Transition

Here's a little story from one of my first experiences abroad. January 2002
I went on a month long study abroad "J-term" with a Sociology class to
Jamaica. It was my first experience being outside the country for such a
long period of time and my initial foray into the art of traveling sans
supervision. The trip was eye-opening and stressful and stretched me in the
way that I viewed the world and myself. I saw what a developing country
really looked like and for a very short period of time, was able to imagine
what it would be like to live in that world. Looking back, I realize how
short those 3.5 weeks really were.

During the first week of that trip, when me and the members of my group were
still pasty white and in awe of the energy that is Kingston, Jamaica, we met
a Peace Corps volunteer. We were riding on a ferry to a small historical
port near Kingston, and this guy was traveling with his dad. When we got
off the boat, he made a point of talking loudly in Creole with the locals
and then proceeded to tell us how much we had offended the Jamaican
passengers on the boat by our loud talking and by putting our feet on the
benches. These accusations may have been true enough, but I was left with
such a bitter taste in my mouth about the arrogance of this "Peace Corps"
that I am surprised I came around to the idea in the end.

So my reason for telling you all this story, is that I have on more than one
occasion been faced with a not so different scenario. Riding a bus, walking
in town, or even chatting with the ladies at the river in Blue Creek, some
well-meaning tourist will pull some cultural blunder. Each time this
occurs, I am back at the dock in Jamaica, thinking about how much I wanted
to learn about Jamaica and here someone was telling me how dumb I was. Not
a good feeling. So now I am here to defy the Peace Corps stereotype, and to
let others make their own cultural blunders. I enjoy talking with tourists
and hearing about their experiences, and I realize that while I have learned
so much about Belize in my last 9 months, I am no means an expert.
Traveling, whether for a week or for 2 years, is an amazing opportunity and
who am I to detract from that with a know-it-all attitude.

So, to my friends and family; as one who can be a know-it-all, you have my
permission to put me in my place when I return to the states. Remind me
that I am not a wikipedia entry on Belize/Maya's/rain forests. Ask me about
things, and I will be glad to share, but for God's sake, tell me to shut up
when I start to speak in Creole or giving lectures about life in Belize.

The Maya and their beliefs

Hot off of Reuters, here is something about Bush's visit to a Maya ruin in
Guatemala.

http://www.alertnet.org/thenews/newsdesk/N09208099.htm

I can't say my opinion on it, working for the Gov and all, but it's funny
and worth a read.

The Times

Here are the final times for the 3 peace corps teams (my team "won" but not by much).

Place Time
Day 4
54 3:44:35 The Real Macaw Paddlers
59 3:59:05 Peace Corps Northern
67 4:08:32 Hairy Posse

Day 3
63 5:46:40 The Real Macaw Paddlers
69 5:54:45 Peace Corps Northern
76 6:11:55 Hairy Posse

Day 2
63 9:25:30 Peace Corps Northern
68 9:40:04 The Real Macaw Paddlers
86 10:34:07 Hairy Posse

Day 1
39 7:35:31 The Real Macaw Paddlers
38 7:20:39 Peace Corps Northern
45 7:59:38 Hairy Posse

Total Times

Northmen 26:39:59
Real Macaw 26:46:50
Hairy Posse 28:54:12

Meet the teams

Meet the Competitors: Peace Corps La Ruta

My Team: The Northmen: Michael, Scott, and Self

Team Hairy Posse: Greg, Ken and Nicole


Team Barracuda: Jeff, Christine, and Micah


We also had a great support crew of 5 and an awesome Red Cross SUV as our chariot, photos coming soon. The rowers rowed, and the support crews supplied us with chocolate and bananas, it was a good relationship.

POST

So I did a thing. A pretty amazing thing. I just rowed in a canoe with two guys for 178 miles. No, not in one day. Four days actually. As of last Wednesday my plan was not to be in a canoe for 8-10 hours a day for four days, but things happen and sometimes you end up being the clutch person. The race began on Friday (my sister's birthday) and ended yesterday (my brother's birthday), so I dedicated my La Ruta Maya Belize River Challenge to my dear siblings. I'm not going to lie, at times this was a painful and mentally challenging feat. I won't quite put it up there with running marathon, since I was able to perform without training at all, but it is not for the weak hearted.

Day 1: Starting under the Hawksworth Bridge in San Ignacio, near the Guatemalan border, the race begins at a frantic pace. Our wide bottom boat was a saving grace as most of the sleak racing canoes tipped immediately in the chaotic start. We were fresh and paddled our way towards Banana Bank, some 50 miles, fueled by bananas, snickers, and Peanut Butter sandwiches. The friendly faces of our support crew greeted us from several places along the way as we paddled along. Among the other 100 + boats, two other teams of Peace Corps volunteers added to the competitive nature. Days Time: 7 hours, 20 minutes.

