|Haiti's power plant|
At one point we stop so that she can buy a new car charger for her Blackberry. Because I am in the car, the vendor names a ridiculous price. I apologize, and Margarette says it's not for the blan. I ask the vendor if it would be better if I got out of the car and went across the street while they haggle. His eyebrows hit his hairline. It's always fun to speak Kreyol in my skin.
We've missed lunch again, so Margarette buys us roast corn on the street. I love this stuff. It keeps you full for a long time. Back through the unbelievable traffic we go, all the way to Petionville. We stop at Giant Mart. Margarette buys food for the guest house. It's amazingly like any big city grocery store in the US, except that the products come from a lot more different places. I take another two phone calls, one from a friend just to chat, one from a friend to arrange a meeting at the airport before we both fly out on Wednesday. Never a dull moment!
The guest house is full tonight! We have a Haitian birth family, three adoptive families, and an interpreter staying with us. One of the families is from Argentina, and I'm driven wild with frustration. I can understand every word they say in Spanish, but I can't speak at all! When I try to speak Kreyol comes out. It's like digging around a closet full of clothes in the dark. You know you have everything you need in there, and you'd recognize each item if you could see it, but you can't find a darn thing! One of the other adoptive parents staying here speaks Spanish, so he's translating for me. He's leaving in the morning, so tomorrow might be interesting. At least I'll understand them. I just won't be able to explain a darn thing. I really can't understand how truly multi-lingual people do it. As Franck tells me, my brain must be diminishing as I get older.