Part II - Arrival

We arrived at an old house and first passing beneath a balcony with half a dozen adorable, immensely excited, dirty little faces peering through the bars, entered through an open foyer with wood and wicker furniture lining the walls, into the main house. Directly after a quick offered and accepted chance to email home, I was taken on a tour of the house.

The first floor contains the living room, offices, dining area and kitchen which was bustling with activity in preparation for lunch. The second floor houses the 100 or so kids from infant up to about 3 years old (after that, they're transferred to the toddler house, where we live, where there are currently about 70 more kids). There are three rooms that house the kids, one crazier then the next. First, there's the NICU where the preemies and sick babies stay with a few Haitian nannies and a full time nurse (Susan, from Scotland). Our NICU is actually probably better equipped then any nearby hospital. Second is Urge B, housing more nannies and a bundle of not-yet, to just- crawling babies. And lastly, the incredibly overwhelming Urge A; home to another group of nannies and about 60 needy, adorable, insatiable children who latch onto your legs in swarms. Although, it's not necessarily in the sad, pathetic, heart breaking way I would have expected. It is heart breaking in its own right but they contain this incredible joy and look at you as though they intend to love you as much as they hope that you'll love them. Either that, or they're just doing whatever they can to charm you into choosing them to take out to the balcony for some reprieve. Escaping that room consists of tiptoeing out the door as though each little finger and toe were a potential landmine. Although, these kids are so tough, it probably wouldn't even phase them. Finally, the third floor houses a few living areas and the access to the play balcony where we spend most of our time with our kids. This balcony also affords one of the most spectacular views I will ever see. Rolling hills and valleys as far as the eye can see. In a word, majestic.

No soon after the tour ended, I was given my list of 8 children (1 per hour, once a day for the duration of my stay, minus weekends); "Stacy's Little Angels", as the paper calls them. As it was just rolling up to 11:00am, I was given the chance to grab one child for the hour before lunch. So, by random choosing, I went searching for little Mike who after being pointed out to me in Urge A, entered my arms eagerly and held on like I was nothing further from a stranger. I took him up to the balcony to join the other volunteers, sat down on one of the wicker couches and held him against me; his arms held tight around my torso and my arms cradling his head and back with equal affection and rocked him gently willing myself not to cry in front of a group of strangers who had just barely learned my name. It was a blessed moment.

Just a few pictures...

The view from the play balcony (see last picture). It was a cloudy day, but the view is incredible.

The toddler house, across from our house.

From our balcony...

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The play balcony where we spend most of the time with our kids.

Part I - The Journey

Besides the issue of my luggage not appearing, the Port-Au-Prince Airport was not the slightest bit as frightening as it was made out to be. The customs officer flirted and kept glancing where my eyes weren't and the only "hassling" I got were a couple of well put-together, uniformed taxi drivers politely asking if I need a ride. I was greeted by an older gentleman who carried a sign bearing my name and confirmed he had it right be first pulling out a business card from GLA - to which I nodded - then pointing to a rubber bracelet on his wrist with "God's Littlest Angels" written on it - to which I nodded - and we proceeded to the waiting vehicle where I was greeted by James, the driver, and an armed guard who would be accompanying us.

Of all the warnings I'd received, one that came to have definite merit was the condition of the roads. James, a resident of GLA, drove the off-roader like we were being chased through town by some villain in an epic third world car chase. Horns are used freely, lanes are crossed frequently, and accelerating and braking know nothing between naught and to the floor. Just outside the airport, traffic was thick and littered with Tap-Taps; independently owned taxis consisting of a pickup truck lined with two wooden or metal benches and covered by a colorfully painted, makeshift, wooden canopy. Even this area, considered a rich part of the country, is destitute. The streets were lined with hundreds of small cement structures home to industrious, practical, necessary and downright bizarre shops and businesses; most of which looked like they'd barely survived a bombing. Though beautiful in its ruggedness and vibrantly painted veneers, it wreaked of poverty unlike anything I'd seen before. There is still something beautiful about it though; not the hardships, but the ingenuity and the perseverance to survive.

Once we cleared the main city, traffic thinned out, but the roads were steep, windy, narrow and even more badly maintained. Though lined with pedestrians, merchants and a continuous length of stone and cement walls meant to protect the residences (this point proven by the coiled barbed wire and embedded shards of glass that rimmed them), we rarely dipped below what I would have guessed to be about 60 kmh and the ride was enough to knock your head off your shoulders. I LOVED it. The ride up actually reminded me of the winding streets of Beverly Hills, but in a post apocalyptic kind of way. In short, the 1 hour drive up left me with so much to take in, I hardly said a word. It was the details, like stray goats, women carrying large baskets on their heads and posters and adds pasted up on the many miles of cement walls bearing everything from hastily drawn out theatre and concert ads to glossy cellphone ads to a tribute to Bob Marley. The air here has the same sweet pungent smell of Africa and many of the people appeared quite modern which made them look quite odd in their surroundings.

But this was only the drive in...