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Blanketing opinions that I'll probably regret soon.
Monday, February 20, 2006
I'm in Belize, my bitches.
I love the smell of burning trash in the Third World. That really gets me going.
We jetted out of Belize City to Caye Caulker just minutes after landing. Took an eight-seater airplane---the kind that bounces when it lands on the airstrip. I could see the white smoke rising above the mangroves and the smell was unmistakable. I was finally in the Global South. Thank christ.
We're staying at a B & B, run by a couple from Austin, Texas. She wears long, wrap-around skirts and he has a gray pony tail. Just the kind of people I'd expected. They said they'd been sailing around the Carribean and ended up on Caye Caulker. They bought some land and set up shop, and here they are 10 years later.
Met up with Barb shortly after arriving. Went straight to the beach cabana and ordered the sweetest rum I've ever tasted. It's nothing like Bacardi or any rum in the States. Belizean rum is simply alcoholic Aunt Jemima. In fact, it's so sweet that the store-bought bottles are sticky.
There are no paved roads on this island. The entire developed part of it can be seen in less than 30 minutes. The three "roads" are called Front, Middle, and Back Street. But you wouldn't know that, because there are no street signs. There are only two automobiles that I've seen; everyone walks, bikes, or takes golf cart taxis.
Yesterday, I went sailing with some dude I had met a few minutes earlier. Capsized the boat twice in 10 knot winds. Next time, instead of saying "ready to jibe?!", I'm just going to say, "ready to capsize?!" We were able to tow the guy's wife around in a kayak from the sailboat somehow.
Today I went on a five hour barracuda fishing trip. I caught one that was 3.5 feet long. The other guy on the boat hauled in a 4.5 foot monster barracuda. They cut up the fish on the beach and we're going to eat it at a local restaurant in an hour.
Last night we ate at a shack called Wish Willy's. And by "shack", I am not exaggerating. Folks, I could have built this building. The cook just shouted at us to grab whatever beer we wanted from the coolers---no fridge---and take a seat. We hung out getting drunk and eating seafood 'til late, bullshiting with Belgians and some folks from Cleveland Park DC (!) that we met.
More later ...
There's a Mt. Pleasant in or around every American city, isn't there?
Mass,
Anywhere there's electricty, there's internet.
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