The generator providing our electricity shut down around 11:30 last night. Which means the ceiling fan stopped working. I managed to sleep better than I thought I would in the heat. I’m guessing the ride here yesterday wore me out.

I woke up at five to what I though was the sound of a distant soccer game. In PaP they play as soon as they can see to avoid the sun. But as I listened more I realized the sound was roosters waking up across the town. It sounds like the nondescript cheering of a little league game in the park down the road. The roosters (or chickens as Laura calls them…inside joke) have a different call than what I’ve learned to associate with them.

I stood on a blacony for a while. People waking up and grabbing a couple was basins and walking up the road. Haven’t seen them come back through yet, so I’m not sure if they’re bathing or getting water for the house.

I’m going to go take some photographs. More to come…

After unpacking at the Hotel Mandela in Gros Morne, the manager invited us to his restaurant for dinner. We walked 10 minutes down the dusk-lit alleys, Laura giving gum to children walking by. Dinner consisted of goat, plantains, cabbage, rice, and some kind of beet and corn thing. It was all delicious actually. There were two young couples in the dining room with us (about 12×15). Looked like date night.

We attract huge amounts of attention. Within 5 minutes of parking and unloading the car we had a dozen or more kids and teenagers checking us out. They bounce their gaze from person to person, and when I catch their eye they smile and suddenly turn shy and look away. They whisper to each other, as if I knew Creole in the first place.

The 5 hour drive was…insane. In. Sane. We were all laughing at the absurdity of it. The speed, the tap taps with 20 too many people flying past us…with separation between our truck and theirs measured in inches. 125cc motorcyles with 2-3 people buzzing all around like a swarm of bees. How these vehicles don’t collide in Michael Bay-esque explosions every single turn is beyond me.

Driving from PaP to here, we passed small villages and huge markets. People selling everything imaginable. Some dressed in torn clothes covered in filth, some in dresses. Every once and a while a suit. Then we came upon Gonaives, which was leveled by the hurricanes last year. Just utter devastation. Everything looked desaturated, caked in dust and mud. Huge chunks of earth washed away. Cars picked clean for parts and the rest of them burned. Open landfills. Filth. But they are rebuilding. A lot of construction.

Oh, and the UN presence. The soldiers are armed to the hilt. I managed to take a photo of a group of them smiling. I’ll try and post this week. The don’t look like ‘peace’keepers.

Speaking of photos, I took 800 today. Many of them undistinguishable from the next, but that’s just it. It keeps coming and coming. People everywhere. Everywhere. Always in motion it seems. Every once and a while I just have to close my eyes for a couple minutes to keep from succombing to the sadness of it all.

Finally, no update from Haiti should fail to mention the heat. Sweating doesn’t describe it. It’s shedding water. The only reprieve is the weak AC in the car and the Fonkoze offices. Anne keeps her office nice and cool.

I’m heading to bed. The mosquito net goes up tonight. Good night from Gros Morne.

bB

In Gros Morne after THE scariest 5 hour drive of my life. Picture a european rally race, but cars going in both directions. Hotel has no water or electricity, but the people are so nice and there’s finally a breeze.

Rough afternoon, looking forward to some rice and a melted Think Thin bar. No meetings tonight. We’re heading into a village in the morning to see fonkoze in action.

More soon!

Father Bob and friends present our project to members of the Vincentian Family. Famvin.com I think.

The brightly colored truck is a Tap Tap; taxis all over the city that people jump into and give a few cents when they jump off.

Took 800 photos today. Stunning and disheartening conditions.

Visited a parish that offers schooling and training for children and women. Medical care too. This beats the poor people you see on tv commercials These were people on the edge of survival. Smiling.

Our hostil (called Hospice St. Joseph) is safe and clean, no hot water but that feels good actually. Internet is down due to Bill and Ana, so they say. Never felt heat like this. Heading north into rural areas, namely Gros Morne, tomorrow and Sunday.

Check out fonkoze.org to learn about the people who are hosting us.

More later if I can get online.

bB // Sent from my mobile

Nuns taking care of 30 infants while their mothers learn to sew. Just got back from the slums of Port au Prince. More pix to come.

Not since my first trip to King’s Island when I was, what, four or five years old have I felt utterly unprepared for what I’m about to experience. Trying to plan and pack for every contingency that could play out was impossible. I know I’m staying in three different spots, starting with Port au Prince, but I know nothing of these places. Google yielded no results for the hotel I’m staying at or one night.

That may or may not be a good sign.

The hurricane with which I share my name is evidently veering north away from Haiti. Part of me is disappointed. How many times does someone get to come face to face with an eponymous hurricane? If Bill the hurricane would have won, there’s no doubt I would have made the CNN homepage; one of those headlines you can get a t-shirt made of.

A quick aside for those gluten-free readers: American offers no GF meals for purchase. In fact, no item within their meal packs is even vaguely GF. I’ll put that $6 toward surgery for coach-length legs.

Speaking of. Time to stretch.

On my way to o’hare to catch my flight to Haiti. Testing a mobile post. Stay tuned for more in the next 6 days!

I’ve been researching the social aspects of fellow celiacs. How they deal with their new diet after diagnosis, etc.

GF-Branded

But more importantly, I’ve found a small niche in the journals read skimmed. We all know about the genetic ties linking family members, but I’m more interested in your subjective take on why and how celiac became a part of our lives.

In my case, I firmly believe two high-stress years finally triggered my predisposed disorder. Had I practiced relaxation techniques during that time, I’m convinced I could have delayed or all-out avoided the gluten restrictions.

So what about you? Can you link it to certain events of your lives? Certain levels of exercise or co-conditions?

Let me know the comments!