Lotsa kaka

On Friday, Sharon, Ben, and I went to Kenscoff to "camp out" in the guesthouse there. When we arrived, the dog was jumping around and waiting for us as usual. It looked like the barrier that I constructed last weekend had worked and she couldn't get into the house any longer.

We unlocked the door - and could see that, contrary to our belief, the dog had gotten inside as there was kaka everywhere. Nothing like arriving to a house full of dog crap and urine....on hardwood floors. Ugh. We cleaned it up and proceeded unpacking - and then I realized that my bike had a flat tire. Hmmm. And Ben's bike was not where we had left it - it was in the little room off the kitchen with a water bottle canteen-thing tied to it.

We scratched our heads and wondered who had been in the house. Maybe someone else from MCC came up and borrowed the bike(s)?

I went to get something from the truck, and the boy who lives under the house in a room that looks like a hostage bunker (seriously, if I ever disappear under mysterious circumstances check that room first) approached me. He asked me how everything was. I responded, "Not good - it looks like someone has broken into the house, used our bikes, and is generally not respecting our property."

He was shocked, because he is there a lot and thought he'd know if someone broke in. Then he asked about the bike. I said that yes, for sure someone borrowed it without permission.

He responds, "Yeah, that's bad. I don't know how it got a flat tire."
Me: "What?"
Him: "The flat tire."
Me: "I didn't say anything about a flat tire."
Him: "Yes you did!"
Me: "No, I didn't. How do you know about the flat tire?"

Et cetera. Accuse deny accuse deny. Back I went into the house, somewhat furious but trying to stay cool. Home invasions are near the top of my list of Things That Make Me Angry. At the very top of the list might be messing with my mountain bike, and this was double trouble: a bike invasion, if you will.

I tried to let it go, and we started a campfire.* Amazing. We lost track of time, mesmerized by the sheer magic of the fire.

* A dream come true for me. I've been scheming about how to have a fire ring on the porch, and finally we just used an old half of a steel drum and drum lid and burned a huge branch trimmed from a tree in the Depps' yard.

Around 11:00pm I went inside to use the toilet, and since it was dark my ears told me that I was not urinating into a bowl of liquid but a bowl of...kaka. Ewww gross. So, now someone has broken into the house, borrowed bikes, flattened a tire, and used a toilet several times and did not flush?! Could it get worse? I flushed it all away and poured bleach into the toilet.

The next morning we put the pieces together. It looked like a window had been left unlocked - one of the few unbarred windows in all of Haiti - and if one were determined enough, it would be possible to inch across the narrow ledge on the outside of the house, above a 20-foot drop, open the window, and hop in. One of the doors was only locked by a deadbolt from the inside, so once in, he/she had easy access. It seems that our criminal friend found the spare key and kept it for more easy access. It is indeed a scary ledge.

To further incriminate our non-hostage hostage-room resident, the gardener stopped by and told us he had seen this kid riding our bikes around. He went and found the kid (okay, who is actually a nearly-full-grown 17-ish-year-old) who denied the whole thing again. I told them that it doesn't matter who it is, just tell that person to throw the key(s) back into the house after we leave and never do it again. The kid left and we're hoping the case is closed.

For prevention of future unauthorized indoor kaka production, I re-blocked the space the dog had been using to enter and installed new padlocks on all the doors. Our bikes came down the mountain with us, so that if by some stroke of luck the intruder returns he/she can no longer borrow our bikes.

Weekends in Kenscoff, sigh. It seems there's always drama up there - and it lately involves kaka.

Yumness you don't want to miss.

Last weekend we were invited up to MCC's guesthouse in Kenscoff (yes, our former home) for a tres delicious breakfast of homemade eggs benedict, garnished with edible flowers.


Pancha, Alexis, and Rachel did the heavy lifting in the kitchen, making irresistible piles of toasted croissants, sliced avocado and tomato, poached eggs, and homemade hollandaise sauce:


Bryan, Margot, Joel, and I were the most enthusiastic fan club ever:


Especially Margot*:

* although she would not, could not be convinced to taste even the tiniest nibble of nasturtium.

Since there's always a weekend a-comin', I have re-posted the recipe here for your brunching pleasure. The original can be found at Joel & Rachel's blog.

Egg Benedict with Yogurt Hollandaise Sauce

Hollandaise Sauce

1 cup plain yogurt

3 egg yolks

Juice of 2 key limes (or 2 teaspoons of lemon or lime juice)

½ teaspoon salt

½ teaspoon Dijon mustard

Ground pepper

Other ingredients

Poached eggs

Toasted bread (English muffins, croissants, Turkish bread, etc.)

A BUNCH of cooked bacon [I left this in as part of the original recipe, but avocado & tomato are much better...]

Beat together the egg yolks, yogurt, lemon/lime juice in a double boiler. Cook for about 15 minutes until sauce thickens. Keep stirring - it might become thinner then thicker, but just stay with it.

Remove from heat and add the salt, pepper and mustard and stir it in.

During all this I would start cooking the bacon or slicing the veggies. Then poach the eggs and the toast the bread.

Serve like this: Place a piece of toasted bread on bottom, then add veggies (you could also use wilted spinach or a favourite roasted veggie), then the poached egg, then pour the warm hollandaise sauce over everything. Enjoy!

Moving on

This past weekend we moved, again. It gets easier and easier every time, as we shed things that we really don't need. It reminds me of the scene from Up in the Air when George Clooney talks about putting your life in a backpack and how all of your stuff weighs you down. Well, our backpack just got a little lighter.