Day 2: A little sore from the first day of competition and a little bit psychologically intimidated by the 60 miles that lay ahead, team PC Northmen cruised through the first 4 hours with little problem. The river began to widen and slow as we passed through a less inhabited area than the day before. Troups of howler monkeys, parrots, herons, igaunas and other fauna made the ride more interesting, but the day was a long one. A couple of 5 minutes respites from paddling and more than one snickers kept us going. Fellow PCV's in Barracuda boat kept us entertained with singing and various quizes. Day's Time: 9 hours, 10 minutes.

Day 3: Much shorter than the day before, this day was still the hardest. Physical exhaustion was wearing in with shoulders, back, and posterior feeling the pressure of 16 hours of sitting on a wooden seat constantly paddling. The river and the head-wind made the going much slower, and a lack of energy in the boat made for long, long periods of complete silence save for the birds and the swishing of the paddle going through the water. Day's Time: 6 hours.

Day 4: Last day, and the shortest, but what drama. A supposed 8:30am start turned into an 11:20am start after a major false-start on the part of the elite racers who then refused to stop paddling and turn their boats around. By the time the safety boats had cut them off and threatened disqualification, they were nearly half-way done. Eventually we started and our team battled it out with the other PCV boat, Team Hairy Posse. We eventually overtook them after 2 hours of intense paddling and made our way into the wind and tide that was making the river a major challenge. With only two brief pauses for gulps of gatorade, we paddled on into the mangrove swamps of Belize City and came in to the putrid waters of the metropolis. Days Time: 4 hours.

OVERALL: Thumbs up experience, but not something to mess around with. Camping in the rain, paddling in the rain, crappy food, and living in a canoe for over 24 hours is pretty intense. But that's life and that's me. Intense.

PRE

I Shella B., hereby declare that I am of sound mind and body and enter into
this event fully acknowledging the potential risk to said mind and body.
Despite agreeing to participate in such a ludicrous affair a mere 40 hours
before the starting gun, I assure all skeptics that I am ready to be called
into action.

THE RUTA MAYA - HERE I COME

The plan was to be support crew. Then the plan was to stay in my village
and avoid all association with La Ruta, as the pros call it. But something
bit me, left me temporarily insane, and I all of sudden find myself packing
my bag for a 4-day 120 mile canoe race. Oh, did I forget to mention the
punch line? Yes, I will in all likelihood sitting in a dorey (aka canoe)
from Friday until Monday as I paddle, along with two other loonies, from the
Guatemalan border to the Caribbean Sea (not in a straight line of course).
If you would have asked me on Tuesday (today being Wednesday) if this was at
all possible, I would have certainly denied it. Who knows what leads to
these sort of things, and for some reason being in the Peace Corps has led
me to do all sorts of insane things. Now, I'll drop everything I am doing,
pack a bag in less than an hour, take a bus for 8 hours just to sit in a
boat for 4 days just to get back on that bus and return to my village. All
in the name of fun.

I write this prior to the event, and will write another testament
afterwards, but from my previous experiences with seemingly impossible feats
of bodily strength and endurance, I shall not regret this decision. My
fellow penguins, I dedicate miles one and two to you (you can fight over
mile one :-)).

Hhhmmmm....Tasty

For about 5 years I was a Pac NW Vegetarian, which is essentially a regular
vegetarian who has a weak spot for salmon tacos, steamed clams, and fresh
crab. I felt healthy and was happy with my reasons for being so. I
realized that when I came to Belize, however, I would have to adapt to the
food and traditions of my new home. I slowly started eating meat again.
First chicken (and the BBQ here is tasty), then pork (nothing like deep
fried pork skin right off the hog), and yesterday, Iguana.

Bush meat, as it is known here is Toledo, is actually quite the delicacy.
People pay good money for Armadillo, Gibnut (a big guinea pig), and Iguana,
but I had so far avoided the craze. But your body does weird things when
you lack protein, like starting to salivate at the sight of a freshly killed
lizard. Since I have been cooking for myself I have limited my meat intake
to about once every week or two, with eggs, beans, and limited dairy making
up the bulk of my protein. This work fine, but every once in awhile meat
just sounds really really good. So when my host family invited me over to
Iguana dinner, I was in.

Iguana is prepared much the same as every other meat here. Stewed in a
greasy bath of lard, spices, cilantro and a bit of water. Put enough pepper
on something and it all tastes the same, really. Only with Iguana you throw
in the 30-50 eggs that are found in the females, which are generally hunted.
I am not even sure if this is legal, but it is tasty. I was skeptical of
the eggs, but ended up asking for seconds of the little leathery sacks of
goodness. And I was shocked at how much meat you can get off of a 3 foot
lizard (they're pretty big and scary looking). I still plan on going back
to my old ways once I am in the land of Trader Joes and farmer's markets,
but while I am here and I know where my food is coming from, pass the
Iguana.