I do not have fleas

Yesterday I took Lulu to the vet, because she needed to start her vaccinations and I was beginning to think she had fleas. What led me to this conclusion is that when I would pet her I would feel what I just thought was dirt, but when I looked it up was really eggs. Also since she sleeps with me have been feeling itchy and my bed had all of these black specks on it. The vet confirmed this and said that I do not have fleas, but I am itchy because of the eggs in the bed and I am probably getting bitten while I sleep. Hooray for me!!

I called Frank, my husband, to tell him the great news and his immediate response was, "ewww, they better be gone by the time I get there." Then he proceeds to yell to his friend Corey who he was with at the time, "Dude, Jillian has fleas." Don't you just love male sensitivity.

The solution to this problem is to apply this flea powder to Lulu once a day for three days. The vets says after that all the fleas will be gone. The slight hiccup with that is Lulu cannot ingest any of the powder, so I came home from the vet and made her a cone that goes around her head to prevent her from licking the powder. Lets just say she is less than pleased with me. All I can say is that I hope these three days go by quickly.

Clearly Internet communication is not for me

Ok as many of you have noticed I have not posted anything on this blog in over a month, which really goes against the whole idea behind a blog. In my defense, I have been super busy and after a long day I do not found blogging particularly soothing. I love you all and I am not trying to cut you out of this experience, so I am going to try to make an effort to blog more often.

Top ten interesting things that have happened since I stopped blogging:

1. Frank has officially given notice at work that his last day will be December 23, 2009, which means when I return to Haiti after the holidays on January 2, 2010, my husband will be in tow. Probably the best news ever!!
2. I am the proud mother of a little gray kitten named Lulu. She is precious, but a menace for sure (I have the scratches to prove it). The problem is that I, even after three weeks of mothering this kitten, am still not a huge cat lover. Lets just say this relationship is a work in progress.
3. My mom came to visit last week and we went to the beach, went out to lunch, talked for hours, and almost died coming down from Wynne Farm on the Kenscoff Mountain road. The story behind the last comment is the breaks on our car completely failed while coming around a corner. I was driving and after discovering the brakes were gone, I yelled at my mom “the brakes, the brakes are gone.” I pulled the emergency brake and turned the car off the paved road in hopes that the dirt and rocks would slow us down. After about 100 yards we came to a stop in front of an electrical poll. No one was hurt thank goodness, but lets just say my heart was racing for a few hours afterwards.
4. The Mission House had its first group which is one of my main job responsibilities, so it was a lot of work pulling things together, but such a relief that the first one went well and is over. I took the group to a Co-Op for women artists and to Arc en Ciel, an HIV/AIDS orphanage. The real test comes in two weeks when 11 doctors arrive for a full week medical mission trip. Wish me luck with that.
5. Three UN soldiers from Nepal asked me if I would take a picture with them because I was the first white person they met in Haiti who could speak kreyol. Hooray, I guess? It was definitely an interesting situation and I wish so badly I had had my camera, but you will just have to picture it yourself.
6. I got an 85 on my first kreyol test, which is great news since Jean Mari told me he was going to buy a whip and punish me if I did not start applying myself to my kreyol studies more. I would cautiously label myself a functional kreyol speaker.
7. One very angry Nun bitched me out; because I had so much to do I did not take the time to say a proper good morning to her. Lets just say I hope that does not happen again and if it does maybe next time I won’t feel like a 10-year-old kid in the principle’s office. I guess I do carry scars for all those years of Catholic schooling.
8. We got our cable fixed so now I am able to watch FOOTBALL on the weekends. If you know me at all you know how crucial this is to my mental stability.
9. I feel like I have more of a social life and I would even go as far as to say that I have friends in Haiti. To prove it, I am going this Saturday for a music festival and then down to the beach on Sunday to watch drag racing. Neither activity, I will be doing by myself or will Elizabeth be there. Finally, I am loosening my grip the security blanket I have wrapped myself in.
10. I am now a Pilates nut. They have a class at my gym and my friend Alexis teaches it and it is AMAZING. I never knew how concentrating on your breathing could affect the way your muscles worked and increased your ability to do certain motions. I still find it very difficult, but I am loving every sweaty minute of it.

