One year home...

Today marks one year since Wil came home. I am not about to say that this has been an easy year, or an easy transition because all who know me know that it has been at times, an uphill climb. Adopting and now parenting Wil has taught me things about myself that I didn't know. My patience has been tried. My sanity has been questioned. It has taken me a long time to get to appreciate my new normal.

A year in I have to say that things are slowly becoming "normal" again. Parenting five children is now becoming easier and my relationship with my new son is slowly evolving. If anyone would have told me before he came home that we were looking at a year to get to a sense of balance, I would have thought they were being ridiculous. Now that we have 365 days behind us I can say that I am grateful for each and every one of those days. My sense of accomplishment in navigating what turns out to be, one of the hardest years of my life, has left me feeling stronger, left me more confident in how we parent our children, and most importantly- happy.

Happy Forever Day, Wil!

Part 7...

I was happy to get home and find that it was nice and warm outside and couldn't help but wonder how Wil would have reacted if we brought him home in the winter. I was preparing myself for a fight to get him into the car seat but to my surprise he just sat there and looked out the window. It wasn't more than 10 minutes and he was asleep. I am sure the amount of sleeping he was doing was not a physical need but more of an emotional one. If he was asleep we didn't exist, make sense? We arrived home as a caravan of cars and brought Wil into the house. The kids had decorated with balloons and streamers and hung their sign on the garage door.

More people arrived and Wil did very well. He was shy until the balloons came down and then he had a blast throwing them in the air and catching them. Everyone wanted a chance to hold him or cuddle him and he seemed ok with it, except for the men, he was not too sure about them, can you blame him?
Wil and the kids....

I realized about an hour or two into the party that I was exhausted. A tired that I cannot explain. It gripped every inch of my body and I truly felt close to tears. I am not sure if it was simply being so physically tired or if it was the combination of that and the emotional roller coaster I had just been on. What I did know was that I wanted to go to bed...for a week. People soon started to file out and before I knew it my house seemed empty. Sam went to bed with Phil, Grace was passed out on the couch, and Wil was looking at me like he had just been on a week long bender, talk about over stimulation! I brought him upstairs and tucked him into bed. He rolled over and without a sound went to sleep. I couldn't help but pause at the bedroom door and watch my two boys sleeping. That little bed has been waiting for a warm body for a long time and after all that time he was here....

and the fun begins....

Part 6...

The alarm clock went off first, the phone never did, and the hotel wake up call came when I was in the shower. I answered the phone while in the shower. I am not sure why they have a phone in the bathroom and if you think about what is probably on that phone you may actually throw up a bit in your mouth. YUCK. I don't even sit on the top cover of the hotel beds and here I am putting this thing against my face....ok, moving on.

I must have been enjoying that shower a bit too much because when I got out I realized I needed to hustle to get downstairs in time for my first flight. I attempted to beautify myself knowing there would be many pictures taken that day once we got home. My hair had become the texture of a brilo pad and since I had no flat iron I tried to blow dry it and brush it out. Well that didn't work so well since the hair dryer didn't actually ever get warm. Oh well, I tried. Once Wil and were dressed, teeth brushed and out the door we headed down to find out where we checked in. We were flying to Toronto first and then home to Calgary. I am not sure why but there are about five counters for each airline and by some miraculous turn of events I found the right one on the first try. It was weird. The woman behind the counter kept smiling at me. I wasn't sure why but she did. She would look at Wil and then at me and give me this weird soap opera smile. At one point she said to me "God will bless you for this". What do you say to that? Uh, thanks? It took her forever to get the boarding passes printed mainly because every two freaking seconds she would gaze at me and smile. I swear in some cultures that would make us married...

We grabbed our boarding passes and moved on to my favorite part of the airport-security. I immediately find myself behind some uptight idiot who is obviously a moron in a hurry. He is taking his stuff and literally throwing it on the belt, nothing in a basket just loose on the belt. The security people tell him to redo it and put everything in a basket and then push it through. That was obviously a big inconvenience to him because he starts swearing and yelling and acting like he is related to salami man. I edge by him since I am not a moron and know the rules. He shoots me a dirty look and mumbles something about me not having any manners. Whatever. Dork. I am now officially starving. I managed to eat almost nothing in Haiti but since arriving in Miami I have become a ravenous hog. I scope out my options and settle on a muffin and of course, a diet coke. Wil has decided that he is on a hunger strike at this point. He wants nothing to do with any of the food I have brought him and just clamps his mouth shut when I offer it to him. I am not sure how smart he is but I assume he is bright enough to not starve himself. I give him the food and let him do with it as he so pleases. I then, gorge myself with ooey gooey muffiny goodness.

