The Requisite Blog of a PCV

The END

2008-07-23T10:42:00.001-06:00

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

2008-07-15T14:50:00.004-06:00

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

Leaving

2008-07-13T17:42:00.001-06:00

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

2008-07-11T09:47:00.000-06:00

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

2008-07-09T09:04:00.000-06:00

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

2008-07-07T09:55:00.000-06:00

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.

Feeling Better

2008-06-28T16:41:00.001-06:00

Okay – I am doing better than the last post. Sometimes you just have to vent, let the world know that each day isn’t always cheery and fun. I am in Placencia now, saying goodbye to my favorite little beach village. I am enjoying a final Gelato, a few goodbye rum and cokes, last dips in the Caribbean sea, and plenty of laughs with my favorite people. It is great. Three weeks from today, I will be home, enjoying BBQ and listening to my sweet little 4-year old niece tell me about her day. Amazing.

Impossible

2008-06-26T09:40:00.000-06:00

I want to cry and scream right now.

I want to cry because I miss home so much and I just want to close my eyes and be there, cool breezes and unimaginable freedoms. I want to cry because I am leaving Blue Creek in 18 days, leaving this life that I have worked so hard to build. I want to cry at the thought of the end of this impossible dream. I want to cry because it is all a little too much right now.

I want to scream because I am frustrated, depressed, and overwhelmed all at the same time. I want to scream because there is so much more that I could have done and I didn’t, so many boxes left unchecked and plans yet to be realized. And I want to scream because one more day of this mud, heat, and bugs may be my undoing.

I want to know how to deal with it all, to stay focused on the work yet to be done, to pack up my entire life, and to rise above the bitterness that makes me want to shut myself away from all of the needs that I couldn’t address and the people whom I imagine will not understand why I am leaving. I want to know how to end this two years with a feeling of accomplishment rather than abandonment.

I want to cry and scream because life is a big contradiction and it is impossible to make sense of it all.

Glovers Atoll

2008-06-21T19:08:00.000-06:00

I dropped off the face of the earth last week, it was great. No email, electricity, cars, phones, or shoes. Myself and 4 of my favorite fellow volunteers headed out to a little slice of rustic paradise called Glovers Reef, a coral atoll some 35 miles off the coast of Belize. For a mere pittance, we got a cabin over the water for a week, all the snorkeling we could handle, and more barracuda, lobster, and conch than we could possibly eat (though we managed). All that was required was a commitment to a full week of absolute relaxation on an island paradise, a week supply of food and water, and sunscreen.

Highlights of the trip included the guys lobster hunting with home-made tools (and hands), a feast of 4 fresh Barracuda and a Grouper that the guys brought home, endless hours of card games, and snorkeling in a coral paradise of colorful fish, sharks, and rays. I also perfected the art of coconut identification (what is a good coconut?), procurement (how do I get it out of the tree?), opening (now that I have the coconut, how do I get it open?), and enjoyment (first you drink da sweet sweet wata, den yu put a lita lime on di coconut...). I got a little tanner, learned how to fillet a fish, and that feeding a Nurse Shark by hand off our dock is not all that dangerous (they don’t have teeth). It was a perfect way to begin my transition from Peace Corps Shella back to USA Shella. Enjoy some pictures and I’ll be seeing you soon.

Updates

2008-06-10T14:17:00.001-06:00

All is well in Belize, things are calming down from last week's storms, but we are still completely cut off from the Northern half of the country. Here is a good and thorough article, http://www.huntingtonnews.net/columns/080610-kinchen-columnsbelizediary.html

I am planning to travel north on Friday before a week out at Glovers Reef with some dear friends. Keeping my fingers crossed on the weather.

Lots of love,

Shella

Appreciation: Week 3

2008-06-04T15:48:00.000-06:00

May 25th – May 31st

52: I appreciate the return of the rainy season and the end of the hot and dusty
51: I appreciate a cloudless, moonless night when the power is out and you can see every star
50: I appreciate a job interview over the phone that went very well, even if I didn’t get the job
49: I appreciate NPR podcasts and the news that they deliver
48: I appreciate postcards on beer coasters from friends that miss me
47: I appreciate the energy to go for a run and the cloudy skies for making it tolerable
46: I appreciate hungry PCV’s who appreciate my homemade curry

Weather in Belize

2008-06-03T13:02:00.000-06:00

Rainy Season has arrived very suddenly and dramatically. After two months of very dry weather, the past 10 days have brought us two Tropical Depressions, flash flooding, and the country being completely paralyzed due to the collapse of a main bridge on the Southern Highway, the only source of food and gas to my part of Belize. I may be evacuated up North, but am on standfast right now waiting to see what happens. There has been a rush on all food staples and many roads where I am at are impassable. Read the AP article here. I will keep you all updated as I figure out what the heck is going on.

Love.

Appreciation: week 2

2008-05-30T15:38:00.000-06:00

May 18 – May 24

59: I appreciate long bike rides through the jungle, listening to Howler Monkeys, frogs, and the many birds
58: I appreciate the sunrise over the Caribbean as I turn the corner into Punta Gorda at 6:00am after an hour on the bus
57: I appreciate coffee, a morning routine that has traveled with me where ever I go
56: I appreciate my washing spot, an excuse to cool down, slow down, and relax while doing a chore
55: I appreciate friends that visit from other sites in Belize, they break up the routine
54: I appreciate the calming turquoise of the Caribbean Sea and kayaking on a clear day
53: I appreciate whole wheat flour that allows me to make pizza crust

Appreciate: Week 1

2008-05-17T12:01:00.000-06:00

In the spirit of embracing and recognizing all the great things that have made up these past two years, I am going to devote a moment each day to an appreciation. Over the next two months, I will compile and share these recognitions once a week, so that by the time I leave Belize I will have 66 reminders of the great things that I too often take for granted.

May 11 – May 18

66: I appreciate my hammock and the time to enjoy it. Even the worse days (like today) are rectified by a little R&R in my hammock in front of my fan.
65: I appreciate my mosquito net. Even when it is too hot to bring it down, the magical canopy keeps the fantasy of my jungle life alive.
64: I appreciate the sound of the water coming through the bridge. A low gurgling complemented by the whistling birds and rustling iguanas.
63: I appreciate the bittersweet, slightly gritty chocolate made from fresh, organic cacao grown in my backyard.
62: I appreciate the “pool,” a deep, shaded, waterfall-fed spot in my river that turns hot afternoons into paradise
61: I appreciate the Snack Shack, my PG breakfast spot with real coffee, wireless internet, and a giant burrito by the sea.
60: I appreciate mango season and all the 13 varieties of sticky, juicy, sweet, mangoes that are now at the market

A letter to the moms in my life

2008-05-11T14:31:00.000-06:00

Today is Mother's Day and it is also my Mom's birthday, which makes it doubly difficult to be absent for the second year in a row. Instead, I am dying of a relentless heat and facing a reality that does not include water. The village well, for the first time ever, has run dry. Thank you climate change. But today, it's not about me, it's about moms.

Really, my mom only has herself to blame for me being here, so far from home. Had I had a more conventional, less passionate person for a role-model, I might have been content to stay where I was instead of pursuing a dream. Without her love of travel and other cultures, that deep-seeded curiosity and wonder that drove me out of the PNW may never have surfaced. And had it not been for her ability to face and conquer insurmountable challenges, I am not sure that I would have known how to summon my own inner strengths during the times when life has been less than ideal. So mom, it may your fault that I am not there today for brunch and a historical home tour, but I am truly grateful for that. These past two years have been difficult, but they also have been important, and amazing, and irreplaceable. And the good news is that soon I will be home, where I can continue being your stubborn, self-righteous, rigid daughter.

And then there is my sister, a mother as well as my best friend. I know she thinks me crazy for being here, but that has never stopped her from being there whenever I needed her and to listening to all my crazy stories and reading all my ranting, boring, and occasionally sentimental blogs. Like our own mother, she has met challenges that I don’t think I would have been able to face. Everyday she works towards being a better person and a better mother to my beautiful niece, whom I miss more than anything. I don’t think she knows how much I admire her for her strength.

And to all the mothers, thanks for raising some amazing people, especially the ones I have had the good fortune to know and work with closely. And if your child tells you one day that they want to run away from you two years to join the Peace Corps, chances are, you have only yourself to thank, and for that you should be proud.

The Beginning of the End

2008-05-09T16:55:00.004-06:00

My Toledo Buddies: Jeff, Matty, and Michael

Peace Corps Belize: 2006 - 2008

The countdown has begun, officially I have 68 days of being a Peace Corps Volunteer left and now that my training group has completed our "Close of Service" conference, I can truly feel that only a couple of months, some hard work, a little traveling, and a bunch of sad goodbyes (not to mention a whole host of medical tests) separate me from that plane ride back to "reality." I have, of course, mixed emotions about leaving; mostly I am excited and looking forward to being home, but I also have a very real and fulfilling life here in Belize that I will wrap up and process. Today, I said goodbye to close friends, some of whom I know I will see again, but who knows what will happen as we all start to focus on the journeys that we will take following Peace Corps Belize and whether our paths will cross again. Above is a photo of our group, down from the original 40 but still close and strong, in Corozal with the beautiful Caribbean Sea at our backs.

Dust to dust

2008-05-04T10:31:00.000-06:00

The rooster's voice cracks mid cock-a-doodle,
The palm trees loose their pride;
The hot breeze brings negative relief,
And the jungle waits for rain.

The Iguana searches for a shady pool,
The river stalls then reverses;
The off-white clouds melt into a haze,
And the jungle waits for rain.

The buses stampede past the boiling school,
The students stare into their ice dreams;
The laundry collects a coat of dust,
And the jungle waits for rain.

The throat begs silently for something cool,
The damp skin is gritty to touch;
The eyes burn from the billowing smoke,
And I am waiting for rain.

El Viaje Ultimo - Part 2

2008-04-28T10:18:00.000-06:00

Continued...

-- Day 4 --

Because Lanquin was a good thing, it did have to come to an end. After a quick breakfast and a few last goodbyes to some new friends, we joined a group of 5 Israelis in a chartered truck to Rio Dulce. For the next 5 hours we curved around steep slopes, through sleepy little Maya villages, and up and down some of the most picturesque scenery I had seen in Central America. Mike and I had spent our last Quetzals (Q’s) on breakfast, so by the time we arrived at the gas station on the other side of the mountains, a feast of trail mix, yogurt, and soda thanks to my VISA was a God send. We eventually arrived in Rio Dulce, a busy transit center on the shores of Lago de Izabel, where we loaded up on cheap coffee, wine, and dehydrated soy meat that we could smuggle back into Belize. We ditched the Israeli’s, who had proven to be less than enjoyable travel companions (who brings two HUGE backpacks and a large roller suitcase, per person, when they are backpacking through Central America?) and made our way by boat to the Tortugal Hostel and Marina. A unique mix of budget travelers and long-term sailors, I absolutely loved this place and would encourage anyone to stop in if they are traveling through Guatemala. You can stay in a large thatch “dorm” for $10 US a night, or get a private bungalow for about $30 US. They have free internet, satellite TV, Kayaks, and a great kitchen and bar. We talked with people who had been sailing for months, and were even offered a ride back to Belize on one boat, if only we could wait for a couple of days. I was bummed about turning that offer down, but it was fun to imagine what life would be like living on a 40 foot sail boat.

-- Day 5 --

Vacations must end, so this one did. We left Rio Dulce and Tortugal and headed for Puerto Barrios via some crowded mini-buses, a bus and some walking. In Barrios I dragged Mike to the very small, but clean and A/C’ed mall to get a McFlurry, Chicken Panini sandwich and some new shoes. I love Guatemala! Then it was back on the boat, and back to PG and Blue Creek where life continues on for these last 80 days.

El Viaje Ultimo - Part 1

2008-04-26T09:26:00.000-06:00

I realize that it may seem that I have been in a constant state of travel lately, as that is the only thing that I end up publishing for the world to see. But the truth is that I have been busy and satisfied with my work in the village and haven’t really had all that much crazy or interesting happening, so this installment follows yet another vacation, to Guatemala, again. It was my last real out of country vacation, since it is under 3 months until I leave and leaving the country is discouraged in a PCV’s last 90 days of service.

--Day 1--

Myself and another Toledo volunteer (Michael of Big Falls) headed over to Guate by boat from PG, where we then caught a bus headed to Guatemala City. We enjoyed the Spanish dubbed version of American Gangster for a few hours before getting off at a dusty little junction called El Rancho. From El Rancho we were loaded into a mini-bus (a glorified van) with 24 other passengers and one small cat. Three very crowded hours on some crazy winding, narrow, steep roads and we arrived in Coban, a decent sized city in the Mayan heartland of Guatemala. It was getting late, and we were tempted to stay there, but our final destination of Lanquin, a small highland village, was only about 1.5 hours away (or so we were told), so we pressed on. We arrived in Lanquin about 3 hours after that, only to find our 1st choice hostel full. Because it was now after 9pm, and we were tired and hungry, we settled on the closest cheap hotel we could find. For $4.00 US, we each had a semi-padded pallet, a toilet with no paper or seat, and an ice cold shower, but I actually slept pretty well and didn’t see a single insect. Our goal for the following day would be to get a bed at El Retiro, eat some good food, and see a cave full of bats and their guano.

--Day 2--

The turkeys and roosters outside the window at our luxury Lanquin accommodations woke me early, so we packed up and headed back to the hostel that we were originally planning on stay at, El Retiro. Thankfully there were plenty of people moving on, as is usually the case with backpackers, so we got a private not too far from the showers and bathroom, both at which were clean and functioning. It was a Sunday, which at El Retiro means an all you can eat breakfast buffet of some of the tastiest food you can imagine. For over 2 hours Mike and I sat in the beautiful thatch dining area over looking the river while feasting on eggs cooked to order, fresh fruit, bread, tortillas, yogurt, nutella, granola, and coffee. I can’t remember the last time I was that full yet completely happy. Most of the rest of the day was spent digesting, losing a couple of games of Chess to Mike, and preparing for our evening hike to see the local cave and the furry flying creatures that live there. The cave itself was fine, but unfortunately damaged by excessive tourism and lit by electric lights. Seeing the impact that mass tourism can have on an archaeologically important cave made me realize how important my work has been in Blue Creek with working to protect our own amazingly pristine and valuable resource. Before the bats made their appearance, we jumped in the icy blue waters of the river that emerges from the cave, and then waited. Before long, hundreds, if not thousands, of small fruit bats were darting out of the cave while we sat in the mouth trying to believe that they would not run into us. We got a couple of pretty awesome pictures before returning to El Retiro for another amazing meal, some Red Label Whiskey, and some Guatemalan beer.

-- Day 3 --

After a much needed good nights sleep, we woke up early to prepare for our full day tour to Semuch Champey, a nearby series of caves and natural pools and waterfalls. Riding in the back of a truck from the hostel, we reached the area in about 45 minutes. The scenery was beautiful, though not too dissimilar to the jungle covered hills that I am used to seeing everyday around Blue Creek. Once we reached the river, we headed into a cave with a tour guide with only candles to light our path. I have done caves before, but I have to say going through the cave with only the light from a candle flame was a unique experience, especially swimming with the candle in hand. After the cave we tubed down the river, where some of the more adventurous folks took a jump off a 35 foot bridge. We ate our packed lunch of bread and mangoes (yeah for mango season!) and then started the hike up to the pools and hilltop view (see all the cool pics). The view was definitely worth the hike, and then being able to go jump into the pools after the fairly challenging hike. We relaxed in the pools for a bit, and then our guide tossed a rope ladder down the face of a cliff, where we then climbed down into the unknown. It turned out to be the where the river emerges out from under the pools, and from there the only option was to jump into the river from a 15 foot rock face. I sucked it up and jumped into the raging river, emerging safely on the other side. That was about all the adrenaline I could handle for the day, which was good because we were heading back to the hostel for another amazing family style meal. That night we splurged on lots of good Guatemalan beer while playing some good old fashioned card games with some other travelers.

Blue Creek: CSI

2008-04-24T14:16:00.000-06:00

I was burglarized a week or so back, in the middle of the day, in my sleepy village of 280 people. Worse, 3 fellow PCV's and good friends were visiting me for the weekend also found there cash and ipods missing. I guess it was just my time, having gone nearly 2 years living in a poor, Central American country and traveling to poorer Central American countries without incident. It seems that a trio of wayward youth from another, larger, village had wandered into Blue Creek in search of some easy money. Me being the naïve soul that I am left a window open a crack for ventilation while the 4 of us visited Jeff for a short while. After returning 40 mins later, one of the girls noticed her ipod and cash gone, prompting us to check our own belongings. Seems that our visitors weren’t amateurs and had replaced our wallets back in our bags and left everything as-is, taking only cash and 3 ipods (mine was somewhat hidden and remained).

A freak thunderstorm downed the satellite phone signal for a couple of hours, so by the time we got a hold of the Punta Gorda police department, they were gone for their dinner “refreshment” and would be out to Blue Creek for their report in an hour or so. I was less shocked by the fact that we would have to wait for the police due to a meal break than by the idea that they would be driving out to my village at all. I honestly expected a request to come to town at my earliest convenience, where I would then be treated with indifference and skepticism while I waiting for hours in a stuffy police station while half-drunk crazies yelled obscenities at me from the stinking holding cell. Instead, the police, a forensics expert, a photographer, and a couple of people whose titles or purposes I’m still not sure of arrived promptly at 9:30pm at my house in Blue Creek. We explained the situation and showed the police the “evidence” that our own investigation had turned up, namely a full set of toe prints in the dust on my chair near the guilty window and a set of boot prints high on my wall where one of the guys had tried to get into the neighboring rooms of my shared house. The forensics expert got out his dusting kit while the photographer walked around my house taking crime scene photos. The Alcaldes (village security/leaders) hung around outside enjoying the show as much as we were. The police probably thought that we were awfully jolly for 4 girls that had just had hundreds of dollars worth of cash and ipods stolen, but watching a full-fledged investigation taking place in 12’ x 18’ shack was just too unlikely. Once they had lifted the prints off my chair and one of the ipod covers that was left behind, they packed up the show and headed back into town, leaving us to wonder what were the chances of matching a set of toe prints to a likely perpetrator, and what happens if they get a pedicure?

