Cape to Milan

Haiti is not a country designed for the independent traveler. In our week or so here, other tourists have not been as sparse as I expected, but they’ve often been NGO workers or wealthy Haitians with their own 4WD vehicle. Without our own wheels, we earn the bonus experience of Haitian public transport–all of which hinges on the tap-tap, basically a pick-up truck that has been outfitted with wooden benches and maybe a metal covering to protect us from the Caribbean sun. A conductor hangs precariously from the back, yelling out the destination. When we heard “MILOT-MILOT-MILOT,” we hopped on and settled in for a not-too-bumpy journey to the jumping off point for Haiti’s most impressive historical attractions: The Citadelle and Sans Souci.

A view of the town of Milot and our destination: the palace of Sans Souci.

Henri Christophe is one of Haiti’s most notable figures (as I write, I sit at the Hostellerie du Roi Christophe–Hotel of King Christophe). After Haiti gained its independence and ousted its first dictator, the country split in two. Henri Christophe took control of the north and, eager to prove  Haiti’s political and cultural power to the European former rulers, built a palace to rival that of Versailles.

A statue of Henri Christophe outside Sans Souci’s gates.

This fountain marks the entrance to the palace. A mirror once hung behind it, reflecting the Sun so powerfully that entrants needed to walk in backwards.

The whole place feels eerie. Despite being mostly destroyed by an earthquake in the mid-1800s and further by time, you can easily imagine its former opulence.

Adding to the spookiness is the fact that Christophe died here. When he caught word of an internal uprising and suffered a stroke in short succession, he committed suicide on the second floor of the palace.

The queen also had her own palace, seen in the background of this picture.

Our guide claimed this tree was 2000 years old. Not sure, but it’s definitely old!

A church that was built around the same time as the palace.

The palace also serves as the start of the trail to something even more impressive: Christophe’s mountain fortress, The Citadelle. We’ll tell you about that next.

Cap Haitien was an important place during Haiti’s infancy. For a while during the colonial era, Cap Haitien was France’s chosen capital of the island. It enjoys a strategic geographic position: occupying the side of an easily defendable mountain, along with a river to supply fresh water and a harbor.

For this reason, the French built some substantial forts. They still are more or less here, within walking distance of downtown. We set off to find them.

The ouskirts of town to the north–on a road that dead-ends into the sea–are a lot more sleepy than the bustling areas to the south of town.

Haiti is the perfect place to see new and interesting things. Like goats hanging out in front of political graffiti.

Or a goat and a rooster hanging out on a wall somewhat tackily designed to look like an old palace.

A beach along the way. A working beach, not a swimming beach.

Further along, you come across minor military fortifications. All French-built. For a while, the rich coffee and sugar producing colony of Haiti was the envy of Europe. Unfortunately, the highly agricultural colony relied heavily on slavery. Revolts followed, and Haiti became the first black republic, and second independent nation in the new world, after the US.

As the road that goes north out of town peters out, you wind up among the estates of Haiti’s elite. The guard of this house was very nice, and let us know we were going the wrong way.

Ah yes, we made a naive mistake, assuming a road must go to the potential tourist attraction. Instead, this is the path: across a particularly unattractive beach. What do you do if the tide goes up in the meantime? I have no idea.

Eventually, the beach gives away to rocky coastline, and a broken stairway leads up to the entrance.

Caroline entering the spooky old fort, with the last bits of town in the background.

The surreal-looking ruins. A much different experience than visiting a restored fort.

Our outing–and my picture-taking–was interrupted by a guy who appears to live in the fort, and seemed mentally unstable. We had been worried the whole time about someone following us and using our vulnerability to their advantage. This guy didn’t seem to have any weapons, but he wasn’t responding to the typical “Au revoir!” we give when when someone has overstayed their welcome.

This guy didn’t seem to mean any harm directly. He just seemed drugged out. He followed us the whole two-mile walk back into town, where we managed to lose him.

Just another day in Haiti.