The woman across from me where we are sitting is another loon. She looks at me then at Wil and then does a "tsk tsk". What does that mean? The plane ride to Toronto was easy. Wil fell asleep and I think may have as well. It was a bit bumpy at the end but I managed to keep that muffin where it belongs, in my small intestine. I am one of those people who loves to look out the window when we land. I love seeing all the little buildings, the cars driving by, the people, etc. This was no exception. I sat there with my face pressed up against the plane window like a complete a dork with this big goofy smile on my face. There is something about arriving back home in Canada, it just feels different. The greenness, the cleanliness, the quality of the air...it just feels right. Since this was our point of entry into Canada we had to do our immigration papers here. We lined up in the normal immigration line and were then taken to a different office to get Wil's permanent residency forms done. The officer was very nice and took us into his office. He asked me the standard questions like "does your son have any children?" or "has your son been to jail?"...after he was done he stood up and came out from behind his desk. He shook Wil's hand and said "Welcome to Canada buddy, Welcome home." It was very sweet.

Before you can leave the immigration area and move on to your connector flight they feed all new Canadians through this area that is lined with pamphlets and brochures and a crazy woman with way too much eye make-up. She asks where Wil is from and what language he speaks and makes note of it in her little ledger book. She then starts handing me all sorts of brochures, these were a few of my favorites..."How to use a newspaper in Canada" (I guess ours are different than in other parts of the world), "How to catch the bus", and another beauty and totally age appropriate for a two year old, "How to get a job". I told her that I was Canadian, had been my entire life and that we didn't need these useless wastes of paper. We had a car, Wil can't read, and he isn't planning on getting a job until he is at least four....she would have nothing to do with it and just kept piling them in my hands. After her a guy comes up with a big nylon bag full of more crap to give me. I told him I didn't want it, he told me I had to take it. I have a two year old, a diaper bag, my laptop, and a carry-on, like I need another freakin bag! We walk towards the door and just to be a complete hag I make a deliberate big deal out of throwing it all in the garbage can by the door...

Being the complete hog that I am I am hungry again. We have to change terminals to get to our final flight which involves miles of walking, several moving sidewalks, and a tram ride. By the time we get there I am sweating and need a nap. I stuff my face full of sushi and Wil continues to play the role of Gandhi. It isn't long before we get on the plane, the final plane!!!


It was about an hour into the flight when sleeping Wil decided to release the fury of his bowels. It would have been a gross tale of Haiti baby poop, an airplane washroom, and turbulence if it wasn't for the humor of watching the woman across the aisle almost barf from the smell. She was obviously getting wafts of the fury because I looked over at her and saw her sniffing the air and then making an awful face. She would then get out a magazine and start fanning it in front of her face. She had no idea where the smell was coming from and just to not clue her in it was from us I too would pretend to smell the air and scrunch up my face in disgust. The thing that always gets me is if you know something smells why do you keep trying to smell it? Every few seconds she would stop fanning herself with her US weekly and deeply inhale the aroma of what was my son's poop. Then she would act shocked and disgusted to find that it still smelled. Thankfully we had no leaks and other than loud screams of fear from being changed at 35 000 feet Wil was fine. I did notice though after our first poop explosion that the next time we went to the washroom there was a bag of coffee in the washroom left to absorb the questionable odor leaking from that little lavatory garbage can.

The plane landed on time and since I had already cleared customs and this was now a domestic flight we were able to get out of the terminal quickly. For some reason I felt strangely nervous. I knew in a matter of minutes I was going to see my friends and family...we walked to the frosted doors and they opened and there they were!! Phil, the kids, my sister and brother in law, my niece and nephew, grandparents, neighbors, friends, it was great!

Checking out all the new faces...




