February 25 ( Day 8)

After dinner last night, we had a meeting regarding a change in plans back to Port Au Prince in the morning.  We were told we would leave a few hours earlier than expected due to possible road blocks and protests. They wanted to avoid any possible problems and leaving earlier was the best idea they had at the time. The only problem was the road would be longer and a bit "bumpier". I was all in for bumpier, but longer? Not so much. I appreciated that they were being cautious, though.   Now where did I put that Dramamine....

Our driver, Nestle, arrived at 5:45 am. Not surprisingly, kids were already at the gate. Two of the boys who had walked me to and from the work site each day, hand in hand, were there. I had promised Stanley my tough Mudder shirt and Beatem would get my shorts. It seemed odd handing over dirty clothes, but I didn't have the means to "run a load of laundry". As I passed my shirt through the gate to Stanley, he accepted it and reached for my hand one more time. I held it in mine. I thought about how familiar this stranger's hand had become. I could recognize his grasp from the others. Strange.  As we stood there for that brief moment holding hands, our eyes met. We didn't need to say anything.  We just knew. 

One last chance...

Beatem, my other escort for the week was next. Earlier that week, we had a moment where he smiled and told me I was his grandma. I acted hurt and insulted that he thought I was so old. He was confused until someone explained what he said. We had a "lost in translation" moment. We laughed together and he changed me from grandmother to " sister from God". We had a moment then, and now again at the gate. For him, I went outside the gate and we hugged. He tucked the gift of clothing between us,leaned his head into my stomach and there we stood. Although, it was only seconds, the energy in the hug enveloped me and seemed to stop time (I feel schmoltzy saying that, but it's true). Needless to say, the departure was bittersweet.

We loaded into the van after a quick breakfast and were on our way. Looking out my window, I saw women carrying heavy loads of rice or charcoal on their heads. Others were gently hitting packed mules with a stick, correcting their stubbornness just as soon as it set in. People loaded onto motorcycles zipped along the road as if no one else was traveling on it.  I saw a little girl standing in a doorway. She was holding an uncooperative chicken by the neck. I would've screamed and let go. She held on. All of the people and sights and smells that seemed so foreign to me a week ago were now familiar. We were 30 minutes in to the drive when we were stopped.

Fortunately, we weren't held up by angry people protesting.  The bumpy dirt road we were
traveling on tossed our jeep too much.  The large vehicle was on three wheels, close to tipping, stuck in a deep rut.  We were informed that the road continued in this condition and that we would need to walk part of the way.  Villagers came out of nowhere...to help. It all seemed like a movie to me. Working together, the van was lifted out and Nestle continued to steer it down a treacherous hill. Awaiting at the bottom of the hill was what seemed to me to be an impassable creek. We walked across the water and Nestle gave it a shot. It didn't work. We were stuck again. More villagers came to help. When we finally got the van out, we all cheered....men, women, black and white. High fives were flying and smiles were abundant.  We had come to Haiti to help them. Now, they were helping us. We shared a moment of understanding, gratitude and compassion. It was powerful. 

It only took 6 hours, but we made it to our hotel. It was actually quite nice. It had a bar and a pool! I was ready to chill. But that wasn't the plan yet. We put our bags away, got back in the van and made our way to the museum. Esther, a fellow team member, had visited it years before and really enjoyed it. Because of Carnaval though, traffic was extremely heavy and it took almost an hour to get there. When we finally arrived, we found out it was closed. Again Carnaval.  However, there was a fabulous restaurant where we enjoyed lunch and cold drinks. I opted for a Pina Colada. It was topped with toasted coconut. My thought as I drank it? Here I sit in a posh, contemporary restaurant. Waiters are dressed in pressed, crisp white shirts with black vests and pants. Women are freshly made up wearing white shirts and black pencil skirts, their perfume fills the air. One hundred yards away, outside the doors, sits  mounds of trash  and very hungry people.














After lunch, we made our way back through the crowded streets. Vendors were getting ready for the big weekend. Cars, people, motorbikes, tap taps, and mules kept us from getting back quickly yet again. Port Au Prince was much more crowded and chaotic than Pignon. 

Once back at the hotel, our team had dinner and debriefed one last time. It was strange how quickly we were able to get to know each other. I could joke with any one of them now and it would be ok. Unfortunately, Gavin was usually the main target. He was "picked on" consistently by three of us but took it all in stride.

Following debriefing, Cara and I swam in the cold water. Others waded, unsure of the chlorine's effectiveness. Wine, Prestige and fruit juices were plentiful.We took turns plugging our music playlists into Gavin's speaker. I heard a lot of new music that I really enjoyed. Somehow, music has a way of connecting people and finding commonalities with each other as you listen. After three bottles of wine, we meandered back to our balmy rooms seeking slumber for our last night in Haiti.