Street Dining and Fame

Today we found out that we are now Haitian TV stars, or rather, we made our first TV appearance. I doubt it was Emmy winning quality, especially since we were completely unaware of being filmed (that’s never good). Pastor Guy told us about it this morning. Yesterday we attended a large assembly of Protestant Church organizations that CONASPEH is apart of. It was a particularly formal meeting, and we weren’t savvy to the main purpose of the discussion. But apparently the Haitian media who should have been pointing their cameras only on the speakers caught us. I fear that our faces were contorted into the pained looks of attempted comprehension. Either that or the spacey looks of a mental check-out when meaning just isn't coming, and resignation takes over allowing a nice little mental holiday. Regardless, we haven’t yet cashed in on the fame and fortune of such an appearance; no autographs have been requested, no movie deals waged. Ah well, the life of Hollywood--or Haitiwood as it might be—was never a part of our aspirations.

In other news, Patrick and I are now so brave we occasionally treating ourselves to food from street vendors: fried meat, plantains, rice. They aren’t always the most healthy of food options in Haiti, but tasty. Essentially meat and plantains (or balls of dough) are fried in big pans of sizzling oil: Haitian fry-daddies. I figure flaming hot oil aught to kill most parasitic hosts.

Today we had fried chicken and rice at a "restaurant" on the street. Where most places we stop are pick-up and go, today we sat and ate in a sidewalk café Port-au-Prince style. Essentially an entire Haitian family ran it. Two women stood over giant pots of cooking food heated by charcoal fires, their daughters—lazing in the shade of the tent—asked us what kind of rice we wanted, a man offered us beverages, a child took our money and made change, a dog slept at our feet. A tent of raggedy tarp supported by branches covered a picnic table positioned next to the open-air kitchen. Patrick and I and about 8 Haitian men ate lunch together around the picnic table in the middle of a busy market. We were very popular there. Especially when Patrick informed the waitress that he was “mentally ill” (attempting to say he was excited about the food). But as always, people seemed forgiving and amused. The food was delicious and plentiful for the price. More importantly, such excursions for the price of a dollar buy you a moment of cultural immersion that can only be achieved when you hit the streets.