Short story: The misterious hotel Olaffson

I was not very happy with the news. "You will get six months in Haiti researching business opportunities for our company." And the hell of opportunity would this country? It is so poor that do not have electricity all day. My newly purchased home in Monte Carlo would be replaced by a Haitian roof. Okay, this is the life of business. 

I arrived in Port-au-Prince early on, after flying all night from Monaco. I thought: "I was already in Liberia investigating the oil sector, Haiti should not be much worse." I was informed, days before, that there was an acceptable place for me to live, so the company felt safer I stay in a hotel. At that point, whatever. Swap Monte Carlo for Port-au-Prince was too much. 

"Hosted me in Montana, in the hills of Port-au-Prince and Pétionville beside the rare Haitian mansions, and away from misery to the center of the capital." Well, after that I woke up. What was I had booked a standard room in the decrepit Hotel Oloffson. A hotel with history, with palm trees, gardens and swimming pool have already been a success in the 50s. Today, it is a tight houses with apartments. Well, never mind, I am here for temporary work. 

The car down the company and I spoke to the hotel reception. In the middle of the road, down from a dwarf garden. Why put these things? For the guests stumble? Enough the displeasure to come live here. Easy, Pierre, why so much violence? 

Installed me in my "new home". An apartment on the second floor with a bunch of palm trees in front and a mini-balcony. I was in Haiti in the nineteenth century. Sure, the hotel is that same season. Tired. Exhausted. Weary. Oh, I do in Haiti? Why can not I open my business and stop with these travel unbearable? I was tired, huh? Yes, it was. Get me of something in a painful mattress. No matter, it was time to rest. Far from home, just think of sleep. Wait, here is my new home. Let's agree? No, let me dream more with the old Monte Carlo. 

Shortly after noon, woke up. The nut I had done well. He spent that hate to come in soul searching tanker market in the country Caribbean. Pierre renewed, things will change. Free day. Oh, the company felt that I was tired and not filled me with work that Sunday of 40 degrees. Well, it has to do in Port au Prince? "Nothing," answered me. Well, it has to do in the hotel? Go to the bar, the famous bar. S'il vous plaît, Meilleur votre vin. Who said the bartender had wine to offer me? And who is taking wine in a bar? It would be a better vessel free. 

Voilà, monsieur. He brought me his best rum. Oh, that was good. I do not like rum. Indeed, not stand alcohol. What do I do in a bar? Ah, remember. In the past I concluded that paragraph has nothing to do in the city, then I found the hotel more interesting. Je veux travailler, je veux travailler. Work is better than enjoy a hotel falling to pieces. What evil, the hotel was charming. It was beautiful, fantastic! But not to live a half years! It took me so long to buy my house seafront in Monte Carlo for nothing. Now I sit in a cubicle of apartment oldest hotel in the Caribbean. Could you give me a suite at the Villa Creole, there in the hills, away from this hell city. I repeat: why the anger? Business is business. 

Come on, is the capital of the country. Must have at least one restaurant. I already felt hungry. The hotel's reception, come on. Bonjour, madame, I pourriez vous parler de les restaurants of Port-au-Prince. " In good French with Creole accent, you, with some sympathy, she said: "My dear, this hotel is no longer a big deal, imagine outside." Okay, climbed the stairs to the restaurant of the Oloffson. The table on the porch showed the beautiful view of palm away. The peace I took over. As soon be in Monte Carlo. Of course, to return, I will relocate in Lagos or Monrovia. Ah, so beautiful place and I send to Nigeria and Liberia. Lie, I am now in Haiti. Then I ask who knows the accounts and I live in Fiji? 

Almost five hours of Haiti and Port-au-Prince only saw the taxi. Isolated me in the hotel, which was not the luxury to justify. Despite the delay, the lunch was pleasant. I found my place for dinner, I will not dare to leave the hotel. But when I talk like a thing I never deliver, five minutes after the dessert went for a ride in the capital. Put your feet on the street. Look, is Sunday in Port-au-Prince. Admired outside the hotel by bus and a multicolored rose scraping on my shirt. Why I left the hotel? I know, because I wanted to bother. Or do you think walking out the capital of the poorest country in America is something very fun? 

You want to bother, Pierre? Want to. And walked several blocks. Why not come to Bermuda? Should do more than forty degrees. I walked up to the port. The city was awful. Pierre, here is your new home, adapts itself. I heard what I spoke to myself and I decided to adapt. But who fits in a place where nothing is done? Poverty does not surprise me. In Monrovia was similar. 