We hung out at the airport for a bit while everyone met Wil and then headed back to our place for the party!!

to be continued...

Part 5...

We were more than a little surprised to see that Haiti actually does pre-boarding! We figured it would just be mad dash, everybody for themselves kind of chaos to get on the plane, but it wasn't. We walked out into the heat and onto the tarmac towards the plane that was going to be the first leg of our journey home. Olivia was a bit scared of the turbines of the plane, can't say I blame her though, they do look and sound scary. We lugged our bags and kids up the rickety metal stairs and into the plane. The kids for the most part were in a state of complete awe, or possibly fear, not sure. They looked around and for the most part seemed unfazed, like they travelled this way for years.

It was almost immediate that we could feel the stares of the flight crew. They would walk by and smile at us, kind of a weird creepy, stalkerish smile, but a smile none the less. The kids did great! There was a bit of fussing about being strapped in but for the most part they were wonderful! and did you know that along with your free blue snack box American Airlines offers complimentary parenting advice? Well, they do! C was so happy to find out from our crazy Spanish flight attendant that if our kids are bad we should put them fully dressed into a cold shower. Works every time! and if they ever throw up from crying so hard we should make them clean it up and it will never happen again! Wow, look out Dr.Phil!



The plane ride to Miami was quick, painless and poop free! It doesn't get much better than that. Once we landed we waited until the plane was almost empty before attempting to get off. We figured with the kids and the bags we would surely be better off to wait than try and navigate the 18 inch aisle of the plane. The flight crew all sort of gathered near us and told us how lucky our kids were to have found us, and was the adoption long, hard, etc...the flight attendant asked if we were all family, and C said the sweetest thing, "we are now" and it is so true. We navigated this adoption together. Our files moved together from office to office never getting separated. We talked on the phone all the time, emailed and facebooked daily, we did it together and I cannot imagine it any other way. I am not sure I would have gotten through it without having someone who knew exactly what I was going through.

The lines at immigration in Miami were not bad at all. I was expecting the worst since my last visit included a two hour wait. We maneuvered our way through in about 20 minutes, no questions asked. Being food deprived for 3 days we decided that food was our priority. We checked into the hotel and then gorged on pizza in the airport. Nothing like a healthy meal of pizza and pop to start the kids off right.

What was really funny was watching the kids reaction to seeing themselves in the mirror at the hotel. Wil just sat on the bench and stared at himself. At one point he tried to lift his foot up to step into the mirror to get the "other" baby. When he realized he couldn't do it he just fell down and cried.

We hung out in our rooms for a couple hours to let our first meal digest before heading back out to feast again. I gave Wil his first warm bath and he hated it, screamed so loud C and R could hear him in their room. Poor guy. When I took him out of the tub and started lotioning him up I looked at him and his teeth were chattering! I guess AC is something he was not used to. I bundled him up and covered him up in bed, where he promptly passed out.


After a quick sleep we headed out for dinner. Again, we got some weird looks. These three white people with these three black kids, probably seemed a bit weird to some folks. I wasn't sure if going to an actual restaurant was going to be a good plan with three tired and scared kids, but they did great. We filled their bellies with another quality meal of chicken fingers and fries. What good parents we were.

It wasn't long before everyone was tired and needed to go to bed. We headed back to our rooms and said our good-byes. We took one more picture of our kids all together, looking tired and stunned. We were done. After all the phone calls, facebook messages, whining and commiserating, we were done and parting ways. Although it won't be good-bye for long, we only live one province apart and I am sure we will see each other again.

I was exhausted; sickness, travel, little sleep and I wanted to curl up and sleep for a week, but in typical me fashion I couldn't. Thank god for the laptop. I talked to my sister and a few friends online and eventually my eyes were dried out and ready to close. I set my phone alarm, the alarm clock, and got a wake up call! Overkill? maybe, but I wasn't taking any chances. The next day we were going home....

to be continued...

Part 4...

Friday morning arrived in a cloud of dust and mosquito's. I swear there must have been an entire family of those buggers sleeping with me, I awoke to about 50 bites on my arms and legs, some were so creative they got me between my fingers. Thank goodness for malaria meds!