Update: Two ipods have been recovered and the third is being tracked down. The three youth have admitted to stealing the ipods, and will go before the courts to plead their case in the coming month. Case Closed.

Spring Break

2008-04-02T15:39:00.000-06:00

Well, there wasn't any foam parties and I certainly didn't do any body shots, but I did enjoy my few days of semi-spring break on the beaches of Mexico, just south of Cancun in Tulum. Though I can hardly call it Spring Break since I live in a climate of perpetual summer and don't really work hard enough to earn a break, but a couple of days at the beach was pleasant none the less. Plus, you know you need a break when upon entering Mexico your first thought is one of shock at how clean, organized, and well-developed everything is.

Tulum is one of the most beautiful spots in the world, made even better by having my friend from Seattle, Jana, there to greet me as I stumbled blindly up the wide expanse of powdered sugar beach in search of a place called Playa Paradise. We quickly caught up, comparing our respective lives in Mexico and Belize and then got down to the business of sun-tanning and relaxing. Tulum is an interesting destination in that it’s caught in the middle of it's backpacker roots and the encroaching ultra-lux resorts that are creeping down from Cancun. We went the backpacker route, riding rented jalopy bikes out to the Maya ruins (they sure picked a great spot) and then scanned the streets for the best local street foods (and ice cream!). I basked in the glow of a real grocery store and mexican beer while Jana enjoyed her new found freedom as a recently graduated student (2 MA's in 3 years, way to go!).

After Tulum, we headed to Belize so that I could show Jana what a real developing country looks like. We spent a night in Belize City, hitting up the Princess Casino, where a few dollars spent at the nickel slots gets you endless free drinks and amusing pick-up lines for hours (i.e. - could you please show me how to work this slot machine, I’m from England and they don't work like this back home).

The following two days were spent in the laid back atmosphere of San Ignacio. Ever since I arrived in Belize I have been wanting to visit a much-lauded cave, the Actun Tunichil Muknal (Cave of the Sacred Sepulcher) where hundreds of pieces of pottery and at least 12 skeletons have been preserved in the rock by calcification. After swimming and wading up the underground river, you have to literally step over the pottery and skulls as you make your way to one of the most beautiful caverns I have ever seen. Look for pics on the right --->.

Critters

2008-03-25T15:42:00.000-06:00

Returning to Blue Creek after a couple of days in town for the Easter holiday, I was looking forward to getting back to my routine and my own bed. After unpacking my bag and my groceries, I unrolled my yoga mat for my usual afternoon exercise, only to find a dead lizard pressed into my mat like a preserved autumn maple leaf. Rather than shock or disgust, my initial reaction was one of complacency, followed by the thought that this is something that isn't likely to happen to me back in the states. I chucked the lizard outside for the ants to take care of and cleaned my mat with some bleach water, hanging it out to dry so that I could eventually get around to the yoga part of my day. The lizard/yoga mat incident is just the latest in a string of recent close encounters with wild life that would be so very strange in my other life. Small fish getting stuck in my t-shirts when I am doing my laundry in the river, frogs jumping on my leg during my shower, snakes crossing my path on my way to the bathroom at night, and bats flying just a little too close when I am outside doing my dishes at the water-pipe; all just part of living this life. The good news is that with just 117 days left before I return home, I can look on these encounters with a bit of amusement, knowing that someday soon it will all be just a fond memory of those wacky 2 years I spent in the jungles of Belize.

PS – So that you don’t feel too bad for me, tomorrow I am taking off for a short vacation up in Mexico, just a couple hours south of Cancun. Goodbye critters and hello Margaritas and beaches. I guess my life isn’t all that hard after all.

Backpackers and other laments

2008-03-12T08:20:00.001-06:00

Some things were never meant to take place via the casual anonymity of the internet, like extending inviting someone to sleep on your couch. Perhaps you've heard of the website couchsurfers.com, which allows wandering vagabonds to connect to willing hosts via the internet, show up at their door, and sleep in their houses all for the price of a meal and some interesting conversation. I'm not going to judge those who choose to take part in this free exchange of short-term housing, but what do you do when you find yourself being perceived as a "couch-surfing" location by accident?

A week and a half ago, I found myself in this exact position after meeting a professional traveler at a friends house. This friend had indeed signed himself up as a couch-surfing location, and was hosting his first visitor when I showed up to crash in his guest room after a full day of traveling on the bus. I was a little surprised, but just figured, hey, to each his own, right? The next morning I exchanged friendly conversation with the backpacker and then went on to catch my bus back to my village. I must have mentioned the name of my village and expressed my good fortune at having such a beautiful home, but in no way did I encourage the traveling organic farmer/musician to stop in for a visit. I have enough to worry about without having to play host to a random stranger. So imagine my surprise when Mr. Backpacker peeps his head in my open door a couple of days later, saying “hello, the ladies by the river told me you live here, mind if I set my bags down while I look around the village?” Being the gracious, non-confrontational American that I am, I offered him a corner for his bags and figured that he would set up his tent with a local family and eat with them. He came in, took a seat on the floor (I do own chairs, but apparently that was too conventional), and started asking about where he could find some local vegetables to cook for dinner. This is where I realized that he had confused me with a couch surfing host, and I began racking my brain for a way to get out of this. Unfortunately, having never been faced with the dilemma of a complete stranger waltzing into my house and assuming complete familiarity, I was at a loss.

I was on the way to the store anyways, so I took him around to some houses where people grew vegetables, and he picked up the makings for some sort of rice and vegetable dish. Back at my house, I needed to go do some work down the road, so I innocently let him stay in my house, I figured he had stayed at my friends house without ransacking the place. A few hours later I returned to find nearly every pot and pan in my kitchen in use and every kid in my village staring at this strange man who was making himself at home in my house. The last thing I wanted was for everyone in the village to think that I was in the habit of having strange, male house guests, but what was I to do? He was basically inviting me to dinner in my own house and I had no choice but to sit down and wonder how I was to get him to leave. The control freak inside me was scratching to get out, to tell this guy to quit cooking on my cast-iron pan, to use a little bleach on the dishes, and to take it easy on the olive oil, a pricey commodity. After dinner I feigned tiredness and my site-mate and another PCV made sure that Mr. Backpacker had set-up his tent and was on his way out the door. Thankfully I didn’t even own a couch that could serve as a bed and I was not about to offer up my hammock.

After a night spent developing a so-called exit strategy, I got up the next morning and boldly informed the wayward traveler that I was very busy, and it would be best if he found another place to park his tent. Chances are I will never see this guy again, and I really needed to regain control of my house before I completely lost it. Later, as I was processing the whole situation, I realized that I was so aggravated because this was my home, not some hostel or half-way house. Backpackers flock to Central America in hoards, sleeping in hostels and relishing in the communal living and sharing that happens in those places, but I live here. For me, it was as if someone had knocked on my apartment in Seattle, invited themselves in, pitched a tent in the front yard and then started rummaging through my cupboards and whipping up a meal, albeit one that is graciously shared. It was that strange. After I dismissed the foreign traveler along with his guitar, tent, and drawstring hemp capris, I cleaned up and took a deep breath of relief.

Sharing my life

2008-03-10T09:15:00.001-06:00

No matter how many pictures I post or how many too lengthy blog pieces I write, it is just so hard to convey what my life is really like here in Belize. I can't accurately describe the oppressive heat, the foreign smells, or the contagious smiles and laughter through the internet, which is why
personal visits from friends and family are so important to me. For a short period of time I get to be the expert, the one who actually knows what is going on, instead of the bumbling, culturally awkward idiot that I usually am.

This past week I hosted my mother. After 21 months, I finally felt prepared to share with her my version of Belize. Eight days is not really enough, but we did and saw as much as possible. I think she has a clearer picture of what my days are like and why I made the decision to give up two years of good coffee and comfortable temperatures to attempt the impossible down here in the jungles of Central America. We saw the major sites of Cayo and Placencia, and the not so major site of Blue Creek. We took boats up jungle rivers and swam in the Caribbean. She even indulged me in my desire to see nearly every resort property between here and Belize City, since I so rarely have the luxury of private transportation. I even managed to get some work done on my masters project. So thanks mom for coming to visit me, it was a great week! Oh, and thanks for taking Felix, my little jungle cat back to the states for me. I hope he enjoys life up there and I will see you both in July.

Consumption

2008-02-19T12:10:00.000-06:00

In a moment of self-assured eco-ego, I took the ecological footprint quiz that is featured at http://www.earthday.net/footprint/. I did the quiz twice, once based on how I live here in Belize and again based on my lifestyle that I was living in Seattle before I came to Belize. The way the quiz works is that you answer questions on how you shop, how you travel, and what you eat. Based on those answers, the quiz determines how many planet earths would be needed if everyone in the world were to live exactly as you do. It was obvious that my life in Seattle would have more of an impact, a footprint, on the earth than my one here in Belize, but I thought that the comparison would be interesting. After all, I don’t even have indoor plumbing, a car, or access to a shopping mall. I use 1 fluorescent light bulb for about 3 hours in the evening, I use about 8 gallons of water for all my drinking, washing, bathing, and I walk, hitchhike, or take a crowded bus when I need to travel. I am the picture of a sustainable lifestyle, I humbly thought while taking the quiz for the second time.

Apparently it is possible, and therefore necessary. Turns out that if everyone in the world were to live as an extravagantly as I do here in the jungles of Belize, we would need 2.3 earths. Living in Seattle, it goes up just a little to 3.1 earths. Not a comforting thought when you think about the millions and billions of people around the world, including people here in my own village, who are doing everything in their power to catch up to the consumption habits of people in the United States and their only slightly less consumption driven counterparts in Europe. The biggest mark against me in both my Seattle and Belize eco-footprints was my use of air travel. My habit of traveling half-way around the world on a biannual basis is not at all good for planet earth. Add to that the problem of garbage disposal, where my choices include burning it, burying, or carrying it to the district town where it is then collected, burned or buried. Burning it releases all sorts of toxins and carbon dioxide into the air and burying it has the potential of leaking the same bad things into the ground surface waters. My heart sank at the impossibility of this task that humanity has in front of it, namely saving our home.

So what can I do? What can we all do? Short of doing away with indoor plumbing, forgoing all traveling or joining the Peace Corps for a couple of years, there are some things we can do. Money is a powerful thing, so use it for good. Buy food that is local, organic, or both. Invest in and shop at companies that are supportive of green building and transportation initiatives (build their HQ’s up to LEED standards and give their employees bus passes). Instead of taking 2 one week trips a year, take a two-week vacation, you’ll enjoy it more anyways. Ride a bike or walk every once in awhile, you know you need to anyways. And support local and national leaders that are committed to taking climate change seriously. I don’t like to preach, but this was an awakening, realizing that even living the way I do right now, there are still things that I can do better.

A Perfect Sunday

2008-02-11T14:04:00.001-06:00

Danny and Jeff performing in Aguacate

Maybe I wont come back to the USA. Maybe I’ll just stay here in Belize for awhile more, putting off the stress and fast-paced lifestyle that I left behind some 20 months ago.

Probably not, but a day like this past Sunday makes thoughts like that one seem almost possible. Perfect days of relaxation, friends, warm sun, and sudden rain storms. Laying in a hammock under a thatch roof, eating a freshly baked cookie while two of my friends attempt a guitar duo, I look past the wide porch onto the green hills of a neighboring village. I figured I had earned a cookie after riding my rickety pink bike 4 miles from my home just to say hello to another Peace Corps Volunteer. My stomach was still full from the heavy bowl of spicy pork and corn dumplings that I had enjoyed at a wedding. The wedding was dying down and it not quite noon, so a bike ride on an overcast day provided a plan for the remainder of the afternoon.

In Aguacate after 35 minutes of easy peddling, Danny was surprised to see the Blue Creek volunteers lounging on his porch when he arrived back from making a call at the village phone. He canceled his spear-fishing plans to play some guitar and share the news of his village and hear the news that we brought with us. A carpenter by trade, Danny had spent his first months in his village constructing one of the most beautiful thatch houses I have ever seen. Varnished wood floors, built-in shelves, and double french doors that open on to a wide porch make for a pleasant retreat from my own small dorm. Before the guys started in on their guitars, we put together some oatmeal cookie mix, adding peanut butter for a special treat. I took up residence in the hammock while the guys perched on the steps, moving between acoustic renditions of Bon Jovi and Sublime, stopping only for another cookie. Before long I had dozed off and a rain-storm had moved into the valley. Rain came down in sheets and the guys had to move the jam session indoors, interrupting my nap. I forgave them and had another cookie.

The rain didn’t last long, and soon it was time for the Blue Creek contingent to return to their own village, leaving Aguacate, Danny, and his beautiful home behind. The road had become muddy in the rain, but that didn’t matter too much since I had a warm shower and clean clothes awaiting me. On the ride back the conversation floated between religion, politics, and the things we can’t wait for when we get done. But all of that is too distant to make a real impact on the day, leaving only a lingering impression of what awaits us back in our respective home states. Sunday had almost come to an end and as I washed the mud off in my outdoor shower I was overcome with a tinge of regret and sadness, that days like the one I had just lived were numbered and few. While I will surely enjoy my Sunday routine of the paper, coffee, and friends back home, a day of wedding feasts, jungle bike rides, and downpours under a thatch roof are something that can not be duplicated and must be cherished.

Elections

2008-02-04T09:46:00.000-06:00

Blue Creek is getting an influx of visitors this week thanks National Elections in Belize. While the USA is wrapped up in the chaos and speculation of Super Tuesday, Belize is gearing up for Decision 2008 of their own, taking place this upcoming Thursday. The Southern part of the country is less politically divided than the north, with the villages being a safe haven away from any election day tensions. As a Parliamentary system, no less than 5 political parties are vying for the votes of Belizeans across the country, hiring buses to bring people out of the villages to rallies and events. Political ads consume the air waves and red, blue, orange, and green signs indicate a village or household's loyalty. So far things have been mild and from what I hear elections here are peaceful if not entirely free of corruption. I am excited to see the Democratic process in action in a part of the country where less than half the adult population can read or write, but actively debate the advantages and disadvantages of the various candidates. I am not sure what will change if a new party is elected to lead, but as long as people are actively involved in their government in a free and fair election, progress is being made.

Bamboo Chicken

2008-01-23T10:50:00.000-06:00

I just had to post this picture of Victor Pop and the 4 female Iguana. I had some for lunch the other day and it was quite good, eggs and all. Each female contains 40-70 eggs in her side pouches. I am always torn about the hunting of female Iguanas with eggs. They are prized catch here, but I realize that by not letting the females lay their eggs there could be serious consequences for the population in the future. Right now the Iguana are not endangered, but if the market for the meat and eggs stays strong, there could be problems with over-hunting in the future.

Some Sad News

2008-01-21T14:46:00.000-06:00

Some of you may remember a couple of months ago when I wrote about meeting
Belize's most famous musician (and spilling my lunch on him). Andy Palacio
was a cultural icon that brought the Garifuna music of Belize to the world,
winning the UNESCO Artist for Peace Award on the day that I met him.

Yesterday Andy Palacio died. This is a big hit for Belize, for the Garifuna
people, and for the world in general. He was an amazing musician and
important part of the cultural preservation movement in Belize. The New York
Times wrote an article about his passing:

http://www.nytimes.com/2008/01/21/arts/music/21palacio.html?ref=music

Playing in the mud

2008-01-18T11:08:00.000-06:00

It was an unassuming enough invitation, a day of canoeing at a nearby protected area where a good friend has been working as a Peace Corps Volunteer. We had just finished a particularly difficult swim back into the cave. The water still being a little high, I nearly lost my swimsuit bottoms several times as I swept through raging currents in a dark underground river. A boat ride through a gentle lagoon while looking at birds sounded about as easy as it gets.

A couple of days later I arrived at the designated road junction at the appointed time. Jeff was there reading a 10-day old copy of the New York Times, having had arrived from the other direction by bike. We started walking the 3-miles in to the village where the park, Aguacaliente Wildlife Preserve, begins, and were soon overtaken by Mike and his friend Andy who was visiting from the states. The guys stashed their bikes in the bush and the 4 of us headed towards Laguna. Once at the village we put on our mud boots and started the somewhat muddy trip towards the lagoon, where we would find a large wooden canoe. Problem one: someone from the village came up to us and informed us that the large boat was leaking, so we would have to fit into the smaller, lightweight canoe that was dry-docked at the visitors center. Not a problem for seasoned adventurers such as ourselves, so we continued on the trail turned raised boardwalk.

It was a pleasant stroll on the wooden planks above the soft jungle floor, and we reached the visitors center quickly. Two of the guys agreed to carry the boat from the center to the lagoon. Fifteen minutes later we came to the lagoon, well actually it was a muddy stream that led to the lagoon, but it was the end of the trail. We put the boat in the water, and as we carefully boarded, we all realized that this was going to be trickier that we had first anticipated. Wobble left, wobble right, water coming over one side, then the other, and soon the whole boat and all it’s occupants were in the waist-deep mud. We all stood up laughing and waded back to shore to try this again. Surely we weren’t going to be outsmarted by a canoe, but this time we would use sticks to stabilize. Try number two got us about 20 feet past the dock before the entire boat sank. At this point, not being much of a fan of murkey swamp water, especially when up to my shoulders in it, I panicked and reached the shore breathing hard, swearing off canoes forever (this is actually the 2nd time in Belize I have done this). No worries, Mike says, there is a land route.

