Roadtrip to Le Sud (And Other Things Haitian)- Part I

First of all, I would like to extend an apology about my last blog (Adapting in Haiti)...a friend told me it could have been taken as an insult to the country and some people may take offense. I would like to make it clear: that was not my intention whatsoever. I was merely trying to bring to light the vast amount of opportunities Haiti has to offer. I LOVE this country!!! So, please do not get your panties in a bunch. The only way Haiti will ever be able to move forward is if they accept a little bit of constructive criticism. Thanks and have a nice day. ;)

That being said, I’ve decided this blog will be broken two parts since there is so much to tell. That way, maybe some of the readers won’t get scared off and will actually read it at their own leisure. Part I is mainly about the roadtrip and the sites along the way. Here it goes:

Last week, while running errands all over town Dad, Mom, Dominic and myself, stopped to pay a visit to a cousin. He had mentioned that he and his wife and some other family and friends were going to Port Salut for the weekend…a seaside town in the South of Haiti towards the western-most tip of the island. I had been to Jacmel before, which is almost directly south of Port-Au-Prince over the mountain range but I had never travelled west of that and the South is supposed to be the most beautiful part of the island. Dad had been allegedly planning a trip to go there but there was still no word confirming such a trip and I was beginning to think the whole place was a figment of someone’s colorful imagination. I’ve been here for 2 months, my son for 1 month and we only have 3 weeks left here! But, this time, something peaked Dad’s interest again and by the end of the day we had reservations for a suite at the same hotel that everyone was staying at, Dan’s Creek. FINALLY…SHEESH! So this place does exist afterall!

We had one full day to get everything together before leaving at 5:00am Friday morning. I kept the packing to a bare minimum (seriously!)…basically only bikinis and cover-ups, a cute sundress for dinner and my suntan lotion…oh, and my inner tube. Dominic and I both got our stuff into one carry-on suitcase and a backpack for 3 days…a freakin’ miracle in my book! Friday morning rolls around. After a virtually sleepless night after hearing something larger than a spider but smaller than a cat rustling somewhere in the dresser next to my bed, I was up and out of bed at 4:00am. Now, getting Dominic up at that time is another story which I will not share because I would like to keep this a happy experience…please read between the lines on that one! At any rate, after having a morning shot of coffee, the four of us jumped into Dad’s trusty SUV and made our way to the planned meeting spot in front of the Teleco closer to downtown. Since there was 9 in our group to start, we caravanned in two cars.

Port-Au-Prince at 5:00am is something to be seen. It feels like you’re somewhere else entirely! There was almost no one on the streets at all save for a lone female jogger. The glow of the rising sun lit an old traditional gingerbread house, seemingly just barely standing. It turned out to be the former house of my grandmother’s cousin which made it all the more interesting. Its brick walls were still standing tall and slightly askew, but the turquoise painted shutters were cracked and warped and the only evidence of the balcony that had once stretched across the front was the empty space and remaining splinters where it had been attached to the façade. Rue Lamartiniere in the Bois-Verna neighborhood is still home to many of these old architectural masterpieces and gems of old. And driving down this road at 5:00am only made it more magical for me. The road through Bois-Verna takes you directly to the Champ de Mars, the main square of Port-Au-Prince that houses the National Palace, the famed statue, Le Neg Marron, and its large plaza that was, helloooooo, surprisingly PACKED with early morning joggers. So that’s where that lone jogger was headed? I had to rub my eyes and pinch myself to make sure I wasn’t dreaming! Haitians exercise?!?! Just kidding. I know of a few people who keet active lifestyles but I had NO CLUE there was such an organized activity as joggers in the Champ de Mars. It was an amazing (and beautiful) sight! If I wasn’t so damn lazy now and weighed down by “diri a sos pwa” (White rice with black bean sauce) I might join them one morning…but who am I kidding, really.