Alright that is it for now, I promise to try and write again soon. Thank you all for your patience.

PS. My blog sucks when it comes to uploading photos and actually having them in the text of my posts, so I have added new photos to my slide show.

Emotional State: Feeling content that I actually live in Haiti

Goal: to have more patience

Giving a chair to the enemy

There are some things in life that are constant.  No matter how many changes their life goes through, such as moving to a different country, certain things will remain the same.  For me one of those things is an over healthy love of American football.  NFL or college, if it is on very little else matters.  I think one of the hardest things about moving to Haiti when I did is that I left just in time to miss the new NFL and college season.  I cannot even express how I feel knowing the first regular season games for both started this weekend I have been unable to watch a second of them. Anyway, trying to keep my bitterness to minimum, I was proud of myself for giving my seat up at church for a father and his son with a certain shirt on that rubbed me the wrong way...

Ugh, can you believe it that the freaking Michigan Wolverines followed me to Haiti?  It is worse enough they exist in the US, but to have to think about the traitor Rich Rodriguez in Haiti is absolutely ridiculous.  However, I do believe I rose above it all by standing during Mass while this man and his son were able to share my chair quite comfortably.  I did chuckle at the rise of competitive emotions I felt towards this man, who I am 99% sure has no idea what his shirt actually means or stands for.  To make matters worse, when I got home this afternoon and was still thinking about the t-shirt I found out that Michigan upset Notre Dame 38-34.  Not that I care two goudes about Notre Dame, but to be faced with the reality that Rodriguez might make a coaching comeback after a piss poor showing last season made me nausea.  OMG, are you ready for some football?  I certainly am!

Emotional State: exhausted from blogging, I hope you all appreciate this.

Goal: to find a sports bar in PAP that carries NFL or college games.

Something I have learned...

The main reason I moved to Haiti was because I got a job here, but a secondary reason was to have an adventure where I would undoubtedly learn a lot about myself.  One thing that has come up while I have been in Haiti, which is not necessarily something I would define as significant on the road to self discovery, is my complete obsession with baby animals.  I love them.  I cannot get enough of them and if there is a chance they might be homeless I always suggest will bring them back to the Mission house.

First example, on the way to Mother Theresa's Children's Hospital Enock and I were stuck in traffic and when I looked out my passenger side window I noticed the smallest baby goats I have ever seen grazing in a garbage heap.  They were so cute, sorry this was before my camera was up and running, and I naturally concluded since they were eating garbage that they must be abandon.  When I mentioned this to Enock, he laughed saying, "of course they had a home and that the mission house did not have enough land to raise goats." Strike one.

About 10 days later, Frank came to visit and we got the chance to go with my friend Mari Ange to her home in a ravine slum close to where I live (WARNING: if you also read my husband's blog than this story is a repeat as he got around to writing about it first). On the way back, we stumbled upon a teeny, tiny white kitten that just had two dots of caramel coloring on it's face.  It was so precious.  We have been talking about getting a cat at the mission house in order to solve our rodent problem, so what did I do?  I picked it up and called Elizabeth to ask if I could bring it home.  What ended up happening when Elizabeth got on the phone with Mari Ange it was discovered that the kitten did indeed have a home and once again everyone had a big laugh at my hasty assumption.  Unfortunately, I did not have my camera with me, so I am unable to post of picture of the kitten.

Over the weekend, I was surrounded by baby animals: goats, chickens, turkeys, and puppies. I discussed with Elizabeth, who really wants to start a small farm at the mission house, about bringing any or all of them home.  I was not serious about most of them, but with the recent passing of Sheba, one of our dogs, getting a new companion for Tamar, our remaining dog, has been discussed.  Thus I petted and cooed over all the puppies of varying size for the last 24 plus hours. 

