Intro Week!

Intro Week_Day 1-6 (starting with the Friday I fly out to Port Au Prince Haiti)

 Days 1

January 13^th, typically is an inauspicious day but right now, even as I struggle with pulling off my boots, I can’t help but feel lucky.  I let my boots, belt, laptop, and overstuffed book bag be inhaled by the airport security check and cross the first threshold on my way to Port Au Prince, Haiti. On the plane, I am surprised at just how many Haitians are on the flight. The aisles are crowded with men, young and old dressed in their best traveling suits and women with their freshly straightened hair. Not a root in sight. Mothers are standing holding their babies wrapped tightly in yellow blankets, with yellow booties on their feet, and yellow bonnets on their heads. Children fill the aisles, pulling carry-ons with hand and pushing their siblings forward with the other.

 Finding my seat quickly becomes a task. I navigate around an old Haitian man shuffling in front of me, saying “Bonjour, Sa vas?” to everyone with whom he happens to make eye contact.  I squeeze around him only to be blocked by another man loading his bag, his jacket, and a woman’s jacket into the storage compartment overhead.  Everywhere I look for a clear opening, people are shedding their winter coats and stuffing them into overhead bins, trading New York City winter gear for sleeveless shirts and sandals. Seat number 25 H. I’m nearing the end of the plane. I look down at my ticket and at the arm rest of an empty aisle seat beside me and can’t tell if I’ve already past my destination or have yet to get there.  

“Let me see your ticket” the lady beside the empty aisle seat says to me. “Give me your ticket.” I hesitate, the ticket clenched tightly to my chest. Before going through the crowded aisles, waiting to board the plane, before stripping at security, my mother had warned me not to trust anyone. “Don’t believe anything any stranger says in Haiti.” She said. “Don’t go anywhere by yourself, don’t wear flashy clothing, don’t wear revealing clothing, and don’t let anyone help you with your bags at the Port Au Prince airport…”

 I hand over my ticket and wait for the lady to stuff it into her purse.

“I told you so Marvine. You don’t ever listen.” I can hear my mother’s voice in my ear.

“You passed your seat. Go back.” the lady says with a thick accent and puts the piece of paper back in my already outstretched hand. I thank her, and turn back the way I came. After some more shoving, squeezing, and dodging bags overhead, I find my seat. Seat 25 H, right smack in the middle of two men who remind me of my own grandfather. Legs outstretched, stomach big and round, eating a plate of rice before the plane is even in the air. Yes, I must say that even on January 13^th. I am still optimistic. I enjoy traveling on my own, learning about myself and others, and seeing, just seeing in a different way.

 2 hours later, we land…

                 In Architecture for Humanity House. View of the Sun rise in the east from our roof .

                        Our Dining room where we have breakfast, Lunch (on the weekends), and Dinner.

                                     View from our roof terrace. We are pretty high up in Altitude.

                                  The air gets thick with smoke from people burning coal and trash.

                             View of the house. from the roof. Marcy, seen in the pic is from UC Berkley.

 The little Peach house is where the cook lives. The courtyard is where we hang and hand wash our clothes.

                                                         More of the roof with more clothes

                Where we occasionally watch tv shows during down time. Front Door to the right. Car picks us up every morning to bring us to the office. Marcy sitting the the cook's daughter. Regina.

                                                       Stairs leading to the bedrooms below

                                          Stairs behind the bar, leading to the bedrooms up above.