After zipping through the empty streets of Port-Au-Prince we came upon the city of Carrefour…the sole reason for having to leave at such an ungodly hour. Carrefour is situated along the water directly west and a wee bit south of PAP. It is the hub and headquarters for almost every tap-tap in Haiti’s grips to take passengers both two-legged and four- to all corners of the country. I think tap-taps should be categorized as one of the wonders of the modern world. They are freakish in nature and are what make Haiti…well…Haiti. (For you Haitian virgins out there, a tap-tap is a truck or bus that has been painted, decorated and bedazzled to rival a carnival ride. They are covered: with every color known to man, reflectors, black and/or neon lights, flashing LED’s (they’re going high tech now!), religious sayings and names (Grace De Jesu!; Mon Dieu) and distorted images of Haiti’s past and present famous like Wyclef (Oh wait, is that one of the BeeGees? Oh, sorry, it’s Jesus…). They manage to somehow fit an Ibiza sized nightclub woth of speakers somewhere and blast music from Kanaval 2009. And I’m not so sure the term “filled to capacity” can apply to a tap-tap. These behemoths reach far beyond capacity. It’s so densely packed inside you can’t see through the windows to the other side. There are hands, arms and legs sticking out of the windows and the roofs of these things literally hold a mountain of suitcases, bags, bundles, barrels, plants, goats, chickens, men, women and children…no seat belts! When a tap-tap comes barreling at you on a narrow country road at 100 kilometers an hour it…uuuhhh…kinda makes your heart stop for a sec. When I was knee-high to a grasshopper, tap-taps used to be tiny little Toyota pick-up trucks that weren’t nearly as scary as they are now. Tap-taps deserve their own blog, I guess.
Anyways, back to Carrefour: It is also home to Napoleon Bonaparte’s sister, Pauline’s, old digs, and Habitation Leclerc, a former hotspot built on the property for the rich and trendy back in the ‘70’s. Unfortunately, like many things once magical in Haiti, Pauline’s haunt is in disrepair. I can only wish that it will one day be restored to her original grandeur…Oh, the stories those old walls must hold!!!
The road we were on used to be within a stone’s throw of the waterfront, but the city as expanded itself over, precariously situated on the piles of “ick” that has collected over the years. We must pray that section never takes a direct hit by a storm of even a moderate nature. But we made it through Carrefour without too much headache as the tap-taps were still loading before hitting Routes Nationale 1 & 2. WHEW! We made it!
Route Nationale #2 took us out of Carrefour along the inner coast of Haiti; the water on the right side of the road. There are many attempts at beach resorts going up along this stretch of road. I hope they all come to pass successfully but they will have to seriously contend with the difficulties of passing through Carrefour’s roads first. That might take a while.

Soon, the densely packed buildings start to thin out and give way to more green and lush scenery. The tangled web of illegal electrical lines is replaced by vines hanging from majestic banyan trees. Coconut trees act like soldiers lining the sides of the road, leading the way to safe passage. The few scatterings of houses in this area become more primitive and are worn more by mere time than by the pollution of the big city. The road curves a little more inland and then I entered a place and time I never knew existed in Haiti. Expansive fields of sugar cane spread on both sides of the road like a blanket made by God himself to cover the land. By this time of the day (about 6:30am) the sun was just peaking over Haiti’s forested mountains and cast the most glorious light on the field of green. Every once in a while an old abandoned mill stood where it has stood for ages; a mill here and there would be in operation with its plumes of smoke rising out of the smoke stack. I hope to witness this same place at the same time during my lifetime and find better words to describe it. I feel like I’m not doing it justice now.

