Haiti: Part youn

I'm not exactly sure what I was expecting from Haiti, but I do know that what I had in mind turned out to be very different from reality.
***

On Friday April 19th, Jil and I hopped in the car and drove 3 hours to Greensboro, NC where we were to meet up with 5 of the 7 other team members we'd be spending (and smelling) the next 8 days with. After a stop for gas, a stop for Sheetz, and a stop during a tsunami rain storm where the lines on the roadway were some how concealed by Forest Gump sidewayupwaydiagonal rain we checked into our hotel complete with stale smoke incense and box spring stains. Little did we know those rooms would be the worst of our weeklong adventure.

Next we headed to a japanese steak house for our last supper before departing and we finally got to meet Adam, Kitty, Carey, Lindsay, and Roy. We stuffed ourselves with sushi, Grampy Gif would be proud as we covered the two best topics of dinner conversation (death and poop), got to know each other better, and speculated about what the next week would hold for us. I don't think any of us were sad to say goodbye to the glorious Days Inn, and after an early wake up call headed for the airport. Compared to the Haitian airport, checking in was a breeze even with 14 bags of medication weighing 50 pounds each. Since the medications were to be checked through to Haiti, we hefted 8 days worth of clothing and food through Greensboro and boarded our first flight to Miami. There we met up with the final 2 members of our team, Peter and Caleb, and headed for Port-Au-Prince, Haiti.

I had a mini panic attack when I thought my carry-on was lost (not because it had my food, but because it had all my clean underwear) but we managed to make it out of the airport with all of our carry-on bags AND all of the checked bags. After some confusion as to where the van was parked (some how ending up on one side of the fence with the teenagers), we piled our things in and all opted to squeeze into one tap-tap for our first of many bumpy/hot/dusty rides through Haiti. 

Jil and Carey

My first view of Haiti

9 people in the back of a tiny pickup truck with 2 benches? Fantastic idea!

We jostled and bounced our way to St. Josephs, a home for boys that rents out several rooms in a guest house tower. I actually have no recollection of how long the drive from the airport to St. Josephs was, I must have blocked that part out of my travel exhausted mind. Port-Au-Prince is the largest city in Haiti, and standing on the rooftop of St. Josephs guest tower all you can see are concrete rooftops on top of other rooftops with tents and laundry and chickens in between surrounded by mountains and bordered by the ocean. The longer you stood at the railing the more you actually saw, layers and layers of people and kids and cars and livestock all piled together.

I'll see your guest house and raise you a tower

Some of the boys playing what I can only assume is an awesome combo of basketsoccerhand ball

Port-Au-Prince was exactly what I was expecting. Tons of people living so closely together its hard to tell where one roof ends and the next begins. Where tap-taps and cars and motos and bicycles and pedestrians all try to go in opposite directions at the same time. It's chaotic and loud, but when you look up at the mountains or the ocean you almost forget about the mass of millions surrounding you.

After an amazing dinner, 9 no longer strangers (it's hard to be a stranger when you keep sweating on and bouncing into each other) met on the rooftop for a cold drink and relaxation before bed, because the next day would bring us to the clinic at Jolivert and the reason for coming.

XOXO

Kiki

I miss you the most when...

I can convince our glorious mother to home wax our legs. You know. Typical mother-daughter bonding.

For those of you who have been under a rock, my sister is expecting her next baby.

Exhibit A:

Love.

Exhibit B:

Love, Child.

Exhibit C:

Soon to be Love, Child2.

So, like any expectant mother that is about to kick said LoveChild from the womb, she's feeling a bit under the weather. Add to that a stomach bug and I've got one sad MamaSis on my hands.

How do I cheer up my MamaSis when she's halfway around the globe? How do I make her giggle, if only for a millisecond when LC isn't giving her a swift roundhouse to the bladder? By sweet talking our mother into self waxing our legs. At the kitchen table. And sharing the tale. Duh.

***

Growing up with dark unruly thick Newcomb hair while my mothers hair is more kin to albino didn't give me much in the way of visual guidance. I only had my razor, an unwillingness to actually press the razor to my skin, and a role model who shaves once every 3 months leading to unrealistically high expectations for what my legs should look like. Thanks Ma and my gene pool. Being swimmers when we were younger meant there was a reason to shave, "swim meets on Saturday, better shave to be ridiculouslysmallamountoftimefaster than everyone else" for ten years. Combine the end of my swim career with having to wear pants to work everyday and you get one lazy shaver. Surprise? (Not really.)

Fun Fact: I have super sensitive skin to the point I have to be careful what laundry detergent I buy, making shaving not so high on my priority list. Breakout vs. hair is the battle of my life.

Fun Fact #2: My mother never shared Fun Fact #1 until my skin broke out when I was washing my own clothes in college. Wag of my finger, mother, I was terrified to wash my sheets.

Fun fact #3: I used to beg Cara to pluck my eyebrows. She never did. Tip of the hat, I probably would have cried.

***

I've been thinking about getting my legs waxed, well at least for the past three years, but fear of pain and embarrassment at my aforementioned hairy legs held me back. Until this past week. I went! I cried like a baby did it! After paying (what I thought) a ridiculous amount of money to have someone else rip my hairs out, I decided to Pinterest-matters into my own hands

Step 1:
Make sugar wax. I have found there is some controversy about the best recipe to use. I was pleasantly ignorant that there was another way, so this is the way I did it.

2 cups sugar
1/4 cup lemon juice
1/4 cup H2O

Water, lemon juice, sugar.

Heat on Medium-High.

Heat some more. Don't burn it.

Honestly, it takes about 30 minutes, have a glass of wine.

Step 2:
Let hot sugar cool in air tight container, I left it over night.

Step 3:
Gather hair ripping equipment.

