port-au-prince, let me photograph you (before the grid dies)
i checked the forecast-25°c and 85% humidity-yep, the kind that makes your skin feel like it’s melting but the clouds are just hanging around like they get off on it. my camera bag is heavier each day: three lenses, enough memory cards to drown a djinni, and a tripod that wobbled so hard during the last shoot i almost ate the gin. port-au-prince doesn’t do subtlety. it slaps you with the scent of salt and diesel before you reach the sidewalk. you know, the kind of city that feels like it’s been scribbled on a map-16 hills, 1,000 stories per block, and a sky that looks perpetually overcooked.
just snapped a pic of the bay-check out the reviews on TripAdvisor if you need convincing-but the real magic is the hills. upper-class neighborhoods perch like overgrown castles, while ghettos like cité sol. spill out sideways in all directions. tried to hike the mountains here once. got lost in a cloud of dust and anger when a goat refused to move. don’t do that.
place du champ-de-mars is the heart, i guess. cracked and half-rebuilt after 2010. the ruins are still the right angles. bought a shot of griot from a street vendor who swore the pork was cursed but tasted like heaven. i asked him about the earthquakes. he shrugged and said: “god tests us with stones. we test him back with spice.”
neighbors love to yap about pétion-ville’s cafes. “if you get bored, they’re just a short drive away,” but i’m too busy dodging potholes to care. some people say the power grid here runs on luck and a few generators in the hands of favela geniuses. i’ve spent 12 hours waiting for the right light on rue capois. others say that’s burnout. i say it’s devotion.
saw someone filming the ocean from the ruins last night. the waves hit the shore like a damn gospel choir. uploaded the photo to flickr and tagged it: “haiti sunset” (kinda lies, tbh-it’s more “art post-apocalyptic.”). if you’re brave enough, hit up the murals in the old downtown. someone told me they’re the laziest grief art, but hey, i’m a sucker for faces on walls.
pro tip: don’t trust the wifi at any hostel here. i’ve had more conversations with strangers over lukewarm café au lait than i have with my own face. and for the love of laurent, if you drive west? -is that carrefour or a coffin lid? don’t even ask me.
here’s the deal: i’m stuck between a shutter and a hard place. but these photos? they’re proof that even broken things can still hold their shape. -j.t. (seriously, who svg this chaos?)
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