At the Haitian border, she asks if I want to marry her...

The journey can be described as insane at best. It's me, a Peruvian man with his Haitian wife, and around 40 other Haitians, all black. There's loud merengue streaming out the speakers throughout the trip. Everyone is talking and shouting to one another, even though I assume they didn't know each other before the trip started, and things are passed back and forth; food, alcohol, a baby. I'm invited for both food and alcohol during the trip by the friendly Haitians. Everyone refers to me as "blanco" (means white). A girl sitting at my side is touching my skin and speaking to me in creole (language in Haiti, resembles French). A guy at my other side (I'm in the aisle) speaks Spanish and translates: "She wants you." We arrive at the border around noon, it's really busy, like a big market place. When we sit there waiting for our passports, the girl asks if I want to marry her. I contemplate it for a moment, she's 19 perhaps, very beautiful. I tell her it probably wouldn't work.

The border is set next to a lake. Somewhere before the border, the black packages disappear without me noticing. As we've passed, we see a huge black guy without much clothes rowing like a mad man over the lake. He rows towards us, and I see that the black packages are stuffed in the boat. They're quickly loaded on the bus, and we continue towards Port-au-Prince, the capital of Haiti. When I arrive, I call my Haitian friends and they come and pick me up. I'm staying with a Haitian girl called Natasha. There are always a lot of people in her house; friends, family and also another blanco: Jason who happens to be a computer engineer from San Francisco.

At the Haitian border, and the bus and some people I travel with.

Outside Natasha's house.

View from Natasha's place.

At Natasha's.

At Natasha's.

At Natasha's.