So, we zipped along the road (I hesitate to call it a highway), climbing through the hills, passing villages as the inhabitants awoke to start their full day of hard work to earn what little they can to feed the family that day. Along National #2, there is much less deforestation than in the North so you see Haiti as she was meant to be seen. It’s amazing. I’ve been to Hawaii a few times and I honestly think this is comparable in natural beauty. At one point, we made a stop in a…hmmmm…town?... village?... Speck on the map is more like it, where they are famous for Haiti’s famous treat: Douce Macoss. Colorful, hand-painted signs line the road claiming to have the “Best” or the “Original” Douce Macoss although the treat was sold off a rickety old table or in a thatched roof shack. Somehow, we found a particular driveway cut through the dense trees and shrubs that crowded the road and into a private residence. The main house was an actual concrete structure, painted a dark grey with white accents. A toddler about 2 or 3 years in age sat on the front step, wearing only a striped T-shirt. To the left was a traditional Haitian country house (made of clay?), leaning to one side, painted aqua with a barely-still-pink set of double wooden doors. Hens and roosters seemed to own the place as they ran around all over the yard. While the men went inside to fetch us some Haitian goodies, the rest of us stretched our legs and enjoyed some ham and tomato sandwiches that Carline had prepared for us and drank water. The scent of burning trash and leaves filled our nostrils but I’ve always loved that smell. It will always remind me of Haiti and only adds the ambiance of the place.
Out comes Dad with the Douce Macoss and I think I chomped off half the slab and a bit of his finger. I believe I will have to return to this place before I head Back to California to replenish our current stock and buy some to share (or not) with the folks in Cali. We climb back into our cars and off we go again. The road meanders through the hills and although it has lots of curves it’s nothing crazy nor will it make you car sick. But, man I tell you, when you round the bend and reach the top of the hill and see the countryside ahead, it really takes your breath away. (It kinda reminded me of the many roadtrips I‘ve taken in my past life to Las Vegas: driving that stretch of Highway 15 for close to 300 miles, straight as an arrow, slowly climbing up, up into the desert. Before you reach the peak, you see the glow of the lights in the night sky. The anticipation is mounting in your gut! You finally reach the top and look down to see the Vegas strip all lit up with megawatts of power and sin! MUAAAAHAHAHAHA!!!! Oh wow, I think I just had a moment. Sorry, back to my story…)
One day, I would like to sit perched on top of one of the rocks and just watch the sun rise from behind me, even if only to catch a moment of God’s work.
Cars are much scarcer in these parts. Motorcycles, donkeys and horses are the preferred mode of transportation (besides the tap-taps that coming flying by); small children play along the side of the road as their mothers sweep the front of their yards or does the laundry in the nearby river. An old blind man in dirty linen pants, a tunic shirt with a wide brimmed hat made of straw and a walking stick of bamboo trudges along the side of the road. One would usually only think to see a character like this in a storybook or a painting, but he walks amongst us every day.
Leogane, Petit Goave, St. Michel de Sud, Aquin…just some of the towns we passed before reaching the south coast, now on the left side of the road. Here is where Haiti’s mountains meet the Caribbean Sea, crowned by massive groves of tall coconut trees and banana trees. The local fishermen are out with their nets to catch red snapper, lambi, lobster, crab. There are waves now that the beach is no longer sheltered by the bay like in Port-Au-Prince and the Cote des Arcadins. Off in the distance you see tiny islands with their white sand beaches and lushly covered mounds…oh, how I would love to be “marooned” on one of those!
Three and a half hours into the drive, our caravan reaches Les Cayes, one of Haiti’s larger cities (although a fraction of the size of PAP) and the principle city for “Le Department Sud”. Upon entering the city, you are greeted by a huge gateway that was obviously built to mark the city’s 500th anniversary…noted by the gigantic “500 Ans” crowning the top. Passing under the monument, Route Nationale #2 traverses the outer edge of Les Cayes as you come to a round-about. If you go around and to the left, you will directly into downtown Les Cayes. If you hang a right, it will take you to the outskirts and towards Camp Perrin. Go straight and we will end up in Port Salut…our final destination about another half an hour ahead. Les Cayes reminded me and Dominic of parts of old New Orleans with its rows and rows of “shotgun” structures where one room leads into the next room behind and so on until you come out the back. Tall, narrow, shuttered doorways and alleys connect them; every once in while you catch a fleeting glimpse of a turquoise sea in the background. Many of the buildings stand empty and abandoned as their former inhabitants have moved on to more “metropolitan” cities. There is a section of town where both sides of the road are lined wall to wall with old shipping containers used as stores for the marchands (merchants) selling their vast array of goods.

Continuing on Route Nationale 2, the buildings (shipping containers or otherwise) start to only sprinkle the landscape again as we enter another section of sugar cane, mais and banana fields. On the right side of the road you will come upon the ruins of a once majestic sugar cane plantation house, storied to be the former residence of one of Haiti’s Presidents. Anything that was wood has long since been rotted away, blown away by hurricane or burned. The only thing remaining is the concrete skeleton; a double staircase leads to the front entry. If you look carefully enough you can see one of the interior walls, highlighted by the sun, where the concrete has fallen away to expose the brick underneath. A couple of children in rags now call this their castle as they sit with their feet dangling off the former porch. Some peasants have moved into the “basement” of the house, evident by the fenced in yard and red curtain in the doorway and a piece of rotting plywood to keep the farm animals out. What a playground that would be!
Rte 2 takes us slightly inland and up and around a small mountain. The hills are dotted with crops and provincial homes with a small town here and there.
Finally, we reach Port Salut…it’s barely reaching 9:30am. Port Salut is very small with basically one main road (Rte Nationale 2). Downtown PS has everything a provincial seaside town ought to have: a large church, a pharmacy, a Western Union and a police station…but no modern convenience stores. (There are Western Union locations in Haiti like there are Starbucks in the States. Every town has one so family members who have gone to New York or Miami can wire money back home to their remaining families.) Only a one way road branches off to take you to the main, public beach. It’s under construction with a large dining pavilion going up. The trees grow all the way up to the waterfront so cool shade abounds here where the sun is more intense.
Dan’s Creek is on the left side of RN2 and we have finally made it…Now time for some fun!...