One airport, two people, wildly different destinations - Helsinki and Haiti. Two hands on one book, several awkward minutes, a gate number forgotten. A dozen people in a queue, eleven digits read, written, remembered. Days spent thinking, nights spent dreaming.
Months spent drifting, countless hours sifting- through plans and possibilities and potential propositions.
I spent seven weeks in Haiti engaging my inner hippie with copious rice and bean consumption, bucket watering trees in a desert of deforestation, litter and unparalleled poverty. I did some travelling and camping in unusual places, a fair bit of walking, and more sweating than recommended.
Months spent drifting, countless hours sifting- through plans and possibilities and potential propositions.
A stopover on Ile a Vache.
I spent seven weeks in Haiti engaging my inner hippie with copious rice and bean consumption, bucket watering trees in a desert of deforestation, litter and unparalleled poverty. I did some travelling and camping in unusual places, a fair bit of walking, and more sweating than recommended.
Aby on the other hand was toiling like a trooper, saving hard and changing lives like the beaut she is, working for Child Bereavement UK. We realised unanimously that we had to meet again for more than thirty minutes and my open ended ticket meant Abs was the brave one and made her move.
The plan - two weeks in Puerto Rico.
Doug
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