Re-entry

Re-entry's a bitch. What I forget about inhabiting a culture so vastly different than my own is that the shock doesn't happen when you get there, but when you get back. You expect and prepare for it going there, but forget all about what happens on the return. Along with trying to manage the hitchhikers I brought back in my GI tract, I was gobsmacked by coming back to the wide lanes and unguarded houses of Les Etat Unis. As any visitor to Haiti will tell you, trying to figure out the solution to Haiti when you get back is a non-stop obsession.

So, as soon as I conjured up enough energy to haul the kayak collecting pollen and pine straw in my backyard to the top of my car, I went for a quick jaunt out to a familiar place--Newnan's Lake. Technically, it's still winter, but the lake felt like spring to me. All the folks who depend upon the canal fish were in place, the flies were swarming, and the trees are showing ever the slightest signs of re-greening. The gators are still asleep, but they will return soon enough.

I'd like to say that this trip clicked me right back into place, but that would be a lie. Even though it was a short paddle, it exhausted me thoroughly and the familiarity did little or nothing to return me to my pre-visit state. This is not to say that it won't in the future, but today I simply went through the motions. 


Incidentally, from my perch in Port Au Prince, I couldn't help but scope out the dream kayaking that lay there waiting for me. Unfortunately, no kayaks (that I know of) exist in Haiti and the shores of the Bay of Gonave lay smack up against the worst and most dangerous slums in the world.