January escapades: Ocean swimming, whale watching, star gazing, and more!

One of the many benefits of being a student is having a “winter break”. My program gave me a whopping 6 weeks off – from mid December all the way to the end of January. Tania was also able to cash in on some well deserved accumulated vacation time and we took full advantage of the time together.... after all, who knows when we’ll be able to take this much time to travel again? Retirement?

It all began with a week at home with my family in Sidney, BC for Christmas. We spent the time eating, drinking, and telling stories – with Granma managing to paint pictures of parties, road-trips and picnics dating back half a century.

We were then lucky to be joined by two friends that we met in Bologna two years ago. Niraj came up from Seattle and Scott from LA. We inducted them into Vancouver culture by somehow convincing them to join us for the annual New Years Day “Polar Bear Swim”. This involves thousands of crazy Canadians jumping in the icy water to welcome in the new year. It was painful. It was cold. But we were quick to admit it was a thrilling success!

In true Vancouver fashion we migrated effortlessly from the beach to the mountains. We scraped together gear from our ever-generous Vancouverite friends and set off to show the Yankees how to snow-shoe. We were a motley crew to say the least. Niraj (aka “White Paw”) needed white plastic bags on his feet to waterproof his running shoes. Scott (aka “Amundsen”) sported the aviator +ringed touque look of an antarctic explorer. Tania (aka “Double Bubble”) bundled up in a bublegum coloured down jacket to fight off the cold.

From there it was off to Seattle where we wandered the famous Pikes Market and feasted with the Bryans – more good friends from the Bologna days.

Then Tania and I set off on our own to San Francisco. We were ecstatic to find out it stays very mild there in the winter. After a few days of riding the trolleys, biking the shoreline and eating great food, we began to ask ourselves if we should have studied computer science to find a job in Silicon Valley. Perhaps we can become development consultants for Facebook?

Tania met up with her friend and former roommate Adelin from when she lived in Norway. They hadn’t seen each other since 2001 and it was a very happy reunion!

Once again, we were unbelievably fortunate to be put-up by our friend Allan. Not only did we get to stay in his wonderful apartment, but we also used his car (he was away on business). Taking full advantage of this,we set off for Sonoma valley where we explored an old Russian fort on the coastline before spending an afternoon leisurely visiting wineries on our way back to San Francisco. One day we should really take a wine tasting course.Until then, we’ll continue to claim that we can detect “traces of melon” or“aromas of earthy citrus”. I’m sure nobody suspects a thing.

We then rented a car and headed south down the fabled #1 highway which spectacularly (and frighteningly) hugs the ragged coastline. For three days we explored the sights of Monterrey, Big Sur, San Luis Obispo and everything in between. Being low-season, we had the trails to ourselves. But that didn’t mean we were alone. As we sat gazing out to sea, we were twice greeted by grey whales as they slipped past the coastline, inching ever closer Baja California – the end of their yearly migration from Alaska to Mexico.

Before we reached LA, we stopped in Ventura to hang out with a friend of mine from my exchange year to Mexico (way back in 2004). It was great to see you Tim!

In LA, we were treated to three days of sightseeing, people watching, vegan eating and more by our tour guide Scott (yes, the same one who was with us in Vancouver just two weeks prior). We were chauffeured everywhere- from the chic streets of Beverly Hills, to the golden beaches of Malibu, and the boulevards of Santa Monica. One of the biggest highlights was watching the Lakers beat the Cavaliers live in the Staples Center. Kobe Bryant had 42 points. Yep, 42 – and I don’t even think he was trying that hard. We also waved at Adam Sandler and Jack Nicholson seated courtside. They pretended not to see us – these Hollywood actors are so vain these days!

From LA, the trip wasn’t over yet – but we’ll save the final week for another post. Thanks to all who made this wonderful trip possible!

