Spring in Belize
A princess arrives
A few living details
As I said before, the house where I have rented a room is very well equipped so I have not had to borrow or buy many household goods. However, I put this trip together so quickly that I forgot quite a few personal things. I forgot my bathing suit (borrowed one from Laura), a long-sleeved shirt for jungle treks (don't know yet), my toe ring (well, where else would I wear it?), my bird book (always take a native guide?) and a pillowslip. The linen you can buy here is apparently extruded polyester, that kind from 30 years ago. The first night I borrowed a pillowslip from Jana, but sleeping on it was so hot that I just threw the pillow on the floor (and there was a cockroach lounging under it the next morning, we always knew they were tough).
So I bravely went to the San Ignacio Mercantile and bought cotton fabric, needles and thread and made one! I'll tell you the straightness of my seams would never pass muster with either of my grandmothers for anyone other than a seven-year-old and the hem is nowhere close to invisible, but it's done and it works and I am quite proud. If it falls apart when I wash it, you'll never know.
The heat, of course, influences everything about how you live in the tropics. Windows are always open, so you hear everything. Just like Dangriga there are roosters that crow and dogs that bark, both of them all day and all night long. I think I woke up last night once because everything was quiet for a few minutes. During the day, add radios or TVs from every house, cars hot-rodding by, children crying or playing, birds, birds, birds chirping and chortling and the occasional turkey gobble. And I'm sure I heard a pig squealing the other day. So it's a symphony -- or more a cacophony. Well, really something in between.
A brief aside about children. Although the official language of the country is English and all of the schools are taught in English, Spanish and/or Creole is what's spoken in most homes. So the smaller children, the ones not yet in school don't speak much English. There is one little girl who comes to our screen door 15 or 20 times a day some days, calling out Hello, hello, her only English word, I think. All the children like to play on our front porch and back steps and in our yard. There's one game that involves marching around and around our house shouting Hallelujah and singing in Spanish. This is led by the oldest of the too-young-for-school girls pushing a doll buggy, followed in single file by everyone else who can walk. Maybe it's a parade; maybe we're being exorcised.
Anyway, I'm off to Placencia, a beach town in the south, for
the day tomorrow so I have to begin my long and weird bus trip
in just an hour. I'll tell you all about Placencia when I get