15365: (Chamberlain) Labadie tourists (fwd)

[Bob Corbett <corbetre@webster.edu>]

From: Greg Chamberlain <GregChamberlain@compuserve.com>

   By PAISLEY DODDS

   LABADIE, April 20 (AP) -- The turquoise bay ringed by ruins of a 19th
century plantation and crimson-flowered flamboyant trees is everything the
tourist brochures promise -- tranquil waters, pristine beaches, good food,
exotic local culture.
   But few tourists realize they've taken a cruise to Haiti, the Western
Hemisphere's poorest nation.
   "Can you see Haiti from here?" asks Linda Tracy, 59, of Camden, Maine,
disembarking from the cruise ship Explorer of the Seas with 3,400 other
passengers who scurry toward banana boats, Jet Skis and art stalls.
   Since 1986, the Royal Caribbean line has provided the largest source of
tourism revenue to Haiti, sometimes bringing more than 7,000 tourists a
week. Each passenger pays a $6 tax to the government, which comes to more
than $2 million a year, and more than 200 or so Haitians are paid to attend
to them as bartenders, musicians and cabana boys.
   The jobs are a blessing in a country where political instability has
stunted growth, leaving two-thirds of workers without jobs. But some people
say more knowledge of Haiti and its problems might bring more help.
   "In America, we've taken opportunities for granted," says tourist Ron
Winslow, a customer service representative from Akron, Ohio. "Here, people
would love to have opportunities but we hardly hear anything about their
country."
   Winslow said he had to research his travel itinerary to realize he was
going to Haiti.
   Some passengers were told only that they were headed to Hispaniola, the
island shared by Haiti and the Dominican Republic. Most said they were told
they were going to a private beach off the coast of Haiti.
   Royal Caribbean's Web site refers to the bay as "Labadee, Hispaniola."
Another section calls the beach, on Haiti's north coast, a "private
island."
   "This is merely an effort to be inclusive and refer to the entire island
of Hispaniola, which is geographically correct," said Michael Sheehan, a
company spokesman.
   He described the cruise as a win-win situation: "Our guests get to
experience the unique nature of the given destination -- and the
destinations experience a positive economic impact."
   The company leases Labadie Beach from Societee Labadie Nord SA, which
puts on the entertainment. It also provides rifle-toting guards on days
there are no cruise ships, usually Wednesday through Sunday, when they
allow in Haitian tourists who can afford it.
   "On cruise ship days this place is very different," says Jean-Arrol
Santel, 32, a beach supervisor who earns about 2,000 Haitian dollars ($400)
a month. "Hopefully even more people will come and there will be more jobs.
It's important for Haiti."
   Maryse Penette-Kedar, president of Societe Labadie, which is known by
the acronym Solano, said more jobs could be created if the brisk business
continues. She also said that if conditions improve, tourists might start
going farther afield, such as to the Citadelle fortress or Sans Souci
castle.
   "I think it's improved the country's image abroad and helped Haitians,"
she said. "Solano is the No. 1 employer in the north, with more than $1
million of payroll a year."
   On Mondays and Tuesdays, cruise ships sail into the harbor and small
boats ferry thousands of people across the idyllic bay. They flock to hear
Haitian musicians, slurp pina coladas and snack on hot dogs and hamburgers
brought from the ship. Some jump on inflatable jungle gyms in the water,
then run back to the beach to collapse on lounge chairs.
   The excursions last about seven hours. Then they're off to their next
Caribbean stop.
   Musician Felix Valcourt, 75, wishes the tourists would do more.
   "If each one of them dropped a quarter in a bin during their visits, it
would help build a high school or a clinic," says Valcourt, dressed in a
tropical shirt stiff from pressing. In two weeks he and his band of four
earn 1,000 Haitian dollars ($200).
   He complains the tourists rarely tip and says none has ever ventured
across the bay to Labadie Village or shown much interest in Haiti.
   "No one ever asks us any questions about our lives, and the ships keep
coming without bringing us any kind of real rewards," he says.
   For those locked outside the gates of Labadie, the rewards are even
slimmer.
   Many craft vendors stand outside, hoping the stall operators will buy
their cha-cha rattles and paintings that sell at a 30 percent profit
inside. Other people rummage through garbage in search of leftover food.
   Still, Tracy, the visitor from Maine, said the stopover had made her
think about the broader Haitian culture.
   "This has been a humbling and educational experience," she said.
"Voodoo, witchcraft and poverty -- that's all I knew."