Boukan Guinguette

Dear Wisdom,

You're my hero. Thank you. We made it all the way to Gonaives, Anse Rouge, Marre Rouge, to Mole St. Nicolas and back threw Bombardopolis, Baie de Henne, Mon Pierre, Gonaives to our home here in Mon Rouge all in ONE piece.

While there, I didn't write you even once at least not on paper or screen.   While we were there, I was definitely believing that if I ignored you, you would not suddenly come out. So sorry about that and again, thank you.

I am pretty sure I was having Braxton Hicks (sp?) on the Monday before the Tuesday when we left for Mole but I convinced myself that it was you doing somersaults : ) Then in the hotel (Hotel Fritz) where we spent the night in Gonaives, I about called the whole trip off.    I stumbled on to the beach hotel at Mole (Boukan Guinguette) around 3 PM, family and tow, and said to the proprietaire, Julian, so do you really have a doctor in town?   He said "yes" he's Slovakian.   And I breathed out.   And we unpacked our bags.   We saw the doctor  saw him at the beach and thankfully not in any other place although he did look like he'd made a fine doctor.

So Mole was lovely although short on greens, rich in spaghetti, seafood, and daytime relaxation. The sand was incredibly soft and perfect making it sacrilegious to wear shoes and my often aching feet didn't ache once. The bungalows were built out of rocks, housed modern but simple plumbing, and were intriguing for their artwork by a local Haitian artist who style reminded me of Norval Morrisseau's because of the energy lines. They also recycled plastic bottles to serve cold water...miracle of miracles.

The nights were less relaxing but expected...I woke up frequently both counting down the nights before we could leave and counting up how many more nights we would indulge in the lapping of waves on the shore that put me back to sleep each time.

The water was several shades of blue but each seemed it couldn't be bluer and we all had a heavenly time in it.  

At 10:30 on Saturday morning (and with renewed trepidation speaking for myself) we got back in the SUV we'd rented for it's space and padding and headed for home. We left Boukan G. drove through Mole St. N. and once outside of town came to an abrupt and sudden stop on 3 tires and the rim of the front, right wheel.   The tire was gapping in two spots.  We called Julien from Boukan and he came with the torque and a strong Haitian man (excuse the redundancy "strong Haitian man").   We returned to Mole and continued our education on tire repair.     By noon we were back in the SUV and heading out.   The return was long and beautiful.   (I kept my legs tightly cross until at least Mòn Pierre.)   While I'm not sure I'd choose to be born in Anse Rouge or a post-earthquake camp, I can't help but love the dry, cactus beside ocean landscape of the north-west.  

We had dinner at the same hotel in Gonaives and arrived home 12 hours after we set out.   Exhausted but cured at least for the short term of our adventurism.