The land route was cruelly misnamed, as there was far less land and far more water. Ducking under thorn bushes, balancing on water-rotted logs, and slogging through greenish mud for almost an hour and we arrived. At what I cannot really say, but I stopped where I was, sent the guys ahead, and enjoyed the view from the log where I sat. They went on for awhile more, coming back to me by swimming through the lagoon rather than wade the muddy shore. Back to the dock, over the boardwalk, through the village, out to the road and I was thoroughly wet, dirty and exhausted, but I had seen an Amazon Kingfisher catch a sardine, which was cool. I emptied the water out of my boots, caught my bus, showered and enjoyed a hard-earned Belikin, thinking that maybe next time I should just go to the beach.

6 Months to go

2008-01-08T16:34:00.000-06:00

The thing about Peace Corps is that two years is a very long time. But then again it is just a moment. Today it is the prior. One week into 2008, I am racking my brain on how I am going to pass the next 6 months, or 25 weeks, or 190 days. I suppose I have work to do, but the teaser of going home for Christmas and seeing how successful, hip, and urban all my friends have become has thrown me off my game. It's hard to concentrate on protected area management and rural water systems when every time I close my eyes I see snow covered Douglas Firs, and when I lay down at night I can almost feel the weight of the down comforter on me. In the morning I walk outside expecting the morning paper to be laying on my stoop and as I make my coffee I can taste the double americano from my favorite espresso stand near UW. These figments of my imagination will fade as I adjust back to this tropical reality. And soon these sensory wishes will be real again, but for the moment that long stretch of time between right now and sometime in July will continue to taunt me with seeming infinity.

A message from my Dean

2008-01-08T11:34:00.000-06:00

I just came across another inspiring article that was written a couple of months ago, this time by the Dean of the Evans School of Public Affairs, where I am currently working on my MPA (or will be again soon). To read her insight on environmental policy and change, go here

Green things happen when we all work together - http://seattletimes.nwsource.com/html/opinion/2003986041_archibald01.html

One Last Night

2008-01-07T10:07:00.000-06:00

Turns out I can be bought, or at least my seat on my flight back to Belize
can. For the outrageous price of $600 in flight credit on American, a night
at the Sheraton and 3 meals, I was more than willing to step aside and let
the airline give my seat to someone else. So instead of arriving in Belize
and beginning my long journey back to Blue Creek on the 2nd, I spent one
last night in the USA. Propped up by no less than 6 fluff pillows, I ordered
room service and watched late night TV, courtesy of American Airlines. The
hotel even took me to Walmart (don't judge me) so I could pick up some last
minute supplies.

The next day I arrived at the airport refreshed and ready to begin my
journey back to Blue Creek. My spirits were lifted when a fellow Belize
volunteer and I found out that we were traveling back on the same flight
together from Dallas. We tried to get adjacent seats, but the flight was too
full for any unnecessary switching. As the flight began boarding, I gathered
my things and handed my ticket to the agent. The little screen flashed the
message "duplicate seat" but the agent did not notice and waived me through.
My travel agent mother had warned me earlier that this flight was very full,
so I was not surprised to find someone already in my assigned seat. I turned
back to ask the flight attendant what to do, meanwhile mentally preparing
for an alternate mode of transportation back to Belize. He took my boarding
pass back up to the gate agent, leaving me to chat with the pilots as the
very full flight continued to board. He returned shortly and to my surprise
handed me a new boarding pass, "you'll be in seat 4B," he kindly told me. I
was standing right next to my new seat, in first class! I could hardly
contain my joy. Me, a lowly servant of the US Peace Corps, sitting in the
front of an international flight. I waived to my friend back in coach to let
him know I was still on the flight and took my seat as the doors were
closing. Warm mixed nuts and champagne found their way to my seat as we
taxied down the run-way. For lunch I enjoyed salmon, Cesar salad, and white
wine with a fancy chocolate for dessert. Three hours later I arrived in
Belize, warmed by the white and spoiled by the deluxe service, only to be
immediately ripped-off by my first taxi ride back into the city. I hauled my
bags from one to bus to the next on my long journey back to Blue Creek,
eventually making it back Friday morning. The reality of being back in my
home, Belize, was a good and bad thing. No more warm nuts and wine, but oh
how I missed that jungle green.

"Restoring the Corps" Op-Ed

2008-01-03T20:14:00.000-06:00

An Op-Ed piece that was published back in November that I just found and thought I would share. It sums up why I think that this is a worthwhile job and much more than a two-year vacation.

_____________
The Baltimore Sun
To win the peace, restore the corps

By Arthur S. Obermayer and Kevin F. F. Quigley
November 27, 2007

The United States can win any war on the battlefield, but we have not learned how to win the peace. We are losing the fight to win over the people we are trying to help. But there is a way to right our course for the future - by looking to our past.

Overwhelming military superiority is not the key, because its use wreaks havoc and destroys lives. Moreover, our traditional public diplomacy efforts have not worked, with Karen Hughes the most recent government PR chief to resign after accomplishing very little.

The decline of the U.S. in world opinion demands that we find more effective ways to regain a leadership role. Primarily, we should aim to help people achieve better health, education, housing and jobs in countries that need it the most.

On that front, our nation has achieved some successes: the Marshall Plan to rebuild Europe after World War II, recovery efforts following the Indian Ocean tsunami of 2004, and aid in the wake of Pakistan's devastating earthquake two years ago (making Pakistan one of the very few nations where approval of the U.S. has risen in recent years). Now, however, only our military has the means to such ends.

U.S. foreign aid is primarily structured along impersonal, government-to-government lines, and most government agencies have proved ineffective working on a people-to-people level. The one government entity with a positive record in this area is the Peace Corps. But despite the Peace Corps' success since its inception in 1961, its budget has remained small.

President John F. Kennedy wanted 100,000 volunteers overseas within 10 years. Today - although 20 additional nations are seeking Peace Corps help and three times as many volunteers apply as can be accommodated - budgetary limitations have kept the number of volunteers down to 8,000. However, there are 190,000 alumni, represented by the National Peace Corps Association. They yearn for continuing involvement in a mission that has transformed not only their lives and those of people they have helped but also their perspectives on the world.

Among the alumni is Connecticut Sen. Christopher J. Dodd, who served as a volunteer in the Dominican Republic. Based on that experience, he is sponsoring a bill to double the size of the Peace Corps. In the months after 9/11, Sen. John McCain of Arizona and President Bush both advocated major growth of the Peace Corps. Unfortunately, there was little follow-up.

Like Mr. Dodd, other alumni want to help now, and their expertise is invaluable. Most are mature leaders in business, education, government and the nonprofit world. Many are primed for a new career challenge that a managerial role in the Peace Corps could offer. They have the motivation to resist outside influences and to distinguish an expanded role for the Peace Corps from the political and bureaucratic vagaries of government agencies.

To have a significant impact, the Peace Corps needs to be at least 10 to 20 times larger. But even with renewed alumni participation, it cannot grow quickly enough on its own. Through its separate, distinct operation, it must enlist the vast array of nonprofits doing grass-roots work abroad. They fall into three major categories: nongovernmental organizations, non-proselytizing faith-based groups, and universities. In addition to growing its own operations, the Peace Corps could also help fund these nonprofit efforts. There are thousands of American philanthropic initiatives from which it could select programs for expansion grants.

The time is right politically to broaden the scope and impact of the Peace Corps. The millions who donate to such charities represent a powerful constituency who would back the move. Its objectives are nonpartisan and should be supported by Republicans and Democrats.

In the media every day, everywhere, we are witness to suffering. As we see the conventional, military-based approach to conflict resolution failing, we must seek alternative means to ending wars and winning the peace. The cost of an expanded Peace Corps would be roughly 1 percent of our current military budget. Can we afford not to act promptly?

Arthur S. Obermayer is president of the Obermayer Foundation, which focuses on social justice issues. His e-mail is arthur@obermayer.us. Kevin F. F. Quigley is president of the National Peace Corps Association. His e-mail is president@rpcv.org.

Copyright © 2007, The Baltimore Sun

After its publication in the Baltimore Sun, the op-ed was sent out by the Los Angeles Times-Washington Post News Service (reaches more than 300 media outlets in the US and over 600 worldwide), and based only on online searches, was selected and published in The Christian Science Monitor, Sacramento Bee, San Jose Mercury News, Modesto Bee, Arizona Daily Sun, Buffalo News, The Repository (Canton, OH), Cincinnati Post, Orlando Sentinel. The Day (Connecticut), The Press of Atlantic City, the North Jersey Record and Herald, and the Newport News Daily Press. Based on email responses from readers, we know it also appeared in the Columbia (Washington state), Syracuse Post Standard, and the Atlanta Constitution. It has had a lot of further coverage through media summaries, blogs, and links from organizations as diverse as The Network of Spiritual Progressives and Spotlight on Military News and International Affairs. Some of the others are the Early Bird (military), SWJ (Small Wars Journal), Blogrunner, U. So.Cal. (John Brown's Public Diplomacy Review), and Center for Strategic and International Studies Commission on Smart Power. It has also generated a lot of comments on brogs, for example, Topix alone had 19 in response to the original op-ed.

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Winter for a while

2008-01-02T09:53:00.000-06:00

Today I will back to vivid green, constant rain, and motivation melting temperatures, leaving behind the snow covered pines, short days and nose-numbing winds that I love. One thing that I have learned over the past 18 months is that I am not a hot weather person. The Scandinavian blood that runs through these veins is about fed up with the heat, so for the next 6.5months I will spend my time convincing my body that it is actually in a Finnish Sauna, and that at any moment we will be able to jump outside into the snow bank and continue on with our life in the Northern latitudes.

For the past 11 days I have been able to spoil my Viking self with various winter activities and more layers of clothing than most Belizeans would have in their closet. I shoveled 8 inches of snow from my parents driveway in my fleece pants, over-sized boots, and new hooded U of WA sweatshirt. I wore knee-high leather boots with my jeans and sweater without breaking a sweat,topping the package with scarf, hat, and gloves. Aside from Christmas day, the most perfect day of my trip was spent remembering how to ski at the local mountain (because here in the Pacific NW, everyone gets a local mountain). After attempting to snowboard for exactly 12 minutes, I threw in the towel and rented skis, a sporting equipment I am much more familiar with. The rest of the day I spent cruising down powdery Rocky Mountain slopes. Thighs burning, I even ventured down some untouched black diamond terrain, but mostly I stuck to the blue square easy cruising. With blue skies above and ice crystals sparkling in the air, I was tempted to trade in my life in the jungle for a career as a ski bum. I avoided that temptation, but I will continue to dream about the swishing sound of carving through fresh powder and the quiet solitude that can only happen on the top of mountain in the winter time.

Pre-Christmas adrenaline rush

2007-12-21T19:59:00.000-06:00

Warning: mom, you may not want to read this one.

Jungle instinct dictates that when traveling by foot one must consistently scan the ground 5-10 feet in front of you, rather than looking absent-mindedly ahead, to the sides, or up. This ground-scanning behavior stems from the constant threat of snakes. According to my Rough Guide to Belize, there are 60 kinds of snakes here, only (only?) 9 of which are venomous, though, the book continues, you are unlikely to see any snakes at all. I’m not sure where the writer to this guide was hanging out, but it was certainly not in the southern-most part of the country where I pass my days. Two days in a row now I have come within 2 feet of stepping on a deadly snake. Before you have a heart attack, I’ll admit that both times the snake was less than 2 feet long, baby snakes. The first one I came across was a coral snake, recognized by its broad black and red stripes, with thinner yellow strips and a yellow mark on it’s head. Ipod on, mentally preparing for a run, I was a little surprised when I noticed the small, colorful serpent making its way across the road, not far from my house. I trying to kill it, but then I thought, who am I to put an end to the life of another creature. So I kept my distance and continued on with my run.

At this point I should emphasize that in Maya culture it is considered bad luck to see a snake and then not kill it. The people in my village would tell me that now the snake would come looking for me, and I should have just killed it. Despite being averse to silly superstitions, I generally take village lore semi-seriously, and continued to think about that coral snake, hoping that it would recognize that I spared its life and in turn spare me mine. The next day I again set out for an evening jog. Just as I arrived at the exact spot where I had met the coral snake I again saw a small slithering form crossing the road. This time it was not the non-aggressive coral snake, but was instead a very deadly Fer-de-Lance. I will now defer to World Book Encyclopedia for a description:

Fer-de-lance, pronounced fair duh LAHNS, is one of the largest and deadliest of the poisonous snakes. It lives in tropical America, and on some islands in the Caribbean. It has velvety scales, marks of rich brown and gray, and a yellowish throat. The fer-de-lance lives in both wet and dry places, in forests as well as open country. Young snakes eat lizards and frogs, and adults feed on birds and small mammals. There may be more than 70 young in one brood. The baby snakes have fully formed fangs and can give a poisonous bite. A fer-de-lance strikes swiftly. The snake may grow to 8 feet (2.4 meters) in length. Its name is French and means lance blade.

No doubt by now some of my snake-phobic readers are getting a little woosy, but the story didn’t end there. At this point I figured that seeing two deadly snakes in the same spot, at the same time of day was not a good sign. I decided to ere on the side of the Maya and kill the snake. Unfortunately I don’t generally take my machete with me on my runs, so I chose as my weapon a fist-sized rock. Standing above the Fer-de-Lance, but not close enough for it to reach me, I hurled the rock down with some force. I hit the snake in the middle of its back, injuring but not killing it. I am not a cruel person, so I couldn’t allow it to lay there dying. I chose another rock with the aim of crushing its head. Still not wanting to get close, it took a couple of tries before a rock hit the target and the coiled snake ceased moving. I felt a little bad, but as I made my way down the road I comforted myself with the thought that if someone in the village had fallen victim to a snakebite, I would have felt worse.

Christmas Shopping

2007-12-11T16:36:00.000-06:00

Going to the mall would have been so much easier. But since Belize does not have a mall, I did my holiday shopping in the next best thing...Guatemala.

As the crow flies, I live about 35 miles from the Guatemalan border, but of course I am not a crow and sadly cannot fly. Instead, we (being Jeff and I) woke up at 5am and biked 4 miles to a junction in the road where we were able to meet a bus headed to the border town of Jalacte. 30 miles and 2 hours later (yes, it is a slow ride), we arrived at the border. The walk into the Guatemalan border town of Santa Cruz is about 1 mile of slogging through knee deep mud, crossing a river, and through a cow pasture. Defying all sense of fashion in my cargo pants tucked into my massive rubber boots, I made it across the border with limited mud splatters.

From Santa Cruz we crammed into a min-van with 25 other adults and children and started towards the slightly more commercial town of Chacte, located on the Pan-American Highway. The goal for our visit and the reason that Guatemala is such an enticing holiday shopping destination is the abundance of cheap textiles and other easy to carry gifts and souvenirs. The food is also good. Our trip towards Chacte was delayed due to a cattle truck stuck in a mud hole, but after some walking, we got picked up by another truck and rode the rest of the way standing up in the back with a couple of other families. Chacte was bustling and seemed crowded compared with the calmness that one gets used to in sparsely populated Belize. For lunch we both enjoyed strawberry milkshakes, and then continued our shopping. We both picked up some great Christmas gifts and then headed back.

Hitching a ride in the back of a truck once again, we arrived at the still stuck cattle truck, walking around and climbing into a mini-van headed towards the border. The driver wasn't in any hurry, though we were anxious to get on our way since we had a bus to meet in Jalacte in order to make it back to Blue Creek. The clock ticked on as our driver watched the attempts to dislodge the truck using another truck, palm fronds, and lots of shovels and dirt. An hour and 20 additional passengers later, we finally started. I was skeptical about us reaching the border in time for us to make our bus, which if we missed would mean sleeping on the floor of another volunteer's house and catching the morning bus at 3:30am. Twenty minutes before our bus out of Jalacte was scheduled to leave, we arrived in Santa Cruz. Jeff, being the fitter of the two of us, sprinted his way through the mud and water to meet the bus and convince it to not leave us behind. I jogged/walked as fast as I could with a backpack and oversized boots on, trying to avoid falling into the quicksand-like mud. Sixteen minutes later I came stumbling up the hill on the Belize side of the border. The bus was just coming up the road. I had barely caught my breath before I climbed on.

On the return trip to where our bikes were parked, we were delayed by a police search looking for "contraband." Thankfully I hadn't bought any alcohol, drugs, or fireworks, but that didn't stop the police office from looking skeptically at my stash of fabric and a lone apple. As the sun set, we arrived at our bikes and peddled the final 4 miles to Blue Creek. Mud up to my thighs and exhausted, I immediately subjected myself to an ice-cold shower before curling up to a hot bowl of rice and a pirated copy of Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban on DVD.

Tommy the Turkey's Big Day

2007-11-23T09:58:00.000-06:00

Meet Tommy, our honored guest at Thanksgiving this year. Tommy was born and corn-raised in Dump, Belize and had the privilege of being Thanksgiving dinner. In the spirit of do-it-yourselfness that pervades the Peace Corps psyche, we decided to begin the day by getting in touch with our inner hunters, and started dinner from scratch. Tommy joined us early in the A.M., and several men much tougher than myself armed with Guatemalan machettes, rope, and a strong stomach put an end to Tommy's short, though I am sure very meaningful life. The process was a slow one, as the group of 10 highly educated volunteers had to debate the proper way to drain the blood, pluck the feathers, burn the feathers off, gut, clean, prep and roast a turkey.

Two hours after Tommy was relieved of his head, he was in the oven. I have to admit that I was skeptical of the results, predicting a very tough, gamey meat, but as I usually am, I was proven wrong. Tommy joined the green bean casserole, potatoes, salads, stuffing, and cranberries and stole the show. Sure, he was a little small compared to the hormone fattened beasts you meet in the states, but he did his best to fill our waiting stomachs. By 7pm the bones were picked clean and the last bowls were getting washed out. The 4 pies (pumpkin, key lime, and cherry cheesecake) also came and went quickly. Warmed by rum and feelings of accomplishment, we shared what were Thankful for and basked in the glow of friendship and good food.

