Overcoming fears in Haiti.
What if I lose my passport?
What if I wake up next to a tarantula one morning?
What if I come home with Zika?
What if the language barrier makes it impossible to communicate?
Going on a mission trip to Haiti sounded like a great idea back in May, when my brother casually mentioned that his friend’s organization had an open spot.
“Um, count me in,” was my initial response, knowing full well I could never pass up any opportunity to travel. And, bonus, this one included playing with kids. “Where do I sign up?”
Fast forward three months. I’m over-packed (as usual) and ready to go, waiting at the airport for my brother and his best friend to arrive so we can hop on our first flight to Miami. The flight’s delayed a few hours, so I settle in with some snacks, thankful I remembered to bring an extra book. Once on the plane, an hour or so after takeoff, the friendly flight attendant brings us each two adult beverages—free of charge—to make up for the delay. We share a laugh, toast our drinks, and relax into our seats. So far, so good.
When we do finally land in Florida and meet up with the rest of the crew at the hotel, it’s 11:00 PM and I’m ready for bed. I meet my assigned roommates (two awesome ladies with whom I quickly hit it off), shower, and set my alarm for 5:00 AM the next morning. Once my head hits the pillow, I’m sound asleep, dreaming of the adventures to come.
When I told my friends and family where I’d be traveling this summer, my news was met with similar reactions.
Oh, wow… Be extra careful. Never go anywhere by yourself. Wear bug spray. Don’t drink the water. Hide your belongings. Are you taking malaria pills?
All valid concerns and good advice, no doubt. Driving through Port-au-Prince, I clung to these words of wisdom like a timid child clings to its mother, hoping they’d keep me safe. But it wasn’t until later that I realized there weren’t enough wise words in the world to prepare me for the experiences ahead.
From a distance, putting on a brave face is remarkably easy. Oh, I’ll be fine! The trip will be a blast. It’s only when you’re confronted by your fears—fears you didn’t even know you had—that you find out what you’re truly made of.
On our second night in La Vallée, in a one-on-one conversation with the trip counselor (and lifelong family friend), I opened up about how overwhelmed I was suddenly feeling. How I was having trouble falling asleep at night despite our long days. How all of these worst-case scenarios kept running through my brain. “The truth is, I’m scared of everything,” I joked half-heartedly. He sighed with relief, and the words that followed took me by complete surprise.
“I’m so glad I’m not alone.”
During my brief time in Haiti, I met the most incredible kids. A little boy named Bona stole my heart–and then my camera–with his cheesy smile and mischievous manner. Two sweet sisters, Asmede and Mika, became my closest companions on our walks through the town. Adson, quiet and kind, held my hand all the way down the slippery hill to Codeha so that I wouldn’t fall.
I’ve never seen people so happy, and with so little. From sunrise to sunset, a group of our Haitian buddies would play on the street outside of the hotel, waiting for us to join in the fun. They’d greet us with hugs, show us to our destination, teach us Creole phrases, and laugh at our American accents. They’d proudly lead us in prayer, kick our butts in soccer, run barefoot through the woods, ride on our backs and whisper “I love you” in our ears.
And somewhere along the line, amidst the carefree laughter and palpable joy that filled our endless days, their fearlessness became my own. Slowly, everything else—all of my petty worries and self-perpetuating fears—faded into the background and proved insignificant by comparison. The warning words circulating through my head began to loosen their grips on my psyche, one by one, until there was nothing left but love.
Driving home from the airport, after more than twelve exhausting hours of travel, I gave my parents the complete rundown of the week’s events. It was almost 11:00 PM in Houston, and yet I couldn’t stop talking. I wanted to tell the whole world about those kids, about how much they had touched me, and how much I already missed them. How I would go back in a heartbeat if it meant spending more time with each and every one of them.
When I signed up for the trip in May, I hoped that by the end, I could make some small difference. I wanted to bring happiness to at least one child’s week in any way that I could, to change one person’s life for the better. Little did I know that the kids would be the life-changers, and that the life altered forever would be mine.
Turns out, I didn’t lose my passport.
Turns out, I didn’t lose my passport.
Or wake up face-to-face with a tarantula.
Or come home sick (with anything more than a cold).
But if I had, it would have been okay. Because at the end of the day, they understood me and I understood them. The connection was effortless, and the effects infinite.
Originally published on Her Story Goes.
Touring Europe: Pisa + Lucerne.
On our way from Florence to Lucerne, we stopped in Pisa to see the Leaning Tower. Honestly, at the time, I couldn't care less. This is because, while walking through the little town, I spotted a sign for a 24-hour pharmacy, and got so excited. Sort of like an 8-year-old gets excited about a candy shop. (I was dying, remember?) It just so happened to be Sunday, and every other pharmacy I had stumbled upon in Italy was closed. Turns out, the Piazza dei Miracoli really is miraculous.
Even though all I could think about at the time was getting my hands on some meds, I snapped a quick photo of the tower in all of its crooked glory.
Once in Lucerne, we lugged our things from the main square to our hotel. Which, come to find out, was originally built in 1862 as a prison. (Notice the bars on the windows.) You should've seen the look on my face when we discovered we were going to be sleeping in an actual jail cell! What fun. (But actually, it was pretty fun.)
Our journey up Mount Pilatus the next day was so beautiful (and just a little scary), we didn't want to ever come down. As you can imagine, the cold air blowing through the peaks was a refreshing break from Italy's heat, and for once, I didn't mind the chill. We spent most of the morning up there, in awe of this magnificent country.
Lucerne was definitely one of the loveliest places I've ever visited, and despite the brevity of our stay, I can honestly say I felt the most at home here. For several hours after our journey back down the mountain, Kristen and I sat in a Starbucks charging our phones (prison hotels don't have electrical outlets, apparently), and simply embraced the stillness. Even though we weren't out adventuring or exploring, I still felt on top of the world. There's something about just being in a brand new city that awakens your soul, you know? And having your best friend by your side—well, that makes it all the more special.
Later that afternoon, on a paddleboat ride across Lake Lucerne, Kristen actually stripped down to her skivvies and jumped in the freezing Swiss water. It was an amazing moment—one of my proudest as a best friend—and I got the whole thing on camera. (I won't share it here out of respect for Kristen's privacy, because I promised I wouldn't.) Being the cold-blooded wuss that I am, I did not jump in after her. Somebody had to man the boat lest it float away, and I was happy to take one for the team.
That evening, while trying to find dinner, we got stuck in yet another torrential downpour (I'm noticing a pattern here...) and took cover in the cutest little wine bar and cafe. For the 100th time since the start of our trip, we discussed the mysteries of life and love over a bottle of wine and another three-hour meal, in pure European fashion. We really do make the perfect couple, her and I. ;-)
And then, before heading back to our cell for some shut-eye, we bought all the chocolate our little hearts—and stomachs—could handle.
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