I was not fifty minutes and went walking in the street. I had no fear, just boredom. A boy of two and ten meters in height approached wanting some Gurd or dollars. My friend, I just got euro and look there. Discouraged with my beautiful face "that bag", the poor unfortunate left without taking me anything. Sadness surprised. Sorry, boredom surprised. 

The old Oloffson, my very dear and hated hotel. I was feeling affection for this old house of twenty apartments. It was my home. Looking at the immense blue sky, distracted, tripped on something. The drop was good, but nothing hurts more than not being in my home in Monte Carlo. I stood up and saw the object that caused such a scene: the old dwarf the garden. 

Emplacar did not want a fight with the decorations of the hotel garden, so to follow the elevator and climbed to the 20th floor. Sorry, the hotel is a home and has no elevator. I was of stairs to the second floor and decided to take a shower to see if I airy ideas. The hotel could have said "light water for bathing." A beautiful water color rising in many rust drops of the old shower. Complaining advance? I think not. Reception, my shower is with water color. What color, sir? And it the color? Yes, sir. Miss, my bathroom is in yellow tend to rust. For additional repair U.S. dollars in December, sir. Honey, my company will pay for everything, then do what is necessary. In two hours everything will be fine, sir. 

There I was asleep again. Bath in Haiti is not something easy. And neither electricity. The evening, I looked for the balcony and I saw? Nothing. All deleted. Reception, the city is dark, including my own apartment. This is normal in Haiti, sir. But I am not Haitian, miss. Five U.S. dollars for energy night, sir. On behalf of the firm, please. And I sorriso appear ironic. Maybe I laughing improved support that my new home without bath and no light. 

It could be worse, as me and my bed. Woke up at dawn. I heard a voice in the corridor. Of course, I was not given, ultimately it's all dark and not trust anything here. Pierre, c'est moi. Pierre, am I? Of whom? And as you know my name? Pierre, I t'espere. For me not to bother with such exotic conversation, I decided to think that was a dream and went back to bed. Sure, there was no dream, but I am going there and I discuss with the ghost this time of night? Better another hour. 

Awaken fighting with the pillow. Why not buy that the Sheraton hotel and places its menu of pillows? I certainly find a better one. Okay, it's not standard Sheraton, a hotel is to experience history haitana. Already experienced stories more comfortable. Reminded me of voices night. Would I believe with certainty that the outside reality? 

A rich breakfast on the balcony of my expected restaurant. By far, noticed the front garden of the Oloffson. The plants, trees, flowers, the ants and that kind of garden dwarf that I did fall on some opportunities were there recepcionando who enter this house-turned-hotel. 

No more engagement with the Oloffson, because once the car the company will take me to the office. I took my dark blue suit and combine with a red tie with white stripes, perhaps a subliminal homage to the flag of Haiti. What honor? Perhaps the nightmares, lack of electricity in the city, the sculptures that voodoo panic and delight the guests. 

A large armored truck took me by the dusty streets of Port-au-Prince. We go up the hill and the view was lovely. We have reached the office in Pétionville. If the company is in Pétionville, because my hotel is in Port-au-Prince? The hotels do not have voices of Pétionville night or walls of wood on the verge of collapse. 

With a masterly view to the bay of Port-au-Prince, I went to adjust to the new country. With recent installations, the office was the most comfortable place in Haiti so far. Come on, Pierre, call Monte Carlo and hosting a piece that at least has a more comfortable pillow. Telephone in Haiti is not an example of functionality, then I could not draw Monaco. Hunch that I should stay at the Hotel Oloffson. 

In the interval for lunch, I walked by Pétionville in search of a property. I did not find any. In a region of the luxury condominiums (scarce in a country so miserable), talked to the doorman. Monsieur, is there any home available for lease? The answer was "well-sur, who has money has already been away and left the house to rent." As yet had time, I was visiting the house. The elegance was immense. My salary could pay, but the company only paid the Oloffson, not this paradise of condominium. 

See me in a scenario of fiction. Like I would change the hectic and dangerous center of Port-au-Prince for a condominium of luxury in the hills, away from poverty, very close to the office. I did not think much and I spoke to the doorman: How do I rent it? Bien, monsieur, you can ... Do not let the closing sentence. Merci, mais je gonna retourner à l'hôtel. Why would I quit the condo? Neither I knew, but I felt that I did not take away good memories. 

