp roofs, and rusty tin doors. And by the way, Port-Au-Prince is a city of FOUR. MILLION. PEOPLE.

Upon our arrival in Port-Au-Prince, we were absolutely mobbed by a gazillion people trying to “help” us with our baggage. (We have a ton, by the way. All full of medical supplies and orphanage donations. More on that later.) The problem is, everyone who touches your baggage expects and demands a tip. When we finally made it to our hospital-provided van (which had an AC, thank goodness) we got to drive through Port-Au-Prince, as the hospital is on the other side of town. The devastation is still tremendous, and it has been just over a year and a half since the quake. There’s rubble everywhere, along with heaps of trash. The horizon is smoggy, almost like L.A., because of the constant trash burning they are doing. There are absolutely no traffic rules here, except “Try Not To Kill Anybody” and “Honk A Lot.”

We settled in, and then wandered down to the hospital chapel. Their church is teeny teeny tiny, but everyone dresses up nicely and participates enthusiastically. The Haitian people love to sing, and I love to listen. Even if I don’t understand the words, it’s beautiful. There was a girls’ choir in church today, and I wanted so badly to be able to sing along with them.

I want to kick myself for slacking off on my French! I can pick out a few words…but not enough. I’m bad. ):

Not everyone is…well, everyone seems friendly. But some people are a little too friendly. This one guy in church….ugh. He kept turning around and grinning his face off. At first, I though he was just...I don’t know. Nice. Whatever.  But then he came and sat next to me and accidentally-on-purpose bumping into me. He was very, very NON-SUBTLE about it. It was sick. He wouldn’t stop staring at me. This is church, people! Honestly. As soon as church ended, he jumped up and shook my hand and didn’t let go for an awkward amount of time. Then he shook my dad’s hand, but before he dashed off, he reached over and pet my hair one time. BLEEEEEEECHHHHHHHHHHH. BLECH BLECH BLECH. I decided then and there to keep the zip-off bottoms of my backpacking pants/shorts zipped ON for the rest of the trip. Then some other guy randomly crossed the street to touch my shoulder when we were in town. Another one made kissy noises when I walked past. I’m not leaving my dad’s side. Back home, I am noticed because my skin is so dark, although I am Caucasian. I just tan easily. But here, I stick out like a sore thumb because I am so clearly white. We get a lot of stares around town.
After church & an afternoon siesta, we took a walk around with our new friend Patrick. He looks to be a little younger than me, and is very friendly. (Although I am still wary of pretty much everybody. Blah.) There are tons of vendors selling stuff on the sides of the roads. They sell strange assortments of things, too: they sell the hair dye and bananas right next to the motor oil and candy. There are quite a few people selling shoes…. (more on that later.) There are piles of sugar cane for sale that the vendors push around in wheelbarrows. They sell a lot of stuff. I mean, people are selling STICKS. Yes, sticks. They’re tall and skinny, but study looking, so I think they are for making shelters/tarp houses. Dr. Tym bought some mangos from the street….I wanted some so badly, but I don’t want to catch any bugs down here. Dad said the fruits that you peel yourself are probably okay to eat, so we can get some later in the trip. That way, if we get sick, we’ll be home soon.

It’s only 7am now, and the sun is already down.

So, Amy, the volunteer coordinator here, doesn’t seem to know a lot about the orphanages….which is worrying. I mean, here we brought $500 worth of shoes, what happens if we can’t give them to the orphans? Are there really legitimate orphanages around here, or just people saying they have kids so they can get free shoes and make a profit off of them? And if there are a good number of people selling a good number of shoes….are ours needed that desperately? I mean, should we have brought more school supplies, or toothbrushes? We just weren’t given a lot of information. But, God will provide us with a person to give the shoes to.
Amy has a kitty! Her name is Mimi, which I think is the Creole word for cat. (In French, it’s chat, pronounced “shaa.”) I like her. She is small, but all the animals are down here. The dogs, the goats, the chickens…all of which roam free, by the way.

My buddy Kiefer Williams is in Turks and Cacos, a neighboring resort islands, for his dad’s wedding. And as excited as I am to be on a mission trip…..a Caribbean resort sounds mighty fine. (Also, an AC.) Note to self: plan Caribbean honeymoon.

There is, however, a hotel in the middle of town, a dozen blocks (if they have blocks?) away that appears undamaged by the quake. AND. IT. HAS. A. POOL. YES, A POOL. A pretty nice one, too. I dipped my feet in today, and it felt marvelous. I hope that we can go back at some point, maybe tomorrow, a Sunday, or next Sabbath.

I know this will be a great, fulfilling, perspective-changing experience. But at the same time, I know I’ll appreciate a restaurant when I get back home.

Now I am going to skip over to the break room & eat my backpacking food dinner. And after that, I’ll take a nice, cold shower (that’s all they have, but in 100° weather, I welcome it.) Then, bed time, under the mosquito net! Au revoir!

 -Chloe