Leaving on a Jet Plane
It’s hard even begin to describe what I’m feeling after visiting the country that my children call home…but over the next several weeks, I’ll write about our 8 days spent in Haiti and how it has shaped our view of this tragically beautiful country.
Leaving on a Jet Plane
Leading up to this trip, I was unsure of what to expect. I had been juggling so many emotions and trying to imagine what it would be like. I like to be prepared; Drew will tell you this (Thanks babe for loving me anyway!!). I have a hard time not knowing what to expect and I tend to overthink everything which leads to excitement, anxiety, eagerness, nervousness and downright discomfort. Not only was this my first international trip (sorry, but I don’t count Canada, Mexico or a cruise to the Caribbean), but it was my first time in a third world country. Some people may not think that’s a huge deal, but for me, it was very daunting. I'm sure I have said this before, but my number one strength (although it doesn’t always feel like a strength) is EMPATHY. I feel what you feel; I absorb your worst heartache and your greatest joys and then I deeply grieve with you or join you in celebration. I am a crier…and I don’t mean because it’s hard for me to talk about something or because I am having a rough day. I mean I am moved to tears, for better or worse; in happiness and in sorrow. So you can imagine my thought process as I contemplated what I would see with the devastating poverty and the overwhelming resilience that is Haiti.
We (meaning “I”) had a bit of a rough start beginning with a redeye from Denver to Miami. Thank goodness we slept for most of it, but on the connector from Miami to Port au Prince, I got sick…as in puked-in-that-tiny-little-closet-of-a-bathroom-while-white-knuckling-the-railing-in-case-of-turbulence sick. Of course I had the window seat, so in a panic, I hurried Drew to hurry the “aisle guy” before I made a big, embarrassing scene. Thank goodness the bathroom was vacant and I made it in time. I still don’t fully know what made me sick. Drew and I had eaten all the same things, minus some strawberry that I had from a yogurt parfait. I think it was a combination of little sleep, nerves, that dang strawberry, anxiety, malaria meds and probably some more nerves. Thankfully it was one of those where you just get it over with and you feel better. Not exactly how I wanted to kick off the trip, but I’m just grateful that it started and ended on the same plane.
Thank heavens I was feeling a bit better because being crammed into an SUV with 6 people, all their bags, in 85 degrees with 100% humidity aren’t exactly ideal conditions for a puker. And then there’s the driving. Port au Prince is nuts…and I mean NUTS when it comes to driving around. I don’t even think you can call it driving. It’s more like surviving. I told Drew I felt like I was in a Mission Impossible movie. Thank the LORD for Teresa, our trip leader, who drives like a Haitian and is practically a local. But once you can stop thinking about the chances of you dying (or killing some crazy person on a motorcycle) you begin to see beyond the chaos of the cars and notice the frenzy on the streets. There are literally people everywhere. It’s loud and hectic and everything seems in disarray. Sadly, the streets are littered with trash and there are seemingly homeless, skinny, little dogs looking for scraps. There are also goats everywhere (and I mean EVERYWHERE) but they most certainly have a home. Why, you ask? Because goats are food. In fact, the only animals NOT on leashes in Haiti are dogs. I’ll admit it was tough. It was a harsh reality for me to face, seeing animals literally starving. But the fact of the matter is that people are starving, too.
We finally made our way out of the chaos of Port au Prince (after a few detours around the most horrific traffic jams I’ve ever seen in my life—and I grew up in L.A.) and headed into the country. As we fled the city, we were teased by glimpses of Haiti’s gorgeous turquoise water and the start of the beautiful, lush greenery that you imagine of any other Caribbean island. The presence of poverty was still prevalent, but there was a feeling of peace, hope and community in the country, all of which were lost on Port au Prince.
After a stop at Respire Haiti for coffees and a mango smoothie (picked fresh from the tree outback, I might add) we were off to an amazing little hidden gem called Taina. Off the beaten path, tucked away in the lush greenery was this fantastic beach-front French restaurant. Talk about the greatest gift you could ask for after a long day (and night) of travel. Steak Frites and a cold water bottle hit the spot and so did the coarse sand and warm ocean tide.
We could have stayed there for hours, but the road to our destination of Petit Trou was long. After the sun had set and several stops later, we arrived to a very dark St. Paul’s Episcopal School campus. All of us were travel-weary, but the excitement of this long-awaited arrival kept us awake. After being shown to our rooms that would be home for the next 7 days, we communed for a delicious Haitian feast of chicken, rice and beans, fried banan (plantains), ble (bulgar wheat), and pikliz. There were 11 of us around the dinner table that first night. We talked of the school, the community, the programs, both current and upcoming and the hope that the future holds for these incredible people. With full bellies, we put up our mosquito nets, took a (very) quick cold shower and hopped in our beds for our long-awaited LIGHTS OUT.