While being so far from home for the holidays is not always easy, this was honestly one of my best Thanksgivings and I am so Thankful for this experience, my friends here and back home, and for my family that has supported me every step of the way.

Garifuna Dancing video

2007-11-17T09:38:00.002-06:00

Artist for Peace

2007-11-17T09:38:00.001-06:00

This week has been a very cultural one. On Wednesday Tumul K'in School hosted a Maya Ceremony (H'uk) similar to the one I attended in Guatemala. That meant another late night of offerings, Marimba music, and corn products and a 4:30am wake-up call to travel to a local ruin to perform the offerings. Once again, it was a great honor to be able to observe this event.

Friday I traveled to the Garifuna village of Barranco for a special event featuring Belize's most famous son. The Garifuna are an ethnic group in Belize that originate from the island of St. Vincent where a recked slave ship and the local indigenous population combined to form a unique Caribbean-African language and culture. They came to Belize when forced from St. Vincent by the British, and this Monday is the National Holiday of Settlement day that celebrates this journey and arrival in Belize. The language, music, and dance of the Garifuna are unique and amazing, but like many small cultures, in danger of disappearing. One exceptionally talented musician, Andy Palacio, has made it his mission to preserve his culture through Garifuna Language music that is now known the world over. He recently received the UNESCO Artist for Peace Award, and I was there in Barranco, his home village, to see the event.

We arrived in the back of a truck on a perfectly sunny day with a cool breeze rolling off the Carib Sea. The beat of the drums greeted us as we headed towards the park where the event would take place. Shortly, a parade of dancing school children and singing women made their way to the village wharf as a boat full of international press and Andy Palacio himself arrived by water. He was given praise by his family and community, and presented his award for his exceptional efforts at peace and cultural preservation through his music. Andy Palacio would say to me later that this ceremony usually takes place at the UNESCO headquarters in Paris, but this one was special because he was in his home village. He would join ranks of Celine Dion, who also holds the honor of international artist for Peace. The short ceremony ended with dancing, drumming and singing.

Everyone moved on to lunch, which was a traditional feast of mashed green plantain (hudut) and coconut soup (serre) with fresh fish. I got my plate, sat at a table, and who should inquire about an empty seat but the man of the hour himself, Andy Palacio. I should emphasize that this is by far the most famous Belizean in the world, and regularly sells out concerts world-wide, so I was pretty honored. I also want to emphasize that his music is amazing and you can probably find his CD "Watina" at your local Borders, and I encourage everyone to go and get it and listen to it. Anyways, back to lunch. I tried to scoot over to make room, but the awkward slope of the group where we were sitting and the tight space proved too much for my clumsy self, and in the process of making room for Andy, I managed to spill some of his serre on him and the table. He was very gracious, came back with a cloth to clean up, and sat and made conversation anyways. He signed my CD and went on to do interviews with the press and we left Barranco amid the beat of more drums, but I had the distinction of not only eating lunch with a world famous musician, but embarrassing myself as only I can do. Way to go grace indeed.

Links and music for Andy Palacio (really, check them out!)
Music Downloads for Andy Palacio
PBS Frontline Interview with Andy
YouTube Behind the Music Video for Watina CD
National Geographic World Music on Andy Palacio with audio from Watina

Temperature Check

2007-11-11T07:55:00.000-06:00

For the first time in at least 8 months the temperature dipped below 70
degrees. Sometime during night as I lay shivering under my sheet and thin
blanket the thermometer recorded 69 degrees with 48% humidity as the new
recorded low. And it's not even December yet! By the time we get to
Christmas it is quite possible that we might see as cold as 63 or even 60
degrees. Time to dig out the extra sheet and long pajama pants, it could be
a brief, slightly chilly winter.

the work I do

2007-11-06T19:46:00.000-06:00

Lately I have been stretching for new and interesting things to write about because, frankly, not all that much is new or interesting to me anymore. You live in a place for 17 months (?!?) and no matter how strange the conditions were when you arrived, out of necessity you adapt. You wake with the roosters, you shower outdoors and you wear a sweater when it dips below 80 degrees. And that is just life and that is just normal.

So instead of the out of ordinary that I seek to inspire me, I thought that perhaps I should give the ordinary a shot. My work. That's right, I do actually do more than bake, read, and swing in my hammock all day. Maybe not a whole lot more on some days, but lately I have been relatively busy.

A couple of months ago I wrote about some meetings I had up in the capital with the Institute of Archeology and the Forest Department. Basically, these government agencies would like to establish the cave in Blue Creek as a community co-managed protected area. Since then some big things have happened. I have been having lots and lots of meetings with several groups in the village about establishing tourism-based businesses and I have begun some budget/hospitality training with these groups. The village council formed a task force to oversee the co-management agreement and now the Blue Creek Tourism Committee (BCTC) is an official entity. A couple of weeks ago we hosted a meeting in the village that was attended by representatives from 3 different gov't agencies that had made the 4 hour trip from the capital. It was a great meeting (see pics) and we laid out the foundations for making Blue Creek a major tourism destination while acknowledging the importance of protecting the environment. A UN funded agency (Global Environmental Fund) wants to provide us with a planning grant that could result in a building grant of $80,000BZ that would fund a visitors center, trails, and training for guides. I will be assisting the BCTC on the applications for this grant, the planning, and the implementation of the project.

The process of forming this co-management agreement while working on the overall economic development of the village of Blue Creek will also be the basis of the Masters Degree project that I will be finishing at UW next fall. It's all coming together. I am very excited and inspired by the work I am doing right now and feel fortunate that I am able to contribute to a project that will have a major impact on this village that has been my home for over a year now.

Homemade

2007-11-06T10:29:00.000-06:00

Cooking was always something I enjoyed back in the USA, even when I had at my disposal every variety of tasty take-out and a multitude of delectable dining options. Now my eating-out options are limited to greasy tacos or BBQ chicken while in town and to the occasional kid with a bucket of tamales in the village. The necessity of food variety has spurred me to get crafty in the kitchen.

My homemade crazy began with simple soups, curries, and sweet breads. Bananas and plantains are cheap, so they provide the basis for the majority of my dessert cooking, benefiting friends and neighbors as a I try to get rid of the sugary treats. Then, in attempt to avoid all the high-carb foods that make up a typical Caribbean diet, I set out to master the art of making whole-wheat bread. I started with whole wheat tortillas, and just last week produced a batch of rolls that weren't rock hard or doughy in the middle. The gas oven without a proper temperature dial is a bit tricky, but a think I have it down now.

My confidence in my bread-making ability led me to the ultimate in homemade staples: yogurt. For a long time I couldn't find plain yogurt in town, which is necessary to start, but last month someone in Punta Gorda as crafty as myself began selling fresh yogurt. I had my starter, now I just had to figure out how to make the stuff. Thank you internet. Using my slow-cooker set to warm as an incubator, I produced my first batch of homemade yogurt. It was a little runny, so I for the 2nd batch I let in sit longer and took extra care to sterilize all the materials. It worked, and this morning I had a bowl of fresh yogurt with cereal, perfectly tart and thick.

I have surprised myself at my ability to adapt and to learn, but I don't expect to be making bread and yogurt once I get back to the USA. Let's face it, the one thing I have plenty of now is time, and I don't think that will be the case after August 2008. But until that time, I will try to improve my bread and yogurt skills, perhaps moving on gardening.

Checkmate

2007-10-28T15:47:00.000-06:00

Garisson Keillor once blamed long Minnesota winters for inspiring people to read War and Peace in self-imposed isolation. I can't blame Minnesota or the winter that you folks up North are approaching for my recent quest, so I'll blame the nine months of hard work that separates me from the end of my Peace Corps service.

Reading War and Peace is something that has always been on my life list of things to do, and what better time than now? The copy that currently sits on bedside cardboard box is a 1940's translation by Maude, three volumes in one printed on tissue-thin India paper. I’ve carried this little book with me for a long time, knowing that at some point I would get inspired to turn those pages. As of today I am 330 pages into the 1580 page epic and actually enjoying the experience. Keeping my World Book Encyclopedia open to the Napoleonic Wars of the early 19th century has aided me as I absorb the story of the many sides of war and life in Russia during that period.

This literary quest plays right into my second obsession of the moment, which is increasing my skills as a chess player. While trying to remember the names of the many characters in the book, I can challenge my Mac to a friendly game of chess. The battles waged against Napoleon provide me with the insight needed to strategically out maneuver my electronic foe. And likewise, the moves on a chessboard make sense out of the seeming confusion of the battlefields that Tolstoy depicts. Now, I know what you're thinking, could I have possible have chosen two more solitary and depressing activities with which to pass my free time? Probably, but I figure that having read War and Peace and being able to play a decent game of chess are things that can only make a person stronger. And while I love what I am doing, I am going to need that kind of strength to get to the other side of these next nine months.

VICTORY: Toledo Communal Land Case Results

2007-10-20T09:54:00.001-06:00

CJ to GOB: hands off Maya lands

Friday, 19 October 2007

By Angel Novelo - Staff Reporter

Mayan leaders Greg Choc and Cristina Coc share the good news with their supporters.

The Mayan communities in southern Belize are celebrating great victory today, having successfully convinced the Supreme Court that they are indeed constitutionally entitled to land rights they currently occupy.

Chief Justice Abdulai Conteh, in a bench mark ruling Thursday, agreed with the Maya leaders and villagers of both Santa Cruz and Conejo, stating that the Government of Belize was wrong in failing to recognise, protect and respect their land rights, which is rooted in traditional custom.

The Chief Justice, in his 67 page judgement, which took almost three hours to read, stated that “there is no evidence in any event, to warrant me to find that the Maya of southern Belize as the indigenous inhabitants, ceded their lands or suffered them to be taken as a spoil of conquest when the borders of British Honduras were extended south of the Sibun River in 1859, to include what is today the Toledo District.”

The Chief Justice’s ruling, which was witnessed by court room filled with Mayan people, who travelled from Toledo to hear the ruling, clapped in joy when Conteh finished reading his judgement.

The Maya community took the Government of Belize to court and asked it to declare that they do hold collective and individual rights to the land and resources that they have used and occupied in the past and that these rights constitute property as stipulated in section 3 and 17 of the Belize Constitution.

Chief Justice Conteh agreed with the Maya and stated that the evidence presented by their people was overwhelming.

The Government of Belize, he noted, failed to prove that the Maya rights to the land was forfeited when the government acquired territorial sovereignty over the area.

Nichola Cho, a government attorney attached to the Ministry of Natural Resources, argued the case for the Government of Belize.

Cho in her arguments before the court earlier this year, claimed that several factors had evolved during the pre-independence era of Belize which extinguished the Maya pre-existing rights and interest in the land after the assumption of the territorial sovereignty of Belize by the British.

But the Chief Justice explained that he was of the view that “regardless of when territorial sovereignty was established over Belize... historical fact did not by itself, ordinary, without more, extinguish pre-existing rights or to interest in land that the indigenous people enjoyed.”

Apart from agreeing with the Maya people, the Chief Justice also ordered the government to cease and abstain from any acts that may lead its agents or third parties to affect the Maya existence, values, use of enjoyment, unless such acts are done with their consent and in compliance of the Belize Constitution.

The Chief Justice ordered the government to determine, demarcate and provide official documentation of both Santa Cruz and Conejo’s title and rights in accordance with Maya customary law and practices.

The court has also ordered the government to abstain from issuing any lease or grants to lands or resources, registering any such interest in lands, issuing any regulations concerning land or resources and refrain from issuing any concessions for resources or exploitation of Maya land.
Last Updated ( Friday, 19 October 2007 )

Pre-Tikal Ceremony Video

2007-10-17T17:43:00.000-06:00

I am trying out this video thing. YouTube wasn't cooperating with me, but hopefully this works.

Video from Offering

2007-10-16T16:11:00.000-06:00

Pictures from Maya celebration

2007-10-14T20:06:00.000-06:00

Crossing the border to Guatemala

Jeff and I in traditional dress

A journey of tradition

2007-10-14T19:38:00.000-06:00

Back in my bank teller days, Columbus day was one of those holidays I always took as a bonus, a day off when almost everyone else had to work, never really putting much thought into the break. Of course I knew that the Columbus story has many versions, but growing up the midst of the most popular version I never had a reason to think deeply about the significance of the "discovery" of the "new" world. This week I stood among temples thousands of years older than the arrival of the Nina, the Pinta, and the Santa Maria while hundreds of proud Maya from across Central America prayed and left offerings. This put things into perspective. But before reaching that grassy plaza at Tikal, there was a journey, and the theme of that journey was traditional.

My village is only about 20 miles from the Guatemala border, but traveling there usually means driving 150 miles north to the nearest road crossing or taking a 2 hour boat ride across the Bay of Honduras. But out group chose to take the most direct route, beginning our travels in the traditional way, on foot. Two hours by bus from Blue Creek brought us to Jalacte where we raced the approaching rain. Making our way down a muddy slope, wading through a river, and across a cow pasture, we found ourselves in Guatemala after a 20 minute walk.* Suddenly we were surrounded by Spanish language, electricity, and population, all lacking just 25 minutes before. A chartered van arrived shortly, getting us all packed in just as the torrential rain, which would fall almost continually throughout our entire trip, began to fall. Arriving in Poptun as darkness approached we made our way to Casa de la Esperanza, the school that would be hosting our group and several hundred other Maya travelers. We hardly had time to put our bags down on our bunk beds before the ceremonies began. After everyone had filled up on a traditional meal of beans and poch** the ceremonies began.

The school boarded about 400 students and focused it’s education on traditional Maya values and worldview, much like Tumul K’in, the school in Blue Creek that I was traveling with. Parents of many of these students had come to the festivities, most bringing offerings of food, fire wood, and copal*** that is an important part of the offering ceremony. As each person made their gift offering, they danced around the circle where the offerings were placed according to the 4 elements (represented by black, yellow, white, and red). Spiritual leaders, distinguished by bright head-wraps, organized the offerings and blessed them for the larger ceremony that would take place the next day at Tikal. The Miramba music kept the crowd going for the entire night, with people occasionally resting briefly before resuming the dance. At 2am Caldo (soup) and tortillas were served, at at 3am the coffee started going.

3:40am: After a few brief hours of rest, punctuated by the dancing and speeches that kept going all night, I woke and walked across the road to take an ice-cold bucket bath (no showers). I filled my water-bottle with sugary coffee drink and hopped in the van. We were on on the road by 4am. Three hours later the caravan of mini-buses approached the gates of Tikal, stopping only to use the bathroom, buy rain poncho’s, and get some breakfast. An hour of speeches at the visitors center allowed for stragglers to reach before the procession made the 20 minute walk to the Central Plaza. Here the large stone slabs stood ready for the hundreds of pounds of offerings that the procession brought, just as they had been at the height of the Maya Empire a thousand years ago. Candles, copal, alcohol, and any other gifts burned for hours as people came and left the never-ending circle of energy that surrounded the leaping flames. A conch shell blew and the whole crowd lowered to their knees and prayed to each of the 4 elements, facing East, North, West, and South for each element. I was told that the conch shell is used to invite the spirits of the ancestors that may be present to come forward during the prays. Standing to one side, I knew I was a mere observer to this event, but I could feel the love and spiritual connection that the people felt for this place and their heritage. It’s hard to describe what it’s like to see a piece of history tied so closely with the present.

We spent that night, exhausted, at the school. The return journey was much the same as when we came, though 3 days of heavy rains had made the already muddy path into Belize a ridiculous affair. The stream we waded across was now a flooded torrent and we had to chose between getting shuttled on a mule or pulled in a small boat. I chose the mule, holding my breath as the water came up to my knees while I held tightly to the animal as it struggled to get it’s footing in the flooded river. By 8pm I was home. I basked in the clean water that pounded on me from my shower, my first real bath in 3 days, and ate a late dinner of cereal and soy milk. I sank into bed, still in awe of my good fortune at being included in such an amazing piece of tradition.

PS – I forgot to mention the hospitality. Even though I am clearly not Maya and do not speak K’etchi at all or Spanish very well, I was made to feel very welcome at these emotional events by the people at the school and at Tikal. Sure, I got a few odd stares, but I got a lot more smiles, plenty of laughs, and handshakes that communicated the welcome atmosphere.

*This is perfectly legal as long as you report to the Police in Belize when you leave, and then to the Police in the nearest town upon arriving in Guatemala.
**Poch is a big hunk of ground corn cooked in a banana leaf.
*** Copal is tree sap that is burned as incense in offering ceremonies.

26 and counting

2007-10-10T10:23:00.000-06:00

I'm a little older now, after spending my entire 25th year in another country (well except for brief escapes to Guatemala and the states). Honestly, I was expecting the day to pass much like any other, maybe a plate of rice and beans instead of beans and rice, but not so.

One of the members of the 2007 group of volunteers took it upon herself to
make my birthday into a real event, complete with Strawberry Shortcake party hats, chocolate covered bananas with sprinkles at midnight, and cake for breakfast. I felt pretty special, which is a good thing to feel when you reach the 30 side of your twenties.

Tomorrow, in celebration of Pan-America days I am going with a group of Maya
leaders to Tikal in Guatemala (see cover of August National Geographic for a
picture of Tikal: Below). It should be a great experience as Maya communities from
throughout Belize, Guatemala, and Mexico converge on this major ancient city
to tell their version of the Columbus story. I am excited to be included in
the event and should have some good stories to tell after we cross into
Guatemala on foot, catch a few local buses, sleep over at a high school and
parade into Tikal with thousands of others. It's as close to going native as
I'll probably get.

Welcome Back Mac

2007-10-02T19:43:00.000-06:00

Two months ago, my little iBook G4 went away. I never (publicly) went into the details of what led to it's "malfunction," because up until now it had been too painful, but now that I have it safely back in Belize I can make my confession.

