It’s the Journey

The most stressful part of most trips for me seems to be the preparation (i.e. making travel arrangements, organizing my life enough to leave it for a period of time, arranging care for my animals, packing, etc.).  And, I think that is why I got sick this weekend.  Although, I do think the exposure to germs I got sitting in a hospital waiting room on Friday—to get my rabies titers checked (to see if I have immunity following the vaccinations I received last year before India), definitely didn’t help my stressed out immune system.  Anyway, I’m happy to report that right now, my main lingering symptoms are nasal drainage and sinus pressure. 

               One of my favorite concepts I learned about in undergrad (in communication studies) was about how our society’s dominating focus on the “destination” results in the loss of some of the most important life experiences, because we aren’t able to actually be mentally present enough in the moment to have them.  Well, for some strange reason, I think traveling in my state of mental fatigue due to my cold actually forced me to focus on the journey more than the destination.  I was so sick and medicated, all I could do was focus on the exact moment I was in—and it was unexpectantly enjoyable.

               Despite the fact our flight out of Cedar Rapids, Iowa was delayed 2 hours, and resulted in us missing our flight in Chicago (we were so close to making it we literally watched the plane back away from the terminal); and, then not getting into our hotel in Ft. Lauderdale until 11:45 pm (we had to get up at 3:30 am for our flight to Port-Au-Prince); I actually was in a state of calm elation, that has only recently died down a bit.

               The final leg of our journey this morning, literally a trip into a completely different world, started when we were boarding our flight to Port-Au-Prince.  I’ve never seen such blatant racial profiling, or any full-fledged person and belonging searches for that matter going on IN THE GATE.  (Not at the gate, I mean in the little tunnel bridge you walk down that connects you to the plane.)  Not that the situation in P-A-P was much better… Though, I think there is no need for me to go into greater detail than saying that I have never gotten through customs with such speed or ease.

This is one of the beautiful views from the plane as we begin our decent into P-A-P airport.

               As I write this post I am sitting in my room of the next 5 weeks.  Behind me, up into the mountains, I hear a few dogs barking intermittently and the comforting songs of insects; much like the sounds you might hear on a summer night in the Iowa country side.  However, to my immediate left, I hear as clearly as if there were no wall separating us at all, the non-stop singing and chanting of the other ‘Mission Matana’ residents.  It’s 11 pm, and I’m just starting to realize how completely my life has transformed in the past 19 hours I’ve been awake.

               I have much more I need to write, but need my sleep much more.  The picture I’ll leave you with is the view from my bedroom door right before I walked down to dinner tonight.  You have to look at the picture as a whole, a bit down the hill and at the horizon line, but that’s the ocean, and Anse-a-Galets (the island in cove).  I can’t wait for tomorrow—and for this incredible journey to continue…