We headed downstairs for breakfast. I can honestly say I never eat the breakfasts that are served. The eggs look weird, and the bread makes my stomach do flips and turns that it shouldn't be allowed to do. So I pass on breakfast. In actuality I think I passed on just about everything this time. I swear I probably ingested about 30 calories the entire trip and was never hungry, must have been the heat. We fed the kids and did some sitting, after all that is what you do in Haiti. Before long it was time to go and pick up our transit Visa's. C wasn't feeling so hot so R decided to go and get them for us. It worked out well. I took the kids into my oven, I mean room, C had a rest and R took the fun ride back to the embassy sans children.

So now I had a 2, almost 3, and 4 year old in my room. In order to prevent them from killing each other I did what every responsible parent does, I fed them crap. This was also the first time during the trip I took any pictures....

This was also the first time I heard Wil say anything. Maddy tried to take his cookie and along with a slap to the head he said "no!". It was funny to hear him actually speak! The kids attentions spans were short lived in my room so we headed out to he rooftop porch to hang out on the swing. They were getting loud and I didn't want them to wake C. My efforts were in vain because poor C stumbled on to the porch a few minutes later. It was cooler up there and there was an ever so small breeze that was so very welcomed. The heat was awful. I was sweating from places that I didn't even know had sweat glands. Did you know that your eyelids sweat? gross. We hung out there for a while, the kids all sat in a trance on the swing while we pushed it gently with our foot. Wil fell asleep and Maddy started to look a bit green from the motion. R arrived back to the guesthouse not too long after he left with three very wanted transit visa's! We all took a look at them, scanning them for any mistakes, but they were perfect! Yay USA! That was it, the final hurdle, we could leave!! I swear we started counting down the hours at that point until we could board that plane!

The rest of Friday went along like any day in Haiti. It dragged and flew by all at the same time. We sat upstairs in Walls while the kids slept, talking and discussing what we wanted to eat when we arrived in Miami. That's when you know you are getting hungry, when your conversation is centered around dry ribs and wings. That night we decided to go back over to the creche, to drop off a few donations and say good bye to the kids nannies. We gathered the kids and our cameras up and headed back out and on to the dark street. The streets of Haiti at night are so different than they are here. People are walking around by the dozen, music is playing, animals are running around, babies are crying.... As soon as we arrived at the door of the creche the kids were already whining. I am sure they thought they were going back. The nannies came out so we could give them their gifts and take a picture with the kids. The kids were not impressed. They wanted nothing to do with their old caregivers. Pulling away from them, crying, and just generally wanting to get out of there. Funny how after two years of care they wanted to be with the people they had known for two days. We didn't stay long. Marie was still gone house hunting and the nannies don't speak English. We said our goodbyes, dropped off our stuff and left. The kids only seemed to relax once we were back behind the walls of the guesthouse. I have no idea what time it was since it is pitch black at 6 pm in Haiti and I felt like it was midnight, although I am sure it was only 7 or 8. I went back to my room to pack up my carry on bags and lay out my clothes for the next day, eager to leave? uh ya!

We sat upstairs for a little while longer and the guesthouse managers wife did Maddy's hair while she slept. We said our good nights and went off to our rooms. I couldn't sleep, so I talked to my sister and a few friends on Facebook for a while and then finally passed out. Wil had long since fallen asleep on the bed and looked ever so comfy sleeping on an actual mattress with a pillow to boot! I was scared of sleeping in on Saturday morning, can you imagine over sleeping and missing your flight out? I would die! R woke me up bright and early at 6:00 and I tried to make myself look presentable, didn't really work. I finished packing up my meager carry on bags, dressed Wil and brushed his teeth and headed downstairs. Our flight we thought was scheduled to leave at 9:25, we were trying to pin down the manger of the guesthouse to leave at 7am. For some reason he never believes you when you tell him what time you want to leave. I have done the Haiti airport now five times and this trip was the one I was dreading the most. The lines, the chaos, the disorganization would only be compounded by the presence of three small, scared, and tired little kids. I was trying not to picture the drama that was about to unfold. After a quick breakfast for the kids the manager came out all panicked telling us we had to go NOW! Really?....isn't that what we tried to get across to you 30 minutes ago?? We piled our stuff into the back of the white van and left. Now this vehicle was obviously the bomb, complete with doors, a roof, and even barely functioning AC!! Woohooo.....The ride to the airport was quick and uneventful. It dawned on me during that ride what was actually happening. As you drive down the streets you are made to see the poverty you are taking your child from. Little kids walking half dressed through the garbage, chickens and goats right along side them, people just sitting on folding chairs along the sides of the road, waiting...for nothing.

