Workouts and Withdrawals

I've started this post three times. Each time, something has stopped me from finishing. Thinking I have saved what I started, I exit safari. Come to find out, I actually haven't saved anything. I am hoping the third time really is a charm.

I've read that after women give birth, their bodies let of a hormone that makes them forget how painful child birthing was. I think our bodies do something similar when we travel. Thinking about my first trip to Haiti, I only remember one piercing coffee withdrawal. I negated the jet-lag, bloating, and extreme fatigue from my memory. Until yesterday, when I felt like a highly sedated version of myself. My first night here was restless and filled with tossing and turning as opposed to sleep. That made yesterday an almost miserable day, in terms of physical health.

Despite exhaustion, I am so excited to be in Haiti. As my plane descended into PAP, I felt as if I was visiting the homeland of dear friends. Returning to them after a short sabbatical away. Haiti is such a magnetic place, such a beautiful place.

I woke up yesterday morning much earlier than I ever wanted to. I agreed to go running with another volunteer only to find out she's a track star from UCLA. Her gazelle-like legs tore through our Haitian community while I huffed and muffed behind her. As she coasted into the compound without a change in heartbeat, I nearly collapsed to her saying, "speed work, you must do speed work." Regret over skipping months of speed workouts joined the lactic acid pooling in my muscles. Speed work. I guess Haiti will start to make up for all the missed workouts.

The majority of the day was spent at the beach yesterday. We squished into a car and hopped and bopped over bumpy Haitian roads for well over and hour before arriving at the beach. After devouring tablet (Haitian peanut brittle) and setting up our beach site, we dipped in to the bath like water. We stopped only when our fish arrived for lunch. My parents will tell anyone that I am a pretty picky eater. Generally, at home, my family eats one thing for dinner and I eat some concoction of my own alongside them. That being said, our fish still had its teeth and eyes, but the aromas arising from it didn't stop me from digging in. My dad would be proud. My mom might be disgusted.

Today, we have kids from the community coming for a day of arts and crafts and sports. I am hoping leftover fatigue expires before they get here...any minute.....

Apologies for incomprehensible thoughts and ideas. As time progresses, quality will progress too...as adaption overtakes fatigue.

"I fell in love again.."

"...I don't mind, I don't mind..."

The last week of school before winter break resembled the final acts of a circus and the consequential cleanup afterwards. My kids were excited and merry, although forced to spend four hours in a classroom taking a test that took most of them one and a half hours (hence the hum drum, necessary "cleanup" metaphor). On the last day of school before break, I had my first period class for 4 hours. While the other teachers hosted movie (or xbox) marathons in their classrooms, I insisted my class do something...merry, academic.

Alas, we read The Gift Of The Magi and made intangible Christmas lists. Lists of things that could not be bought or touched. My first period's poster filled with slogans asking for peace and love and friendship. They want their families home. They want the war in Mexico to end. They want an education...

As the tips of our class' drying out markers grazed the page, it became harder and harder for me to hold back tears.

On the last day of school before break, I fell in love again. With my students. With their benevolence, their kindness, their generosity, their innate spirit of joy despite the burdens they carry. I fell in love with it all, with them all and all of them.

Tomorrow, I leave for Haiti. When I was there in June, I embarked on the most miserable flight schedule that I never hope to take again. Although my 3:45am travel start time tomorrow is less than desirable, I should be Bonswaing in Haiti by late afternoon. Thinking about the first time I was there, I am dreading the baggage free for all in Port Au Prince and hoping that my frequent (and probably) annoying reminders to "not forget me again" are embedded in the minds of the ones who are suppose to pick me up from the airport upon my arrival. However, beyond my few anxieties, I am mostly peacefully anticipating my week away.

The first time I went to Haiti, I fell in love with the people. Their spirit. Their innate joyfulness. Their work ethic. The children who snuggled into me for three hour naps. I fell in love with the "bonjours" in the morning and "bonswas" in the afternoon. The "blan, blan, blan" shouted after me as I strolled the dusty streets intermingled with locals and other volunteers.

Fell in love. Fall in love.

It's incredibly easy to do when the receiver of my falling is humanity. Whether I fall into love with my students' kindness, a strangers passing glance, Haiti's fiery soul, it's easy. Falling in love with humanity is like swan diving off a cliff into seafoam green waters. Falling in love with humanity gives me reason to wake up, reason to fall asleep, reason to smile, to cry, to ask, to receive. Reason to live.

"I don't mind, I don't mind..."

My ever supportive family has donned on me generous gifts to carry with me to Haiti. My friends have sent wise words of encouragement through every (many) means possible. The Universe has given me satisfaction. My soul has given me joy. And, humanity, has given me reason.

"I fell in love again...I don't mind, I don't mind..."