Being a vegetarian....

While I was walking in the city this afternoon with Gusly (the young woman I've hired as an interpreter and project assistant), my ankle gave out and I tripped just the slightest. She said that it was because I am a vegetarian (not because there are treacherous puddles, dips, wheelbarrows, trucks, cars, mopeds, rocks, and seemingly random pieces of solid matter blocking every step). Maybe it's being a vegetarian that makes me less sturdy on the Haitian soil. Since the beef episode over a week ago, I'm back on the vegetarian wagon. Back in recovery. The thing is, despite all the hypo-glycemic attacks where my blood sugar drops, my jawbone collects the facial sweat that then drips down my neck, my hands start shaking, and my palor fades, I can't bring myself to eat meat. You'd think that would mean I'm hungry enough to consume whatever I can get my hands on, but I just can't do it. I still go for the rice and beans, or the newly-discovered cheese and barbecue sauce sandwich that leaves me wanting more just 37 minutes later. By the way, this cheese and barbecue sauce sandwich is my new favorite food. The little restaurant where Gusly took me today is my new favorite place. It had AIR CONDITIONING and 100% PINEAPPLE JUICE and FROMAGE & BBQ SAUCE sandwiches. I'm eating there again tomorrow if I have any say about the matter.

The novelty of living on the first floor of a factory is wearing off. Dear Heather had the good sense to ask, "Why again are you living in a factory?" I don't think there is any "again" about it. This perhaps is something I have failed to disclose. Meds & Food for Kids produces the Medika Mamba at a sort of compound. There is a small garden where Dumel (who is not only the production manager, but also an agronomist) plants peanuts for experimental purposes. Outside, there is a sheltered work space where the peanuts are shelled and roasted. Near that work space is a peanut storage room that also holds a dehumidifier. Closer to the house, there is an employee shower. All the production takes place inside, on the second floor of the factory/house. Up there, among other things, are peanut grinders, storage rooms for powdered milk, vegetable oil, sugar, and rations of the Medika Mamba for distribution. On the first floor of the factory/house are two bathrooms, an office, and two large rooms that house some wooden cabinets and something that resembles a ping-pong table but has proven to be much less entertaining because it has dishes and water bottles on it. Finally, on the first floor is our living room/bedroom/work space. Its windows open into the garden/roasting/shelling/diesel-generating areas. The reasons I am staying in the factory are myriad, rent-free accomodation is just about the best.

But a few things make this 'lifestyle' a bit challenging, not the least of which is lacking any food preparation facility. I can prepare boiled eggs in the hot-pot, and I can eat the previously mentioned freeze-dried meals from REI. It turns out that these are quite tasty, and they had better be since I dropped a significant portion of my summer budget on just 13 of them. I did notice packages of Ramen noodles at a store in the city today. Eating in restaurants gets a little expensive (and bland when one is a vegetarian in Haiti), and I'd prefer to cook, but Ramen may just call my name. I also feel just a little bit stranded. It gets you down to be in the 'compound' all day, which can happen not infrequently since the city is a 20-30 minute car-ride away.

Did I mention that the compound is entered through a huge iron gate, and is surrounded by 12-foot high walls that are topped with razor wire? It's a strange combination of feelings. Sometimes, I feel like I'm back in college, eating only foods that can be prepared in a hot-pot and drinking powdered lemonade mix, but without all of the fun that is part and parcel to dorm living (such as the utter excitement of newly-discovered self-determination). Also, there are more lizards and large furry spiders here than in a dorm.

Furthemore, it's just a little embarassing to have to brush my teeth among the employees (all of whom I like very much) who show up at 7:00 am while I'm still in pajamas. A whole lot of reality, but not a whole lot of privacy.