When you arrive at the airport there is always someone wanting to "help" you with your bags. Usually I just say no thanks and grab them myself, but this guy was extra aggressive and just took our bags. Best thing to happen!!! He took us right to the front of the first of many lines at the airport. We breezed through the first security check and into the semi cool airport. The line to get your boarding passes is always disgusting but not with our guy! Again, right to the front to the line! I was beginning to feel like Angelina! We got our boarding passes and moved on to the green ticket-collector-guy. Not sure what this guys actual job is..he just stands there as some kind of Haitian gate keeper and looks at your passport, which is what the next guy does too. This was the last stop for our airport friend, who then ended our so loving friendship as he asked us for the money. We gave him $20 each, which he was not too impressed with and said our farewells. After you see the ticket-collector-guy you head through the frosted sliding doors into what is usually a 3-ring circus. I was dreading the opening of those doors...but the room was empty! Woohoo...we cruised right through immigration. They scanned our passports, looked for the Visa's for the kids and that was it. No asking who we were, about the adoption or anything, just a stamp stamp and we were done! Breezed through the next two security checks and...done! We were now just waiting!

Our plane was leaving 30 minutes sooner than we thought so we were so happy we shelled out the money to our airport friend!The kids ran around like hoodlums and we sat and enjoyed the AC. Before long it was time to board the plane....

to be continued...

Part 3...

Seeing Wil again after 6 months was exactly the way I had thought it would be. He had no idea who I was, was not very interested in finding out, and was more intrigued with a bag of crackers than with me. Go figure. I knelt down to say hello and then backed off to give him his space. To him I was just another crazy white lady coming to visit the creche. It wasn't more than a few minutes before Marie, the director came out from her office to welcome me. Hugs and kisses. I sat and visited with C and R and their girls while we waited to leave for our appointment at the US embassy. C handed me an envelope. Inside was all of the adoption documents, the passport, and the Canadian Visa. Wow. After all these months of waiting this little envelope held all that I needed to get my son home. Well, almost everything. The US embassy was our final stop and essentially the last barrier to going home.

I found Marie in her office to let her know that we were going to be heading back to the guesthouse to catch our ride to the embassy. She was busy shuffling papers, yelling out instructions to various staff members, and waiting to see the small gathering of parents sitting outside the office, waiting and hoping to be able to leave their children at the O. There was one family sitting there with their 15 month old twin girls. Beautiful little babies. One was in Marie's office crying. Crying for her Mom. She and her sister were malnourished and Marie thought it best to take them right away without having a family already chosen. They needed food and medical care. It doesn't matter how many time you see it, watching a mother leave her child behind because she cannot feed them is heart breaking and reaffirms my opinion that adoption is not the answer to the problem....

It is getting close to 11, which is our appointment time so we head back to Walls and find our ride. Being Canadian we are anxious to be on time but being that we are in Haiti, being on time is not important. The embassy is about 10 minutes from the airport, and Walls is about 10 minutes from the airport so we figure it should take about 20 minutes to get there. I am not sure how long it actually took but it felt way longer than 20 minutes. Maybe it was the million degree heat or the 100% humidity, or the fact that we rode with three sweaty and scared kids in the back of a truck, or maybe because I was on hour 30 of no sleep, but for whatever reason it felt like a very long drive. We arrived at the embassy and after unsticking our thighs from the plastic seat we jumped out of the back of the truck. I should probably be more accurate in my description as that that one makes it seem like we jumped gracefully and athletically from the truck, when in actual fact we all kind of fell out while trying to not moon the ensuing crowd or drop our children.

