The journey started with a 6:50am departure from Burbank Airport in Los Angeles into Phoenix, Arizona. I then switched planes for one heading to Philadelphia and at this point I started recognizing a few travelers as aid workers and media – all sporting a scruffy face and tan combat pants that seem to be de rigueur in these circles. I felt quietly pleased that I’d packed mine. Once in Philadelphia and boarding the plane to Santa Domingo in the Dominican Republic the nerves really started to set in. Here I was, without even a place to stay in the DR overnight, heading to Haiti on a wing and a prayer.
My conscience panged as I took my seat in first class. All of my fellow travelers in first appeared to be aid workers – I couldn’t help but wonder if it was money well spent by their charities. I paid for my upgrade out of my own pocket, perhaps they had too.
By sheer good fortune the gentleman I was sat next to asked if I minded switching seats so that he could sit next to his friend and as I was traveling alone I duly obliged and took my new seat next to David, an NGO working for Food for Hunger. We ended up chatting for most of the flight, and shared a few rum and cokes to ease the anxiety we were both feeling. David was being picked up at the airport and very kindly offered me a ride with two of the local guys working for his charity. We breezed through customs and immigration in Santa Domingo with a few cursory glances and mutterings of ‘Haiti’ and then David was met by Jose and Marciella from Food for Hunger. They agreed to give me a ride to the hotel Tropicana where the rest of their group were staying for the night. After getting a room in what can only be described as a very basic motel for $50 per night, I tried unsuccessfully to connect to the wireless internet and resigned myself to getting some sleep after a long day. I brushed my teeth, making sure to use bottled water to clean the toothbrush, set my knife and mace by my bed, bolted the door and headed off to dream of what lay ahead tomorrow.