I am an irresponsible computer owner.

It's true, I was responsible for the "hardware problem" that crippled my computer, taking with it my ability to regularly write. In making this confession and clearing my conscience, I can only hope that Apple employees responsible for honoring the AppleCare Extended Warranty are not reading this, and if they are, will respect my honesty. Anyways, I often travel(ed) around Belize with my computer in search of free wireless internet. This was the case when, shortly after returning to Belize from my vacation in the states, I met a good friend and RPCV from Nicaragua in Placencia for a couple of days. Placencia has free internet, great beaches, decent food, and at least one place to indulge in fruity over-rum'ed drinks. And that is exactly how the day went, in that order. After the fruity rum drinks, myself, my visiting friend, and another Belize PCV returned to our hostel to continue the rum-drink trend. My Mac and portable speakers provided us with the tunes, and after a little bit we started socializing with a group of traveling Austrians in the common room. We forgot all about the still music-playing computer that was sitting on the dresser, next to the window in our room.

Then, as in all great tragedies, a storm blew in, soaking everything in our room: beds, pillows, bags, towels, and of course, my ibook. I didn't realize this at the time, because I was enjoying my conversations with friends and fellow vagabonds in the still-dry kitchen of the hostel. When we saw how soaked our room had got, I put my computer to sleep, found a drier room, and slept off the head-splitting after-effects of Belize and Nicaragua's finest rums.

The next day, sometime in the mid-morning, I returned to our original room to pack up and change. I went to start up my computer in order to write some emails and the unthinkable happen. The spinning color wheel of purgatory (this is something akin to the blue screen of death for PC users). That wheel just kept on spinning, leaving me hanging in the no-mans-land between an off-computer and an on-computer. I tried to reboot in safe mode, but this pushed the ibook into the great white light, from whence it did not return. I packed up the computer, sure that once it dried out it would again greet me with the happy "Ahhh'nnn" sound that ibooks make when they wake up. It didn't.

The story ends well, as you may deduce from the fact that I write this from the same computer that experienced an untimely death at the hands of its rum-soaked owner. I had purchased the extended 3-year warranty before leaving the USA, and had backed up all music, pics, and docs on the external hard-drive I got for Christmas from my Dad. My Country Director, Eileen, helped me out with getting the computer to the states, my Mom did the leg work getting it to Apple, and the US Embassy did it's part by unknowingly sending and receiving the computer through APO (shhh..this is a secret). Long story short: a happy mac is made sad by water, so keep your mac a happy mac and keep it a dry mac.

Temptation

2007-09-27T08:19:00.000-06:00

Standing in front of the sparkling clean freezer-case, I was faced with a
dilemma. Is $19 BZ too much to pay for a pint of Ben and Jerry's? Before I
tell you how I answered that very important question, let me explain how
amazing it is to be in the big city.

Belize City, a bustling metropolis of 35,000 people, has so much to offer.
Besides the only two fully functioning traffic lights in the country, Belize
City is also home to the only movie theatre, casino, put-put course (which
is now a bar), Indian restaurant, and grocery store that accepts debit
cards. I have wireless internet in my hotel room and I can buy soy milk and
shredded mini-wheats at the grocery store. All amazing things, but it is
all a matter of what a person is willing to pay for such luxuries.

So, back to the freezer case at the 2nd fanciest grocery store in the
country. $19BZ can buy a lot of things in this little country: 4 plates of
BBQ chicken, a bus ticket to Punta Gorda, a water-taxi to Caye Caulker, 57
tacos, 4 hours on the internet, and apparently one pint of Vermont's finest
ice cream. But I just couldn't do it, even though Chunky Monkey and Phish
Food did everything in their power to convince me that $8.50 US was a good
deal. So I said no and moved on. A mistake, perhaps, but some principles
just can't be compromised, no matter how tasty the temptation.

My shower and Me

2007-09-22T10:20:00.001-06:00

A rain poncho for a curtain and plenty of room to dance.

A group of 2nd Year Volunteers

2007-09-22T10:02:00.001-06:00

Our numbers diminished, the hardy (at least those who showed up for the
picture) are left standing.

A lesson from the classics

2007-09-22T09:55:00.001-06:00

Here's a quote that I picked up from Jane Eyre (Charlotte Bronte, writing):

"What good it would have done me at that time to have been tossed into the storms of an uncertain struggling life, and to have been taught by rough and bitter experience to long for the calm amidst which I now repind."

Thanks Jane, you have thus summed up pretty well why, those many years ago when I signed up for all of this. I have to remind myself of that urge, which Jane so Britishly portrayed, to leave the comfortable and seek the difficult. Even on good or great or even outstanding days, which seem to be the norm nowadays, I find myself at some point or another gazing wistfully into space, conjuring up some image of easy, American life. Maybe I'm checking the internet and notice that the temperature is 65° and sunny in Spokane, WA. This seems unfathomable. I can honestly no longer recall what it feels like to stand in full sunshine without breaking into a sweat and retreating as quickly as possible into shade. Side-note: I do not, nor will I ever develop a tan while I am in Belize. The thought of baking myself under a tortuous sun seems damned absurd. So what I am trying to say is that 65° and sunny sounds really good right about now and can't wait to be away from this heat.

Another instigator of Washington State whimsy is doing dishes. I will never, once I'm done, complain about dishes again. As it stands, after each meal I stack my dishes into a plastic strainer and carry them through my muddy yard to my water pipe, which releases its flow at about 24 inches above the dirt. I utilize pot or large container for the soapy water and balance a strainer on some rocks while I assume a squatting position to avoid bending in half while I soap, scrub, and rinse each dish, getting splashed by dish water and muddy back splash in the meanwhile. I carefully stack the clean dishes back into the strainer and balance it on my hip as I make my way back into the house. I can not accurately convey how much this sucks. I repeat this routine on average twice a day, have been for a year now, because even the slightest delay in attending to my dishes would attract the attention of the thousands of blood-thirsty ants that stand waiting, in case the smallest morsel of food should drop to the floor.

And those are just two examples of the daily reminders of how much easier my life once was, and will surely be again someday. But Jane Eyre was right, what it has done me indeed to be tossed right here where I am. My experience, often rough and occasionally bitter has taught me a thing or two. So, back to those storms of a perfectly uncertain life I go.

Shower at Last

2007-09-13T14:28:00.001-06:00

Big news, after a year of oh so humbly taking my baths in the lovely Mojo River that runs through my village, I now have a shower! I guess I should have asked sooner, because not one week after I took my request to the village waterboard, I had myself an enclosed structure complete with walls and roof over an existing cement slab that allows me to shower in total privacy. The water pressure is amazing and no one can see through, so that means no more bathing in shorts and a tank-top. This has changed my world, since I am now able to shower after dark (that is if I hang my headlamp on nail so I can see what I am doing). Next step is to run an extension cord from my house out to the shower so that I can install a light bulb. A picture will soon follow.

Other than that, life post-hurricane has been pretty tame. I have been keeping busy with the many projects that are up and running in the village. Between doing budgeting workshops with the waterboard, setting up meetings with other villages on a potential National Park project, cleaning up that library and assisting the PTA with their events, I have watched the days and weeks fly by. Another school year has begun and the downward slope of my service stands before me. My new cat, named Felix after the last hurricane that spared us, is growing and my old cat continues to be a pain. The new PC volunteers are doing well as they adjust to life while reminding us old hats just how far we have come in one year. With 20 of us in the district, we constitute a third of the volunteers in country and therefore the social life force. Things to look forward to (besides a much wittier journal entry) are: new pictures of new volunteers, a discussion on the life and times of village animals, and an ode to my Masters Project (yes, I still have to do one of those).

lucky this time

2007-09-05T15:18:00.001-06:00

missed us again

2007-09-04T16:45:00.001-06:00

I am seriously feeling for Nicaragua and Honduras right now, but I have never been so pleased with the weather as I am right now. I am safe again in Belmopan, waiting for the rain to pass over the southern part of Belize. I am hoping for no flooding, but we are still going to get wet down there. I will keep up with how my village fairs, but I am optimistic, as always.

deja vu

2007-09-02T19:08:00.001-06:00

All you Weather Channel junkies out there may have noticed that another fat storm is on its way to Belize. This one looks a little meaner and a little more direct than Dean, woo hoo. I am not at all happy about having to pack up my house, leave my cat and 3 week old kitten, and make my way up to the capital after being back in my village all of 3 days. The last hurricane evacuation coincided with a training event, so I was out of Blue Creek for 2 weeks. I will be in Belmopan by Tuesday AM, once again eating tuna with soda crackers for breakfast lunch and dinner as 60 Peace Corps volunteers explore the many forms of boredom while locked into a creep Chinese hotel together. Good stories, unfortunately none of them suitable for web publishing.

I will update if I can, but keep me and all of my Belizean friends in your thoughts during this next week.

Hurricane Dean Photos

2007-08-28T12:47:00.000-06:00

Sunday I went up to Corozal Town, in the north of Belize, to help distribute meals to families affected by Hurricane Dean. I went with a group of lively ladies from the YWCA in Belize City along with my friend Maggie. The damage was not terrible, but families who already had very little to begin with were especially affected.

Winds of Change

2007-08-25T16:37:00.000-06:00

As hurricane Dean passed over this place, a new purpose and sense of being was dropped in my lap. The year of struggle, adjustment and waiting was swept up and carried away, leaving in its place another 11 months of hope, promise, and action. Tears of excitement approach each time I think about what I have to look forward to. Here is why.

Blue Creek, my home, has a cave (just in case you’re just tuning in to this adventure). That cave is spectacular, people love to visit, swim, and bask in its mysterious wonder. Unfortunately, one person wanted to guard that cave as his own, charging visitors to walk across “his” land to reach the cave, refusing to share with his own community. The community knew that this was wrong, riverbanks are public access and caves are national monuments, but where to begin? Without money to pay for the trip to the capital and the knowledge to protect their rights, Blue Creek allowed this person to continue his selfish practices. Until now.

The village council approached me and sought my advice on this issue. Of course, living there for a year I had tons of opinions and advice, but had not offered it up yet, waiting instead for them to come to me. They had some information, but needed more. I promised to do what I could while I was in the capital before I was collected and planted there for the hurricane evacuation. Two days of free time, waiting for a storm, was spent emailing, calling, walking, meeting, and sweating – here is what I now know:

* Blue Creek Cave (Hokeb Ha in Maya) is an archaeological site has already been identified as a potential Community Co-managed Protected Area. Basically, the Institute of Archaeology was waiting for someone to come to them and offer to assist the village creating a protected area to be managed by the community (that would be me).
* The village will be able to collect fees and will receive training with all the money going back to the village.
* They will be able to get up to $60,000US in grant funds to build a visitors center, buy safety equipment, and support the women’s craft center.
* The private land owner will no longer be able to collect fees.

THIS IS BIG. Not only is this the kind of project that I am passionate about, this is something that will have a major impact on the community. Eleven months is such a short time, where have the past 14 gone?? One year ago I could have never imagined this, and here I am, scared of running out of time, scared of leaving this place too soon

all clear

2007-08-21T13:40:00.001-06:00

Hello All,

Some of you may have noticed that there was a hurricane that came pretty close to Belize, and thanks to those who sent me notes letting me know that they were thinking about me. All is safe and well now, my first hurricane experience was frankly a little anti-climatic. I was evacuated from my site, in the south of Belize on Sunday and have been in Belmopan, the capital with all the other volunteers in the country. We were locked down in the hotel, watching CNN and snacking on rations (peanut butter and crackers), preparing for the worst. Lucky for us, the worse never came. Dean landed just north of Belize, bringing lots of rain and wind here, but no damage in Belmopan. The northern areas are still getting surveyed and may have sustained some damage and where I live may have some flooding, but we are all safe and the weather is pleasant today. I will be up here for the next couple of days until they can get reports of damage, so I will try to write again with a more detailed update. Thanks again for your thoughts.

Editor's Note

2007-08-11T10:40:00.001-06:00

My mother is NOT the one I was referring to in the semi-fictional account below. She does a wonderful job of selecting books/food/other random things and mailing them to me. My intention was to speculate on the poor selection of books available in the communal Peace Corps library at our main office, which consists of volumes sent over many many years by many many parents, all of whom love their volunteers dearly and would never intentionally provide their sons and daughters with less than quality reading material. Now that that is all cleared up, I calmly await the arrival of the final Harry Potter and some cookbooks (thanks mom!)

Memoir-ies

2007-08-03T10:08:00.001-06:00

And now...a rant.

I can not possibly read one more memoir. At first I was all into it, delving into the crappy lives of bitter, yet amusing authors, glad that my own life has escaped extreme freakishness (for the most part). I guess i needed to feel normal, but now I'm done. All the whiny, self-pitying, rising above dysfunctional childhood rhetoric is making me sick. I'm to the point where a stack of 2-year-old Newsweek's are more appealing than another David Sedaris wanna-be (to say nothing of the man himself) pouring his/her soul onto the pages of a book. I think the problem originates in the fact that that memoirs are best savored as isolated reading experiences, rather than the 15-book memoir marathon I am coming off of. One life story to grant a busy professional a little perspective may have its time and place, but the long evenings of Peace Corps village life are best spent memoir free.

It's not like I meant to read so many memoirs, it just so happens that about 75% of the books that I have at my disposal are autobiographical teat-jerkers. My theory on this concentration of memoirs in the hands of PCV's is as follows:
A caring mother back in the USA just finished reading a touching true story passed on to her by a coworker. The book is an account of a thirty-something's arrival at success, despite countless obstacles, barriers and breakdowns. This mother thinks of her dear child who is slaving away as a Peace Corps volunteer in the wilds of Central America and can't help but draw some comparisons. My lovely and spirited offspring will enjoy this book, she thinks as she packages up said memoir and ships it off to her pride and joy. Her beloved PCV will read it once before passing it off to the PC library while searching for yet another Tom Robbins or Kurt Vonnegut adventure.

I show up to the PC library once every 3-4 months after a 6-hour bus ride and conduct a similar search for one or two Robbins/Vonnegut's that have slipped past me, only to find stacks of gut-wrenching personal sagas of strife and survival. I take these books, well, because they are better than no books. I should have learned after the first ten depressingly uninteresting experiences, but I didn't and will problem continue to read them due purely to the ideas of classic economics. The whole process has turned me off from writing my own memoir (because I was actually thinking about this). Maybe I do have a funny/sad/unique story to tell, but then again, maybe not. Who am I assume that someone else is so interested in what I have to say that they would be willing to put down $24.95 on a hardcover edition of my unlikely rise to success (that is when I get there, or course)? But then again, you are reading this, so maybe there is room for one more story of a lonely youth who rises above it all, joins the Peace Corps, and single-handedly saves the world through ice-breakers and flip-charts.

Heat Index

2007-07-18T19:25:00.000-06:00

The second day I was in Spokane during my recent retreat in the USA, the temperature hit 104 degrees Fahrenheit. It also hit a blistering 98 in temperate Seattle. Both of those marks are hot by anybody's standards, but, and I am not trying to make all you Pac Northwester's sound like a bunch of sissies, it just didn't strike me as particularly oppressive. Surprisingly, as far as I know it rarely gets above 90 in tropical Belize. I say as far as I know because I don't actually have a thermometer. I know that 104 in the desert heat of Eastern Washington is not quite the same as a comparable temperature in the dripping wet rain forest of Central America, but without an accurate gauge and some meteorological research I just couldn't be sure.

In the spirit of good empiricism I stopped by the nearest mega-multi-purpose-store that makes America so American (don't you dare judge me) and purchased a pocket sized digital thermometer/humidity gauge combo for only $8.99. I carried that thing (and at least 100 additional pounds of crap that I probably wont need here in Belize but looked so pretty and useful up there in the USA) all the way back to my village. And it works too. But back to the problem of the heat/humidity interaction, known as the Heat Index to ever-zealous weather reporters. This was a job for the internet. It was here that I found a great Heat Index table that I immediately copied onto the yellow ledger that was on Jeff's desk and later taped to my bedroom wall. No longer would I be curious about the temperature outside (which is always the same as the temperature inside) as well as how hot it felt to us of the human species. Which brings up the question, does the heat index apply to cats and lizards as well? Anyways, here is what I learned during my first day as amateur jungle weather recorder.

7am: temp = 80 F, humidity = 74%, feels like = 83 F (chilly)
2pm: temp = 91 F, humidity = 79%, feels like = 112 F (I’m melting)
7pm: temp = 84 F, humidity = 78%, feels like = 93 F (I’m not even sweating)

I will resist the urge to bore you with the weather every time I write, but do expect updates on the most extreme situations. For instance, if the Heat Index tops 125 F, you will be hearing about it because that is just ridiculous. With that, I leave you to enjoy your climate controlled 68.

Coast to coast

2007-07-16T08:01:00.000-06:00

You know it's going to be a long day when your watch reads 8:15am and you
have already been up for 5 hours. That was today, my last full day in the
USA for another year. I could try to sum up my last 12 days of vacation in
the states, but it would make for a long read. The most notable aspect of
my trip was the lack of shock and the ease of adjustment. I really was
expecting a difficult, or at least weird experience as I entered my old life
after a year gone, but it was easy. It was almost too easy. Sure, the
grocery store was a fun experience, but I knew exactly what I wanted and
where to find it, even Target was a pleasant outing. So maybe I am not as
hard-core as I like to think I am, or maybe Belize isn't far removed enough
from life in the states. In any case, I am ready to get back to Belize, but
spending a few weeks in my old shoes reminded me how great it will be to
return as well.

So now I sit in a shady Miami Airport hotel watching cable and eating Trader
Joes Wasabi Peas for dinner. Hey, for $59 a night it's not like I am
getting room service, but I do have a bed and a shower all to myself.
Tomorrow I begin Shella in Belize, the Second Season. Stayed tuned for more
rants about rice and tales of tarantulas.