For years, I’ve wanted to go to Haiti. For whatever reason, it’s always been a country that’s fascinated me. Obviously, on any pan-Caribbean adventure, Haiti is an obligatory stop. So, here we are.

Sadly, Haiti’s recent history has been especially tragic. In 2004, president Jean-Bertrand Aristide was removed from office in a coup-d’etat. In the years thereafter, kidnapping–especially of foreigners–was unacceptably common.

In the wake of the 2004 coup, after which the country fell into near anarchy for a while, the UN started a mission here called MINUSTAH, with the objective of stabilizing the country. By 2008, things were stable enough that travel seemed possible.

However, in 2008, the hurricane season was particularly devastating. Many of Haiti’s roads and bridges were knocked out. Then, in January 2010, the big one: a 7.0 magnitude earthquake hit Port-au-Prince, the capital, changing the course of the already-struggling country forever. Even in 2012, travel to the capital seems ill-advised. Many of the city’s former common areas are covered with temporary tent cities, and former neighborhoods remain rubble.

But now, in 2012, travel to the northern part of the country seems possible.

Cap Haitien–Haiti’s second city, and rival to Port-au-Prince–is doing fine. The disasters and unrest that have plagued the capital have largely spared the north.

And that’s not to say the north is second best or anything. With a more relaxed vibe and no shortage of French-style architecture, the north has plenty going for it. The north also boasts some of Haiti’s best tourist treasures–and I’m not just saying that, these are legitimately world-class tourist attractions that one would think foreigners would flock to. You’ll see what I mean in the coming posts.

But for now, let’s stay focused on Cap Haitien itself.

If you squint your eyes hard enough, it almost feels like you’re in a really colorful version of New Orleans.

One thing Cap Haitien definitely has going for it is navigability. When US Marines ran the country for 20-odd years back in the early 1900s, they got sick of Cap Haitien’s French street names. They decided to rename the streets Rue 1…2…3… and A…B…C… That, coupled with the very small blocks (you can easily walk a block in 30 seconds), means finding anything in the city is a breeze.

Something is located at 18C? No need to look at a map. you already know exactly where it is.

Of course, the beautiful old French street names were a casualty of all this. You can still see them all over–it’s an easy way to tell if a building is actually really old, or just looks old.

Historic buildings, by the way, are subject to some shades of grey here. This building has a real historic first floor, but is being added onto in the modern way. Which means cheap, ugly cinder blocks. Sadly, when finished, the whole thing will probably just get covered up with plaster and painted, so you won’t even be able to tell it’s 150 years old, except by the arched doorways.

I’m sorry to say that the same construction practices that failed so catastrophically during the earthquake in 2010 still appear commonplace. Cheap concrete blocks. Patchy mortar. A rebar-supported column every 8 or so feet. And new construction is everywhere–the living chaos that is Port-au-Prince these days has sent a lot of economic activity up north. People are buildings things everywhere (hotels are accordingly expensive–touring Norway would probably hit the wallet about the same).

To focus on things that are a bit more positive for a moment, here’s Cap Haitien’s pleasant central square.

The main church.

Caroline looking at the port at dusk. We called this area–the part of Blvd de Mer that is scenic rather than sketchy–the Malecon, as it would be called in any Spanish-speaking country, although I have no idea what the French would call it.

The main marche, south of the square. I’ve been to a lot of markets, and I can say that this one is the most dirty, hectic, and chaotic I’ve seen. It makes Maputo’s chicken market seem tolerable. When open sewers meet unpaved market streets, it’s a very rough situation indeed. Every sense is assaulted. Never sketchy or unsafe feeling, though.

A bit further south–still in the market chaos–is the bridge over Cap Haitien’s main river, just before it meets the sea. Since this is where the roads come together, this is where the tap-taps (minibuses, sort of) leave from. I wish I had more pictures of this area–it’s an incredible, unforgettable sort of place–but alas, you are in a column of people and if you stop for more than two seconds people get antsy.

I’ll try to snap a few more next time. Au revoir!