Barcelona

Barcelona rocks.

The love was more immediate than in Paris. I did end up having some take-your-breath-away moments in Paris since I wrote, though- one when I went back to the Louvre in the evening and the sun was setting over Les Jardins des Tuileries and L´Avenue des Champs Elysees and glowing pink and orange through the glass of the Grand Palais roof. Seeing the Eiffel Tower light up from a quiet (except for a few French guys drinking by their car) spot just across the river also gets under your skin in a way that daytime Paris didn´t for me. The mosaics of the Basilique du Sacre-Coeur took my breath away. I also got a thrill from looking through old photographs and postcards at a "marché des puces", trying to read the narrow cursive of the early 20th century scraled across the front of a postcard of the Arc de Triomphe.

In Barcelona I´ve been mesmerized by the rhythm of Flamenco at a little hole-in-the-wall bar, pulled along in the crush of people at a crowded beach club, and induced to move by the energetic musicians of live band, including the happiest saxophonist I´ve ever seen.

I like that the streets are narrow and flanked by the typical 6 story, stone and brick buildings, as in Paris, but are infused with a lot more colour and little more chaos. Shops and markets overflow with mosaic-ed souvenirs, clothing, cell phone cases and sunglasses (always together), handmade jewllery, bread, fruit and vegetables, knives, candy... Sunday in the park everyone was relaxing on the grass, slacklining, performing acrobatics and playing music. 

The typical schedule of a day here is not what I´m used to- essentially everything just starts and ends way later. A few late nights made for late mornings and I haven´t even been toCatedral de la Sagrada Familia and Parc Guell yet, so I´m going tomorrow. Today, it´s time to hit the beach.  

Paris

Well, I guess I won't get fat eating croissants and chocolates in this city after all. Quelle dommage! I say so because I haven't eaten a single one of either treat yet. But not to worry, I'll fix that tomorrow. Moreover, I say so because I have done nothing but walk since I arrived. Oui. I have been like a hamster in a wheel, only with more dog poop and clouds of cigarette smoke to dodge.

It occurs to me that that may not be the most romantic way to introduce my account of my start in a tres romantique city. While my personal ideal of a romantic locale would involve a bit more warmth (from the locals and from the climate) and a lot more nature, there's no denying Paris' charm.

It's just like you always imagined; all wrought iron balconies and French doors with net curtains, bakeries on every corner and people sipping coffees outside cafes with red awnings. There are trickling fountains and graceful bridges. There are cobblestones. And etcetera.

I visited the Louvre yesterday and found it marvellous and exhausting. I recognised some Da Vinci paintings from textbooks (or possibly from "The Da Vinci Code"...), observed that no humanoid Ancient Egyptian artifact seems to possess an intact nose (and there were a great many sick artifacts) and marvelled at innumerable brushstrokes and marble curves in a labyrinth of great halls, courtyards and galleries. By 5:30 my eyes were starting to glaze, totally overwhelmed.

Strangely enough, this exploration took place in the company of a pair of brothers from, guess where... Canada. Who lived in which city... Vancouver. And attended which university? Well if you said UBC, you are correct. Go figure that I go to France and the first thing I do is hang out with people who I've probably passed on Main Mall at some point in the last year. On a side note: "Travelling alone- You're seldom actually alone."

So, after a pleasant stroll into the cinquieme, which thanks to Paris' baffling (but tres charmant) streets, turned out to be a little longer than I had anticipated, I made it back to Aunt Seasonn's lovely flat ready for a cup of tea and supper of yummy homemade potato salad from the potatoes and radishes we'd shopped for at a street market earlier in the day. And ready for my butt to hit the couch for several hours.

Jwaye Nwel

Okay, I'm going to try to make this quick, since we are at the clinic with a woman in early labour and I should really get to sleep, since I don't know when I will have to wake up. I'm all psyched up with excitement, so I'm not tired... yet. Ha. Besides, I have been wanting to write about my Haitian Christmas!

