Ma and Pa Lopez just had their first visit to Haiti!
I have been asked by so many people here what I had planned for them and then what we ended up doing. It wasn't a doing kind of holiday. We went through a stack of Bon Appetit magazines, drank coffee, bought plants, went to a couple of art galleries, took a drive up the mountain for lunch, had birthday dinner for my mum, worked on the the jigsaw puzzle and spent a lot of time sitting around and reading. It was, for me, perfect. I'm looking forward to their next visit but not to the inevitable scolding I receive when they see that half my plants are dead.
Before they arrived, I didn't really think much about what my parents' reaction would be to Haiti. They have lived in and visited some pretty underdeveloped places (the town I was born in is no paradise) and it's not like I live in a tent camp here. Nevertheless, my parents visited the Dominican Republic a couple of years ago, and though I can see the border from my terrace, the DR is a lot more developed than Haiti. I meant to tell them that, but I don't remember if I did.
In any case, the recent visits by The Santas; my old friend, Pete, who was working in another town for a couple of weeks and spent a few days with me on his way out; and now my parents, has made me realize how blind I am to much of the Port-au-Prince scenery. On our way out of the airport, my dad was taken aback by the tent camp that surrounded us. I don't even see it any more. Perhaps that sounds callus, but without becoming somewhat inured to the tent camps, the markets atop heaps of rotting rubbish, the drainage canals choked with styrofoam containers, and the collapsed piles of rubble, I would be completely dysfunctional here. I see it. But it doesn't affect me anymore.
(cringe) I know how that must sound.
Traffic in the city is not great. You have to be assertive on the road or you'll never move. But aside from the inconvenience of how long it takes to get anywhere, there's something almost satisfying about driving here. You have to be creative, bold, clever, and skillful. I can't say I'm often challenged like that in many other facets of my life. So traffic is not great, I know that. Nevertheless, I was startled to hear my father tell a friend in Brazil just how awful it is here. Is it really that much worse than my hometown in Brazil? And is the badness of it that much of a surprise?
I'm curious to hear what my parents have been telling people about their impressions of Port-au-Prince. I suspect that their comments may echo a lot of what The Santas mentioned: it's dusty and dirty and the poverty is ubiquitous. There are armed UN troops on the road and rubble on the street sides. But people are pretty and care about how they look, even if they are living on a pile of rubbish.
My pretty apartment on the 6th floor of a building in the largely functional part of town gives me some buffer from the less picturesque sides of Port-au-Prince. Even unaffected as I might be, I'm grateful for this buffer every single day.
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| My mum cooking an Indian food feast for friends. How many chilies? |
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| My dad at a gallery. Not sure he's impressed. |
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| My dad and Maite telling stories. |
In any case, the recent visits by The Santas; my old friend, Pete, who was working in another town for a couple of weeks and spent a few days with me on his way out; and now my parents, has made me realize how blind I am to much of the Port-au-Prince scenery. On our way out of the airport, my dad was taken aback by the tent camp that surrounded us. I don't even see it any more. Perhaps that sounds callus, but without becoming somewhat inured to the tent camps, the markets atop heaps of rotting rubbish, the drainage canals choked with styrofoam containers, and the collapsed piles of rubble, I would be completely dysfunctional here. I see it. But it doesn't affect me anymore.
(cringe) I know how that must sound.
Traffic in the city is not great. You have to be assertive on the road or you'll never move. But aside from the inconvenience of how long it takes to get anywhere, there's something almost satisfying about driving here. You have to be creative, bold, clever, and skillful. I can't say I'm often challenged like that in many other facets of my life. So traffic is not great, I know that. Nevertheless, I was startled to hear my father tell a friend in Brazil just how awful it is here. Is it really that much worse than my hometown in Brazil? And is the badness of it that much of a surprise?
I'm curious to hear what my parents have been telling people about their impressions of Port-au-Prince. I suspect that their comments may echo a lot of what The Santas mentioned: it's dusty and dirty and the poverty is ubiquitous. There are armed UN troops on the road and rubble on the street sides. But people are pretty and care about how they look, even if they are living on a pile of rubbish.
My pretty apartment on the 6th floor of a building in the largely functional part of town gives me some buffer from the less picturesque sides of Port-au-Prince. Even unaffected as I might be, I'm grateful for this buffer every single day.
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