I wanted a female one since we already have a female dog and are not interested in breeding.  After some discussion on whether this was even allowed, since Emily my boss is not a big dog fan, Elizabeth asked Pere Trissant if we could take on of the smaller puppies.  He said they were two small, but that I could pick any from the older litter.  Unfortunately, the ones left were all males, so my plan to bring another baby animal back to the Mission House was foiled once again. 

Emotional state:  missing the puppies, but looking forward to the kittens were are suppose to get on Tuesday from a friend.

Goal: to still get a friend for Tamar.

Why are Haitians so serious?

As an American I grew up in a society that taught children at a very young age to say "cheese" when someone was taking their picture.  I also think Americans love children who are 'hams' in front of any kind of camera, so one might think it is only natural to assume that children all over the world are taught the same thing.  In the word of the friend Vince, "FALSE."  A Haitian of any age might be rolling on the ground weeping from laughing so hard but as soon as you pull a camera out they appear to be having the worse day ever.  I have no idea why this is, except I am told that culturally Haitians believe serious photos are my attractive. Take the below photos as just a few examples of this I have gathered since my arrival.

Emotional State:  since I am doing several posts in one sitting, I would say still refreshed

Goal: to make more Haitians want to smile

My First Trip to the Haitian Countryside

This past Saturday I left the noisy, overcrowded, smog filled streets of Port-au-Prince for the mountain side community of Grand Boulage, which the newest twin parish Haitian Ministries has added to their list.  I was definitely not sure if I wanted to go, because after a long week a 3 hour drive to the country did not sound all that appealing.  However, I convinced myself to go since it is technically part of my job.  

Elizabeth and I arrived at Grand Boulage around 3 in the afternoon and were greeted by an excited Pere Trissant and a welcome cooler climate.  I was amazed by my surroundings and I relished in the fresh air and tranquil setting.  I never knew Haiti could look like this.

I was thrilled to see something different than just the poverty of PAP.  I am sure in a lot of ways people within the community of Grand Boulage are poorer than those in PAP, but the

mentality of the people in the country and the surroundings give the poverty there a different feel.  I am sure my view may be slightly skewed as I spent most of the weekend at church, which seems to be a place Haitians go to release their suffering and rejoice in the blessings they do have.  It is these emotions along with the tangible, unwavering faith most Haitians seem to possess makes the 4 hour long mass worth while. It is definitely something everyone should witness at least once.  This past weekend certainly painted my own lack of faith in a new light.

Emotional State:  refreshed

Goal: to get a country house in Haiti

 

I will talk to you, riaghta?

Ok so most kids inevitable succumb to the desire to have money and get a summer job. Personally, my summer jobs have ranged from full time nanny, to helping my mom around the house, to working at a bookstore, to a receptionist at my mother-in-law's massage business.  Some of them I have loved and some of them not so much, but I can remember how thrilling it felt to be a little financial independent from my parents.

In Haiti having a job is more about being able to survive than it is about having some extra

cash in your pocket for the movies.  The mindset is completely different.  This summer the Mission House had three teenagers, Giles, Jerry, and Hegeur, come to help us out, like a summer job.  They would clean, cook, organize, make phone calls, run errands, etc. Were they the hardest workers?  No, but were you at 17? Not to mention they were getting only $30US every two weeks. I think for the amount they were getting paid and for what they were doing, no American teenager would have every signed up for that job.  I would also not be surprised if they shared their small wage with the rest of their family.  It just shows me again and again how little Americans know about sharing and sacrificing for another.

With the comparison to my past summer jobs aside, these three teenagers were such a joy to have around.  