On the morning of the 25th those of us at Sarah's house - me, Sarah, her two foster kids, ages 15 and 8 and her goddaughter, age 2- woke up slow. Sarah and I chatted over sweet mochas with whipped cream and when the girls got up, we watched them open their gifts. It's fun when kids still get excited about balloons and pencil crayons and toothbrushes, as the younger two did! Shortly thereafter, Sarah got a call from a client who had called her twice in the night- her labour seemed to be picking up. We ate some yummy omelette sandwiches, and Sarah headed out to pick the woman up while I went to unlock the clinic and make sure there was a sheet on the bed and water in the pitcher and supplies in the birth tray.

When this mama arrived, it was clear that she knew what she was doing. G waddled in and immediately rested her hands on the seat of a chair, slowly wiggling her hips. Once her intake vitals and the baby's heart rate were done, we just retreated to sit outside the labour room and G's friend sat quietly in the corner of the birth room. An hour and a half later she was pushing, kneeling on a towel with her arms on the bed. We kept quiet as she worked, calmly, still moving instinctively to get her baby out. She only really shouted with two or three contractions. And just like that, another little girl had joined us. Sarah wrapped her up and placed her on the towel in front of her mother. After the placenta came (unaided) G stood up very matter of factly and stretched as if to say, "Okay, I'm done now." Awesome! Amazing. So cool.

With the postpartum looking straightforward, Sarah suggested I go along to the beach with another family, as we had planned. I ran home to get ready and along with D, the 8 year-old, got a ride to the beach from a young guy who works for the clinic doing odd jobs. We rode squatting in the little box of a three-wheeled moto. "Merry Christmas to me!" I thought, feeling so inspired by G's birth, as we zoomed along under a bright blue sky, palm trees and banana plants going by on either side. We joined Nick and Gwenn's family of 12 kids (biological, adopted and foster) at a long table under some palm trees with blue-painted trunks and splashing in the turquoise waves. As soon as I got in the water one of the teenage girls handed me little S, who was quite content to have me hold him and bounce around in the surf for what felt like a couple hours, happy kids careening about us.
We all had a meal together back at the table, which Nick ordered from the beach food lady- plates of fried plaintain, each with a whole fried fish, "picklies" (kind of like cabbage salsa). I chose a bottle of Tampico punch, which is likely toxic, but seemed to suit the context. We swam some more (no mention of the good ol' "Don't eat and swim" idea) and then I sat on the beach with S and watched his dad and a bunch of strangers play soccer until it was time to leave.

After a quick bucket bath at home to get the ocean stickiness off it was time to go to Ken and Maria's for supper. We helped Maria finish making banana bread when we got there, then sat down with their family to have a wonderful meal of homemade pizza and leafy salad- and then cheesy home-made garlic bread and banana cake afterwards! The food and company were just as lovely as the same at lunchtime. We made our way back down the bumpy bumpy road to Sarah's, all singing along with Ellie Goulding "Let it Burn", 2 year old A falling asleep in my arms.

The day wasn't over yet, though! Some of Sarah's friends had invited us to this concert/party at a club near the house. As we approached, the road was congested with parked cars and partygoers all decked out in their suits and ties and high heels and short dresses.  I was definitely way under-dressed- I had tried to dress as nicely as possible, but in this case that just meant wearing my best skirt and tank top, putting on a bra and borrowing sandals from Sarah, so I wouldn't be in my ratty Tom's or clunky Chacos. I didn't bring going out clothes! I just expected to work and chill out. The party was very interesting. I'm no authority, but it seemed like this was where to find the young and beautiful and well-off in Jacmel. We danced to the kompa style music until about 1:00. Kompa, for my dance friends, is kind of like a mix between kizomba and merengue. You just shuffle left-right, basically. I danced with one of our party who was French and he kizomba-fied it for me. Yay! I didn't expect to be dipping my toes into kizomba here, and it was quite enjoyable. I am hoping to get at least a bachata or two in before I leave, Haiti being neighbours with the Dominican Republic, but time is running out, so we'll see. Anyways, I am starting to ramble and feeling tired at last. I did the 1:00 am check of our labouring mama and fetal heart tones sound good, she's doing fine and going back to sleep, so it's off to bed with me too!