Port-au-Prince, even by developing country standards, is a dirty, crowded, generally aesthetically unappealing place. There are specific exceptions to this -- le Palais National, several nice parks, some of the old gingerbread style houses -- but even most Haitians will agree that PAP is not an attractive city in and of itself. But there are things here that can make a person forget the ugliness of this cinder block city.
The things that redeem PAP are unusual sources of beauty. One of my favorites are the 'tap-taps', which are a sort of taxi made from busted old pick-up trucks with raised bed covers and benches lining the sides, usually packed like a clown car. A few of these look exactly like that -- busted old pick-ups -- but most of them are painted in bright yellow, red, and blue, with amazing designs and funny little Creole sayings or prayers to the driver's chosen saint (whether that saint is Catholic or the Voodou counterpart is sometimes not clear, but that's part of what makes it so engaging). Taps-taps are ubiquitous in Haiti, even outside of the city, and although their frequent, sudden stops make them rather annoying to follow, I personally can't help but enjoy seeing them. They remind me of flowers and bees in reverse, they are brightly-hued flowers darting through the city, pausing briefly every few seconds to collect a couple of bees.
The people on the streets are another great example. While no country is perfect, I must say that Haiti has more than its fair share of beautiful people. It seems somewhat simplistic to me when people describe Haitians as being Black. Certainly, most Haitians have some African heritage, but they are a blend of many races, which is also why they have created such an impressively textured culture. The variety of skin tones here is almost endless, from brown like milk chocolate to literally black, like this black velvet dress I had when I was little, to an almost Hispanic tan to white with just a hint of olive. It is a truly mixed society, although not so much in socio-economic terms, unfortunately. But it makes for a fascinating drive through the city. Haiti is a country of diverse history, and you can see this reflected in the faces you see every day. Haitians also take enormous care of their appearances; even Lucy got her hair did for the Christmas holiday this year. You probably won't see a lot of 'designer' labels here and a lot of the clothes are second-hand, but Haitians have some *amazing* fashion sense, males and females. I often feel like a shlub by comparison, walking out of my house in jeans a t-shirt. In fact, I started dressing a bit more nicely b/c I felt out of place walking among these beautiful people while I was dressed like a college kid late for class. But after I upped my fashion game, I noticed that more people were staring at me, not always in a nice way, and a Haitian friend of mine suggested that it could be b/c now I look like a wealthy white Haitian (who own most of the grocery stores and factories and are perceived, not entirely incorrectly, as being greedy and exploitative), not just a visiting missionary or something. I thought about going back to the jeans and t-shirts, but instead, I think I will just speak my very bad Creole and everyone will quickly realize that I am not a native. heh. Anyhow, I love going out in the streets here and seeing the people; there is far more to look at here than in the Netherlands where everyone was pale, boxy, and tall, or Britain where everyone was pale, flabby, and weak-chinned. (Just kidding, UK -- you know I love you, weak chins and all. ;)
Possibly my favorite thing, however, is this weird phenomenon that happens once or twice a month, right around sunset. I'm really not sure what causes this, I actually think it may happen when there is a high particulate count in the air -- that is, a lot of freaking dust -- but if so, I never knew dust could be so beautiful. What happens is this: as the sun gets lower, the air becomes more and more yellow, until everything seems as if it is wrapped in a golden shroud. And I don't mean that the buildings take on a yellow cast, or that the plants seem to absorb more of the sun's color. No, I mean the air itself turns gold. It looks as if you could touch it. The walls of the house are still white, the plants are still green, but the air around them has a color, seems to sparkle slightly, appears to become something you can touch. It makes me go quiet and simply stare.
These are moments when I think, I am so lucky to be here. And I am.
The things that redeem PAP are unusual sources of beauty. One of my favorites are the 'tap-taps', which are a sort of taxi made from busted old pick-up trucks with raised bed covers and benches lining the sides, usually packed like a clown car. A few of these look exactly like that -- busted old pick-ups -- but most of them are painted in bright yellow, red, and blue, with amazing designs and funny little Creole sayings or prayers to the driver's chosen saint (whether that saint is Catholic or the Voodou counterpart is sometimes not clear, but that's part of what makes it so engaging). Taps-taps are ubiquitous in Haiti, even outside of the city, and although their frequent, sudden stops make them rather annoying to follow, I personally can't help but enjoy seeing them. They remind me of flowers and bees in reverse, they are brightly-hued flowers darting through the city, pausing briefly every few seconds to collect a couple of bees.
The people on the streets are another great example. While no country is perfect, I must say that Haiti has more than its fair share of beautiful people. It seems somewhat simplistic to me when people describe Haitians as being Black. Certainly, most Haitians have some African heritage, but they are a blend of many races, which is also why they have created such an impressively textured culture. The variety of skin tones here is almost endless, from brown like milk chocolate to literally black, like this black velvet dress I had when I was little, to an almost Hispanic tan to white with just a hint of olive. It is a truly mixed society, although not so much in socio-economic terms, unfortunately. But it makes for a fascinating drive through the city. Haiti is a country of diverse history, and you can see this reflected in the faces you see every day. Haitians also take enormous care of their appearances; even Lucy got her hair did for the Christmas holiday this year. You probably won't see a lot of 'designer' labels here and a lot of the clothes are second-hand, but Haitians have some *amazing* fashion sense, males and females. I often feel like a shlub by comparison, walking out of my house in jeans a t-shirt. In fact, I started dressing a bit more nicely b/c I felt out of place walking among these beautiful people while I was dressed like a college kid late for class. But after I upped my fashion game, I noticed that more people were staring at me, not always in a nice way, and a Haitian friend of mine suggested that it could be b/c now I look like a wealthy white Haitian (who own most of the grocery stores and factories and are perceived, not entirely incorrectly, as being greedy and exploitative), not just a visiting missionary or something. I thought about going back to the jeans and t-shirts, but instead, I think I will just speak my very bad Creole and everyone will quickly realize that I am not a native. heh. Anyhow, I love going out in the streets here and seeing the people; there is far more to look at here than in the Netherlands where everyone was pale, boxy, and tall, or Britain where everyone was pale, flabby, and weak-chinned. (Just kidding, UK -- you know I love you, weak chins and all. ;)
Possibly my favorite thing, however, is this weird phenomenon that happens once or twice a month, right around sunset. I'm really not sure what causes this, I actually think it may happen when there is a high particulate count in the air -- that is, a lot of freaking dust -- but if so, I never knew dust could be so beautiful. What happens is this: as the sun gets lower, the air becomes more and more yellow, until everything seems as if it is wrapped in a golden shroud. And I don't mean that the buildings take on a yellow cast, or that the plants seem to absorb more of the sun's color. No, I mean the air itself turns gold. It looks as if you could touch it. The walls of the house are still white, the plants are still green, but the air around them has a color, seems to sparkle slightly, appears to become something you can touch. It makes me go quiet and simply stare.
These are moments when I think, I am so lucky to be here. And I am.
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