The House in Haiti

Has anyone ever seen the movie, The Shining, with Jack Nicholson?
Don' worry, I'm not turning into an ax swinging nut-job saying, "Heeeeeeere's Johnny!", but I bet I had you going there for a minute. I wanna be the kid who rides his Big-Wheel all throughout the creepy hallways of the big hotel he's stuck in.
My grandmother's house reminds me of a much smaller version of that grand hotel from the movie. And it's not without some of the same creepiness either.
The house was built sometime during the early '30's, probably during the U.S. occupation of Haiti (when is the U.S. not occupying some country or another?!?!). My Great Grandfather, Oswald Brandt, purchased the place soon after and when my grandmother, Mamie, married my grandfather Andre, they were given a portion of the property as a wedding gift. Whether that portion included the actual house is unknown. But through the years, Mamie purchased more and more, bit by bit of the property until she acquired it as it is today...BIG. Mamie permanently moved here around the mid to late '60's after living in various parts of the world.
I remember being a wee tot and visiting Mamie here. My very first trip here was when I was 6 months old so I don't quite remember that trip. It hadn't been remodeled yet so the back half of the house was much different than it is today. But at that time, I couldn't imagine a creepier looking place. It's walls are constructed with one foot thick solid concrete and has support buttresses on the sides (she ain't budgin' in any storm!). A sprawling roof with gingerbread detailing all along the eaves softens the massiveness of her size. Inside, with its 20 foot high vaulted ceilings and giant archways it seemed so vast and cavernous to a shortie like me. 3 matching crystal chandeliers in the living room and dining room looked like they belong in a real haunted house. The electricity was even more spotty back then which only added to the scariness...I remember sitting at the dinner table and watching Atie (Mamie's "Professional Domestic Engineer" from back in the day) push the lever down on the toaster and all the lights going out. Nice. In the living room, Mamie had her TV and an old, crusty leather Lazy-Boy (I know, gross, right?!?!) set inside the alcove by the window with views overlooking downtown Port-Au-Prince. My brother and I used to spend alot of time screaming and crying in front of that TV while we watched Mom and Dad party it up on the family float during Mardi Gras (How could they leave us in this creepy house with this scary old lady we hardly know?!?!). By the way, I don't think she's scary anymore. I grew out of that when I was about 13.
The bedrooms were dark with old warping mahogany plank floors, and there were what seemed like neverending dressing halls with armoires to the sky that lead to the bathrooms which had ball-and-claw foot tubs, old pedestal sinks and Zombie Green paint on the walls. There was also a big "kids' room" that had three beds in there where my cousins and I used to jump from bed to bed. The old kitchen looked more like an ancient commercial kitchen from a hotel or, better yet, a morgue. I used to run through the kitchen out the back door. Kitchens in Haiti aren't treated as "living areas" like they are in the states. When there's company, you will not gather in the kitchen while dinner is being prepared to discuss sports or politics. They are strictly there for functionality...to prepare the food...by others...the PDE's. I think the only room that made me feel "safe" was the side gallery because it's more like being outside.
The stairs leading downstairs (and the downstairs itself) were even scarrier. Concrete steps leading down to the guest bedrooms and library were painted red and uneven. As the steps curve to the right you have to duck your head to avoid hitting it on the ceiling. OK, I don't have to duck, but most adults do. When you reach the bottom you're greated by a loooong hallway with no windows, lined with black and white checkered floor tile leading to the library at the right and a storage closet to the left, with it's large mahogany double doors and a pad lock, lit only by a single light bulb...scary as hell. I must have watched too many scary movies as kid because the image I have in my head coming from that closet is "Mother" sitting in her wheel chair, from Psycho. Even at 34 years old, I still run past that closet. I made Dad open it for me and check for skeletons recently. My brother will be staying in that bedroom down there.
Anyways, my cousin had the place remodeled back in the '80's so it's much different now. There are 2 light and airy bedrooms, instead of 3 dark ones. The old mahogany floors long since torn out and replaced with cream and orange marble. (My cousin Raphael once received a nasty surprise in his butt sliding all over the warped and cracked Mahogany...that was a pretty good sign it was time for those floors to go!) And there's a den that my dad has now set up as an office. The kitchen, although still not a place we "hang out" is lighter and brighter with buttery yellow cabinets...nowhere near resembling a morgue. The bathrooms (recently remodeled again) are tiled in earth-toned ceramic 12x12's & mosaic tiles cover the shower and there are modern vessel sinks set on top of a custom-built wood countertop with a matching mirror and shelves. I just had a new sunflower showerhead installed in my shower and I LOVE IT! It has fixed my issue with "trickling water" when there's no power...I'm a genius!.
The front gallery that has the main entrance gate to the house, the living room, dining room and side gallery have virtually remained untouched in decades, save for a shift in wall paintings and some furniture. The Lazy-Boy has long since been gone...hopefully burned. The mahogany framed french windows still are folded open and closed every morning and night although now with a couple cracked panes. The original tile floor is still there too: golden orange and chocolate brown ceramic tiles in an interlocking square pattern...starting to show their age with cracks and chips. The 3 matching crystal chandeliers are still hanging up high. I think it all adds character to this old place. Mamie's portrait from Spain still hangs in the dining room. I say Good Morning and Good Night to her everyday. Dad and I watch TV and eat every meal out on the side gallery, my favorite room in the house to this day. I call it my "treehouse on steroids" nestled in the treetops. The afternoon breeze blows through here and I enjoy hearing all the sounds of the birds, bats and cicadas...you know, critters. Oh yeah, and the bar is here too. No wonder I love this room so much. Last night there was a storm cell that passed through. Dad and I remained out there in the treehouse, watching CNN until a giant thunder clap made me jump outta my pants.

Alas, it's time for me to get my Rhum suckin' self off the wicker furniture and into the pool! I'm going to finally go down to the Clubhouse at the apartments and check out what classes are going on today: Yoga or water aerobics? Maybe I'll just watch the tennis players play in their shorts. Good exercise for the eyes.