Thanksgiving

Tomorrow is Thanksgiving. Dia de Gracias as my Spanish-speaking friends call it. It's probably the holiday that I celebrate the most, more than Christmas, even. Every year, my family gets together a week or two before the real Thanksgiving and we celebrate it then, with all the aunts and uncles and grandparents and anybody else who wants to drop by, really. That way, when the real Thanksgiving arrives, we can all relax, eat whatever we want, go to another Thanksgiving in another location, and basically do whatever we want without the stress of Turkey Day and all the preparation and food and travel and closed shops and crazy last-second shoppers and such.

This year, for example, I am celebrating three Thanksgivings. One with my mother's family (we celebrated last Monday, I believe), one in Portland with friends (Veggie Thanksgiving, which doesn't necessarily mean Tofurkey...instead, squash lasagna, sweet potato mashed potatoes, saffron rice, homemade ice cream, pecan pies, etc.), and one on the traditional day with my father's family (the finale and one where I get to see all my relatives I have not seen for months). This is definitely my favorite holiday, even though I'm likely going to outgrow some of my clothes over the two-week-long eat-a-thon.

Hurricane Thomas

(written Friday, November 5th, 2010)

I'm writing this to make sure everyone who may read this knows that we are okay, the Mattenley's are okay, nobody was hurt and nothing was damaged, except the tent cities, who most likely were waterlogged to a certain extent.

Yesterday, Thursday, the hurricane was thought to hit the island and devastate an already tired country. Switching constantly from tropical storm to class-1 hurricane, this post-season storm was acting strangely, and everyone was hunkering down, expecting the worst. I had gone to Delmas, higher up in the hills of Port-au-Prince, to visit a group from Springfield who had arrived earlier that day to see the progress from various Mercy League projects. I knew Lonnie, Emily, Lloyd, Tyler, and the family staying in Haiti, the Mattenley's, so I stayed at the house and relaxed for a few days, also waiting out the storm.

Thomas didn't hit the island yesterday, but this morning at 8am was the projection. Most of us woke up at 7, expecting to batten down the hatches for the hurricane-force winds and heavy downpour that usually comes with a hurricane. 8am came with clouds and a drizzle and as the hour wore on, the winds and rains got heavier, but nothing close to what everyone was expecting.

I decided to chance it and call a motorcycle to take me back home, since the storm seemed to have passed and without signs of it getting worse. A trip that usually takes at least 1 and possibly two hours to make (from Delmas 75 to Santo 19) only took 45 minutes. Nobody was in the road except a few wary tap-taps and some UN troops in their tanks and heavy-duty trucks. When crossing the bridge on the way to Santo 19, we saw the river. I have lived here for nearly a year, and in both rainy and dry seasons, and I have never seen this river so high. It looked to me like it was directly out of a movie, raging water carrying more of Haiti's topsoil down to the ocean.

The driver stopped so I could take some photos, and we joined the throng of bystanders in their ponchos and plastic bags covering their hair. Down on a bit of flat ground near the rough waters was a white journalist with a video camera (this being much more exciting to the Haitians than the high waters). We all agreed that he was fou, creole for “crazy” or “stupid”, and I got back on the motorcycle with the driver and we returned back to the house. Nothing else exciting happened on the trip, and I am glad to be back in the house, although it's bittersweet, as I am packing up my things to leave on Tuesday morning.

Tonight will be my going-away party, and I'm already tearing up. I don't know if or when I will return and I have many friends I will leave here, Haitians and Chileans and Colombians and Americans. I will return to my home to see my friends and family and apply for jobs in Oregon, and keep searching for international nursing jobs, as this has become my passion, my exciting life. I hope to return to Haiti someday, and soon, and hopefully not during hurricane season.

another country (or two)

In six days, I will return to my home in Oregon, along with the cold, the rain, the trees, the familiarity of my home. I will take a moment to reflect on the last year plus a little and say that it has been completely splendid. I came to Haiti to work in the clinic in Santo 19 on September 11th, stayed until December 7th, then returned to my Oregon. I returned to Haiti on February 12th, a month after the January 12th earthquake and I stayed until June 23rd. During this time, I was working at the clinic again, but as the director of the physical rehabilitation center for people injured in the earthquake (I am also happy to report that it is still up and running and functioning MUCH better than I had hoped for, thanks to incredible nurses and therapists like Suzanne and Erica). June 23rd until July 27th, I was at home, trying to find work in Haiti again so I could return to the country I had grown so comfortable in. Without any luck, but with many very good friends at the clinic, I returned. August 10th, my friends left for Chile, leaving me at the house and feeling very sad and unsure about what to do next. I stayed for a few weeks after they left, until August 25th. After my month in Haiti, continuing the job search, I bought a flight to Chile to visit my friends.

This is where my next trek begins. While I was in Chile, I saw almost all of the country, from Puerto Montt in the furthest South to Tacna, in Peru, and many cities in between. I ate seafood in Puerto Montt, bought yarn to make a hat in Angelmo, watched a pig be slaughtered in La Union (something I think I was always remember with sorrow...not something a city girl is used to seeing, nor completely appreciates), saw the Tatio geysers, Moon Valley, and lagoons in the middle of the driest desert on earth in San Pedro de Atacama, visited the oldest church in Chile in Chiu Chiu, saw the Morro of Arica where the Pacific war was fought and Chile gained land from Bolivia and Peru, and in the meantime, saw all my friends and got to meet truly fascinating people. Not to mention really practicing my Spanish.

My time in Chile came to an end October 24th, when I returned to Haiti. I had left most of my things there, so as not to lug them all up and down Chile. This is where I am in my travels so far, at the house in Haiti, with new doctors and new stories. Trying to make contact with all my friends before I leave next Tuesday to return back home to Oregon for the holidays and to find a job.

I'm sure there were some wondering just how I supported myself in all these travels and what I am planning to do next. The next direction in my life has many paths to choose from and I am currently deciding between: finding a job in Oregon, validating my nursing license to work in Chile, returning to Haiti with a non-governmental organization (NGO), or working in a new country. I have sent out myriad applications and am just waiting for one to say "we want you to work in such-and-such country, what do you say?" My preference would be to do international nursing with NGOs, but the problem is that almost all positions require masters degrees and years of experience, neither of which I have. I have experience in other, less quantitative skills, but that are not as appreciated by employers, I think. Thus, my current choice to find a job in Oregon. However, just as a bit of a head's-up, if I get a job in another country, I will beheading out. This seems to be my passion and what I'm good at, and I love the idea to travel, work, enjoy other cultures, other countries, other climates, but to always return to Oregon as my home base.

This is as far as I am in my life right now. 23 years old, looking for international work, practicing my languages, learning new things all the time.