The Safe House

About 6 weeks ago, Grace and I moved out of the house where we lived last year with Julie, April and Tia. We moved across town to a second floor apartment about 3/4 mile from our clinic. It's a fantastic location - just blocks from the big open air market and from the square where we buy delicious street chicken and spaghetti in the evenings, close to the taptap station and 1/2 mile from our Haitian church. It's a poor enough neighborhood that people sit on the stoop, play dominoes and tell jokes, but wealthy enough that people don't pester us for food or money. Everyone has been very welcoming and it makes me smile to hear them all greet us by name when we walk by.

 

 

We named our new home The Safe House, mainly because it's our safe haven from the insanity of our life here, but also because of the cemetery. We live 3 houses from the city's big cemetery (above is the view of the cemetery from my bedroom window) and Haitians are terrified of the cemetery. It's full of zombies, evil spirits, ghosts, werewolves...you name it. Our Jubilee teens were scared to visit us at first, simply because of our proximity to the graveyard. So "The Safe House" because it's safe from zombies.

 

Our apartment is breezy and bright. It's small by American standards, but perfect for us. I love it.

 

Dining room...

 

 

Living room/study...

 

 

Balcony with my plants from Port-au-Prince...

 

 

My side of our shared bedroom...

 

 

Grace's side...

 

 

One view of the kitchenette...

 

 

We didn't make the move alone. We brought with us Chris Greene, the only one of the 4 guys who lived here last year that is back. I would show you a photo of Chris' room but it refuses to load, so I'll just describe it. We call it the Torture Chamber because it is an unfinished concrete cell, the size of a closet. He literally does nothing more than sleep in it on a pad and spends the rest of his time at his desk in the living room or on the balcony. He's a good roommate, cheerful and talkative, helpful and willing. One morning, I woke up to him cleaning the fridge. It doesn't get much better than that!

 

 

And of course there's Tug, our rottweiler puppy. He's 9 months old, weighs around 65 pounds and still thinks he's a lap dog!

 

 

 We love wearing costumes. This particular photo is from the day we went to a friend's party dressed as each other..Chris on the left is supposed to be me, Grace is Chris, and I'm Grace. It was a hilarious and utterly confusing night as we pretended to be one another. We're weird; we're the Safe House family!