The tiny Caribbean airport was a kick. Very laid back. We arrived there about an hour before the airline staff did. I was then seated in the front row of the tiny plane, and got to watch the pilots read the newspaper.
In Port-au-Prince, we stopped at a small restaurant for breakfast. (We had left at 5 am. Ugh!) I was so happy to see French on the menu. After a week of black rice and Spanish, omelette fromage and French are a nice break. Then we travelled to a Compassion project and visited some of the classrooms and saw them doing various fun or vocational classes like cooking and sewing and painting. The kids are so cute. You say "Como ca va?" to them, and they all shout out in unison, "CA VA BIEN MERCI! ET VOUS?!" I posted many a pic here at flickr of it.
Now I'm at the hotel. It's surprisingly swank. There's a woman's art/craft show going on downstairs. So weird. It's like I'm at a craft fair in a small town of Colorado, except the sellers aren't middle aged women in cheesy sweaters, but chic black women speaking French, while outside my window I look out at a hillside blanketed in tiny shacks. Out at the patio restaurant, I enjoyed a delicious bowl of French onion soup for dinner under the tropical trees. So far everyone I've met is charming and kind. The French accent doesn't hurt.
Last night, we went to Santo Domingo. Americans who are uptight and time conscious like me really shouldn't sightsee with Latinos. But in the end, it was a great night. I bought my mom a Christmas gift I hope she'll love. We all got to hide in a little corner bar in the colonial district while the rain poured like mad. The colonial district of Santo Domingo is beautiful. Because of said traveling companions, we didn't actually get to it until after dark. Luckily, everything is lit up, and it was so romantico. I kept thinking of the Pirates of the Caribbean ride, except this was the real thing.
Miss you all and love you. Will be home soon!
P.S. Don't forget to go look at my pictures. I couldn't get many to load here!
1 comment:
"People told me how hard it was to visit. How poor it was. How hopeless. No one told me how beautiful it is."
You inspire me. You make me want to give hope. Even if it's just to one child. Even if it's just to one "small woman with blank eyes absently tapping on the truck's window asking for anything." To let God work through me. So they can see that their hope is in the love and promises of Christ. To let them know His "kingdom is not of this earth." It means that I must take action and do what Christ is calling me to do.
Thank you, for me and for them.
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