It was around Noon when we touched down at Aeroport Nationale Toussaint Louverture in Port-au-Prince, our plane quickly taxiing to its departure terminal. We were soon in the middle of the rush through the corridors, down the escalator, past the official Haitian welcoming band filling the air with Compas sounds and beats, and out onto the sunny tarmac to board the shuttle bus to Customs. It was hot, in the 80s, even a bit oppressive, quite a contrast to the snow-covered urban tundras of New York City. Nous à ©tions arrivà ©s. Maintenant, l'aventure commence!
On the shuttle to Haitian Customs
Inside the shuttle
a Brazilian Airlines jet
Japan Airlines
Inside Customs
A giant Voila Cellphone ad on a wall.
We have already passed the gauntlet of Haitian luggage handlers and cab drivers desperate for dollars and gourdes. Georgianne, in the shade on the left, is racing ahead while trying to call Andre, our driver and "fixer".
Luggage handlers racing by
Now we are waiting next to the parking lot, like this woman, for our ride.
This hasn't changed since my last trip to Haiti. UN troops assigned to MINUSTAH patrol everywhere. Welcomed by some Haitians as a security force, they are considered an occupation force by many others that has shot and killed Haitians while reinforcing the coup d'etat of 2004 against Jean Bertrand Aristide.
Another patrol truck stops in front of us.
This soldier is perhaps wondering why the Hell I am taking his photo.
Out of the blue, Andre arrives, to change the focus of my camera.
And we are out of here, headed for the crazy streets of Port-au-Prince.
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