Safe and sound

I ended up having to cross through the aweful checkpoint in the parched plain east of Port-au-Prince. The guards on the Dominican Republic side were really helpful and there was plenty of Haitian street youth hanging around to aid whenever I needed translation from Spanish to Kreyol. Amazing they Customs didn't care that title, registration, insurance, everything, was just shoddy photocopies. Plus bringing the bike across was only $3 extra. As I pass the gate into no-man's-land I just walked my bike along, waiting to get away from the crowd of people to start up the engine. The street kids I'd befriended made a game of it and all got together tried to see how fast they could get me going just by pushing. Once in Haiti, I was anxious to have to pass through the Port-au-Prince. When I came to the first crossroad I was in disbelief I could have got so far so easily and so quickly and so I just chalked it up to a faulty memory, maybe there was a third crossroad I'd forgotten about. When I arrived at the second crossroads without having even begun to be nauseated by usual stench, clutter, and chaos, I figured I was lost and asked for direction. When the gas station attendant told me just follow this road out of town, it seemed to good to be true. It took no less than 5 familiar landmark on the road out of town for me to believe that it had all been so easy. The next 40 miles up to Pierre Payen were uneventful with the bike not missing a beat. When I arrived at my old driveway Camilla, the cook, was on the roadside attending her new little fast food stand. She recognized me immediately and started hooping and hollering joy and yelling for Marie-Phile, the little girl I tutored, to come. All over the town I've had the same wonderful welcome from all my friends. Jean-Renaud, the project foreman, even lent me his computer so I could write you this entry.