Normalcy exhaustion

2007-06-26T21:57:00.000-06:00

I just realized how out of place I am going to feel during my retreat in the states as I was chasing a large tarantula away from my door with a machete on my way to the latrine, lighting this expedition with my headlamp. And this is a normal event and did not even cause my pulse to raise or anything.

Other events from this week, a normal week.

A 10 year old boy nearly chopped his foot off with a machete, and no one took him to the hospital because both his parents were gone from the village and he was being watched by his fathers first wife. No, not first as in before a divorce, as in polygamy. The boy is now fine thanks to someone finally coming to me and getting some antiseptic and bandages, but I was floored when I found out that multiple wives is not only accepted in my village, but it was our newly elected chairman who has the two wives. He is such a smart, hard working guy. Even weirder, I understand. The second wife is the sister of the first, and her husband died and she was left with 6 kids to feed and send to school. Without a husband, children starve, and few single men here would marry a woman with children. It made me wonder what I would do.

I went to another wedding on Sunday. Same family that I lived with, another daughter. Flora is the third born and the third to get married. It was a beautiful wedding, at least it was lovely until I almost ran smack into two severed pigs heads hanging from the ceiling as I walked through the kitchen area on my way to greet the bride. Don’t worry, I have pictures, which can in no way capture the smell of animal carcass after 6 hours in a tropical climate with refrigeration. Did I mention that Flora just turned sixteen? Another surprise. I guess she has been engaged for a year and a half now, so its about time.

My lovely neighbors across the road got a new stereo system from one of their sons who work up in the city. I cannot even describe how unbelievably loud it is, especially at 4am when their house is up getting ready to catch the bus. Earplugs and a pillow over my head couldn’t even touch the thumping bass of punta rock that shook me awake at that ungodly hour.

The water pump was fixed, so I don’t have to haul buckets of water around anymore, woo hoo!

All this normalcy is wearing me out; I need a vacation. One that doesn’t involved hauling my sheets down to the river and sweating over a rock in the sun for an hour just to have clean linens, a break from the 5am wake-up calls from people who want to borrow onions/envelopes/band-aids/pens/etc., and a respite from hot, crowded school buses that stop every 5 miles to let the drunks stumble off, piss on the side of the bus, and run into the shop to get more beer. If I sound bitter and jaded, don’t be fooled. I still love my life, I am just going to love it a lot more after a 3 week break.

Mennonite Nights

2007-06-22T10:53:00.000-06:00

One of the more fascinating dynamics to where I live in Belize is having
Mennonite neighbors. Many years ago, a few families left the United States
for Belize in order to have a quiet place to raise a farm and a family and
to be free to practice their religion. I respect that, and since then these
families have made quite a home for themselves. They also own and operate
most of the large parcels of farmland around Blue Creek, including hundreds
of acres of rice.

Recently I have gotten to know a few of the girls who were born and raised
here in Belize, but look and speak and much like myself. They come to the
library to check out books and we chat about life and boys. Last night I
went over to their house for dinner and got a taste of mid-western
hospitality in the middle of the jungle. Chicken meatloaf, mashed potatoes,
and rolls for dinner and a fresh mango pie for dessert, served with hot
coffee of course. We talked about our favorite recipes and the flowers in
their garden and their life in Belize. It was amazingly interesting and I
am glad I have had the opportunity to get to know this family. After dinner
one of the girls drove me back to my place, stopping on the way to pick up a
quart of fresh cows milk. I was excited about the fresh milk, the first I
have had since I have been here, but my excitement was curtailed when I was
attacked by their uncle's dogs as I stepped from the truck. I wasn't
injured too badly, but it did shake me up pretty bad, and I have a pretty
good scratch and a ruined skirt to show for it. No harm done, the dogs were
just doing their job.

I got back to my house and patched up my wound and reflected on how strange
my life can be. One night I am eating tortillas and beans by Kerosene lamp
while sitting on a bucket and the next I am sitting in a clean, Western
kitchen eating mashed potatoes and pie with a white table cloth and flowers
on the table.

Homecoming

2007-06-21T14:50:00.000-06:00

Did I fail to mention that I after I dropped my friend off at the airport
and returned to my village, looking forward to getting back into the swing
of things, I turned on my water pipe to wash off my dusty feet only to find
absolutely nothing. Seems that sometime over the past two days the newly
elected water board had turned off the pump that feeds to village. They did
this in order to clean the tank and upon cranking it back up discovered that
it was dead. No pump, no water in the tank, no water in the village. Now -
I have maintained during my time in Belize that I would rather be without
electricity than without running water, and now having lived without both at
one time or another, I stand by that assertion. Hauling 10-gallon buckets
full of river water or water from the school rain vat is a chore, and doing
dishes is much more inconvenient when they have to be carried to the river
in order to avoid using precious drinking water. I have been told that the
new pump should come soon, which is anywhere between 2 days and 2 months.
Seems like a perfect time for a vacation.

As I write this, sweating from laundry, dishes, and hauling water, I glance
over at my cat just in time to see her running across the floor with a
5-inch lizard in her mouth. Yuck. Being the well-fed feline that she is,
she insists on throwing the dead reptile around my room before nibbling at
some of the tastier parts. It looks like the tail has already detached, and
I can only hope that I don't find it under my pillow tonight. Ahh, it's
nice to be home again.

Great Weather for River Otters

2007-06-20T20:07:00.001-06:00

So TL is gone. Now who am I going to speak Norwegian with? Guess I'll have to focus on my Mopan and K'etchi . Her journey to Belize was awesome, and I think I gave her a pretty good idea of what my life is like. So if you need to know what it's like to be me, you can just ask her (of course you can still always just ask me, but if I'm not around, she'll work too).

We rode on a lot of buses, ate lots of rice, and sweated even more. She went to meetings with me, smiled at the little kids in my village as they followed us around, and drank Belikin Stout at a less than reputable establishment (what were those women selling out of those fanny packs anyways?) She even got to see the power of the rainy season in the rain forest as my ever beautiful river became a raging beast that swallowed the bridge and our plans to go to a soccer game in one bite. Oh well, we both maintained a relaxed Central American attitude and rolled with it. We did make it the Belize Zoo, which may be the coolest little zoo in the world. With no worries about lawsuits (I think that requires a country with lawyers), they let you get up and personal with some really friendly Jaguars, Monkeys, Toucans, and Otters. Just don't put your fingers through the fence, or do, no one is going to stop you at the Belize Zoo.

Having a guest was great, but it made me realize a couple of things. 1) I really do miss home and all the nice things: good smelling fabric softener, coffee, and not sweating; and 2) I really do love Belize and it is very much home to me now, crowded buses, starchy food, and never-ending rain and all. So I will see many of you back state-side soon enough and by the way, whoever is picking me up at the airport (yes Mom, that's you) better be prepared to make a swing through the Wendy's drive-through for a Frosty. That's a command, not a request.

How to travel like a PCV and other lessons from Belize

2007-06-12T15:07:00.000-06:00

When I first received my invitation to serve as a Peace Corps Volunteer in
Belize, I can't even tell you how many people told me that they were going
to come and visit me (well, I could tell you, but then I'd have to...).
Fast forward one year and the only people who had so far visited me were my
parents, twice, because they love me. And now as of last Tuesday I can add
to that list of truly dedicated my roommate and best friend. She made
sacrifices and suffered so that she could spend two weeks sweating in the
jungle, being bitten by mosquitoes and fighting off snakes. Okay, I lie.
Actually she cashed in some airline miles and showed up Belize for a 2-week
long tropical vacation, but I have to make it sound tough so that everyone
else reading this doesn't get too jealous.

We started our vacation in Belize City with a not-so-crazy night of playing
Hearts with other PCV's. Then it was off to the Caribbean paradise of Caye
Caulker for some R&R. On a whim and despite terribly rough seas, we joined
up with a snorkeling tour at the Hol Chan Marine Reserve. Good choice. A
full day in the water paid off with close-enough-to-touch encounters with 6'
sting rays, nurse sharks, spotted eagle rays, manatees, and loggerhead
turtles as big as me. We also saw our share of colorful little fish, eels,
and coral. By far the best $40 I have spent in this country. After Caye
Caulker we headed straight south so that I could do some work and TL could
sit back and watch how PCV work is done. I facilitated a meeting of
Belizeans dedicated to protecting the environment in the warehouse that
supplies cacao to Green & Blacks, an organic chocolate now available at
Target. Then a last minute trip to Placencia to say goodbye to some great
friends who have decided to cut their PC experience short and return to the
states gave us some additional beach time. Placencia is also home to
fantastic Gelato and cheap rum drinks, a recipe for a great day.

Now we relax in Blue Creek, after arriving here in true Toledo style. A 6am
bus ride to the Dump junction, a 5 mile ride in the back of a Ministry of
Health Truck, 1.5 miles of walking with too much stuff, .5 miles in an old
school bus to the quarry, then another 1.5 miles in the back of another
truck and we landed at my doorstep. I demonstrated how to do laundry in the
river, we took a swim, ate lunch, then a nap. A great day.

PS: My cat decided that she needed a vacation and abandoned Jeff who was
watching her while she was gone. I was a little sad and worried about her
chances versus a Jaguar, but shortly after we arrived, she showed up at my
house, still happy and healthy.

Hurikayne Seezon

2007-06-04T10:35:00.001-06:00

It's that time of year, ladies and gentleman, that exciting season that we
have all been anticipating. It's HURRICANE SEASON! Finally, after months
of hum-drum weather and pathetic little rain showers, we are cranking up the
power. Bring on the inch a minute precipitation and the palm rattling
winds.

I have my pig-tail bucket* all packed up with soda crackers and peanut
butter and I have my radio tuned to Belize Love FM** for all those
informative updates. All I need now is a storm. So weather Gods, don't
disappoint me this year, I need a little action. Not too much, no category
3 and above please, but something to keep life interesting. A good
evacuation and rations by candle-light while the thunder and lightening
lights up the sky, doesn't that sound romantic? Keep it tuned here for
updates.

Just one month until my big trip to the states! Looking forward to fresh
raspberries, real ice cream, air conditioning, movie theatres, coffee shops,
summer ale, pine trees, and all of you.

- Love

------------
* A pig-tail bucket is a 5-gallon bucket (known as a car-wash bucket back in
the states) that once contained pickled pig-tails, a Belizean delicacy.
These buckets seal tightly, are water-proof, and also make great extra
seating for guests.
** The only station where you can get news, Celine Dion, weather, Big
N'Rich, and Bob Marley in the same hour.

Parched...quenched

2007-05-31T09:11:00.000-06:00

Clouds rolled overhead, not merely promising to the dusty roads and
depressed greenery; delivering excessive moisture to my true Seattle soul.
These rains would make even a January day in the evergreen state blush at
its amateur attempt at soaking. Toledo rains mean business. Twenty seconds
in a meaningful shower mimics a full plunge in the expanding river.

Welcome back rainy season, you have been missed. Dry season, that short,
hot respite from rain forest feeding precipitation, on its way out. Crisp,
clear air rises above the steaming jungle. Back home the rains are ending
while I prepare myself. Clear the cobwebs from the boots, waterproof the
jacket and get some fenders for the bike. I'm reading, bring it on.

Employment

2007-05-24T15:15:00.000-06:00

A short essay

Employment

Everyone gets to that point in their life when they start worrying about finding a real job, a career. Halfway through my Masters degree and one year into a two-year commitment to the Peace Corps in Belize, I started thinking about what it might be like to have a real job. My first job was working at a candy and caramel corn shop at the largest mall between Seattle and Minneapolis. Standing behind a glass counter lined with by-the-pound sweets, I sweated over a copper kettle, perfected my own caramel corn technique, and weighed candy into decorative bags for the guilt-ridden with a sweet tooth. I learned about the mania caused by Vermont Maple Sugar delicacies in the fall and a perfectly fluffy spool of cotton candy in the summer. I was also fired from this job, another first, but I’ll get to that later.
         I was told that I was hired for my wholesome good looks. The two women that owned the mall candy store together were honest in their hiring practices; only girls, preferably under 18, that possessed an innocent charm. This helped attract the cigarette and Coca-Cola craving male mall employees on their way outside for a 15-minute break. As it was my first job, and my parents knew nothing of me scouring the mall for paid employment, that sort of ethic worked just fine. At $4.90 an hour I would have that mint-green 4-door 1980 Volkswagon Rabbit in just 150 hours (taking taxes into account). Working 12-hour weeks, I could buy that car in about 3 months, just in time for my sixteenth birthday. So I started my journey into the world of adulthood, as I would begin most things in my life, with a calculated analysis of the costs and benefits and a wildly optimistic attitude.
         I kept that job for about 6-months before I learned the hard lesson of having to choose between going to work and going on a weekend ski getaway with friends. I chose the ski weekend, but my bosses found it hard to believe that I had a sudden flu that resulted in a goggle tan. Getting fired hit me hard, I had never failed at anything, and now I was an unemployed candy girl. I eventually moved past the rejection and realized it was for the best. Sampling with a 16-year-old’s metabolism was no problem, but I fear had I kept the job throughout high school, my average yet acceptable figure would have suffered from years of cheese corn and chocolate covered gummy bears.
         My next job as a bank teller would last me 5 years, an impressive feat for a failed mall employee. Once again I found myself standing behind a counter, using my girlish charms to convince customers to purchase products they knew they didn’t need, and would in fact regret buying. Licorice bridge mix and credit cards have the same power of immediate gratification with a stomach souring digestive process. The same idealism and optimism that won me first job caused me to quit the second. Convincing people to put their hard-earned home equity on the line so that they could buy a new mini-van was not as rewarding as tempting people to indulge in some sour apple drops (just a taste, you don’t have to tell your wife, smile, wink).
         Going into detail about my various employments between the ages of 21 and 25 would be tedious and pointless. I made money (sometimes enough), learned a thing or two, and did not get fired. Eventually my focus, or was it my lack of, led me to join the Peace Corps - the ultimate job for those who have become disenchanted with working. You mean to say that someone will hand me a plane ticket to some exotic local, take care of my loans while I am gone for two years, give me enough to money to buy all the rice and beans I could possibly desire and two thirds of my job description could be roughly translated as “hanging out?” And I thought pilfering chocolate turtles behind the bosses back and eating soft serve direct from the machine was fun.
         The 1/3 of my non-hanging out work hasn’t been all lollipop and lemon drop happiness. My girlish charms don’t work in quite the same way when trying to convince the village council to stop arguing about who’s pig ate who’s garden, and I am a long ways from instant gratification, or instant anything. My enthusiasm for the simple serves me well (a light bulb for the library!) and my cost-benefit calculations have never led me astray (one more tortilla: does cost of stomach pain outweigh benefit of happy host-mom). Occasionally, between integrating, eating and meetings, I imagine employment after the Peace Corps. With a couple of degrees, a couple of years abroad, and some fine candy making skills, what sort of work awaits me? Will it involve standing behind a counter somewhere, smiling? Or will my cost-benefit analyses put me into a position where I can upgrade from store-brand to name-brand cereal? Wildly idealistic and all, I am not worried about it, so I put this thought off for another day as I swing in my hammock, imagining the feasibility of opening a caramel corn stand in my village.

Cacau Fest 2007

2007-05-22T15:59:00.001-06:00

Now this is my kind of celebration. Two days of fun, music, and even
fireworks all designed to pay respect to chocolate. This past weekend was
the first annual Cacau Fest in Punta Gorda Town, providing a perfect excuse
to spend a few days in PG. Saturday was the "Taste of Toledo" where you
could buy rice, beans, cahoon cabbage, tortillas, and fish (which are all
the things that you can always buy, but this time they were in one place).
The local vegan rasta was also serving up some tasty soy chocolate-avocado
ice cream, a surprisingly delicious combination.

That evening there was jazz and chocolate tasting at the Coral House, a
small hotel owned by two Idahoans, followed by Blues and Reggae at Earth
Runnings. I can't remember when there has been so much to do in PG in one
single night. We cruised the scene on our beach cruiser bikes, enjoying the
live music and festive atmosphere. Sunday was a little bit more typical of
PG, which means there was absolutely nothing to do or eat until about 5pm.
Our small Toledo family gathered potluck style to wish one of the second
years good luck and farewell as he prepares to leave us for grad school in
Monterrey. The hot and spicy corn dip that I brought (thanks Mom) was a hit
and fresh shrimp with cocktail sauce added to the posh atmosphere.

Sunday evening was a special treat. Two of Belize's most well known
musicians, Paul Nabor and Lilla Vernon, performed traditional Creole and
Garifuna music by the sea. Fireworks capped the night, leaving me with a
conflicting sense nostalgia for the state and comfort in this not-so-new
setting. If I had a better connection, I would post a video. Maybe
someday, but for now you are lucky to get a post from me.

Lucking Out In Lucky Strike

2007-05-18T08:36:00.000-06:00

Lazy day in Toledo

Last weekend I actually left Toledo and ventured into the great beyond known as the Belize City District. A distant land where grocery stores have air conditioning, streets have pavement, and buses don't transport livestock. As is usually the case when I leave Toledo, I attended/supported the Peace Corps men's futbol team in their efforts to boost the moral of the Lucky Strike Village team. Yes, the village is actually called Lucky Strike and no, it doesn't seem odd to Belizeans to name a village after a defunct brand of cigarettes. Lucky Strike, in addition to having a great name, is also home to PCV Jerry (who happens to have to have the same birth date as myself, so obviously a cool guy).

Me and Micah in front of the official Maya Ruin of Belize

Most of the team and the fans stayed the night in Lucky Strike, getting to experience the culture of a Creole village. Belize has all kinds of villages: K’etchi, Maya, Garifuna, Spanish, and Creole. Each has it’s own niche in Belizean society, and from my very limited experience I am going to say that the Creole village fulfills the Karaoke consumption niche. At least it was the first time I had seen Garth Brooks performed with stray chickens and dogs loose underfoot. Earlier in the evening we sampled some local history, visiting Altun Ha, the most visited Maya ruin in Belize as well as the model for the Belikin bottle (the best..I mean only beer in Belize).

