I didn’t anticipate a passport stamp to Haiti.
But then again, rarely do I anticipate the greatest gifts. Ken, out of left field. Bee, surprise! Even the site you’re reading this on, this glowing rectangle that’s oddly held just enough space for a decade of myself? Wildly unexpected.
And now here’s Haiti.
I’m going for the week with a few favorites, and I’ll be Instagramming, of course. But mostly, I want to watch and listen and look and see. Because, at least in my own life, that’s the only way I learn.
There’s a temptation for me to write what I’m expecting to find, what I’m expecting to see, what I’m expecting to learn. But if there’s anything I know to be true, it’s that I know nothing of Haiti. I don’t know how the Tarmac smells in Port Au Prince. I’ve never stood beneath the towering red metals of Marche de Fer. I’ve never flipped through rows of CDs at Le Melodisque.
Sometimes the only thing you can anticipate is that you cannot anticipate it at all.
See you in a week, friends.