Detour

So, I should have learned from the 2006 wrong-visa-cancelled-flight-lost-bag-debacle that this wasn’t exactly going to go according to plan…

I left Chicago on time, no worries. Found my gate in Miami and sat down. And waited. And waited. And “yes, we’re boarding first class”. And “no, not really, there’s still some technical problem with the plane”. And waited. And “no, sorry this flight is cancelled”.

So… I got gift vouchers for the Crowne Plaza hotel. Nice. High standard. Big room. Free meal.
All alone. No bag.
Had a nice dinner on my own though. Became five years old again at the sight of all the single-serving products in the bathroom. Saw…the neighborhood. Which wasn’t great. Yay, Miami! :)

Got up at 4 AM to catch the shuttle to the airport at 4.20. Or that was the plan. That was the wakeup-call order. But… I woke up by my own alarm (lucky I set it), disoriented, at 4.16! (Had apparently already snoozed twice without remembering it).That was the quickest getting clothes on in the history of earth! Ran downstairs just in time to hold the shuttle long enough to check out.

Then more waiting, but not too bad. Talked to this “kind” and “concerned” brit-gone-canadian. He seemed to know his stuff. Had lived in several third world countries. Worked with reconstruction. Scared the shit out of me with his talk of malaria pills. Which I hadn't gotten any from my swedish doctor. “Oh, really? No seriously, you need to get some right away. You’re staying with locals? Mhm, yeah you need to [basically not touch anything in their house]”. Wow, thanks for the info I thought, and got freaked out. Trusting.
Then the subject turned to his work and life. “Yeah, I’m so glad I got out of the UK when I did. Now it’s all downhill. They’re letting everyone stay...”. Ok, so you’re against immigration? “No, no. It’s just; when they wear their traditional clothes they’re saying that they don’t wanna be a part of our society. I mean I’ve lived in Liberia, but I adapted, I mean otherwise it’s just to go home right?”. Right. Let me say that to my refugee friends in Malmo - cause it’s so easy to "just go home"…
This man was also irritated at the Haitians for not being able to decide where to dump all the stuff that’s left after the fallen buildings, “in my opinion it’s just to dump it in the sea and make some more land”. Yup, in your opinion it’s ‘just to do’ a whole lot of things. Why are you in this profession again??

Alright. Decided to not freak out after I’d realized what a, in lack of a more subtle term, moron he was. Things will be fine.

And, yes, I landed in Port-au-Prince. All was good. Got let into the country. Picked up my bag at the arrival”hall” (pretty much a shed, and then straight out into the street to meet the people waiting), and made my way out. Kept an eye out for the sign that said ‘Linnea’. He would be here right? Pierre my host. He must have seen that the flight was re-scheduled. I’d sent an email too. Annoying that I didn’t remember his face. But we had only met once, briefly, in March. Now everyone looked like a potential Pierre. Also; there are a LOT of people jumping on you as you get out. Taxi? Can I help you to anywhere? Of course. This is a way to make money when jobs are scarce. And I was a thankful victim – little pale white girl, with a confused and slightly worried look on her face. The thing to say is though that they are actually genuinely friendly, at least the once I talked to. This one guy tried to help me for real. He phoned the numbers I had, and kept a look-out. But I only had office numbers, and Pierre was nowhere to be seen. With only an address to the office too, I had no idea where to go.

But, my earlier travels and mishaps have taught me one thing: it ALWAYS works out. Strangely enough. And, violà, there he was all of a sudden.

A bumpy car ride later I was at…a MANSION. Seriously. This is a big house. I feel a little bit guilty after the drive past the refugee camps with row after row of tents. Here I have food, fan, clean water, friendly faces, high standard bathroom, internet, and a view. Only problem is that electricity is out from time to time. SMALL problem!

I feel blessed. I think this will give me time to process all the things I will see in a better manner, without having the worries of deceases, security etc hanging over me too. And with the possibility of communicating with the people I miss, and the people who’ve been in the same situation before. Without that opportunity I think it could easily get overwhelming.

Just driving past the fallen buildings this morning. I can’t fathom. It was hard to realize where I was, and it was like the car window became a shield to the world outside. But once when we drove by the ruin of a huge building, just for a second, I imagined myself being trapped under the concrete and had a moment of panic.

Right now I’m back in denial mode. Besides being super HOT (yes, pretty, but also warm), I don’t have much that reminds me of the fact that I’m here. So I’m waiting for the blow. The breakdown. I think I am stronger than I let myself believe though. The next few days will tell.

One thing I am very excited about is learning Creole. I’ve already been taught a few phrases. It’s similar to French in many ways, but has much simpler grammar (yay!). And it’s very visual. ‘Merci beaucoup’, for example, translates into (never mind the spelling) ‘meci en pile’. Like ‘piles of thanks’ – can’t you see them in your mind? I love that! Also, I just learned that 'nou' means both 'you' and 'us'. Like my very nice belgian neighbor-teaching-me-everything Liz said; What a beautiful philosophy!

A sticky, tired, thirsty, hungry, yet happy and excited, Linnea signing out.

PS. Would as usual love to hear from you!