Before leaving the house in Kenscoff, Ben and I went mountain biking around the area, through dirt roads and on some nice singletrack. We're scheming about making a movie about biking in Haiti and we're looking really great places to film, so we took the video camera along to see how these places looked on film...well, errr, digital film? Needless to say, the locals all have something to say and want you to give them "a little gift of your bike" as you pedal by.

The best part of the ride, though, was one particularly sketchy part of the trail. Ben went down it, and then got out the camera to shoot me coming down. I waited for a woman passing by, who stopped and told me "not to fall down into the rocky chasm to my right." I laughed, said I wouldn't, and thanked her for the advice. I threw my leg over the bike, and as my foot landed on the ground on the other side...there was no ground on the other side. All of my weight had been behind that foot landing on solid ground, and the "ground" I was aiming for turned out to be just a hole covered over by long grass. Ah, the aforementioned rocky chasm! I tumbled down the nasty rocky hole, and by some sheer stroke of luck, mostly landed on my feet some 8 feet or so below where I had been standing a half second earlier. I had cut open my hand earlier in the week, and of course the fall ripped off the scab and blood came pouring out, uck.

All who watched were amused by the white guy on a bike falling off a little cliff, which guaranteed they would watch us as much as they could. They started hiking ahead to the next semi-dangerous-looking section to sit down and wait for us to come by and fall again. It was sort of like NASCAR where the audience is there for the wreck, or hockey where everyone is there for the fight...well, in mountain biking in Haiti, everyone is there for the crash.

Anyhow, we disappointed them time and again since there were no more wrecks to speak of for the day - and we found some really amazing places to get on video. We went back on Sunday to search out a trail to another mountain we had spotted earlier, but when we arrived at the valley it was all fogged in and raining and the visibility was just about 0%. We followed a few trails, but since we couldn't see where we were going, we didn't make it to the correct mountain. We may try to scare up a spare GPS to use or scope it out more with Google Earth.

In other news, the caretaker of Bella made an appearance and left some food for her. The owner is away in Miami and had indeed arranged for someone to take care of the dog. So, no kidnapped dog for us, since she seems to be sufficiently looked after. That, and the fact that when she comes into the house she pees. There are like 12 million rural acres in Kenscoff, and she prefers peeing on the floor inside the house. Go figure. (Yes, I know, I could train it out of her, but along with the fact that she has not been abandoned, I'm not going to spend the time to train her, - also, as you may remember from way back in line 1, we have moved.)

So we're living in Petionville now, in Josh and Marylynn's/Pancha's/Kurt's old place. More on the "new" place later - it has a pretty cool flat roof that we can hang out on and an open sun room out front for plants. Maybe some pics to come - all this reading is probably driving everyone crazy...where are the photos?

Here's one to get you started...

In the doghouse now.

Last night Sharon and I had the pleasure of hosting our friend Jeremiah on his last night in Haiti. He's been working with a program in Gresier outside of PaP. He met us at the office, went to the market with Sharon, and welded with Ben and me. We stopped at the overlook in Boutilliers on the way up to Kenscoff, made supper together, and - but I know all of you are waiting with bated breath for news about our new dog friend Bella.

Once we arrived at home last night she came running (and shaking) up to us. This dog is about as nervous as you can get, and always pretty cautious of humans. Smart dog: most dogs get hit a lot in Haiti so she has plenty of justification for being afraid of us. After she shook her skinny nervous body over to us, she seemed hungry and thirsty so I gave her some water and a granola bar. (Really, it's all we had.) She was totally excited and proceeded to spend the rest of the night curled up next to Jeremiah and the edge of his sleeping bag trailing on the patio. When we went in for bed she cried and cried, and when we left at 6am the following morning there she was eager to greet us... and eat a few pieces of bread.

It looks like the neighbor, also known as the dog's owner, seems to be absent. So there's no one to feed the dog or give it water. Really, who abandons a dog? Anyhow, my new theory is that the owner is MIA and since we love the dog more we should rescue her from her negligent owner. (I just looked at the implications of this possible decision and it is indeed easier for a Haitian dog to enter the USA than a Haitian. Dogs don't take other people's jobs, I guess, but they may unfairly compete for resources at PetCo. Hmmm.)

Well, not to be too philosophical, but it does raise the question: why am I willing to care for a dog more readily than a person in need? Is it just because the needs are so much more finite and easier to address? Is it that dogs don't ask me for help six times an hour? Maybe animals are just easier to deal with than people sometimes. Maybe I should have a softer heart. Whatever the answer is,I'm wondering what it would mean if this is the only life I save in Haiti.

What we found.

Bryan and I arrived safely in Haiti yesterday morning (after a bit of last-minute drama with our tickets that gave us a 19-hour layover in Puerto Rico). After spending a few hours at the office, we headed up the mountain to the house in Kenscoff* where we'll be staying for the next few months.

* The lease was up this month on the house in Dezam, and rental properties in Port-au-Prince are few and far between at the moment.

Along with an amazing view, here's what welcomed us:

- The electricity lines had been transferred to the next door neighbor, whose house is owned by the same landlord. (At least candlelight is romantic.)

- A pile of mildewy clothes in the closet, thanks to the moist and cloudy climate in the mountains. (If anyone has connections to a great Kenscoffian washlady, do tell.)

- A teenage boy living in a small shed attached to our house. (We hear he's friendly, but...)

- An ever-expanding number of people who work in the yard. It turns out the landlord has also leased part of the property as a small farm, so that explains why the hedge has been cut to make a path to that new "field." (Who needed privacy, anyway?)

- A yard-sharing neighbor who seems like she will be awesome. (No parenthetical comment necessary.)

Overall, mixed reviews. We're happy to be working again after a terrific few weeks of rest, and as usual we'll keep you blog-posted.