The next morning, waking in our gender separated accommodations (Jerry works and lives at a Christian High School) I began the day by killing a Scorpion for a couple of “city girls”, I guess Belize district villages are not so different from my own. The game started after a turkey dinner feast, proceeds going to fight world hunger. Only 9 players managed to make it, but the local team was generous by only playing 9 on their side. We lost, of course, but it was still a great game. Clouds and a light breeze made the 95+ temps a little bearable, but then again I was sitting under my umbrella on the sides instead of running around in the sun. Did I mention that they were going to have me play goalie? Hahahahaha. Luckily for them I brought only flip-flops and a strapless dress and despite our captain’s optimism, I insisted that this was not appropriate futbol attire.

Sunday night a few of us Toledo folks stayed in the big city, which seems bigger and bigger every time I visit. Bright lights, fancy cars, and bars open past 8pm on a Sunday; amazing! Returning to the south on Monday, we stopped in Belmopan for free internet and AC at the Peace Corps HQ’s as well Thai Noodles for $1.25 US at the market. Then it was back to our reality.

PS – After four weeks of bone dry conditions, the rains came back. It was a short dry season, but for all my complaints about mud the Seattleite in my rejoiced in that moist smell and misty comfort that a good rain brings.

Rewards

2007-05-10T18:58:00.000-06:00

Working in the Blue Creek Library

Sometimes I forget just how rewarding even the simplest things can be. This week was an especially rewarding one, if somewhat average. The last two weekends Blue Creek has hosted other Peace Corps Volunteers, giving us a chance to show off our wonderful village and some of the great things we do here. Walking with strangers through my village is such an affirming experience, knowing all the names, inside jokes, and people treating me like their neighbor. Seeing it through the eyes of my guests was very renewing.

Last Sunday a local tour guide invited me along with Jeff and Mike (another Toledo PCV) on a 6am jungle hike to one of the peaks surrounding Blue Creek as a thanks for me helping him study for an upcoming tour guide certification test. Nothing says reward like the top of hill, well except for maybe a cold beer after a ten mile bike ride (that was on Saturday). I’ve been up a couple of hills around the village, but this one was a 45 minute non-switchback incline that ended at an amazing limestone drop-off of about 1,000 feet. And way down below I could see my tiny little house and the tiny little village. While no mountain by Cascade or Rocky standards, this was an impressive vantage point that allows for view all the way to the Caribbean Sea on a clear day. Unfortunately, slash and burn farming is in full force right now and visibility is at about 4 miles instead of the usual 20, but the effect of the smoke on the fresh daylight was undeniably enchanting.

Then there is my work, the actual stuff I do which I realize that I hardly document but is none-the-less the reason I get to live off of the government for two years while living in the tropics. My favorite and most rewarding is my work at the library, because deep down I secretly envy the life of librarians. Surrounded by books and inspiring children to push themselves to read more challenging books than they imagined possible. My sister used to mock me for choosing a book over the mall or going downtown, which I can’t really blame her, I was a nerd. But now I get to channel that inner bookworm and help kids discover the books I loved as a young adult, we even have some Baby Sitter’s Club and Harry Potter at the Blue Creek Library! Along with my usual work at the school and library this week, I also met with the new village council, which is eager to work with me, and the PTA, who are struggling to agree on how to help the school but at least recognize the necessity of their work. And Thursday was the district final of the national Spelling Bee which I attended as a chaperone. One of Blue Creek’s own was one the winner of the regional, so we cheered her on as she came in 5th. The kids in my village don’t learn English until Kindergarten, so I love seeing them compete against the “city kids” who have grown up with English as a first language.

A full and rewarding week, just the kind that they put in the brochures about Peace Corps. Bike riding, village council meeting, conflict resolution, hiking, checking out books to a crowd of eager kids, and ending it all by pulling up in a hammock with a cool drink, an ipod full of music, and my trusty lap-top computer.

Blue Creek Village: A Tiny Piece of Heaven

Could Somebody, PLEASE, turn the heat down

2007-05-03T11:07:00.000-06:00

Now I remember. Almost one year ago I stepped off a plane into the
sweltering tropics. I complained, I sweated, and then I adjusted. Or so I
thought.

In reality, it had just gotten cooler. The last 6 months I have been living
under the delusion that I had become one with the heat, reaping the benefits
of years of sitting in saunas. Nope, I am hot. Really, uncomfortably, hot.
In any case, I didn't want all of you up in the great North to start envying
me as summer approaches and you yearn for heat. Soak up the rain and 60
degrees, please, for my sake.

Maya Wedding

2007-04-30T10:05:00.000-06:00

Sheldon & Darlena Wuck

The great thing about weddings down here in Toledo is the inclusiveness. No invitations are sent out, no save the date cards, and best of all no RSVP’s indicating whether you will be in attendance with a guest/date. A bus goes around to the villages of the bride and groom, picks up everyone who wants to come, and takes everyone back home after the ceremony and lunch. An all-inclusive celebration.

Yesterday, I finally got the chance to attend a wedding after witnessing several of these packed wedding buses roll through my village. Darlena, the oldest of my host-sisters that still lived at home was married in the village of San Jose. At age 19, she is a little older than average, but that is because she had a hard time choosing a husband. “Hard to choose, easy to refuse,” is what she used to tell me. As a close family friend and the owner of a brand new camera, I was also designated official wedding photographer, so expect tons of pictures.

The ceremony portion was about 2.5 hours long, almost entirely in Maya Mopan, and was a multi-purpose church service complete with a Baptism at the beginning and the wedding at the end. The church was packed with family and friends of the bride and groom, and once the service ended, a parade followed the couple through the village, not neglecting to grab the church pews on the way out for seating at the reception. Lunch was a massive feast of pork caldo (soup), poch (tamale like corn dumplings), and tortillas. A generator provided the music in this electricity free village and a crowd of about 200 enjoyed the sunny afternoon. The little kids showed off their best dance moves while the adults discretely passed around bottles of home-made alcohol. Around 2pm everyone was tired, full, and ready to return. The bus was packed up, everyone piled in, and the wedding was complete.

2007-04-27T10:10:00.000-06:00

Jeff and his Mac next to my Mac, chilling at the PG library

Technology Pros and Woes

2007-04-26T15:49:00.000-06:00

Oh poor me, my jungle internet connection is down. Something about the school's modem being only temporary and the internet provider promising a new one. He is putting it on a plane "right now," he swears. I'm guessing in another month or two they might have a connection again, but in the mean time I have to tough it out with my once a week connection. But the bright side is that I just found out that the District Library in Punta Gorda has free wireless. My two most favorite words in the world. So if I seem a little out of touch, it’s because I am.

I also discovered that I can climb up one of the hills surrounding Blue Creek and get two bars of cell phone reception. The trail is a little tricky. Seems the blazers didn’t know about switchbacks and forged straight up the hill at a about a 50 degree grade, leaving the summit only accessible in the dry season. The view from the top, however, is great.

And now April has come and gone. With my most wonderful trip to Guatemala with my parents, I started on a major up. By the time I got back though, the dry season arrived. I had heard rumors about this, but so far daily rain showers had kept the nights cool. Now rain comes only once every week or two and everything is dusty dusty. I know, I complain about the mud, and now I complain about the dust. Do we see a trend here? Dirt, in all forms, is a pain and something I am eager to escape. With that, I need to go buy and mop and continue my epic battle against filth.

View of Blue Creek from Cell Phone Spot

Walking in Cockscomb

2007-04-17T13:59:00.000-06:00

A couple of weeks ago I journeyed up to Cockscomb, also known as Belize's
Jaguar Reserve. It was a nice day trip and something that I should have
done long ago. Thousands of acres of well maintained trails, clear rivers,
cascading waterfalls descending into deep pools, and animals, lots of
animals. You would think that living in the jungle and all, that I would
tire of mossy paths surrounded by rain forest canopy. Nope, not at all.

I went up to Cockscomb to meet up with some friends who were doing a 20 mile
hike that day. Since I failed to make it out of bed early enough to
participate, I decided to do some solo hiking and meet up with them for post
hike refreshments at the cabin (a bargain $4 a night for PC volunteers).
The path I chose, per recommendation, was known as Tiger Fern trail, which
offers an excellent vista and ends at two amazing waterfalls and pools. 3
hours out and back with a cool dip in between. The swim at the end was a
retreat and as the sun dipped behind the Maya Mountains, I made my way back
to the trailhead. Steep switchbacks and a sense of urgency at the pending
darkness combined to provide me with a few mud covered slips that
necessitated a quick dip into a stream, clothes and all.

With my bath complete, I hurried on my way, but not before coming face to
face with some of the local wild life. Being of the Pacific Northwest, I
never hike alone without being loud, whistling or singing to make sure that
I don't surprise any bears. Well, as I am not exactly in bear country down
here, I must have been too quiet when I surprised an unsuspecting Warri, or
Peccary, the local wild pigs. He stared me down as I picked up a large
stick and made it known that I was really really scary and should be feared.
I had heard too many stories of people getting cornered or treed by an
unhappy Warri. He ran a little ways into the bush, but kept a close eye on
me as I walked down the trail, waving my stick and singing "Zippity Do Dah."

I made it back to the cabins unharmed, muddy, and proud of my ability to
keep my cool in the face of two large tusks and a menacing glare.

Transition

2007-03-29T12:10:00.000-06:00

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

2007-03-20T13:05:00.000-06:00

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

2007-03-16T12:07:00.000-06:00

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

2007-03-16T11:11:00.000-06:00

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

2007-03-13T07:33:00.000-06:00

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

2007-03-07T19:44:00.000-06:00

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

2007-03-06T17:46:00.000-06:00

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.

Conquering Fear

2007-02-27T11:58:00.000-06:00

I just made a list of personal things that I have accomplished in the Peace
Corps so far:
~ I have slowed down and nearly eliminated stress from my life
~ I have learned to appreciate kids and their abundant energy
~ I recognize the importance of setting aside pre-conceived notions
~ I have can now make fun of and laugh at myself
~ I have conquered fear

The last item on the list includes all sorts of things. The fear of spiders,
scorpions, the dark, loneliness, and most recently, dark water. For as long
as I can remember, the thought of jumping into any body of water in general,
and in the dark especially, nearly gave me a panic attack. In direct
conflict with this fear has been my desire to explore the cave that sits
right here in my village. The cave is awesome, but to truly experience Blue
Creek cave, you have to swim in with nothing but a headlamp and some guts
for over a mile underground to an interior waterfall. I have heard of this
experience, but have so far shied away. Sunday, a group of visiting students
from the U of Vermont invited me to go with them on a guided tour, and since
I am friends with the guide, I agreed to go.

So I donned my headlamp, my chacos, and some swimming shorts and followed
the eager group into the 50 ft tall cavern. Swimming into darkness, with
stalactites looming high above is one of the creepiest feelings I have ever
had. Our small lights created eerie shadows on the limestone walls, and the
crystal clear water was black for lack of light. Rosalio, our guide,
pointed out the bats above and the catfish and eels below. I wasn't
panicking yet, a good sign. I kept up with the group, but swimming nearly a
mile against a mild current is tough. At some points we scrambled over rocks
and small waterfalls, but then it was back to swimming, at times through
passages as narrow as a hallway and at others through rooms with Cathedral
like dimensions. We rested in a large cavern, taking the opportunity to
turn out our lights and sit in the complete darkness, with only the sounds
of the river and the waterfall we were seeking to remind us that we were
awake. We reached the 30 ft fall and it was worth the trip. The soft
limestone rock created pools and ledges as the water made its way out the
cave, reminding me more of an indoor climbing wall than anything.

Going out was easier with the current, but I was in no hurry. I let my legs
dangle into the the cool, dark, water, not even worried about the unknowns
underneath. Emerging into the light was wonderful, but I knew that from
that point on, I would have a whole new outlook on the water.

Hitchhiking in Placencia

2007-02-20T09:25:00.000-06:00

I just returned to Blue Creek from a lee vacation out on the Placencia Peninsula. Our Peace Corps men's futbol team, the Mighty Gibnuts, played a challenging match against the much more prepared and feisty Seine Bight team. We didn't win, but that didn't discourage us from celebrating and making the most of good beaches and pleasant weather. Placencia is located on the tip of a very long, narrow, dusty peninsula and is about 5 miles from Seine Bight. The easiest and most reliable form of transportation down this road is hitchhiking. Well, you can also walk along the beach the entire way, which I did on Saturday, passing numerous resorts and wetting my feet in the Caribbean Sea on along the way, but it takes a couple hours.

Anyways, Sunday around noon, a friend and I were making our way from Seine Bight down to Placencia to meet up with the rest of the Peace Corps crew. We didn't make it 100 yards out of the village before a beat-up Dodge Neon comes rolling down the road and stopped to see if we needed a ride. Score, we got to ride inside a car rather than in the back of a dirty pick-up. We settled in and prepared for the standard small talk that comes with getting picked up by another white person. Usually it is along the lines of of what we do in Belize, how long we are here, where are we from, etc. etc. The man who picked us up decided to skip small talk and go straight for the big question. "Do you consider yourself a Christian?" he asked. This is not the first time I have been asked this after hopping in a car with a stranger, but it still throws me off. The trouble with this question is that in my experience, the people who are asking it are less in interested in hearing about your beliefs and more interested in telling you ALL about theirs. I mumbled a generic reply in order to avoid a deep philosophical conversation, but could not avoid his stare when the next question to come out of his mouth was, "So...what would you say is the purpose of human existence?" Good question, but not exactly light road conversation. Ken, my friend in the back seat replied, "to find the purpose of human existence." The driver ignored his response and went on a 10 minute long Bible quoting session that only ended when I asked him what church he worked with. "Do you think that there is more than one Church?" he replied. I breathed deep and responded, "oh look, here is where we need to get out, thanks for the ride."

I recovered from the ride by making a bee-line to the Gelateria (the only one in Belize) and getting a Bailey's Gelato cone and washing that down with an Americano. I then went on to contemplating the meaning of human existence while laying on beach chair under a palm tree with a Belikin in my hand while the crystal clear Caribbean Sea lapped at the powdery sand between my toes. I breathed in the slightly cool air, listened to the reggae beats and decided that at that particular moment, I was living the meaning of human existence.

Epiphany

2007-02-13T11:18:00.000-06:00

I remember the brilliant and inspiring thing that I was going to write. Did
you know that Anna Nicole what's her face died?? Bear with me here, I write
about this surprising tidbit of world news because of how long it took me to
hear it. I guess its been about a week now and thanks to my blissful bubble
I just caught wind. So I wanted to write about how great it is to live in a
way and in a place where only the most important news reaches me.

I'll call it the Peace Corps filter. A system of living that allows only
the most pertinent information to reach us in timely manner. I'm sure that
come next month's shipment of Newsweeks, there will be a detailed
examination into the aforementioned person's death, but until then I get to
focus on more important things. For example: Belize is taking bids on
finishing a 9 mile section of the Southern Hwy. This is important because
this highway is the only way in and out of Punta Gorda by road, and for
political reasons beyond my grasp, is beautifully paved to about 25 miles
before Punta Gorda before turning into a pot-holed, cratered, dirt fiasco.
After 9 miles of this nonsense it again turns into a regular two-laned
highway. Imagine going along I-90 towards Spokane, and somewhere around
Ritzville the road suddenly turns into a logging access road better pit for
the Colville National Forest. It then turns back into a proper highway at
Cheney. It is that weird. Anyways, enough ranting about the bumpy bus ride
anytime I need to leave Southern Belize. I have other news to focus on, like
the upcoming Village Council Elections. If you thought politics in the US
were good, let me tell you, nothing beats the race for Village Chair in a
community of 300 for good theatre.

One of those weeks

2007-02-13T09:59:00.001-06:00

I can't believe how this week has gone. Personally, I blame Jeff for the
time warp that was the past 8 days. While he is up in Cayo taking a class on
strategic writing (which I respect), I am hiking up and down the road in
Blue Creek, monitoring his classes, keeping the computer lab open, opening
the library, and teaching the primary school kids. In addition, I actually
have been making progress on HIV/AIDS education in the village thanks to a
group of village members that have taken it upon themselves to form a sort
of action committee, so that took up some time. Then I was asked to judge
the school spelling bee and help the PTA do an inventory of all of the
books. Just writing about it makes me exhausted and I may need to lay in my
hammock with a book for an hour or two just to recover.

And then tomorrow is Valentines day, which means absolutely nothing to me
since I'm pretty sure no one in my village has even heard of it. Sure, they
celebrate it in town by drinking too much (standard celebration mode), but
the whole notion of romance is lost on a place where marriages are commonly
arranged and people sometimes barely speak before their wedding. This is in
no way a critical comment, since from what I can see families here in Blue
Creek are happy and work well together. I better stop myself now before I
dig myself into a hole of seeming cultural bias.

Yesterday, sometime between riding the packed bus into town and returning
with my newly purchased plastic chairs and weekly groceries, I had a great
idea of something witty and refreshing to write about. However, because I
lacked a pen and the personal space to reach into my bag to look for one, I
lost the revelation and am stuck writing about the mundane. Sorry, maybe
next time for your sake, I will retain that wonderful insight long enough to
catalogue it for all to see.

Superbowl and Sleeping In

2007-02-08T10:23:00.001-06:00

This past weekend was Superbowl, and while I am sure many of you pictured us
poor Peace Corps volunteers hunkered down in some rural village eating
tortillas and wondering who was even in the game, I am here to tell you that
I just had one of the best Superbowl weekends in recent years. Not paint
your face blue and orange and throw beer cans at the TV kind of partying,
but a good friends + good friends + just the right amount of cold beer kind
of weekend. Marianne & Darren, the coolest married couple in Belize, managed
to make it out of Monkey River (which just happens to be the place where I
thought I was going before I came to Belize) and Ken, from Seine Beight,
joined us as well.