They were helpful and patient with my kreyol and always wanted to talk about the differences between Haiti and the US.  They even had different english phrases the knew that they loved to say.  One of them was "I will talk to you, riaghta" and they would also put this ridiculous emphasis on right.  I do not know why, but every time they would say it all three would laugh so hard. I do think a fascination wi

th the US is a natural thing in Haiti, but for Giles, Jerry, and Heguer it has bigger significance.  Over ten years ago, a couple from the US names Steve and Katharine Smith adopted their youngest brother Joey.  Steve Smith happens to be on the board at Haitian Ministries and has made a commitment to help Joey's biological family in any way he can. The Smith's last summer even brought Joey back to Haiti for the first time to meet his biological family.  I believe the visit was a very positive experience for everyone as whenever Giles, Jerry, or Hegeur mention Joey, they seem to have a sense of pride relating to his new life in the US.

The youth of Haiti inspires me as they are able to maintain their childish innocence and enthusiasm for life against the hardship of poverty.  And instead of being resentful of the life their brother Joey has, they are proud of him and speak highly of the Smiths.  I have learned a lot from them and hope that even with school starting on Monday that they will still find time to visit.

Emotional State: happy

Goal: to be more grateful for the things and people in my life.

A Night at the Oloffson

After a day of distributing over 2,500 school books to our scholarship students and having to put one of the Mission House's dogs down, a night out was in order.  What do 3 Americans and one Dominican do on a Saturday night in Port-au-Prince?  We become a cliche by going to the Hotel Oloffson, probably the biggest ex-pat hang out in PAP to hear Sweet Mickey, a konpa band, play.  Now a ticket to show program as they call concerts here was 500 goudes or $12 US, which is comparable to a show at the Black Cat in DC, so to save some money we smuggled in street food for dinner (rice, bbq chicken, plantains, and spicy coleslaw or what Haitians call pik lees) and two flasks of Haitian rum.  I felt a little bit like an eight grader trying to sneak into an R rated movie, but I justify it by saying we were supporting the local street vendors instead of the international institution that is the Hotel Oloffson. 

The show was suppose to start at 11, but the opening band did not even come on until midnight.  After an hour of Ram, the Oloffson house band, Sweet Mickey finally made an appearance at 1:00 am only to play one song and then have to stop as one of their amps started smoking.  While the night did not go as planned, it was certainly fun and the Hotel Oloffson all

 lit up at night and packed with people is definitely an experience.  I know the photo above is a little blurry, but at least it gives you an idea of what it was like.  

Even if the night was long and the band we paid to see malfunctioned it was still a memorable evening as Frank and I celebrated the dawning of our one year wedding anniversary and I got to finally dance to konpa music with the man I love.  We definitely were not the only blancs in attendance, but we might have been the most rhythmically challenged couple there.  Oh, well it was fun!

Emotional state:  content

Goal: to learn how to konpa correctly

Comfort Food

Yesterday was my one year wedding anniversary, which I think classifies as a big milestone. As an anniversary gift to each other, Frank, my husband, flew down from Washington, DC to spend the weekend with me. He got in on Friday, September 4th and left this afternoon. The four days he was here were absolute bliss. We went to an ex-pat and bourgeois hot spot for a program (aka concert), visited a friend at her house in a slum near where I live, enjoyed the local soccer final (they call it a tikan in Haiti), and visited Mother Theresa's Children's Hospital. The intention was to show him the ups and downs of Haiti, their brightly colored culture mixed with the harsh reality of their poverty. I think he enjoyed every minute and truly believes we could make a life here, which is a good thing since I already moved here.

While the visit was an amazing gift it was by no means long enough and today when I dropped him off at the airport, I truly felt my heart break just a little bit। He is absolutely the main source of my happiness, which I already knew, but something that surprised me is the boost in confidence I get when he is around and the pronounced appearance of my adventurous side. Both things, I believe are quite essential when living and working in Haiti. The conclusion is that I married my wonderful husband for a reason and being in different countries is not it.

Naturally as a women in the 21st century what did I do to ease my pain, I ate। I consumed all food that made me feel like home or made me think of positive things। What this took shape as was a buffet of all things I love to eat. I started with a little bit of...


Who does not love guacamole? And then it took the form of an American classic:
I ate the whole box by myself and do I feel better? OF COURSE! P।S. Am I glad that processed cheesy pasta is popular in Haiti or what?

