Housekeeping in Haiti: Getting the Mail

Once upon a time, when I was a wee lass in Tempe, Arizona, getting the mail meant running to the end of our driveway to get the mail from our mailbox.  If I was going to get really dangerous, I might do it barefoot in the summer and see if I could make it there and back without burning the soles of my feet.

As an adult, due to those sneaky thieves who likes to steal people's identities from their unsolicited credit cards, bills, and junk mail, our mailbox moved to a community mailbox at the end of our street with locks. 

In Haiti, there is no mail system.  No national network of mail carriers.  Haitians who must mail something out of country rely on FedEx and DHL, and expect to pay ridiculous amounts of money for this service.

Fortunately, we have been given the opportunity to receive mail from Missionary Flights International.  We have a Florida mailing address, and our mail gets flown down each Thursday.  Each piece of mail goes through customs, and yes, we pay customs fees on packages that we receive.  But you know what?  It is worth it!  I haven't grown out of being thrilled at getting real mail.  I love real mail.  I will always prefer a hallmark card versus an email, a handwritten letter over a facebook message.  

So each Friday morning, we load up the whole fam and drive to the airport to pick up our mail.  It is one of the most exciting parts of our week!

Just like any day in Haiti, we never know what to expect when we start out each day.  On this particular day on our way to MFI, we had a flat and Gary had to pump it up with a bike pump. We have since gotten new tires, so hopefully this won't happen again any time soon!

 Bumpy roads make for blurry pictures

We get to see George, our friendly MFI guy, and pick up our mail!  Grammy loves to send care packages, and the kids are collecting postcards from all 50 states (so far they have Arizona, Washington, Montana, Indiana, Michigan, New York, Alaska, and Wisconsin).  

We weren't expecting to be able to receive mail in Haiti, so MFI has been a huge blessing!  It's the little things, like cards and letters, that really make us feel loved when we're so far away from family and friends.

**Learning to live in Haiti has taken some pretty major adjustments, as you can imagine.  Just living in Haiti seems to be a full time job in itself.  I know that before I moved here, I wondered how we would do the simple things we did in the States.  This is the fourth in a series of blog posts where I want to document how we do the basic house stuff in Haiti and share with those who are curious how we do things around here.  As a disclaimer, we're living a pretty Americanized version of Haitian living.  The majority of Haitians living here do not live the way we do, a fact that I am equally blessed by and ashamed of.**

Next up:  Homeschooling in Haiti, 

alternatively titled:  "Plain Old Homeschooling"

Part One

Housekeeping in Haiti:  The Kitchen

Part Two

Housekeeping in Haiti:  Laundry

Part Three

Housekeeping in Haiti: Grocery Shopping

Ask. Ask Now.

Okay, so there are lots of reasons why I write this blog.  I mostly want to share what God is doing in our lives, what life is like in Haiti, to keep in touch with friends and family, to share with people who may not know about the loving, powerful, and redeeming power of God, to keep a record of funny things my kids say, to document our lives, etc. etc.

I really want to share what we're doing here, for no other reason than it really doesn't belong to just us, but also to all of the people who know us, pray for us, who support us financially, and maybe just people who are curious.  Some call them lurkers.  Whatever.

So I'm throwing this out there...

If you have any questions for me, for us, for our kids... please ask.  I would love to answer them in future blog posts.  Questions about the ministry of GNO, Haiti, homeschooling, math.  Just kidding, please do not ask me about math.  You can leave your question in the comments section below, or email us at garyandmichaela {at} hotmail.com

Seriously.  Please don't leave me hanging out here with zero questions.  Then I'll just feel rejected and lame.  Okay, maybe my self worth doesn't hang on this, but seriously... 

Housekeeping in Haiti: Grocery Shopping

I have really been procrastinating writing this post.  Curiously enough, this was one of the main things I wondered about before moving here, and yet now it is pretty much the least interesting chore.  Feeding my family has been a strange thing to re-learn how to do here.  So previously, I shared that I now make from scratch most of our food, such as bread, tortillas, beans, Mexican rice, etc.  But one of the main things I'm lacking is fresh food.  I really really really miss broccoli, and spinach, and pretty much anything green.  The rest of the fam really misses blueberries, and strawberries, and grapes.  Yesterday I saw a small bundle of grapes at the grocery store for $11.  Eleven dollars!?!  Needless to say, I did not buy them.  The tough spot I'm in right now concerning fresh produce, is many of these items are just plain expensive and sometimes icky at the grocery store.  Also, the selection is pretty small.  I can usually find cucumbers and apples.  Produce in the grocery stores come in saran wrapped packages, kind of like a pound of ground beef.  You don't get to select your own, and usually the yucky part is packaged slyly as to avoid revealing it's rotten spot.  It's a big bummer to open that $8 four pack of apples only to find that one or two are pretty squishy.  We do have two mango trees in our yard, and 4/5's of Krulls LOVE mangos!  To get affordable local produce, and a much greater selection, most of my American counter-parts go,  or send a Haitian staff member or house help to do the market shopping for these options.  The Krulls don't have any house help, therefore I don't go to these markets, yet.  Maybe one day when my kreyol gets stronger.  In the meantime, I'm researching gardening in Haiti, and looking into purchasing some sort of tower garden.  This crew needs some greens!

I don't have any pictures, because I really don't like taking pictures while we're out and about, and it has everything to do with {THIS}.

