I'm going to Haiti!

Haiti is coming up soon. Very soon. Apparently I haven't told anyone that I'm going, because every time I mention "Oh, I'm going to be out of town that week," or "Man, my arm feels like a friggen' pincushion," someone gives me a weird look. Then I have to explain that I'm going to Haiti on a mission's trip with my family's church, etc, etc.

A few warnings that I have been given:

• After I told my mom that yes, I wanted to go to Haiti, my father called me to talk to me about the trip. He told me (and I heard this so many other times after this) that this wasn't a vacation. The country, already one of the most poverty-stricken, economically weak nations in the world, had been devastated by the earthquake. Even months later (the earthquake hit January 12, 2010) they're still finding dead bodies in the rubble. Children wandered the streets, recently orphaned. Crime and disease were constants. This was going to be one of the most eye-opening, life-changing experiences of my life. Was I sure I wanted to go?
• At Buffalo Wild Wings, I was talking about the devastating poverty I was likely to go up against, and my friend (I guess he's a friend? My friend's boyfriend, at least) went over the three easiest ways to protect myself.
  • The area at the base of the throat is the weakest point in the body. Jab at it with your knuckles or, if you've got them, your keys, and you've at least knocked out his breath, if not collapsed his pipes.
  • When being raped, grab and twist. I will leave you to fill in the blanks. HINT: IT HURTS
  • Less effective, but I would feel like such a badass doing it: Jab or punch his nose. If done right, like if you've broken his nose, blood will pour out and you will go blind. If not, then you've just pissed off the shark, and now he's hungry for blood.
• At the meeting at the church I went to on Wednesday, we asked why the women would need to bring a bathing suit, specifically a one-piece. The guy in charge of the trip paused for a second, then said delicately, "There's going to be communal showers." Which is hilarious! Showering together. Guess who has to worry about athlete's foot, too. One woman stood up and said, when asked to express her anxieties, "I know this isn't a vacation, but I guess I thought I would have time to relax. I thought we were going to the beach, that's why I thought the bathing suit was on there!" Oh, I did too.
  
  But another thing that they talked to us about was to write down everything that we felt and thought during the entire experience. When we got back, he said, we would be absorbed back into our everyday lives, with its everyday concerns- jobs, houses, school, etc. But if we wrote down everything, when we opened the journal to read it again, it would be like being back there, and everything that we learned and saw would never be forgotten. Because while we get to take a plane out of Haiti after a week, the people there will spend their entire lives downtrodden by poverty.

So, uh, yes! Haiti. I'll fly in on Saturday, probably have church or prayer or something that night, then Sunday I'll have church again, and probably hang out with the orphans or something. Monday through Thursday I'm going to be working on building a school or community center during the day, then having a meeting with Praying Pelican Ministries (the people who are organizing and running the trip), then another prayer/bible study session with my own church group. This isn't no vacation, I'll tell you that much.