To end my binge on a sweet note my comfort food took on a green color

Now I certainly feel better, but will have to go to the gym for the rest of the week for make up for it all। The morale of the story is I love my husband and it is not healthy for me to be without him.

Emotional State: I am a mess in many ways

Goal: To get Frank down to Haiti as soon as possible.

Who forced you to be out in the sun so long?

On Saturday morning, I thought with Frank coming to visit on Friday wouldn't it be nice I was super nice and tan.  I have definitely gotten some color while being down here, but those who know me will know how much effort it takes for me to get tan.  So after breakfast, I took the article Djaloki, a friend I met down here, gave me about Vodou, which is only 7 pages long, to the roof top to read.  Now, because the article is so short and it was only 10 am I did not put on any sunscreen, huge mistake.  Approximately, 30 minutes later I knew I was in trouble.  My thighs, arms, and chest were burning and my eyes were watering.  I looked myself over and crossed my fingers that it would not get too bad.

About an hour later I was almost purple is some spots.  Oh, and it was painful.  Luckily no blistering, but it was bad.  After several treatments with creme and aloe and tea bag (its suppose to help the swelling) I was feeling much better, but I looked closer to an over cooked lobster. 

After showing Elizabeth and watching her face cringe I knew how stupid I had been.  As I walked to the living room to get some water Enock, one of the staff, asked if I had been running.  At first I was confused and then he pointed at my red arms, he thought I was flush from exercising.  I said no mwen espere, mais pas vre, solel ap boule mew.  Meaning I wish, but it is not true, I got sun burned.  Clearly confused by this comment he grabbed my wrist and brought me into the kitchen where Elizabeth and Carlito were.  He kisa (meaning what) and pointed to my skin.  Elizabeth explained to both him and Carlito for awhile. At the end, they still looked confused, but they mainly wanted to know who or what forced me to stay out in the sun for so long? 

Clearly, the idea of tanning is lost on a group of people that so highly value lighter skin tones. Oh well they definitely got a good laugh at this blanc for that.

Emotional state: incredibly pissed that I let myself get so, so burned

Goal:  to practice logical protective measures against the sun from now on.

How much money would you be willing to die for?

I know a post is long overdue and I apologize for that and for those who have already heard this story as I am trying to get myself caught up. 

On Saturday morning around 8:30  Mari, aka Blan because he has very light skin, was sitting in the front yard talking to Milo, our security guard, and I went over to chat with them and share some food Elizabeth had brought back with her from the North.  Jean Mari, who is probably my favorite character in the house, started talking really fast and make huge expressive hand gestures.  After he told the story twice all I could get from it was that he went to the bank and something happened and someone almost died or did in fact die.  Once he realized I was not understanding he grabbed my wrist and dragged me back into the mission house where he yelled for Elizabeth to help him translate.  

What he was really saying was that Friday was payday, so he went to the bank right after work, they got off between 3 or 4 because most of them start work at 7 am, to cash his check.  After getting his money he exited the bank and happened to walk out right after this guy, who apparently had a lot of money, as two robbers immediately came up to him and pulled a gun, demanding he hand over his money.  The guy who had the money pulled out his own gun and shot both the robbers point blank.  All this happened while Jean Mari was just standing there.  

Jean Mari is naturally a very good natured person and laughed it off by saying that at least he did not die, but how sad it would have been if he did because he gets paid so little and who wants to die for such a little amount of money.  

For me there is one clear moral to this story: we should definitely pay our employees better.  With that said I wonder if Jean Mari was not willing to die for two weeks pay, what amount of money would he be willing to die for?  I did not ask him that question, but I should have.

Emotional Status: excited about feeling more and more comfortable in my new home, but I know that I will never feel truly at home until Frank is here permanently.  Why does that have to be so far away?