The Social Landscape

If you were in Port-au-Prince on a Saturday night with us, these are the people you might end up hanging out with:

Los Diplomaticos: From Argentina, Colombia, Brazil, Chile, Guatemala, Mexico. They have usually just graduated from school and are on their first post as Diplomats. The “hardship” of this post will guarantee that their next job will be in a place with working traffic lights…like Paris or New York. We speak Portu-nol together, or mostly the Brazilians integrate into the dominating Spanish conversation. Incredibly welcoming, nothing is ever planned in advance, the food is always good, the music is always loud.

The Irish: From one island to another. There are several NGOs, one telecommunications company, a security company - if you’re in Haiti you just can’t escape the Irish. And thank goodness for that. But unbelievably, there’s still no Irish Pub in town (though one is planned!) They are always up for a good time, I do not always understand what they say, but the little I understand is very funny! Can’t keep up with their beer drinking, but have learned to appreciate a hot cup of tea in +35C weather…

UN police: Some of the best parties we have been lucky enough to attend, were organized by groups of men in tight shorts (because they are usually held at gigantic compounds, and the party is always near the pool—and men from developing countries love their tight shorts). The man-woman ratio is about 10-1, the directions to the location are always terrible but you can find where you’re going by the dozens of white UN cars parked outside blocking the main road. Special mention for a party thrown by the Spanish SWAT team…ahhhh, lobster BBQ, and sangria buckets J

Library-goers: The Colony Club deserves its own separate entry. It is thanks to this library though that we have met a group of wonderful Haitian-Canadian/American couples that have been in Haiti for a long time. As in for the past 30 years. Oh, the things they have seen and lived! We see them almost every Friday, or every second Friday when there’s wine at the library J

Las Colombianas: During most of the winter we would end up as the same parties as a group of Colombian girls working for different organizations. Some of them had arrived right after the earthquake and had had to live in camps with up to 300 soldiers (and only 1 shower!). Beautiful, smart, multilingual…and a disappointment to the young men around them as most of them are here with their boyfriends.

Canadians: in times of Hockey play offs, crazy Canadian elections, maple syrup scarcity, or just plain homesickness, how lucky we are to be able to work, go to the library, search for a new restaurant, or just hang out and watch hockey with other Canadians. We love the familiar slang, similar complaints, trouble finding cheap tickets to Vancouver… and the niceness of them all.

Quebeckers: If Montreal seems a bit emptier these days it’s because half of their highly educated, well-travelled, perfectly bilingual youth have moved to Port-au-Prince! They are, seriously, everywhere. NGOs, UN, International Organizations, Consultant firms, private sector, government jobs…everywhere you turn there’s a Quebecois running a meeting (here a separate category from the Canadians, just as my previous co-worker would have it… Mr. V- I miss working with you!)

Free-lance journalists: A South African friend once told me that in real life, aid workers don’t live adventure-filled lives and move around on the back of pick-up trucks, but reporters do. Only journalists live like aid workers are portrayed in the movies. And it is true. While we move around in SUVs, and live in nice places, these guys are on their own. Nobody picks them up at the airport, they don’t receive security warnings. When there is a crisis and you can see fire from your rooftop, the NGO workers stay in their compounds, and lock our doors as instructed. The journalists see the fire, smile, grab their cameras, put on a helmet (or a bandana) and off they go. On foot, a moto-taxi, on the back of a pick-up truck, looking for a story, hoping for a good picture.

Jaded “citizens of the world”: Last but not least, the most interesting and less interested group. They are veterans, been on the road for so long they can’t remember if they were in Afghanistan or Sudan before coming here. Big titles, big money. They speak that heavy accented-English that you just can’t place, wear khaki trousers, haven’t shaved in a while, always tell crazy stories. It doesn’t matter where they were born, they don’t identify with any nationality, they could pack and move to another crisis right then and there. Nothing faces them anymore…And they make you fall in love in development work and wish you never end up like them all at the same time.

