just another manic sunday


Wake up up at 6:30. Finish packing. Get ready for church. Go to 2.75 hour Creole church. Go to airport. Drop Jon, Valentin, Jean, Henery. Drive home to drop off Nadege and kids. Realize we don’t have the house key. Dessalines breaks into the house with a rock and crowbar. Drive to restaurant. Meet group of 6. Do not have time to eat. Pick up last member at airport. Go back to restaurant. Still do not eat. Drive to the market. Buy 20 bags of ice with money we scrambled to find in pockets. Realize we have no gas and I only have American dollars. Change money. Buy gas. Drive to Fond Parisien Peace and Love Hotel. Unload ice. Take buckets to be filled with drinking water. Finally eat at 4:30 when the grumpiness has become apparent.

That ’bout sums up the beginning half of the day.

I felt better after I finally ate. The group played a game of Uno and we tried to teach Dieph, Henery, and Jean how to play. When Valentin and the group from Santo Domingo arrived, they held some some meetings, we ate dinner, and we went to church. Church was a little brick building stuffed full. They had all the blans up front, but a few of us were lucky enough to sneak to the back with the ti moun. The kids were asking me questions the entire time. I think they asked my name over 50 times…I might have to change it. They asked me for money, my watch, me…yikes. Some of them must have been taking English in school, because they kept trying to speak in English and asking me how to say different words. That lasted about 2.5 hours. Oh…and I had the pleasure? of trying banana soda. Don’t know if I’d repeat that one.

Now, I sit on my floor “mattress” at almost 2:30 in the morning and write about, technically, “yesterday.” I have gotten less than 2 hours of sleep, but honestly do not expect to be getting any more as I count the hours until I “get up.” I am in so much pain and am so extraordinarily exhausted. I am an old lady whose back can’t handle this sleeping arrangement (I bet mom already knew that.) I am only 20, right? There appears to be no hope for sleep tonight…and no comfortable position. I’ll stop my little whining party at that.

Funny anecdote from yesterday: I told Valentin that I hadn’t grown since I was 12 years old…and his response was: “Whaaaaat?! Did somebody sleep on your head?!” (you had to be there to hear his comical intonation and accent to truly capture the hilarity.)

Bon nwit? Bon jounen? I’m confused!

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