Goal:  SPEAK MORE KREYOL

A Day for Education

Haiti, currently, is like a game of hid and seek.  Being the seeker, aka me in this situation, is the worst part of the game when you are kid, because not only are you alone, but looking around for people always kind of felt like work to me.  However, as you get older the emotions you feel as the seeker add another layer of fun to the game.  And I mean running around trying to find people is way better than having to wait in possibly an comfortable position for someone to find you.  As the seeker, you feel excited about the chase as you want to find as many people as quickly as possible so you become frenzied in a way, but there is also that sense of fear.  What if I cannot find anyone?  Or what if I open up this closet and one of the hidders jumps out at me? Let's just say that I see the game of hid and seek as a much more complex than most people.

As I experience Haiti a little more everyday, I feel this constant excitement towards my new life and this fascinating country around me, however I am definitely hesitant, scared in a way about learning too much too fast.  What if something bad happens that sullies my current perspective of Haiti?  What if I commit a huge faux pas that damages the perception Haitians have of me? All of these emotions are contributing factors to why I have not gotten behind the wheel of a car before today.  In my defense, driving in Haiti is an intense experience.  If you are able to avoid being swallowed up by the enormous pot holes than you are in good shape, but the pot holes while treacherous do not move as the dogs, children, and countless amount of other people do along all the road ways here. It is said by Haitians that in America you look straight ahead to see where you are going, but in Haiti you look side to side so you do not hit anything or anyone.  Definitely a unique experience. 

Finally today, I embraced my fear and drove Elizabeth and I to the gym.  To be honest it was at 6:30 in the morning so the roads were not that full, the perfect time for me to try maneuvering through the streets of Petionville. I did well and learned that the horn is my friend and that the biggest vehicles always have the right away.  To my dismay, when I went out later with Enock, one of our staff, to get some hanging folders and some baby asprin for our really old, deaf guard dog Sheba.  He made me drive.  I was fine going through Petionville, but when he said we had to stop by his house to pick up his son, Billie, who was sick and needed to go to the clinic, I became a little nervous.  Well that apprehension was well founded as Enock leaves in a small slum out side Petionville built into a very steep slope.  Lets just say there were no other cars where we went.  When I got back to the house feeling very proud I survived, Dom, another staff member, laughed at me as he says those are some of the worst roads in this area and that it must have been quite a challenge to navigate on my first day of driving.  Knowing this made me feel even more triumphant, because not only did I not hit anything, but I also took on some of the meanest roads in Petionville.  

While I thought I had had a very educational morning. I learned about a peaceful manifestation taking place in downtown Port-au-Prince (PAP). This demonstration was brought on by a statement made by the Secretary of Education today regarding the FILO exam, the national exam students have to take to get into college, it is like our SAT. The way this exam works is students have to get at a 800 out of 1400 in order to pass and get into a university.  However, if you get no lower than a 700, you are able to retake the exam 3 months later, while all other students have to wait until next year.  Only 16% of the students in Haiti passed their FILO the first time around this year, so the Sec. of Education decided to open the retake to students that got as low as a 600, which is quite the generous exception. The only problem is he made this announcement today, which happens to be the same day as the retake exam, so the students the exception was made for were unable to participate in the retake this summer.  This led to students taking to the streets and marching to the Palace in downtown PAP.  Unfortunately, what started as a peaceful manifestation soon became unsafe as police shot tear gas into the crowds and rumor has it that they even shot one student dead.  Do not worry I am safe and the rumors of a student being killed have not been proven.  In my opinion, the students definitely have a right to be upset and we will see what happens in the upcoming days.

Back to my hid and seek analogy.  If I was trying trying to carefully find people to try and prevent any of them from jumping out and scaring me, I failed. I need to remind myself that I live in Haiti and that to try and limit my experiences good or bad is just not possible.  As this country is a living, breathing entity and certainly cannot be control by a 5'5" 120 pound white women.  It is just an interesting contrast, here I am holding some learning experiences at arms length because I am nervous while the students in Haiti fought for their rights to be educated.  Let's just say a learned a lot today.