Walking by the garden condominium toward the gate, my foot got stuck on something. It was heavy and was covered with earth. I have checked. The dwarf Oloffson of the garden! It was like him! Easy, Pierre, the heat is making him sick. It should be tradition in Haiti have that kind of adornment in the garden. 

I was thinking in the afternoon occurred. Garden gnomes to make me stumble and have the same face. It was a very strange country. For the amount of work, just forgetting the history of the garden. When they leave the office, everything went out. The blackout began night again. In the darkness, the driver took me to Oloffson. And the old midget in my garden received, as always, in front of the hotel entrance. In fact, was not the same as was on the condominium, told me. And how would? 

Today water from the shower was clear. The bed no longer bothers me. Taking advantage of the good luck of the moment, I went to the bar for not thinking of voices night. Monsieur, je voudrais du cognac, s'il vous plaît. The strong taste of cognac reminded me of times when my peace was greater. Recently received my new bar finished in wood at my residence in Monte Carlo. The cognac was a good reminder. Pierre, you're in Haiti. True, I am here and stop with the memories. 

The bar, migrate to the restaurant. Why do not I was going to fine restaurants in Port-au-Prince? Because there was no fine restaurants in Port-au-Prince. In addition, the tiredness prevented me from seeking a restaurant in Pétionville, the beautiful rich suburb of the company, which did not matter to me staying. 

Decided not to bother me more. Exit princely thinnest in the world and go to the poorest country in America is no reason for sadness. Okay, I prefer Monaco. Let me cry. Reminded me of my bank account and concluded that half a year in Haiti was bearable. Also remember that sleep is a good habit, then I spoke to sleep at night. 

Pierre, c'est moi! Pierre, c'est moi! The voice of the other night I din in the head, but was now dream. I do not know anyone in Haiti, then would not talk to be that this bothers me every night. There was lying down early, then I woke up at five in the morning, missing a few hours for work. Was still dark, although early morning in Port-au-Prince. 

I went to the balcony. Steps were heard in the distance. The wooden floor of the Oloffson highlighted sounds distant. But this time, I had to find out. Two seconds later was thrown under the covers. Well, I said I'd never deliver what I say. Would not find anything. Knock on my door. Between. Why do I say to come? I will bring peace, said the voice. Do not feel the presence of anyone, just a voice. Since that voice began to persecute me, peace was the least that I had. I will bring peace. 

The door is closed. I not left below the water or by a second to see who had entered. It was time for me go out and run back to Monaco. I put everything in his bag and left on fired for the exit. In the garden, tripped on something. Curse of dwarf garden! Actually was not the midget that I dropped. I looked around and there was no sign of the dwarf garden. For a moment, reminded me of the dwarf who was in the luxury condominium that I had visited in Pétionville. It was the same midget, I thought, in a moment away from reality. 

Why a dwarf of garden would be interested in making me crazy seeing him everywhere and talking to me? I would not stay to find out. Leaving the street, there was no taxi. I have done nothing but go to ask for a taxi receipt. Hello, Pierre. The dwarf was back. And I greeted. Pierre, you have a lighter? Sure, replied. In moments, the Oloffson blaze. I would not recommend a lighter to make a dwarf of garden. 

Guests and employees ran desperate. Feu! Feu! Quelqu'un peut telephone aux pompiers? I was quiet. My version of the fire would be somewhat out of reality. Gentlemen, the dwarf of garden asked me a lighter and burned the old house! Neither do I believe that. 

I managed to communicate with the company in Monte Carlo. They told me to stay, I was crucial for business in Haiti. The garden of dwarf killer seems to have burned together. Decided to stay, after all had worked only one day. Rehome me in Montana. Unfortunately it took a fire in Oloffson so I was in my hotel's dream, the pure air of the hills with the best view of Port-au-Prince. 

Despite the scare, the working day was calm. No one had been injured as a miracle. On the radio, the owner of the Oloffson regretted the loss of many items of decoration. The dwarf among them, I thought. Resume the activities. In Montana, I had a suite overlooking the bay and the hills. The elegance of the decor made the Creole pleasant environment. I was dining on the terrace and stayed there for hours. The natural beauty amid poverty. 

I was throwing me. Hours later, someone woke me. I thought that the maid was coming in to replace the fridge. Can I come in, sir? Without looking, resmunguei: Yes, please. The door broke. 

How lovely to return to sleep, Haiti was now seem more interesting. Minutes later, the door is opened again. Forgot something, lady? ¸ asked him, again with his face against the pillow, and hear the answer: 

C'est moi, Pierre. 

Porto Alegre, January 13, 2008.