The first thing you notice when you pull up the US embassy is the people. Throngs of people are just standing there. Some are offering to take pictures for you for what I am assuming are passports or visa applications. Others are selling water or pop, but for the most part they are just hanging out. They have no real reason to be there but heck, they have no real reason to be anywhere. When you approach the embassy you first need to go through a security area which is outside and covered with a tent. There are a couple uniformed guards that are actually working and again more people just sitting there. The guards didn't even question us as to why we were there, simply ushered us through. I am assuming the white skin played a pivotal role in that. You then walk down a paved path to the next office. We showed the guard our children's passports and Canadian Visas and explained why we were there. We were ushered through a metal detector and were asked to turn in any cameras, cell phones, video cameras, pagers, etc...You exit that office and find yourself in another courtyard, nicely landscaped and maintained. The first thing I noticed other than the water fountains (seriously, who is going to drink from those?)was the dozens of people sitting outside under a tented area, envelopes in hand, waiting for what I can assume are visa appointments. Waiting to get out....one more metal detector and we are brought to the front of the line and asked for all of our documents. The entire time we were there and for every different window we had to go to we were brought to the front of the line. It felt strange, to be bumped ahead of all of these people who had been waiting forever simply for the obvious reason, we were white and presumably American. The last window we were instructed to go to was manned by a young white kid, maybe in his early 20's. Not sure what he did to get this job! He asked us a few questions and after a few minutes told us that our Visas would be ready for pick up tomorrow after 10 am. Perfect. We picked up our cameras and phones and headed back out to the front of the embassy.

We borrowed the cell phone of one of the guards and called for our ride, which we were told was coming right away. They should have said "we will be there in Haitian time, so whenever we get around to it..." We parked ourselves under the tent at the front of the embassy. We were hot, sweaty, thirsty, and tired. The kids were either falling asleep, crying, or stunned. C and I sat on the ground with the kids, which seemed ok at first but then some other guard came out and told us in a pretty stern way, to get off the floor. I thought he was joking at first but evidently we needed to get up, not sure why. After another phone call, another vat of sweat, and some more baby tears, our ride arrived. This time we rode in the lap of luxury in the back of the blue caged truck. I felt like a prisoner, but at least there was less risk of flying out when we hit one of the one million potholes on the road.

To say what happened next would be pure speculation because I have no idea what we did. I know we sat, because that is the universal thing to do in Haiti. I know we talked and I know we didn't eat the dinner that was served....Olivia got her hair done and after dinner we went back to the orphanage to see Marie. It was Thursday night and we weren't leaving until Saturday morning but she was leaving the next morning to find a new house for the O and was leaving at 5 am. It was time to say our goodbyes. I didn't think it would be hard. I thought that the sheer relief of the adoption being over would outweigh the emotions of leaving. It was at that moment that I realized how much she really does love these kids. Marie hugged each of them and said something in creole and was trying hard to keep from crying, so was I at that point. I went into Marie's office and she was all teary and I felt awful. She assured me that the best part of her job was seeing these kids go home, to good families, with a new chance at life. But it was still hard.

Then it was over. In a matter of minutes we were walking back over to the guesthouse, taking these kids from everything they have ever known. Regardless of what kind of care they got, it was their normal. The nannies were their family and here we were taking them away.I can remember walking outside those metal clad gates of the orphanage and on to the street and looking at C, we both just kind of sighed. It was done. Over. They were ours.

to be continued....

Part 2...

I boarded the plane with dread, knowing that I was in for a long and squishy flight. The man in the window seat was already there dressed in a very fashionable black velour leisure suit. He reeked like cheap cologne but seemed normal. He said hello, put in his earplugs, and closed his eyes. Perfect. I was reading my magazine when Salami Man made his entrance. I knew right away that he was a big oaf. Most people when they sit down do exactly that....they sit. He got into his seat like he was scaling the pummel horse in Beijing. He sat down with such force the entire row shook. Just for you to get the entire visual, he was wearing a lovely silver metallic muscle shirt with matching shorts, his head was shaved bald, and he sported the ever original barbed wire tattoo around his upper arm. I could tell that he had spent a few hours leading up to the flight in the airport bar. The smell of alcohol permeated his clothes and oozed from his pores. I smiled politely and kept on reading...

