I instantly fell in love with the folks at the St. Joseph's Home for Boys. Walnes, the man in charge of hospitality and the assistant director of the facility, greeted me warmly and instantly took me around the complex to met the chef (from Cap-Haitien) and Bill, the director of the home, and wIthin 30 minutes of my arrival, I was whisked away in a van with a few of the boys so the could show me where I could take a bus the next morning to the Dominican Republic...

I spent the evening hanging out on the hotel grounds with James. He offered to go out on the town but I was too tired. In the morning, James' father Les was kind enough to drive me back to the airport at 6:30 AM. James even packed me a sandwich for the road. On the twenty minute flight back to port-au-prince, I met a Japanese woman working for the UN who offered to drive me to my next accommodation, St. Joseph's home for boys. She had been living in Port-au-...

After breakfast, James drove me to the Citadelle la Ferriere, an hours drive from Cap-Haitien. The imposing fortress is Haiti's only UNSECO world heritage site. On the steep road up from the base of the mountain we picked up a group of Uruguayan UN peace keeps. As we climbed the hill, more and more folks hopped up on to the back of our pickup truck until it was full of UN Chileans, UN Uruguayans and a few Haitians. The last leg of the trip could only be done ...

During my stay, Habitation des Lauriers was nearly full with missionaries, NGO types, and a Bringham Young graduate writing his PhD thesis on Haitian tenant farming in the 1940s. I was the only tourist. After breakfast, the day after my arrival, I struck up a conversation with the American evangelical church band staying at the hotel. One of the chaperones showed me a couple of videos: One of a Haitian woman in the throngs of a demonic possession, and anothe...

Like Port-au-Prince, Cap-Haitien was not super tourist friendly. Once off the hotel grounds I felt as if I were the only white person on the streets. This duck out of water feeling did not disparate for on every street I crossed someone yelled out, "blan, blan" ("white" in French/ creole). Children as young as 5 or 6 even got into the mix. I never felt threatened, just clearly identified by my color, and it was an odd feeling that has stuck with me for days. ...