Unfortunately some of these people have already left Haiti, gone home, off to their next mission, learning new acronyms, meeting new friends in a new place…. It was an honour and a pleasure to have met you! Hope to spend another weekend night with you again someday :)

Crazy Cat Lady

If you and I have ever talked about pets, you know I’m not a cat person. I love dogs, and I have had a few other pets (duck, monkey, parrot among others) but I do not like cats. They are temperamental and selfish, they don’t cuddle, they disappear for days, and they don’t play with you. Well, I never thought this would happen but recently I have become a crazy cat lady! Welcome to the soap opera-like story that took place outside our door for a couple of weeks... 

A black cat and a white cat became friends and started hanging out a lot. They would always be at our doorstep in the mornings, and liked to sleep on our patio chairs. I asked our landlord if they were a couple and she said yes, “they are both female and one of them is gay”, which she was very thankful for because there would be no baby kittens running around her house.... 

You know where this story is going. Black cat was neither a female nor gay. One day we noticed the white cat was a little bit rounder than usual... A neighbourhood scandal, pregnant out of wedlock! Unsurprisingly, the black cat disappeared as soon as he heard the news. Days went by, and we came home one day to find she had given birth to 5 awful wet-mouse-looking kittens. Our neighbour gave her some milk and some love (we didn’t because a- I don’t like cats and b-Graham is allergic). 

But the babies kept getting cuter. They would come from under their mum, walk over each other, and slowly started resembling sweet baby cats. Then one day we came home and the cats were gone. We thought they had been given away but the landlord told us the mom had moved to a more secure location.

We forgot about the single mother and her 5 babies for a few days until we saw the white cat limping along on our parking space. It seemed she had been poisoned (or eaten a poisoned rat) and she was now unable to walk, feed the cats or even get up to where she had put them. To our surprise “the secure location” was the flower bed right outside our door. All 5 of them had been there all along and we hadn’t seen them for days (the 5^th one was given away).

Our neighbour explained that at 3 weeks old they were not able to lick milk for themselves so he fed all 4 of them with a dropper. When he wasn’t around, we started to do the same. I don’t like cats but these 4 were the cutest baby animals I have seen in a while. They would hide all they long in the flower plant, and come out to play as soon as we came back from work. Soon they started looking for us in the mornings too, and we would give them some milk and let them in for a few minutes before we went to work each morning. They were all eating by themselves now (and we were so proud!), could jump back up into the flower bed by themselves, and seemed to have developed more instincts.

One evening we came back and there were only 3 kittens. The 4^th one had been found dead. He was the smallest one, didn’t eat very much, and hardly moved all day. We kept feeding the other three but noticed that one was not growing as much as the others. Our neighbour was also very concerned and talked to friends who might be interested in adopting the kittens. 

Then one day we came home and they were all gone. He had taken them to the embassy where he works, and the two bigger cats, Ginger and Spots were quickly adopted (and now probably live in a house way nicer than ours!). Baby died soon after he left and now rests in cat heaven with his mum (poisoned), dad (ran over by a car), and siblings.

We miss their sweet tiny paws climbing over our legs, and seeing their cute little faces every morning before we went to work and every evening as we returned...

 by Tania

Faces of Carnaval

When Carnival came around last year, Port au Prince was in no shape to celebrate. This year, there was a modest come-back of  this beloved holiday. Though locals assured us that the parades, music and celebrations were mere shadows of their former selves, we thought it was a wonderful display of community and colour. The sense of pride and self-assurance was unmistakable as the parade danced past the fallen palace and the tent city of the down town square. I asked Jean-Claude, one of our drivers who just happened to run into us on the parade route, if he thinks Carnival will be back up to his standards in a few years. He roared with laughter and said, "you'll just have to come back to see for yourself".

Yes, even cholera deserves a spot in the parade!

Deye mon gen mon - Beyond mountains there are mountains

We have just come back from a short trip to Vancouver, BC to attend a friend’s wedding. In just over 6 days we visited Graham’s family, spent time with friends, had a couple of lazy afternoons watching snow fall on the ocean, and overall had a wonderful break from the very hectic work weeks we had before leaving.