I've said it a lot, but I'll say it again:  Haiti is expensive.  While we don't buy many items on this list, this is a fascinating side by side comparison of some very common grocery items: {HERE}

I'll end on a positive note:
1.  I LOVE homemade stuff, and so do The Crazies.
2.  I've dropped some pounds, what's not to love about that?

**Learning to live in Haiti has taken some pretty major adjustments, as you can imagine.  Just living in Haiti seems to be a full time job in itself.  I know that before I moved here, I wondered how we would do the simple things we did in the States.  This is the third in a series of blog posts where I want to document how we do the basic house stuff in Haiti and share with those who are curious how we do things around here.  As a disclaimer, we're living a pretty Americanized version of Haitian living.  The majority of Haitians living here do not live the way we do, a fact that I am equally blessed by and ashamed of.**

Next up:  Getting the Mail 

Part One

Housekeeping in Haiti:  The Kitchen

Part Two

Housekeeping in Haiti:  Laundry

Scenes from Life in Haiti

These pictures were all taken in our part of town, and the last picture is Good Neighbor at lunchtime.  Thanks to James Lee for the beautiful pictures.

 The market

 A usual street scene

 Tap-Tap and a really big pig

Lunchtime at GNO, beans and rice

Heard Around the House: January 2013

We were in the middle of doing an art project when Noah's abruptly, yet earnestly asks:

Noah:  Mom, this is fun.  Is this your original idea?

Me:  Maybe, I guess so.

Noah:  YOU SHOULD PUT THIS ON PINTEREST!

_______________________________________________________________________________

Noah:  You know what I want to do before I have a girlfriend?  1.  get high top tennis shoes  2.  get baggy jeans  3.  enter a skateboard competition, but I don't necessarily have to win.

_________________________________________________________________________________

Everyone, to Presley:

Don't put a fork on the cat.
Don't sit on the cat.
Don't put the cat in a box.
Stop putting kleenex on the cat.
Stop putting the remote on the cat.
(etc. etc. etc.)

yep, that was an entire box of kleenex covering the cat

A First

My good intentions to blog regularly got derailed this past week, thanks entirely to a nasty little parasite called malaria.

Gary was hit hard, took some medicine, and after a very sweat filled week, he is as good as new.  Seriously, did you know how much sweat one husband can produce when enduring a fever for so many consecutive hours?  Let's just say, a very measurable amount.  It was rough, but he made it, and so did we.

On the bright side, because there is always a bright side, I learned to do several things around this joint that previously had been Gary's domain.  One, I learned to pump the water from the well to fill our cistern.  Secondly, I learned to change the water jug on the cooler.  Self-taught, thankyouverymuch.

We have a full week ahead of us, and are starting to battle colds.  The pain of a sore throat and headache pales in comparison to what Gary went through last week, so I'll just stop complaining right now.  I'll be back to update on several exciting things happening at Good Neighbor this week.

Have a great weekend everyone!

And... just because I think it's funny... we spotted this gem on the back of a tap-tap.  

Knock Knock

For the last year that we lived in our house in Chandler, I somehow found myself on a pair of Jehovah's Witnesses project list.  It started out with me not being able to handle any sort of uncomfortable confrontation.  On their first visit, I graciously accepted their Watchtower magazine.  On their second visit, I accepted compliments for how beautiful my children are, then introduced them.  On their third visit, they greeted me by my first name.  On their fourth visit, I reluctantly accepted their Watchtower magazine and silently promised myself that I wouldn't open the door then next time.  By their next visit, I had cracked their schedule and realized they were visiting me every Tuesday morning between ten and eleven in the morning.  This went on for months and months.

I came to expect the knock at the door, and then the persistent doorbell ringing.  I tried to run errands on Tuesday mornings because I got tired of convincing Mylie to crawl around inside the house with me, lest they spot us through the front window.  

They began waiting for me.  For how long, I cannot say.  They would wait, standing in the middle of my driveway.  Sometimes, I would keep driving past my own house, and circle the neighborhood until they left.  See?  I will go to great lengths to avoid confrontation.

One day, they tricked me.  They were hiding in a nearby van, and when I pulled into my driveway, they began to approach.  I did what any rational adult lady would do, and closed the garage door before I got out of the car.  Obviously, they knew we were home, but I still made everyone hide and be quiet once we were inside.  After about five minutes of knocking and ringing.  I gave up and answered the door.  Would you believe that I actually acted surprised that someone was at my front door?  No shame, this gal.

I finally got the nerve to tell them while I respected what they were doing, I just couldn't waste their time any longer.  I pointed to the "For Sale" sign in our front yard, and told them why were were selling our house and moving... that we were moving to Haiti as missionaries.  Christian missionaries.  And that I was very secure in my beliefs, but thanks for stopping by!

So earlier this week, I was hanging out with the kids when I heard a knock at our front gate.  Sometimes I don't answer our gate if we aren't expecting anyone, particularly if Gary isn't home.  After several minutes of knocking,  I ran upstairs to see if I could see who it was over the fence.  I saw a pair of nicely dressed men.  I deemed it safe, and went to open the gate.

After several minutes of a regular old broken English, broken Creole awkward conversation.  He pulled out, no joke, a Watchtower magazine.  Overcome with bravery, I put my hand up and just told him to put on the brakes.  Not really, I'm not sure that would have translated well.  I told him WE were here in Haiti as missionaries, so we're good on the religious beliefs front.  Thanks, but no thanks.  

When Gary got home I related the incident.  He told me he was sure those ladies from Chandler sent them.  I'm pretty sure he's right.