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Nov. 8th, 2007 09:24 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
the_siobhanPort au Prince manages to be both the most depressing and the most invigorating place I have ever been.
The entire city is grey when you see it from the air because everything is built out of cement. On ground level it is incredibly dusty. Walls have tipped over into piles of rubble that cover the sidewalks, giant potholes have fallen out of the roads. Gratings have rusted away from where they used to protect people from falling into the storm drains leaving gaps large enough to swallow both me and BC. The street our guesthouse is on is nothing but a alleyway between the houses with a crumbled rock surface. The cement crumbles into dust that blows over every surface. The water isn't drinkable. There is electricty for just a few hours in the evening.
And amid all this are millions of people. The walls of every building are covered in things they are trying to sell; clothes, paintings, jewelery, toiletries, candy, furniture - I saw a kitchen sink at one point and howled. Everybody dresses in bright colours and the school kids wear matching uniforms. I'm fascinated by the women who seem to comfortably manage the unsteady footing in dresses and high heels. The cement buildings are often half-finished with rebar sticking out of the top; as people earn enough money to buy more cement they add another room or start on the next floor. When a floor is finished they paint it in bright oranges and pinks and greens. The tap-taps - buses built out of flat-bad trucks with tin roof and benches running down the sides - are a riot of paint with religious slogans painted everywhere, even on the windows.
There are people everywhere - I guess there's not a lot of point in hanging out in the house if you have no power. They are fascinated by us and just crack right up when we wave or say hello. A surprising number of them speak at least a little bit of English. People offer us directions and ask where we are from on a regular basis.
I'm itchy from about a million bug bites, headachy from the sun (it's hanging about three inches over my head, I swear) and I'm wishing I brought my boots because the streets are brutal on the feet. And I'm having a whale of a time.
The entire city is grey when you see it from the air because everything is built out of cement. On ground level it is incredibly dusty. Walls have tipped over into piles of rubble that cover the sidewalks, giant potholes have fallen out of the roads. Gratings have rusted away from where they used to protect people from falling into the storm drains leaving gaps large enough to swallow both me and BC. The street our guesthouse is on is nothing but a alleyway between the houses with a crumbled rock surface. The cement crumbles into dust that blows over every surface. The water isn't drinkable. There is electricty for just a few hours in the evening.
And amid all this are millions of people. The walls of every building are covered in things they are trying to sell; clothes, paintings, jewelery, toiletries, candy, furniture - I saw a kitchen sink at one point and howled. Everybody dresses in bright colours and the school kids wear matching uniforms. I'm fascinated by the women who seem to comfortably manage the unsteady footing in dresses and high heels. The cement buildings are often half-finished with rebar sticking out of the top; as people earn enough money to buy more cement they add another room or start on the next floor. When a floor is finished they paint it in bright oranges and pinks and greens. The tap-taps - buses built out of flat-bad trucks with tin roof and benches running down the sides - are a riot of paint with religious slogans painted everywhere, even on the windows.
There are people everywhere - I guess there's not a lot of point in hanging out in the house if you have no power. They are fascinated by us and just crack right up when we wave or say hello. A surprising number of them speak at least a little bit of English. People offer us directions and ask where we are from on a regular basis.
I'm itchy from about a million bug bites, headachy from the sun (it's hanging about three inches over my head, I swear) and I'm wishing I brought my boots because the streets are brutal on the feet. And I'm having a whale of a time.
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(no subject)
Date: 2007-11-08 05:43 pm (UTC)