January and February came and went very quickly and very slowly at the same time, mostly because of how much we both worked. Both of the organizations we work for were going through some changes, I was transitioning departments and Graham was completing difficult projects. The routine went something this: alarm would go off at 6:00am, and we would both turn to our flashing Blackberries to start reading the emails of the day. Both of our Country Directors are detail-oriented super humans who live on little sleep and can type emails faster than us. By 7:30am we would say bye to each other and get into the cars waiting for us. About 12 hours later one would text the other person to let them know we were going to be late...again. By 9:30pm, but sometimes later we would meet back at our apartment, eat something, type a few more emails, mumble something in bed about how the day went and finally fall asleep still thinking of the emails we had not managed to send that day.

The days were long, the work was frustrating, and we barely saw each other. However, we still manage to find some time to read “Mountains Beyond Mountains” by Tracy Kidder, a book about a doctor that has been working in Haiti for several decades. We had been meaning to read it for a while since Partners in Health, his organization, was one of our first windows into Haiti before we even considered working here. As well, while in Haiti, we have both come across several of their projects and have been very impressed by their work.

The book is very well- written, and I am a bit embarrassed I didn’t read before I came to Port-au-Prince last summer. It would have been a perfect introduction to many aspects of working in Haiti, particularly about working in health, an area new to both of us.

It is hard to describe how inadequate one feels about complaining about working long hours after you read about Paul Farmer’s work. It is not just that he has devoted his life to helping vulnerable people all over the world, but the fact that he does it because it is the only acceptable thing to do. His understanding of humanity and the dedication to his patients everywhere, but especially in Haiti is empowering, overwhelming, devastating, touching, upsetting and comforting all at the same time. I highly recommend reading it for an overview of Haiti’s history, the inspiring journey from a young man in his teens to a world renowned public health specialist, to learn about goes on at international health forums, or if you ever feel that you are working too much!

- Tania

We are back!

We got back from Colombia this week. Back from seeing both sets of parents, and a whole lot ( but not all!) of Tania's family. We slept, we ate, we sang... and we talked a lot about Haiti.
It's clear that this last year has changed us. We celebrated last new year's eve in Bologna's Piazza Maggiore with friends from Graham's masters program that will be forever part of our lives. In the spring, we made the decision to postpone the move to Washington DC in favour of a bit of an adventure in Haiti. Over the last few months we have learned important lessons about our work and life in general. We have also met some very amazing people and have witnessed some recovery from the earthquake. We then prepared for a hurricane that wasn't, worked to contain the Cholera epidemic that is still developing, and then watched as the election results were welcomed with burning tires and flying rocks.

We are both expecting to see a lot of changes at work, and also once again await the results of an election enquiry. Then there will be a second round of elections, a painful wait for the results, another potential revision, and "final" results. Some of our colleagues have been evacuated, some are just getting back to work, and then there are those who never left. To all of them, and to all of you, our best wishes for a peaceful, joyous, adventurous, productive and exciting new year.

Happy 2011!

Nou Jacmel...

Last month we visited Jacmel, one of the most tourist visited cities in Haiti. Since I work on Saturdays we were only able to leave in the afternoon, and knowing Port-au-Prince traffic, especially on the weekends, it was anybody's guess how long the drive was going to take. 

Our friend Ian had looked it up on google maps: 1 hour and 26 minutes! he said. Having had a couple of misleading driving times in Colombia, Graham and I calculated it would be 2-3 times as long. Boy were we wrong. The traffic was so much worse than expected. It took 6 hours but it felt like much longer. The good thing is that it provided us with the opportunity to see parts of the city we hadn't visited before.

As we sat in traffic, we passed endless markets that brought a relief of colour to the otherwise bleak environment of garbage and rubble. 

Once we neared the edge of the city, we also saw  UN presence. We expect to see more of this as we near the elections in November.

   

Once out in the countryside, the drive to Jacmel is absolutely beautiful. You have to go over the mountains that separate the north coast from the Caribbean, and it makes for wonderful views on both sides. The road is not in such a bad shape compared to the streets we take everyday to go to work. And a very good driver made it very comfortable.