Emotional state:  Embarrassed by my fear, but confident I can over come it.

Goal:  to drive my ass off and thrive off the lessons I am learning about myself and about life.  

What most people know about Haiti is...

that it is and has been for a long time the poorest country in the western hemisphere. But what does that really mean? Who can really quantify a fact like that? Most people, including me at one point, think that if you have been to one developing country, you have seen them all. I cannot even begin to explain how wrong that statement is. I am not ignoring the fact that the human race loves to generalize and loves to put everyone in a nice, neat box and do not get me wrong I can generalize society, fashion, music, or whatever with the best of them, but when it comes to poverty and human suffering, I must pause.

I think to try and sum up the poor in this world to others through one visit or length of time you spent in a developing country is detrimental to us and them. I do not doubt that I have done it, but being in Haiti knowing I am going to share my life with these people and vice versa for the next two years changes things.

Ok bear with me, think about your worst day in your entire life... go it? I am sure that what you experienced on that day has shaped you profoundly as a person. Ok now imagine that someone witnesses everything about that day and for the rest of your life tells their version of what you went through to every new person you meet and you never to get to say anything about it. Kind of sucks, doesn't it?

Well, in my opinion, that is what we do to the poverty stricken in our world. We walk around like experts informing others of what it is like for them when do not have a clue. There is no way this blog is ever going to be able to comprehensively sum up what it means to be Haitian, but I hope through writing down what I experience I will come to understand the people and my new life here amongst them better

I guess this is the first disclaimer of my blog, I am not sure if there will be others, but here is the first. The stories and people I will be writing about are real and the suffering as well as the joy are not being documented to elicit any particular emotions from anyone, so read this blog and take from it what you will, but realize that this is one's person perspective on a country of millions.

Emotional State: tired with some homesickness sprinkled on top

Goal: to appreciate Haiti and its people for who they are without judging them

Hi I am the dumb, mute blanc from Haitian Ministries. What is your name?

Ok the title of this post may be a little harsh, but it totally describes how I am feeling. Today, my first Saturday in PAP was spent at mass at the Catholic Cathedral, which celebrated its feast day today. Afterwards, we were invited to join selected priests, diocese administrators, and the Archbishop of PAP for lunch in the rectory. Besides, two Canadian priests who have spent over 15 years in Haiti each, Elizabeth and I were the only blancs present. Elizabeth was a huge hit as many of the priests from parishes Haitian Ministries is twinned with were there and recognized her immediately. I tried to be an active listener and stay engaged in the conversation even though I can only pick up on every tenth word or so, thanks to my french background, but my actions unnerved most of the priests as they knew I can not speak or understand Creole, so they were confused why I was acting like I did. My thought process was better to pretend and be involved in the interaction than stand in the corner by myself. Good plan or not that is what I did.

When we finally went up to speak with Archbishop Miot, I was sweating like a pig as it was over 100 degrees today, but I was also feeling totally insecure as I did not even know how to say nice to meet you. Clearly, I did not come prepared. As we approached I whispered to Carlito, who was with us, comment tu dites "nice to meet you" en Creole? He told me quickly and when the introduction was made I said what I thought he said, however I botched it completely as Archbishop Miot just looked at me laughed out loud and said to Elizabeth in english, "she does not know creole does she?" Hurray for me!

If that was not bad enough for the rest of the lunch the Pere Brennais, a priest we know through our twinning program, just kept shouting words in English to me, like 7Up, SALAD, COME, etc. I am laughing to myself about it all now, but lets just say as first impressions go, mine was pretty piss poor. Oh, and just FYI nice to meet you in Creole is mwen kontan konnen ou.

Emotional state: very frustrated with some hope on top that I can learn Creole over night.

Goal: to fully embrace my stupid phase.

Konpa for one?

