Today Belize City was a ghost town. The sun was blinding and burning down hard. Everything looked over-exposed. I put up my umbrella for the first time for sun and not rain.
It is Belize Independence Day, 27 years since independence from Britain, and everything in town is closed. Ended up going to the only supermarket open to buy breakfast and waved down the next taxi to get me to the bus stop asap. It was a middle aged spanish speaking lady in the cab, who had wilted bougainvillea tucked into all the ceiling handles. She was a dear, took me back to the hotel and then on to the bus station and when she said goodbye, almost hugged me. I felt it too. It's as if she knew I was off, on to a new big adventure, and she was the only witness to it. So she played family for me. It was very sweet.
The taxi lady called over a boy to help me with my 10 ton bag (loaded with stationary goodies for the Foundation). He was only about 13, small build, and struggled a lot. Would've been easier for me to carry it. An elderly man ended up taking it from him and getting it to the bus and I paid him $3 belize dollars. The bus was supposedly 'first class' ... ha ha. It was an old school bus from the States with no air-conditioning. And it was a 3 hour trip. Half of it spent with a grandmother and her two grandchildren squished in next to me - but I was still comfortable. I ate my breakfast, sweet bread rolls, and broke them to share with the little girl next to me. The grandmother smiled warmly at me, then proceeded to swear at someone on her cellphone. Things are not as they seem here...
I arrived at 3pm and wanted to get my weight-lifting set to the nearest hotel, quick smart. It was still baking hot even though now I was in a valley in the mountains. I went up the stairs of what looked to be a funky little hotel and walked straight into Nanna land. I didn't care. They showed me the room which was cheap and it had cable tv and a fan and double bed. Bathroom on the outside. That'll do. The old lady clasped her hands around my face, told me I was very pretty and welcomed me to her country. Odd. Welcome to San Ignacio.
Somehow I figured out that they spoke spanish and they were delighted. I felt like the prodigal grand daughter. In the room there was a pink dolly lamp shade, the sheets were pink with flowers and polka dots and the word 'pretty' all over them. I collapsed exhausted and tried to have a snooze but a very noisy parade stated up outside for the Independence Day celebrations. Booming marching drums continued for a while, until I just thought - hey I'm missing out here big time. Better get me downstairs to film the celebrations.
I grabbed the video camera and scampered down the street after the scantily clad dancers. There were lack luster army marchers, kids in wheelchairs and young brown thin girls shaking their arse in tiny colourful costumes decorated with beads and gold fabric. I kept filming as I walked down, and it occurred to me that Cornerstone would have a float. Eventually I noticed a float pumping out cool local music, very beatsy, with a Cornerstone sign. Behind followed kids and a mix of white people in cornerstone t-shirts. I jumped in of course, and introduced myself to Irene and Darlene, and then they introduced me to Elliot, who had received my emails. He seemed confused about who I was but eventually clicked.
I walked with them in the heat for a while until we reached the Cornerstone offices, where Elliot explained that the volunteers stay upstairs, not separately down the road as I had thought. I didn't need to go to the hotel after all but now I had paid so one more night of privacy wouldn't hurt. I bailed pretty quickly after this, abandoning my fellow volunteer loyalty for cable tv, a fan and a siesta. Leave the loyalty for when I am living there.
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