Change in Plans

Even though I have no idea how the World Series is going or anything else for that matter about the events of the world post- my October 20th edition of the Washington Post, I will use a baseball reference to say something I could have said very simply - I am on the DL. Yes, perhaps "down low" would be accurate as well, but more to the point would be "disabled list." Evidently bad backs and heavy-duty mud hauling do not work well together. Today I am back in Port-au-Prince recuperating. Due to the long distance between here and Gonaives, coupled with the fact that the shuttle "HODR Express" runs just two days a week, I have decided to alter the course of my trip. Isn't travel exciting!?! I do not even know where I will be tomorrow, but there is a good chance it will be to the east where I can utilize my Spanish skills - The Dominican Republic. Stay tuned. I'm off to get some creole food before dark. (I don't go out in Haiti after dark.) Luckily, here at St. Joseph's Home for Boys, an American doctor lady is also a guest. She offered to give me something for the pain. Since I am a long-time devotee of ER, I tried out my lingo,"I need a CT, an EKG, 20 of Demerol, and a full work up." I didn't say "stat" because they haven't said that on ER since the '90s, and I thought it would be rude.

What's a Bucket Shower?... Ohhh!

Volunteer Life in Haiti

Who knew you could take a shower with about two gallons of water from a bucket? Inconceivable! I'm learning all sorts of new things here! Like, you can find a neighborhood without Obama signs and stickers, and okra can taste good... no, really; we had a stew of it yesterday for lunch... and dinner. No wine yet, but there is a good beer called "Prestige" that I got from one of the street vendors after work. Pretty good. It was 50 gourdes. I had know idea how much that is, so I made that the end of my shopping for the day.

 

Yesterday's job was a school that had been flooded with about three feet of mud. I mostly hauled wheel barrels of "smudge." Since I am culinarily inclined, I liken smudge to chocolate cake batter, or perhaps a nice ganache. Smudge is fairly easy to dump, but it spatters so I kept my distance while the shovelers did their part. It is quite hot in Haiti. Who knew? Well, we all did. The best part of the day is when we get back to base and watch the sunset from our balcony. We cannot see the water, but at that point it is fairly cool, and breezy, and just plain perfect.

Gonaives - Arriving in Haiti

It turns out there is food in Haiti, and I have yet to eat mud. It does turn out that the volunteers on site here have determined at least four classifications for mud, like the various words for "snow" an Eskimo might have. I arrived in Port-au-Prince yesterday and was met, as arranged by "a fat man named 'Big'" at the airport. I was escorted to another man who escorted me to a driver. I flashed a few of my minuscule French repertoire so that he knew everything better be on the up-and-up. Sure enough, he navigated me safely to where I was supposed to go. Driving is more like an X-game here, and I think they have taken the idea of carpooling to a new level in oddly-rigged vehicles that aggressively zip through crowded unkempt streets. Kind of makes those politicians sound a little silly about how our American roads are "falling apart." You want to see falling apart!?!? I'll show ya. We stopped briefly en route to my hotel, and two boys started tapping on my window, asking for some sort of donation. I just said, "No hablo ingles," and they just looked at me kind of funny. Finally, the one boy said, eerily, "I am sorry for you." All sorts of thoughts, mostly Ridley Scott Hollywood type thoughts, but we'll stay positive.

Today was not only a four-hour journey north to the dusty coastal town of Gonaives, but also my first day of work. My afternoon consisted of working with local Haitian teens to assembly line shovel and bucket out a three-room home from two feet of mud. Some of the standing water had little creatures living in it. Well, I'm tired and hot, so going to call it a night and think of something interesting to write for later.

How Do You Say "Trick or Treat" in Creole? - Off to Haiti

Well, I have not set foot in new country in two years. Other friends and family members have been to fun and exciting places like Iraq, Bahrain, Italy, etc... but I'm not marking any new territory! 

 

Monday, I fly to Haiti - Country #18!

 

I will be meeting up with Hands On Disaster Response in the town of Gonaives to work for two weeks where hurricane season has not been kind. I volunteered with Hands On, or HODR, last year in Pisco, Peru and highly recommend them as a charity or volunteer opportunity. Who knows what I will be doing, but when my boss asked me what I will be for Halloween, I told him "a mud-shoveler." He didn't get it.

One more night of work (here), and I'm getting everything together. I will be back, God willing, to the chagrin of most of my friends, on Election Day. If not, I will need one liberal Virginian to volunteer to stay home. Any takers?