Graham had made a reservation online at what he thought was a nice hotel. It ended up being a classic Jacmel house, truly representative of the architecture and details that made this city famous in the Caribbean. It was built towards the end of the 19th century, and although it suffered some damage after the earthquake, it was repaired and reopened a few months ago.

The style resembles that of the French quarter in New Orleans, with adorned balconies in every room, rooms that open onto another room, courtyards, more balconies and beautifully decorated bathrooms. There was Haitian art in every wall, and 19th century furniture carefully restored and well-kept. We slept in four post beds with giant mosquito nets, and our balcony looked over a quiet street from where we could see the neighbours gardens and shaded patios.

The restaurant of Hotel La Florita where we enjoyed some of the best coffee we have had in the country

The next morning we learned that Jacmel has been a famous destination dating back to the early 1800s. Their most famous visitor of that era was none other than Simon Bolivar. Even though it was hot and we were looking forward to enjoying the beach, we walked around the historic quarter looking for the house where he stayed at. It turns out there isn't much to see at the site except for a plaque that indicates Bolivar's place of residence during his visit. There, in 1818, the leaders of Haiti allowed him to stay and plan the triumphant revolution against the Spaniards, provided that upon winning he would abolish slavery throughout the Americas.

Though it bears the scars of decades of neglect and the recent earthquake,
the town still retains a certain vibrancy of its past.

We walked around a bit more, and visited the main plaza, and a few of the sites. Soon it was too hot to not be at the beach so we packed up and drove for 10 minutes.... and then cut to one of those scenes you see in postcards and travel brochures. A nice, clean, quiet and almost empty beach....bliss! 

Thanks to our travel companions, Stacey and Ian, for waiting until I finished work, providing snacks for the trip, bringing Ipods full of worldly music and one or two Spanish lessons, buying and wearing ridiculous sombreros and being fantastic Simon Bolivar house hunters.  We miss you guys!

 For an interesting stories on Jacmel and post-earthquake projects going on, check out the Project Jacmel blog with the Globe and Mail: http://www.theglobeandmail.com/news/world/project-jacmel/

You smile, he smiles, they smile, and I ….don’t sleep

It all started on Monday night. I wanted to get at least 7 hours of sleep so I went to bed at 10.30pm. The music outside our window was a bit louder than usual. You see, we live close to what looks like a shack with a small stereo and some really really big speakers. We are not really sure if there is space for dancing, and it’s possible they don’t even sell alcohol. They just play music, mostly loud music. Though it can get a bit noisy on the weekends, it’s never kept me awake. My 50 or so roommates over the past 10 years can attest to the fact that I sleep through anything: music, lights, dancing all around me…when I’m tired I sleep whenever, wherever. On Monday night that was not the case.

Ti Sourit on the dark streets of Petion-ville

An hour after we went to bed, whistles and loud cheering woke me up. The music had gotten louder, and it was now coming from more than one source. To make things even worse our nice and quiet fan had stopped working and there was no AC. So there we were... 1am, it was extremely hot, I had to get up in 4 hours, and the music just wouldn’t stop. Finally we decided to bring in a really old and loud fan into our room to cool us down, but mostly to drawn out the music. It kind of worked and we were able to get some sleep.

The next morning Graham asked the house staff about the noise. Was it a party? Or a soccer game perhaps? "Championat" -a championship! They said. We figured they were having a soccer tournament and the previous night had been the final game.

Alas, when we got back from dinner last night a big crowd had once again transformed the street into a soccer field. Obviously the car could not get through so we got off and walked. Graham’s bodyguard was unimpressed. However, instead of having to avoid being hit by a soccer ball we found ourselves surrounded by a happy crowd that was just hanging out and dancing. Apparently much more than a football championship has been keeping awake us this week. We now know this kind of street party is called "Ti Sourit" translated as "little smile" or "you smile" or "everybody smiles" according to my co-workers. It is an end of summer celebration, an invitation to do whatever you want on the street. There’s drinking and partying but mostly dancing and playing soccer all in the same space (!)

I have been told it will last all week. If only we could remember where we packed the earplugs….

(by Tania)