After a long, not so productive day in the office, Elizabeth, the director of my organization in Haiti, and her boyfriend, Carlito, took me out to hear a kompa band play. I was thrilled to get out from behind our home's walls, but also nervous as I have never been truly immersed in Haitian culture before. No doubt I would stick out like a sore thumb, but I was not going to let a little insecurity stop me from mingling with the people I came to be with.

The word “kompás” in Spanish means “beat” or “rhythm,” and one of the most distinctive characteristics of kompás music is the driving beat, a trait common to many styles of Caribbean music. Kompás music is easy and fun to dance to, incorporating musical traditions like Merengue, which propel dancers around the floor with lively, active beats. It is mainly a partner dance that incorporates lots of spins and turns. You may hear the notes of compás music in a community of Haitian immigrants anywhere in the world, and where there is compás, dancers are usually not far behind (all this according to wikipedia).

Now the crucial part of the Haitian music lesson above is that kompa is a partner dance and when you go to a kompa concert, not only without a partner, but also as a very obvious third wheel to a very devoted couple things can get a little sad. I found myself standing in this up scale disco (thats what they call clubs in Haiti) really enjoying the music and the energy of the crowd, however when I let my gaze stray to those around me I was one of the only people on the dance floor dancing by themselves. How does that go for attempting to fit in? It made me feel like a school girl at an over crowded dance shaking her junk for everyone to see and no one takes the bait. When in reality, I was probably just another white girl trying to pretend she has rhythm, I mean who really wants to dance with that? Now remember, I am married and already have snagged a dance partner for life, but when you and your husband live in different countries these things become a little tougher.

What I learned tonight is that Haitians really know how to have fun and I definitely felt lucky to be among them. The band, T-Vice, was really very good and I am told are one of the top two Haitian band, not bad for my first night out in PAP (Port-au-Prince). I also learned that having a great time does not make you miss your loved ones less, but rather more as you want to share those moments with them more than anyone else.

Emotional State: content with symptoms of husband withdrawal on top.

Goal: to dance the kompa with a partner next time.

You always forget something!

I have arrived in Haiti today with a sense of relief that the big move was over and with a continued hatred for all airline policies, I mean really who can move their whole life in one 50 pound bag?  Anyway, the important thing is that I am sitting on my new bed in my new home feeling excited.  After a thorough video gchat session with my husband and my mom, I am surprised at how easy it is going to be to stay connected to those I left behind.  Wireless internet in Haiti is definitely a major luxury I am sincerely grateful for having.

What I wanted this entry to focus on is the importance of having a home and the space to create your personal oasis.  I, myself, am a person who loves to travel while still feeling like I am settled, this is a necessity.  My little corner of the Mission House, I now reside in, will definitely be my haven from the hardships I will face over the next two years.  However, that entry will have to wait for another time as I discovered the unavoidable item every travellerc cringes thinking about ... the one thing that got left behind.  For this new residence of Port-au-Prince it would be my battery charger for my camera.  I was prepared to download all the photos I took of my new home to share with you all when my camera died and with no charger in sight I am afraid the visual compliments to my posts are going to be severely lacking.  

Why is that no matter how much time you have or how many lists you go through something always falls through the cracks? I thought for sure I had everything I needed plus a couple of extra comforts from home. FALSE! I guess I am going to have to struggle through the next 3 weeks until my husband comes to visit without a working camera, hurray!

Emotional State: physically exhausted, mentally ready to go.

Goal: to not make a fool of myself on the first day of my new job.

The Night Before it all Begins

Leaving a place you love is never easy, even if it is for the best of reasons. Tomorrow, Wednesday, August 12, 2009, I will leave my home of over 5 years for Port-au-Prince, Haiti, a place many people never dream of going. I am leaving behind friends, family, a husband, and countless amounts of comforts for a position that will surely be physically as well as emotionally taxing.

As I sit here watching True Blood, a show I will surely miss, I still cannot believe I am doing this, but is there every really a good time to up root your whole life and move to a developing country? It is now or never.

My emotional state: scared with a mixture of excitement.

My goal: to throw myself head first into this life changing experience and to keep my doubts out of my mind.