J'ai besoin de trouver un clochard.

What would you need a bum for?

Beside sitting on it?

killin'

I'm back. It was much nicer than I expected. Even the dump wasn't that bad.

I think they've made a lot of progress, though the roads are still terrible, and driving is crazy (luckily we always had a car and driver from the US Embassy or from the UN). Because we were there for such a short time, we ended up eating almost all of our meals in our hotel (Visa Lodge) and didn't get to experience much of the local cuisine.

Do you have pictures?

Welcome back. I'd also like to hear more.

or cholera.

Welcome back, story and pics please.

Well, I did start to feel sick about the second day there, but I wasn't sure if it was because my wife was sick just before I left, or if it was a reaction to all the vaccinations I'd had, or to the anti-malaria medicine, or if it was because of something I ate or drank, or because the whole city is a giant burn pit, with the garbage being burned out in the streets and in the landfill, and the air filled with smoke. Yesterday I felt the worst, and today a little better.

Regarding pictures, we hardly left the hotel, and then only in the company of embassy or UN staff, and they were very sensitive to us taking pictures with people in them (I was told, "You don't want to look like a disaster tourist.") so I didn't get as many pictures as I'd hoped. I'll look through them and see if there's anything I can post.

"Only looks like a disaster tourist"

excellent new user title

Done!

Glad you're home safe and well(ish).

Details PLEASE!
Somewhere I will never go and never see.
Feel free to change names of people and locations, but please share.

Most likely.

Glad you are back. Can you tell us why you were there and how it went? love to hear more. Glad you are safe.

Thanks.

I'm always hesitant to post about work.

We were in the country to help with energy and infrastructure issues. The country doesn't have a national grid - just partial grids in the bigger towns.

The Port-au-Prince metro area has the largest population in the country, and the best grid, but service is still spotty and the grid frequently goes down. Because of that there are something like 10,000 (100,000? I don't remember) diesel generators in the country: at hotels, some restaurants, government offices and the homes of the wealthier citizens and foreign workers.

Our mission is to help with support for renewable energy studies, and evaluating the effect of projects on the grid. If a large solar or wind plant were to be installed, it could actually make the grid reliability worse, as power production becomes harder to control. We're working with the Haiti government, UN, US State Department, Government of Norway, etc. to evaluate both intermittent and baseload power projects for implementation.

Upon arrival at the airport, my co-worker, M, and I are picked up and expedited out the back gate. We wait in the car while the expediter takes care of customs and immigration.

The driver takes us to our hotel.

I ask him "Is it OK if I take pictures?"
He pulls over to the curb.
I say "I didn't mean right now. I just wondered if it was OK."
We don't move.
I take a picture. "Merci."
We resume driving.

At the hotel there is a guard at the gate with a shotgun. The hotel is nicer than I expect, considering the conditions we just drove through.

Check-in reminds me of Mexico - they take an imprint of my credit card and ask me to sign the blank card receipt, which I do.

The main building has the reception desk upstairs, and a restaurant and a pool on the roof. Downstairs is a conference room and some guest rooms. Most of the other guest rooms are in small duplex bungalows, including mine. The porter gives me the key to my room, which is on a plastic tag with the room number, 41, written in magic marker.

I open the door and see that the room is a mess. The porter apologizes and says he'll send the maid over right away. I've never seen such a filthy room - I can't understand how someone could get it in that condition. Even the toilet is clogged. (When I'm in a hotel I always clean the room before the maid arrives.)

I ask the porter, "Is there a safe?"
He says, oh yes, very safe.
I say, I mean a small safe, to put away my stuff.
He says, oh yes, your stuff is very safe.
I say "Merci" and he goes to get the maid.

I leave my clothes in the suitcase and take my backpack with me. I go to find M's room, but I'm lost. There are signs pointing here and there, but none for #20. I keep getting to dead ends.

I see a man trimming the bushes. He stops and asks me what I'm looking for. I say, "I'm trying to find room number 20."
He has a blank look.
I'm trying to remember the French word for 20. All I can think of is veinte.
He starts walking to the office and I tell him, never mind, because I just figured out where room #20 is - it's next to room #2, of course.

Thanks so far HLJ.
Would love to hear (and see) more.
So far it sounds a bit like Cuba.

MOAR PLZ!