This is where I would tell you what I thought about lying in bed that night. But after nearly 24 hours of nonstop travel, my head hit the pillow and I was sound asleep.
…to be continued
Leaving on a Jet Plane
Leading up to this trip, I was unsure of what to expect. I had been juggling so many emotions and trying to imagine what it would be like. I like to be prepared; Drew will tell you this (Thanks babe for loving me anyway!!). I have a hard time not knowing what to expect and I tend to overthink everything which leads to excitement, anxiety, eagerness, nervousness and downright discomfort. Not only was this my first international trip (sorry, but I don’t count Canada, Mexico or a cruise to the Caribbean), but it was my first time in a third world country. Some people may not think that’s a huge deal, but for me, it was very daunting. I'm sure I have said this before, but my number one strength (although it doesn’t always feel like a strength) is EMPATHY. I feel what you feel; I absorb your worst heartache and your greatest joys and then I deeply grieve with you or join you in celebration. I am a crier…and I don’t mean because it’s hard for me to talk about something or because I am having a rough day. I mean I am moved to tears, for better or worse; in happiness and in sorrow. So you can imagine my thought process as I contemplated what I would see with the devastating poverty and the overwhelming resilience that is Haiti.
We (meaning “I”) had a bit of a rough start beginning with a redeye from Denver to Miami. Thank goodness we slept for most of it, but on the connector from Miami to Port au Prince, I got sick…as in puked-in-that-tiny-little-closet-of-a-bathroom-while-white-knuckling-the-railing-in-case-of-turbulence sick. Of course I had the window seat, so in a panic, I hurried Drew to hurry the “aisle guy” before I made a big, embarrassing scene. Thank goodness the bathroom was vacant and I made it in time. I still don’t fully know what made me sick. Drew and I had eaten all the same things, minus some strawberry that I had from a yogurt parfait. I think it was a combination of little sleep, nerves, that dang strawberry, anxiety, malaria meds and probably some more nerves. Thankfully it was one of those where you just get it over with and you feel better. Not exactly how I wanted to kick off the trip, but I’m just grateful that it started and ended on the same plane.
Thank heavens I was feeling a bit better because being crammed into an SUV with 6 people, all their bags, in 85 degrees with 100% humidity aren’t exactly ideal conditions for a puker. And then there’s the driving. Port au Prince is nuts…and I mean NUTS when it comes to driving around. I don’t even think you can call it driving. It’s more like surviving. I told Drew I felt like I was in a Mission Impossible movie. Thank the LORD for Teresa, our trip leader, who drives like a Haitian and is practically a local. But once you can stop thinking about the chances of you dying (or killing some crazy person on a motorcycle) you begin to see beyond the chaos of the cars and notice the frenzy on the streets. There are literally people everywhere. It’s loud and hectic and everything seems in disarray. Sadly, the streets are littered with trash and there are seemingly homeless, skinny, little dogs looking for scraps. There are also goats everywhere (and I mean EVERYWHERE) but they most certainly have a home. Why, you ask? Because goats are food. In fact, the only animals NOT on leashes in Haiti are dogs. I’ll admit it was tough. It was a harsh reality for me to face, seeing animals literally starving. But the fact of the matter is that people are starving, too.
We finally made our way out of the chaos of Port au Prince (after a few detours around the most horrific traffic jams I’ve ever seen in my life—and I grew up in L.A.) and headed into the country. As we fled the city, we were teased by glimpses of Haiti’s gorgeous turquoise water and the start of the beautiful, lush greenery that you imagine of any other Caribbean island. The presence of poverty was still prevalent, but there was a feeling of peace, hope and community in the country, all of which were lost on Port au Prince.
After a stop at Respire Haiti for coffees and a mango smoothie (picked fresh from the tree outback, I might add) we were off to an amazing little hidden gem called Taina. Off the beaten path, tucked away in the lush greenery was this fantastic beach-front French restaurant. Talk about the greatest gift you could ask for after a long day (and night) of travel. Steak Frites and a cold water bottle hit the spot and so did the coarse sand and warm ocean tide.We could have stayed there for hours, but the road to our destination of Petit Trou was long. After the sun had set and several stops later, we arrived to a very dark St. Paul’s Episcopal School campus. All of us were travel-weary, but the excitement of this long-awaited arrival kept us awake. After being shown to our rooms that would be home for the next 7 days, we communed for a delicious Haitian feast of chicken, rice and beans, fried banan (plantains), ble (bulgar wheat), and pikliz. There were 11 of us around the dinner table that first night. We talked of the school, the community, the programs, both current and upcoming and the hope that the future holds for these incredible people. With full bellies, we put up our mosquito nets, took a (very) quick cold shower and hopped in our beds for our long-awaited LIGHTS OUT.
This is where I would tell you what I thought about lying in bed that night. But after nearly 24 hours of nonstop travel, my head hit the pillow and I was sound asleep.
…to be continued
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