As soon as we were in the air his boorish ways became apparent. He flagged down the flight attendant by waving his arm and whistling. Once he had her attention he ordered a beer, two tequilas, and a deli pack. The tequilas were short lived as he pounded them within a minute or two. Then he dug into his deli pack. Now remember I have just spent two days praying over the porcelain god and my stomach was still not 100%. I am not sure what was grosser, him or the deli pack. The deli pack consisted of crackers, salami, and Parmesan cheese spread, which he ate like a complete sloth, chewing with his mouth open and picking the remnants out of his teeth with his finger. He wasn't even half way through his pack when he whistled for two more tequilas and of course another beer. Tequila number one...pounded. Beer...chugged. Deli pack consumed. Deli pack number two ordered. This one was a lovely medley of crackers, cheese, and salmon salad...barf. I took my Gravol mainly to cause drowsiness and block out the horrors of Salami man....

Salami man was relentless in his quest to ingest every last bottle of tequila on the plane and equally as relentless in his goal of becoming a belligerent asshole. At one point he was sifting through his deli pack with his fat sausage like fingers and stumbled across a little packet containing a vitamin C tablet. One that was berry flavored and dissolved in water. No water? No problem for salami man...plop, plop, fizz, fizz, in went the vitamin C into his shot of tequila. What a baboon. At some point I must have fallen asleep because I awoke to the sound of him yelling at the flight crew. I guess he had wandered into the first class cabin and was trying to use their washroom. He was told by a very patient flight attendant that he would have to find his seat and use the washroom in the economy cabin of the plane. This obviously did not sit well with our drunk friend because he started yelling and swearing and essentially further confirming my suspicions that his IQ was that of a sponge. At one point he yelled out that his Uncle was the President of the airlines and that he was going to have the flight attendant fired. Uh ya right....your dear old Uncle is the president of the airline and you are sitting in economy. He didn't give up there. He made sure that once we landed he would call his Uncle and demand the termination of the flight crews jobs...what a complete knob. He "talked" to his Uncle all through concourse of the airport screaming things like "I want him fired!"...everyone within earshot just laughed.

I had an hour between flights and had to change terminals, so I high tailed it to American airlines and checked in, got my boarding pass, and again stood behind people in security who were not familiar with the routine. The plane was an hour late leaving so I had time to send a quick email to my friend C, who I was meeting in Haiti, grab a muffin, and watch the throngs of people gather at the gate. The flight into Haiti was uneventful. No one took their own seat, their was no room for any carry on baggage, and the flight crew looked less than thrilled about their destination.

The heat hit me before I had even exited the plane. It is a heat that if you have not been to Haiti, you cannot understand. Their is no grass or trees to absorb the suns rays, the concrete seems to magnify the heat in a way that I can't describe. The smell is another thing. I wish I could bottle it up and let people experience it. The combination of garbage, burning tires, and poverty is beyond what I can describe here. It is one of those smells that is etched into your nose forever. The Digicel band was playing as per usual, the Haitian midget was greeting you at the terminal door, and the nervous energy I always feel when landing in Pap was definitely there, maybe more so. Immigration was quick and easy. I don't think the officer even glanced up as she stamped my passport and little green ticket. Baggage claim was what it usually is...a complete gong show. Bags were piled feet in the air, people were arguing over which bag was theirs, porters were trying desperately to help, and so on....I waited until every bag was off the plane to find out what I had already assumed, that my bags were MIA.... I left the airport two bags lighter but at that point I didn't care. My appointment at the US embassy was only a couple hours away and I really wanted to make it myself and not have our director act on my behalf.

I spotted my ride quickly and the car was sent to pick me up. The ride from the airport to the guesthouse is quick, maybe 10 minutes. I think I could walk it myself now if I so wanted to try, which I didn't.The street kids were out by the dozen that day. Little boys coming to the window of the truck with their hands out begging for money. It's horrible. I was taken to my room at the guesthouse quickly, my room with no AC. I dropped my bags, grabbed my wallet and headed across the street to the O. The walk across the street was different this time. Maybe it was because this time I would take my son and never have to bring him back, maybe it was the excitement of seeing C and R, who knows, but it was definitely not the same as the times before. The metal clad gate was closed as usual and I slid it open to reveal the familiar sight of the orphanage courtyard and the sounds of the kids playing upstairs. A few steps away on the porch of the orphanage were C, R, their girls, and Wil....

to be continued...