Into the Wild

Just Another Day in Paradise?

Pinch me!  Am I really living in the tropics?  Will I really spend the next year here soaking in the zen?  My first night in paradise I watched the full moon rise, just after sunset, out over the plains below.  Very zen.  After a hot muggy night learning to sleep with a breeze wafting through my window rather than climate controlled a/c I woke to the 5:30 sun breaking the horizon in perfect alignment with my eyeballs.  It’s become far more reliable than any alarm clock.  Stepping out my bedroom door onto the veranda, last night’s full moon was hanging in a purple morning sky over the jungle covered horizon getting ready to slip out of sight.  It was sort of spooky spectacular.

But just as Adam so rudely discovered, no paradise lasts forever.  So, sure the heat is like swimming in hot soup and we’ve all lost pounds sweating into our clothes, which leaves one sticky and dampish almost all the time.  But by the end of the first day my body was waging full scale war against our environment.  To be perfectly honest every one of us had digestive challenges one way or the other.  Mine turned into a full scale flush so I spent day two in paradise passed out, sweating and starving in bed.  The Gilmour’s trouble was more of a ’lord of the flies’ variety.  By day two Kevin’s legs looked like the crater pocked face of the moon, only bright red.   He claims over two hundred sand fly bites and two weeks later they are still a scabby disgusting mess.  Not one of the Gilmours escaped the sand flies which made Erica a little mad at me because I guess I just don’t taste as good to bugs.  Dying from Montezuma’s revenge but I don’t taste good to bugs.

Water in the Wilderness

So by day three, with none of us eating much we decided to seek some relief from the sun.  On the way in Rodney mentioned the in-ground pool his grandpa recently built.  Curiously however, he built in right in the middle of a cow pasture.  Not as crazy as it sound once you realize it’s sitting right on top of a natural fresh water spring. Show up, cover the drain, let it fill.  Minutes later full sized, cool blue, cow pasture refreshment awaits you.  It has been a good place to meet the community.  This was also the location of subsequent encounters of the strangest kind.  But that was later.

Getting Out of Dodge, Take one. 

Well, we were still sickly and slightly unwell but we didn’t come here to sit around and fester so we made plans to find Orange Walk, our local ‘metropolis’ and see what there was to see.  The Gilmour’s had an Explorer on loan but no insurance so they can’t leave the ‘reserve’.  We debated the merits of going without insurance and we were glad we didn’t as my host Annie came through for us and found a Toyota 4x4 rental pickup. 

Strangest rental experience ever.  We pulled up and Peter asks me if I want it cleaned as the archeologists just used it in the deep bush.  No, I’m good so what ID or paper work does he need.  “Nothing, just bring it back here when you’re done.  We’ll call you if we need it sooner.”  And I’m off.

So we threw a sponge in the back and six intrepid explorers set out down the spine crushing 35 miles to town.  The locals would have laughed at us but half way there we were forced to stop for a breather to fend off motion sickness.  The three girls who were thrilled to sit in the box at departure were now petitioning to crowd the tiny bench seat inside. 

Now, according to the tour book, Orange Walk has a couple historic churches, an impressive town square, and a charming commemorative park to explore.  We think we saw the churches somewhere under a pile of rubble, a market in the closing hours of business might have been the town square and a little, dusty, heavily littered green space was most probably the infamous park.  Not much to write home about, even though that’s what I’m doing right now.  We did manage to find the famous chicken taco stand and those of us with our guts under control had our fill of, 3 for $1, tacos and enchiladas.

I Shot the Sherriff

Satisfied that we had seen what we could, our adventures seemed over and we braced ourselves for ‘the road’ home.  Little did we know what was waiting for us just out of town.  Cursing merrily down the road, vigorously debating whether a pot hole is better taken at full speed or slowly, getting the full scale slam in slow motion, we rounded the corner to see the police check point.  There were officers with shot gun slung over their shoulders, barricades and a line of drivers being arrested, complete with vehicles bound for impounding.  We quickly rehearsed the facts of our story as we nervously pulled up to the Belizean officer who glared at me threateningly his shotgun swinging in the air.  As I was starting to blurt out why my drivers license wasn’t Belizean he took a glance at the insurance stickers on the window and waved us through without a word.  They take insurance at least, very seriously here.  So, we survived our first foray into the wilds of Belize.  We’ve had some closer calls since then but one successful adventure at least was done.