The END

Sadly, this will be my last piece of writing here. My adventure/journey/life in Belize is over, whatever that may mean. Even now, as I type this on my new BlackBerry while sipping a latte and watching CNN, it all seems like a crazy dream.

I have yet to have any freak-outs or breakdowns, but I have been too busy catching up my life here to really process it all.

To close this out, I will simple say thank you to everyone, both in the USA and in Belize (my two homes). Without all of your love and support these past 25 months would have been impossible. And to those who have read my wandering musings, either faithfully or occasionally, you have my gratitude.

Finally, here is a piece of unsolicited advice: take those risks, live your dreams, and do those things that you have always wanted to do, not just despite the fact that people may think that you are crazy, but perhaps because being the crazy one is just what you need.

How I left Blue Creek

Props go to Michael, Aurelio, and Adriano for making sure that I didn't get stuck in Blue Creek.

Leaving

Receiving my gift from counterpart at my going away party

Dancing with council member, Manuel

Dancing a marimba dance with my village chairman, Adriano

A 5am self pic with Roseann and JJ

Today was my last day in Blue Creek. I was all packed up, had said goodbye to my friends and colleagues in the village, and was mentally prepared to be on my way home, only one thing separated me from that journey...my old friend and nemesis...the river. For nearly a week straight, the river has been running over, rather than under, the bridge in Blue Creek. At some points people, trucks, and buses have been able to pass and at others we have been left to stare at each other from different banks as people stare at a camp fire when there is nothing else to focus on. Jeff left on Friday morning to take care of some last minute business up in Belize City, my friends left on Saturday morning, and both times the river was low enough for the buses to pass. On Sunday (today), however, the river stubbornly refused to go down quick enough for my arranged ride to get across as some more rain clouds rolled in. I started to panic, thinking that I was going to be stuck in Blue Creek, not get to say goodbye to all of my fellow Toledo Volunteers, and would have to call Peace Corps to order a helicopter to get me out.

My friend Michael stood on the other bank with the vehicle that would be my ticket out of the village. The river was just low enough for people to wade across the bridge through the rushing water, but not low enough for a high-centered truck to go through. I started going slowly through the swift, thigh-deep water and Michael started across his side. I was going to tell him to go on without me, that I would arrange another way out, but when he reached me he said that he refused to leave me there and that he would carry my bags across. I tried to convince him that my huge 55 pound rolling suitcase was a bit much for wading across a slippery flooded bridge, but he seemed determined. He grabbed my massive suitcase and equally heavy backpack and I grabbed my laptop and a few random bags of stuff that I was giving away. We marched down the river, took our shoes off, and began shuttling my parcels across. My counterpart saw the show from the other side and quickly waded in to help, with assistance from the chairman. At one point, four people were carrying my things across a bridge that was flooded nearly to my waist. We made it the other side and I said some quick goodbyes to my friends, and we were off.

The rain is coming down hard now as I sit in Punta Gorda in my air-conditioned hotel room. I imagine that the bridge never did come down all the way. I am sad to be gone, but it is not quit real, not yet.

Farewell Party

And then all of a sudden it hit me. I am leaving Blue Creek. I have known and anticipated for months that I will be returning to the states, and for that I am excited, giddy even, but the whole leaving part was just too difficult to absorb. Then last night I was invited over to my counterpart's house for a last minute "meeting." I knew that they were planning something thanks to the inability of small children to keep a secret, but I wasn't at all prepared for the event.

All of the members of the village council and other families that I have been close with during my time in Blue Creek were there to surprise me with my final Caldo (traditional soup) and hot tortilla dinner, along with my favorite meal, Cohune cabbage which is heart of palm stewed with lots of spices and spooned onto a tortilla. They presented me with a letter of their appreciation and an embroidered version of the Blue Creek Tourism Committee logo. I was nearly in tears as I got up to say my gratitude for the welcome and experience that Blue Creek was able to provide me. Then we enjoyed some rum and Guatemalan beer and I took turns dancing with all the council members and I began to absorb what it means to leave a place that has, for better or worse, truly been a home to me.

Hell or High Water

Now I know what they mean when they say "come hell or high water." Today it is the high water, and I am determined to make it to town to meet my friends who should be arriving from Guatemala sometime this afternoon. The thought of them wandering around Punta Gorda is a sad one, meanwhile I am stuck behind a wall of water and the buses didn't even bother to come through today. Just 3 full days of village life left, which means soon I will think fondly of the times when I was trapped in my tiny little village by torrential rains and a decrepit bridge. But today, I just want to get to town. Let’s just hope that come Sunday when I plan to make my final departure, the rain Gods will hold off for just a little bit so that I can start my journey back home.

Finale

Yummy... Nothing like armadillo tacos to start my final week in Blue Creek. They don’t taste exactly like chicken, but still a tasty addition to the “things I ate in Belize” list.  Last weekend in Placencia was an event full of loading up on fresh lobster and soaking in the Caribbean Sea (see picture of me with fellow Toledo girls Liz and Rachel) and then a week full of medical fun in Belize City. I passed, no worries, they will let me back in the USA.

With all the ups and downs, wishing and hoping, and unpredictable emotional swings, my last week in Blue Creek has arrived, bringing it with it a certain amount of sadness mixed with celebration. I am ready to come home, and am confident that I have worked hard and contributed all that I was able to, given the limitations of working in a small isolated village. And that is all that a Peace Corps volunteer can hope to accomplish. Now I will spend my week visiting with friends, both those from Blue Creek and those who have made the journey to Blue Creek from other places, and packing and selling everything that has contributed to my survival and sanity over these past two years. The only things coming back with me are an ugly (though amazingly comfortable) hammock, a few baskets, a couple of less ragged outfits and as much Marie Sharps hot sauce as I can fit on top.  Actually, if anyone back in Seattle wants to check in the hot sauce aisle for Marie Sharps and report back to me, I would grateful. Rumor has it that they export, but I can’t hinge my severe Marie Sharps addiction on speculation alone, so a little investigative reporting would be great. If they do have it, buy a bottle (fiery hot), and put it on everything from eggs to chow mein. You wont be sorry.

11 days and 2 ours from the time I am writing this email I will be getting on a plane in Cancun bound for Spokane via Phoenix. Until then I will listen to the crazy rain on my tin roof, hoping that the river doesn’t flood so I can go to town tomorrow and close my bank account and cancel my light bill.