beck's noise

Monday, August 3, 2009

Entry #15, live from Haiti

Well, at least I cannot say, when I die, that no one ever asked me to marry them... At least I have that assurance. You see, When one exits the airport in Port-au-Prince, Haiti, one is immediately swarmed with people offering to carry your bags, give you a ride home, or if you are female, to take your hand in marriage. Who knew I was so desirable? I hadn't even said a word, and I already had the boys professing their undying love for me. Now, why does this not work in Canada?

Before I had even been here for 24 hours, my countdown until I get to go home had begun. There is something about this place that just doesn't feel right. It could be the unbearable heat, the questionable looking meat, the coke that tastes like cough medicine, or perhaps every person on the street pointing at you and yelling "BLANC!", but whatever it is, it just isn't the smell of cow country; that mixture of dog food, chicken manure and marijuana that I call home. Ah, Chilliwack, how I miss you. Approximately 16 more days until arrive home on sweet, sweet Canadian soil.

Countdowns have become a rather popular thing with me these days. 2 hours until I eat dinner, 5 hours until I can sleep, 16 days until I am home again, approximately one month left on Canadian soil until I am a foreigner for half a year, and 20 days until a certain friend of mine travels on a bus for 23 hours just to come and cause some trouble with me. Oh, and 4 weeks until I get a tattoo with that friend! I doubt I could be more excited at this present moment. It`s just too much for my sunburnt body to take. Perhaps I should take another sip of this cough-medicine-flavoured cola to chill me out a bit...

Now as it turns out, the clouds have decided to descend upon the building in which I am presently typing, blocking the cYbErWeBz from making an appearance, which will ultimately lead to this blog being dee-layed until tomorrow. That`s only a tiny pain in my rear. Oh well, I guess it`s off to my air-conditioned room, cup of tea in hand, to recline upon my feather-top mattress for now! Oh wait! Never mind.