Haiti: Immigration
No address in Haiti. A problem. I’m stopped in immigration. My friend is picking me up, I say. I don’t know where I’m staying. Some hotel. No go. They want to know where to start looking if there’s a kidnapping. It would make them look bad if they did not know. They take me to a side room. Various people look at my papers. They send me winding through the airport out the front door with a woman official. She tells me to point out my friend. She’s not there yet. We stand in the sun. Squinting at the crowd. And I am not yet through immigration. We go back to the room. My papers and passport pass from hand-to-hand. They stamp my papers anyway and send me on my way. By the time I get my bag and change a little cash, she’s outside, waving wildly and picking me up.
posted by Lucia @ 5:32 PM
5 Comments:
welcome to Haiti.
keep it coming. smells, sights, all of it.
what a world we live in.
It's amazing how in some countries immigration is so lax. I heard an unbelievable story about something that occurred in Ireland in 2003. Apparently, a woman entered the country without a passport. She was waved through immigration because she had "a fine Irish brogue".
Sparky
Hmmm. Thst certainly leaves a bit to be desired.
But then your friend showed up, thank goodness. Ah, it's good to have friends in far off places.
And that, Sparky, is why Ireland is heaven. I have a similar story. We were in the immigration line in Ireland, and the agent looked up at my husband.
"You look like a fellow who would listen to Jethro Tull," he said.
"I have some of their CDs in my case," he answered.
"Well, you can't be all bad if you listen to Jethro Tull."
STAMP. On we went.
Haiti scares me to death.
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