Saturday evening Marianne had the genius idea of making Lasagna. So while
the boys went to the distributors to get a case of Belikin, we went to every
grocery store in town to gather the necessary ingredients. We found Lasagna
noodles, tomato sauce, and onions at one place and ricotta cheese,
mozzarella, and eggplant at another. After 3 or 4 beers, some music, and
some group work in the kitchen, we had our lasagna. It was amazing, to say
the least and fed us for a late Saturday night.

Sunday I woke to the smell of French Toast and fresh coffee. I don't think
anything is better than Sunday mornings spent in your PJ's with a bunch of
friends. We hung around until noon when Nurse D came by with our flu shots,
a foam cooler, and some medical grade ice packs. Now that we were all
immune from the flu and had cold beer, all that was left was BBQ for the
game. Darren and Matt went looking for charcoal while Ken and Jeff built a
makeshift grill on top of our cement water tank using concrete blocks and
the rack from our oven. Lacking lighter fluid was no problem since Ken was
able to make a hot box fire starter using a used caramel corn tin. The lady
across the street hooked us up with some marinated chicken and the local
Rasta, Gormier, found us in time to provide us with some mean tofu burgers.
All we needed now was some football.

We all now how the game went (and if we don't then I'm sorry that we either
lacked access to TV or that we purposely shunned this American tradition).
Even though the Seahawks didn't make it, I still enjoyed the game, and even
won $5BZ in a pool. Monday came too quickly and I gathered up the
left-overs and found my way back to Blue Creek.

How to Clean a Yoga Mat and Other Tales From a Typical Sunday in Blue Creek

2007-01-29T15:05:00.001-06:00

Note: The story that follows is not only true; it is just one day, much like all of the other days that constitute my life.

I woke up late, around 7:45am, after hearing English speaking voices walking down the road towards the river. The tourists at the guesthouse are always so ambitious, setting off for the cave as soon as they've inhaled their tortillas and downed their Nescafé. I respect that. I lay in bed for a few more minutes since I was bit tired after the late night last night. It was movie night at my host-family's, translation: I bring my laptop and any DVD that I can find and 12 people crowd around the screen on any old bucket that they can find. Last night's feature flick was a pirated copy of The Brothers Grimm, complete with bad sound, dark picture, and the occasional interruption of someone in the theatre walking in front of the hidden camera.

Before that, however, they wanted to show me some scenes from "Kung-Fu Hustle," the most terrible movie I have ever had to watch in my life. I won't go into the details, but I will go off on a little rant about the curious obsession with Kung-Fu movies among residents of the Mayan villages. I thought it was an anomaly among people in Blue Creek, but apparently lack of electricity does not stop people from firing up their generators or solar panels out in the bush so that the family can crowd around and watch some 2nd rate Japanese Kung-Fu that has been dubbed into Spanish and may or may not have English subtitles that may or may not matter since most people can't read much English. Anyways, the terrible Spanish dubbed Kung-Fu and pirated Brothers Grimm kept me out past 9:30pm.

Where was I? Oh yes, tourists walking to cave, me laying in bed. I got up and decided I was going to do nothing and was pleased with the plan. Oatmeal and coffee for breakfast, washed dishes and then set out to get caught up on some sewing I had been meaning to do. Just as I was threading my needle, a small face popped up at my back window. Well, hello Sandra Mas, I said a little surprised. Up to this point, my home-made curtains had kept the kids from peeping into my windows, but apparently my neighbor kids have now discovered that they are just tall enough to get their chins on my window sill. Sandra stared me down, then looked around my room, and when I asked her what she was up to, she just responded with a casual nothing. Oh, I said, well maybe you should come around to my door to visit, it's not polite to peep in people's windows. Oh, she responded as she kept staring around my room. She left to go sell at the river, but about an hour later she was back, at my window, peering under the curtain. I tried to explain again that if she wanted to visit, she should come around front, but to no avail. Three times during the day she stopped by my window, looked at my pictures, played with my cat, and stared at me.

I finished my sewing and moved on to cleaning and then lunch. More tourists walk by just as I am sitting down to eat my left-over tamale, beans, and salad. I don't mind the tourists, but I'll be honest, I don't make much of an effort to be friendly. Occasionally I will be walking down the road and strike up a conversation, but when you have a hundred or so people coming and going each week, it gets a little tedious to have the same conversation over and over again. So I have taken to doing as the locals do, sitting in my house, blatantly staring at the visitors without expression on my face as they walk by to go look at birds, monkeys, or small Maya kids. The rest of the afternoon was spent fixing up my latrine a little (I finally got a toilet seat) and taking a walk to go visit. Around 4:00pn I worked up the energy to go for a run, the 4th one in the past 8 days, aren't you proud? I stretched out and set out down the road. I hadn't got but a quarter mile before I crossed paths with a muddy gringo on a serious mt. bike. The bike had a number on it and he was all decked out like he was in some race. I was sufficiently confused, you just don't run across too many American Mt. bike racers on the dirt roads leading out of Blue Creek. However, I did give him a confused smile and a hello before continuing on my jog. Thirty minutes later I was at the end of my run just as the rain was beginning to come down. I made it back to my house as it started to pour and did a good stretch and cool-down on my yoga mat. I needed to go bathe, so I changed and strolled out into the rain with my plastic bag full of shampoo, conditioner, soap, and red shower poof. My yoga mat needed a wash, so I hung it over my clothesline on my way to the river.

What a glorious way to end a relaxing, uneventful day. Dusk was coming as the rain came down in sheets. The surface of the river bubbled with the water and I stood waist deep, letting the rain wash through my hair. I laughed at my friends across the river as they were also enjoying the rain and the river. I realized as I looked up at the jungle, the birds, and the iguanas in the trees, how much I love my life. Bad Kung-Fu, peeping kids, weird tourists and everything, this is my life and it's not too bad.

From the Seattle PI: Tortilla Uses

2007-01-25T10:07:00.000-06:00

I just came across this article and it spoke to me for obvious reasons.
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Apple pie, lasagna and 8 more inventive uses for tortillas

By HSIAO-CHING CHOU
P-I FOOD EDITOR
The recipe called for six corn tortillas. The market offered them only in packs of 50. Even though the tortillas didn't cost much, I had more than 40 tortillas to use up and I wasn't in the mood for tacos, quesadillas or the ubiquitous pinwheels.

With sincere apologies to Mexican-food purists, here are some atypical ways to use tortillas.

1. Make "toast"

Heat them up either directly in a skillet with no oil (for slightly crisp) or wrapped in damp kitchen towel and microwaved (for soft and moist). You can eat them plain, top them with butter and jam, or use them to sop up egg yolks.


		Paul Joseph Brown / P-I
	Eggs are baked in tortillas placed in a muffin pan.

2. Make egg cups

First, nuke the 6-inch tortilla in the microwave for about 10 seconds (20 to 30 seconds if you're heating three or four at a time) just to soften. Gently place the tortilla in a muffin tin to make a cup; the edges will flute. Crack an egg in the cup. Add salt and pepper, a dash of cream (optional), chopped herbs of your choice and grated Parmesan. Bake in a 350-degree oven for 15 to 20 minutes, depending on how done you like your eggs. Serve the egg cups with mixed greens for brunch.

3. Make apple pie

Cut four peeled and cored Granny Smith apples into 1/4-inch slices. Toss the apples with 1/4 cup sugar, 2 tablespoons flour, 2 teaspoons cornstarch, 2 teaspoons cinnamon, 1/2 teaspoon allspice and 1/2 cup apple juice or water. In a pan, melt 2 tablespoons butter over medium heat. Add the apples and cook for about 5 minutes, or until soft. Set aside. Fill 6-inch tortillas with the apple mixture and fold in half like a taco. In a skillet, melt a little butter over medium heat. Add the pie and brown on each side, about 2 minutes per side.

To serve: Dust each pie with powdered sugar and cinnamon.

4. Make "Beijing duck"

Buy a roast duck from an Asian barbecue shop. When you get home, remove the bones from the duck pieces. Cut up some green onion stalks into 2-inch segments.


		Paul Joseph Brown / P-I
	An apple mixture turns tortillas into pies.

How to eat: Spread some sweet bean sauce (available in cans at the Asian market) on a warmed tortilla. Add duck and some green onion. Roll up like a burrito and eat.

You can do this with a roast chicken from your neighborhood supermarket, too. Instead of sweet bean sauce, you can use, say, apricot jam or orange marmalade.

5. Make pita substitutes

For some reason, great pita bread is not always easy to find without going out of your way. Cut tortillas into triangles and use them for Mediterranean favorites such as hummus, baba ghanouj and tzatziki. Or, use tortillas as wraps for skewers or gyros.

6. Make naan substitutes

If you have Indian takeout and you run out of naan, tortillas can save the day.

7. Make crepes

Heat up the tortilla, spread with Nutella, fold, dust with powdered sugar and eat. Consider other fillings, such as jam, fruit compote, ice cream. A drizzle of chocolate sauce is the icing on the "crepe."

8. Make lasagna

Layer tortillas with seasoned and cooked ground meat, black beans, tomato sauce and shredded cheddar. Continue layering until you end up with cheese on top. Bake in a 400-degree oven for about 15 to 20 minutes, or until the cheese is hot and bubbly.

9. Make tuna tacos

Instead of sliced bread, use a tortilla to make a tuna fish sandwich. Take a warmed tortilla, add lettuce and the tuna mixture, fold in half like a taco and eat.

10. Make panini

This is a glorified quesadilla, but indulge me. Between two tortillas, add ham or prosciutto, mozzarella, fresh basil and tomato slices. Heat in the panini grill. Cut and serve. The fillings can vary according to your whims.

ABOUT TORTILLAS:

Typically, tortillas are available in 10-inch and 4-inch sizes and are made from either corn or flour. Some companies make even larger ones for American-style burritos.

Tortillas are a staple of Mexican cooking and are used as a vehicle for just about anything, which is why Mexican brands are available in packs of 50.

Flavored tortillas (spinach, tomato, etc.) are an American affectation -- similar to the salsa-flavored hard taco shell.

The proper way to heat up a tortilla is on a comal, which is a thin cast-iron plate/pan. An ungreased skillet also will work. Steaming, microwaving, grilling and other such methods are not traditional and often are frowned upon by purists.

P-I food editor Hsiao-Ching Chou can be reached at 206-448-8117 or hsiaochingchou@seattlepi.com.

On Integration

2007-01-25T09:35:00.000-06:00

You may or may not know this, but the Peace Corps has three goals: 1) To meet the technical needs of a country through qualified volunteers; 2) To allow the host country to learn about US culture through the volunteer; 3) To share the culture of the host country with others in the US once the volunteer returns. That means that 66.667% of what I am doing here in Belize has nothing to do with how many meetings I hold, how many grant applications I assist with, or how many business and computer training classes I conduct. I just have to make friends, be myself, and bring a little of Belize back to the good ole USA. No problem, I'm on it.

In Peace Corps lingo, goals 2 and 3 are roughly translated into the favored buzzword "integration." So that is my job, integration. This week, as I hone in on month 7 (can you believe it, seven months?!?), I started to think of all the ways that I am integrating. Here is a rough list:

Tortilla making - While I don't/can't grow or grind my own corn, I did recently discover that I can buy fresh ground corn at the corn mill (go figure, right?) which has greatly improved the quality of my tortillas. I was using corn flour to make the masa, but fresh is oh so much better. For some reason the women here are genuinely shocked when I tell them that I make tortillas, as if all white people are incapable of preparing food, which makes sense since most of the tourists they see are not in a hurry to prepare their own meals. Fact for the day: A corn tortilla is nothing more than dried corn, boiled, ground with water and pounded into a circle. It is placed on hot comal and cooked without any oil. You know it is done when after flipping it twice, it puffs up in the middle.
Insects - I remember when I first arrived in Belize looking at the current volunteer's legs and noticing how very few bug bites they seemed to have. My legs, on the other hand, looked like a before picture on a acne medicine infomercial. Everyone assured us newbies that eventually we would get used to the bugs and heat. Well, as I glance down at my bite-free legs today, I am can see how far I have come. I don't even think it is that the bugs have stopped biting, I'm sure they are still feasting away, I think it is that my body has stopped reacting. Great, I'll take it, but I'm warning those who are planning on visiting, you WILL get bit and you WILL stare in jealously at my legs and wonder why the bugs don't like me. And I will laugh at how cool and integrated I have become.
Language - OK, I will admit, I am not even close to accomplished at any of the many languages you can find here in Belize. My Mopan and K'etchi are limited to about 25 combined words, my Spanish is conversational, my Garifuna exactly nil, and my Kriol is at a barely eavesdropping capability. But I am learning, and am less scared to try everyday, so if you need me to pass the tortilla's in a Maya village or cuss out a sexual harasser in Belize City, I'm your woman.
Children - Once the bane of my existence, I am learning to embrace these small, pestering beings as the key to my success here in Belize. My first day of teaching was maybe the worst day in Belize, but each time I work with the kids, the more I get to know them, their strengths, personalities, and games, I feel better about my place here. They like to tease me, which is understandable, but they also like to learn about me. I have all but given up on change through the adults, it's hard to change thousands of years of tradition and hierarchy, but the kids here are eager to learn and bring positive change to their community. But Mom, don't think this means I am going to be bringing any of them home with me.

Integration has not come without challenges. I have certainly been laughed at, teased, and have done culturally inappropriate things left and right. But I have learned, and will keep on learning. It's a humbling process, and one that is certainly worth the challenge.

7am: Celine Time

2007-01-11T16:17:00.001-06:00

Yes, it's true, I live in the jungle. Away from the bothers and annoyances of modern life, right? My closest neighbors live in a traditional thatch house, wash at the river, and cook over a fire, but they have one rocking stereo system and a massive TV antenna coming out of their thatch. That's cool, to each his own. I've learned quite a bit about Belizean Maya taste in music thanks to these neighbors. For instance, they can play the same CD, at the same time everyday and never ceased to be enthralled by the capability of their sound system to entertain the entire village. When I first moved in to the teachers house, their music was of the predictable reggae tone and punta rock, but I think someone got a new CD for Christmas and is attempted to wear it out.

That's right folks, Celine Dion's "A New Day" and I have been reunited. I say reunited because back in the days of PLU, I had these wacky roommates who were slightly obsessed with Ms. Celine, and would spend hours singing into an inflatable mic to the very album that now serenades me EVERY SINGLE DAY. So, to those roommies who shall remain anonymous for their own coolness (hey, I think that you're cool), I think of you each morning at 7am as I drink my coffee to Have you Ever Been in Love.

In other news, on Sunday I traveled out beyond the reach of electricity and modern life. Nick, a fellow PCV, lives out on the border with Guatemala in Dolores village. A girl that is working down here with a research farm was driving down that way, so Jeff and I tagged along. We were lucky enough to arrive in Dolores on the Alcalde's (village leader) birthday, so to celebrate they were having a greased pole contest. The village erects a 40 ft. stripped log that has been greased with lard and then men from the village take turns trying to climb to the top, where two Cokes and $20 was placed a plastic bag. After a few hours, the winner used two ropes to tighten around the log and then created footholds with the ropes, loosening and tightening his way up the pole. Afterwards another village came over to play a soccer match, though I regretfully cannot report the winner since I had to leave before the match was complete.

I put some pictures up to go along with the day in Dolores, so enjoy.

So this is the New Year?

2007-01-05T11:07:00.000-06:00

So tonight is New Years Eve. However, by the time this email is sent, the eve will have come and gone and 2007 will in full swing. 2007 will be the year that will be spent wholly in another country. 2006 was begun on a hill overlooking Seattle and I can guarantee you that 2008 will end north of the 45th parallel. 2007, however, is all about Belize, beginning to end.

So I say goodbye to 2006, and what a dandy year it was. Moments before it began I found out that I was going to Belize. The first half of the year was spent wondering what life was going to be like during the second half, and the second half was spent wondering what life would like if were back where I spent the first half. Confused yet? In any case, I am done wondering about these unlived lives and am now just living. That, I just decided, will be the theme of 2007. Just living. In 2008 I can begin wondering what will life after the Peace Corps life be like, but until then it just all about the moment.

So this is the New Year, and I don't feel any different (ala Death Cab for Cutie). Joelle, do you remember me playing this song on my ipod last New Years at Gasworks Park? Actually, I do feel a little different, but maybe that's because this is the first New Years in a number of years that has not included cheap champagne, mediocre wine, or expensive beer. Lets just say I made up for that on Christmas Eve.

a wild navidad

2006-12-25T17:28:00.001-06:00

LIfe in Antigua continues to go well. It is absolutely beautiful here amidst the volcanoes and colonial architecture. The city is also a hub for international travelers of all sorts, so I have had no shortage of people with which to share in Christmas cheer. Honestly, I haven't even had to use Spanish all that much because of the mobs of foreigners, but I am OK with that, I am on vacation (my mantra of the week).

Christmas dinner was spent way up on a hill overlooking the city at a hostel/farm called Earth Lodge. They cooked an excellent organic feast,complete with honey glazed ham that was raised on the farm. It was excellent:garlic mashed potatoes, fresh bread, veggies,ham,and pumpkin pie for dessert. Amazing! The evening was capped back in town at a Irish pub just jammed packed with travelers. The place stayed open until 3am so that all the lonely backpackers and expats could drink and dance the night away. I didn't see santa, but I did see a an Irish man do a jig on a table with a bottle of rum in his hands.

So today I will have another traditional dinner at the Black Cat and then turn in early. Tomorrow is ladies night and wednesday I plan on hiking a volcanoe. Enjoy a few select pics. More to follow soon.