Old sheet cut into strips, baby powder, home made sugar wax.

Step 4:

Convince your Mama that this is a solid idea. Preferably include some alcohol.

Step 5:

Reheat sugar in microwave (honestly what do people do without these things?) for 30 seconds, wipe legs with baby powder, apply thin coating of sugar against the grain, press old sheet strip into sugar, deep breath, and rip hair out with the grain.

Step 6:

Do not pass Go, do not collect $200, take a shower before you start attracting bees.

Mother tested, daughter approved. This worked! I found it was less painful than my over-priced professional hair ripping hell. Added bonus, we didn't curse nearly as loud as I was expecting but at least we were allowed to curse since we were in the privacy of our own home.

I hope I was able to bring a smile slash take your mind off that growing belly for just a little bit. I miss you the most... because you would have been right there with us. Curses and all.

XOXO

Your Kiki

Less than 5 weeks

Rosie and Devin at our beach

Christmas went by in a blur of food and wrapping paper. For every present Cara, Toff, and I opened, we would alternate opening a Trip present (to Trip: Thanks buddy! And don't give me that pout, you can't even hold onto wrapping paper yet). I must say, I was super excited to see what Santa brought him. Duh. We went to the beach on Christmas Eve, and although we opened presents and ate tons of food and drank Christmas drink, it really wasn't Christmas. No chill in the air. No crazy Wal-Mart stampedes. No Christmas sweaters. Another American in the house, Rosie, has decided to celebrate Christmas in Oz in June. Brilliant idea, and the weather agrees.

Then New Years Eve came, and even though Cara is a sleep deprived new Mama, she loves me so, and took a nap, then sprung back up in time for me to get off work. We strolled down to the beach, leaving Trip and Toff to sleep look after each other, and drank a bottle of wine, watching fire works. We didn't cure world hunger or find everlasting peace, but we did get serenaded by a swimming naked drunk Australian. Hands down one of my favorite nights of this visit. Duh.

I absolutely cannot/will not believe I only have 5 weeks left in the land of Oz. How did this happen? Where did it go? Packing planning saving spending waiting, then BOOM, I'm on an air plane to Australia to pack plan spend collect and wait, and then BOOM Trip is born, and it is time to plan save play kiss giggle... pack. I still have loads to do before I board the plane home, like head to Big Day Out on Friday, see kangaroos, and drink more wine. Duh.(P.S. If you thought I'd be bringing wine home with me, I regret to inform you that I have consumed all of it. Many apologies.)

BOOM.

Cara and Toff have decided I am no longer allowed to say I can't cook, because it turns out I can. Last week I made portobello burgers with grilled red peppers, arugula, and garlic mayo. Tonight I am tackling a roasted veggie lasagna, complete with pumpkin and eggplant. AwhatWHAT. Awesome.

A song to be serenaded to. Naked. Of course. It's Australia.

Heaps of love,
Kiki.

Whew.

I can't believe that Christmas has literally flown by.. and now it's New Years Eve down under. And in true down under style (and casa de baby style) we will hopefully be sleeping ringing in the new year on the beach. Until then, can't help but dance.

XXX Kiki

Yes. This is happening.

And Cara seemed shocked that I knew all the words...

Hello Fall?

It's Kiki calling.

Except around here, it isn't fall. That's right people, it's springtime in Oz (and I have Charlotte spinning her web behind the toilet to prove it ... or she has decided to entertain herself by tormenting my every pee). But enough about baby spiders, there are a lot of wonderful things about spring. It's finally warm enough to go to the beach (yay!) and get sun burnt between your shoulder blades (where is Ma's awesome lotion paint roller when I need it?). I know the Australian sun is hot/awful/blistering but it isn't really summer until I get sun burnt. And with Thanksgiving last week and Christmas music starting to be played, I am trying to subconsciously tell myself that it can be Santa time while sweating like a maniac. My subconscious isn't buying it. This time of year, you should be out smelling leaves. Piles and piles (and piles and piles at casa de Newcomb in the CVL). And apple picking. And sweaters and scarves. And be able to tell it's going to snow by the smell. And see obnoxious Christmas lights plastered throughout every American suburb. Without the increased electricity bill subtle hints that the time has come to eat too much turkey and chop down a tree, how am I supposed to sing Christmas carols?

So I did what every good American should do - I baked and sugared the crap outta some pumpkin. And then I blasted Mariah Carey as loud as it could go.

See my apron!

It's not a holiday until a Newcomb does a Jaeger bomb

Pecan blue cheese sweet potatoes

Apple cider pear brussel sprouts

 I won't lie, even the pictures of everything I've cooked look good. The secret is out, I can feed people. And thanks to inspiration a la Mimi Fitzpatrick, I got myself a fun apron. And in case you haven't heard, I am in love. With a mister baby named Trip. Here's an old video from Trip's first visit to Adelaide and his first ever Belgian Beer Cafe experience (BBC is my haven, good beer on tap! Shocking for Australia) and his pesky hat.

Sorry that it's sideways... (computer illiterate, and even though I can only watch it vertically, the interweb insists you watch it horizontally) but it's definitely still funny.

XOXO Kiki

Apple cider pear brussel sprouts:
Heat 1 tablespoon olive oil in fry pan, place brussel sprouts cut side down and brown for about 10 minutes, flipping only once. Add a diced apple and diced pear, sprinkle with cinnamon (I bet ginger would be good, I added candied balsamic vinegar and it was a poor choice). Cook until soft, about 5 minutes, add 1 cup apple cider (I used The Hills hard cider, if you like to drink it, why not use it?) and simmer until all the liquid is gone. Yum!

Can't stop

Listening to this. Added bonus, he's a fox.

Stay classy, friends.
Love Kiki