 

In honor of Cristobal Colon, who sailed the ocean blue in 1492... and got lost nowhere near his destination... and "discovered" a new world already strangely inhabited by my ancestors, I head south to Hispaniola. If I, too, get lost along the way, keep an eye out for postcards with scents of Cuban tobacco. Or wouldn't it be funny if I ended up in the spice islands? If so, I plan to name the people I find "Haitians" anyway.

Au revoir!

Behind Enemy Lines - Boston, Mass.

I guess I was asking for it. Still basking in the glow of last Tuesday night's Lakers win over the Boston Celtics, I confidently went forth to spend 47 hours behind enemy lines. Everyone in that town wore either red (Red Sox) or green (Celtics), and many had new shirts that just read "BEAT LA!" I'm used to being a minority in everyday life because I speak English, but in Boston I felt very alone with my SoCal roots.

It was Thursday evening, and I had just finished an outstanding meal at Clio. I changed into my Lakers t-shirt, but thought it best to cover with a button-up just until I found a safe place to watch Game 4. There was a pretty cool pub named Daisy Buchanan's with plenty of televisions, and I didn't see too many jerseys... it looked fairly laid-back. Perhaps that was because the Lakers were still up by 20 points. Once inside and in a somewhat inconspicuous spot, I decided to show my colors. There was a unique disruption in The Force. The girl nearby, obviously looking to be noticed scoffed. The bartender attempted to charge me $40 for a $4 beer while struggling to keep his composure as a tipped employee obligated to keep certain things left unsaid. I was semi-politely admonished by several patrons that I "should be careful." What is this, the wild west?

At this juncture, I had reached the point of no return. I was proud of my team, and that was that. To their credit, many with whom I spoke were understanding (if that's not too strong a word) when I told them I was from Southern California and just there for a visit. They seemed to respect that. Well, I'm thinking "respect" might be too strong a word, too, because it wasn't long before the Celtics started scoring and the volume in the room got a lot louder and livelier.

Now in roughly 20 years in sports, both as a player and a coach, you learn how to lose with dignity. This... was something very new. Not only did my team lose, but they choked. And I was the only loser in the (very packed, at this point) sports bar. I heard it from EVERYBODY. "What happened to your boy Kobe?!!" "You guys suck! Ha, ha!!" "Better watch out!" This was a very peculiar situation. I decided the best course of action was to keep smiling and be very congratulatory; don't let anything bother you. I gave a few high-fives... "Good game! Good game!" I bought the guy closest to me a beer (but definitely not the scoffing girl). He said thanks and accepted, but also that "I won't protect you though." (He shook my hand when he left.)

I found that in the face of severe embarrassment, staying positive and resolute can turn a potentially ugly situation with an adversary into an ambassadorship of character and good will. Reading too much into it? Perhaps, but you try it.

Public Garden

Mark Wahlberg at The Happening premiere

Home - Getting back to California

My friend told me that it's not a "vacation" if you are just going home for the weekend. I guess that makes sense. Things change all the time, but the beach seems to be the same. I can see how this place can be a get-away - a place to relax and see new things. That's a vacation. California is where I rather go to "get-back." Among all the constants there, such as the beach, In 'n Out, Mexican food, KFI's "John and Ken Show," family and old friends, there's always something new to this Golden State expatriate. Vacation or no vacation, I'm glad I took the weekend off.

Magnificent - An Evening at the Symphony

In a strange stroke of luck, I was called in to work yesterday morning, vanquishing any desires I had for spending all day in the library studying. Interestingly, I keep getting the nights off when there is music to be had. Last week it was Bon Jovi. But yesterday, I seized the unique opportunity to head up to Bethesda to listen to the work of Beethoven and his Fifth Symphony. It was quite the contrast with other nights out - this crowd was not too rowdy. There were no cell phone video recordings flickering about the arena (as lighters used to), no $10 Bud Lights in plastic cups... no piercings. I believe a good many in attendance may have known Beethoven personally. So, this is where the senior citizens go to party. Well, the lady to my right was probably about eighty years old, and I engaged her in conversation at the intermission. Among other things, she commented on how unique it was to have the composer, (of the second piece) Christopher Rouse, present while his creation had just been played. Of course, I tried to insert comic relief: "Oh, well the last time I was here, it was for Mozart... and he didn't come." "He didn't come... yeah, I heard that one coming," she told me. And they wonder why I don't go talk to them when other guys are hitting on them. I got shut down making small talk to a grandmother. Well, at least I didn't have to buy her a drink. After that, we made some nice conversation, but I steered clear of humor. Anyway, what a magnificent performance - perhaps some of the best music ever made or that will ever be made. And, since I am much faster without a cane or a wheelchair, I beat them all to the Metro. To be fair, though, I don't think they were racing.