International Women's Day 2018

This Thursday is International Women’s Day.  I would like to mark this occasion by describing some of the awesome-ness that I’ve been witness to in the past few weeks. Specifically, I went to a graduation ceremony.  Three of the teachers at the local school, just a block or so from where I live, have been studying their butts off for the past year. 

These three ladies have stayed up countless nights – or more honestly into the wee hours of the morning – to improve their leadership skills, be a positive force for change within the education system, and in some ways, to prove to themselves that they are capable and avid learners.  With their commitment and passion, they are an inspiration. 

Even the graduation ceremony itself was a test of wills, as a few minutes into the introductory speech, the skies opened up and torrential rain threatened to drown out the speaker’s words and soak the grads sitting closest to the back edge of the stage.

[this is not what dry season looks like]

It should also be noted that none of these women live in a vacuum.  They are mothers, wives, daughters and full-time teachers.  Each of them had family supporting them throughout their studies, and of course on graduation day itself.  In a place where only 56% of women are part of the labor force*, these women have families that support their continued education and community leadership. 

Today I am so proud of my village, these three leaders, and the families they are a part of. 

Congrats, and best of luck as you strive to move forward with your new-found skills, inspiring the next generation of leaders and teachers yet to come.

*http://datatopics.worldbank.org/gender/country/belize

Ready - set - TOURIST!

Sadly, this post must begin and end with an admission and disclosure.  In a day filled with adventuring and touring, I took 142 pictures of Cahal Pech and Inland Blue Hole.  In my enthusiasm to transfer those pictures and start writing as soon as humanly possible, I forgot that my computer is not always as fast as my own thought process and I deleted the original photos before they finished copying to the appropriate drive.  The end result is that you, dear reader, will have to struggle through this writer’s pros rather than perusing my photos.  As is so commonly said here in Belize, “Shucks!”

Moving on.  On a cloudy, yet cool Orange Walk morning, I met up with a group to tour the Mayan ruin of Cahal Pech.  Although I typically do not tour with groups or guides, I had the opportunity to be led through the site by a knowledgeable guide who is not only native to Belize, but also an active participant in her own culture and history. 

This is Jenny, our guide:

She not only described where the pok-ta-pok court was, but brought her own ball, as she is an avid fan and sometimes participant in modern day play of the game.  While I no longer have the picture of the ball with the court in the background, I can offer this recent news article demonstrating the resurgent popularity of this ancient game:  https://www.ambergristoday.com/news/2017/04/18/belize-team-wins-ancient-maya-ball-game-teotihuacan-mexico

The ruins were in spectacular condition and unlike many of the other sites that I’ve been to, the passageways and interior spaces are still intact and explorable.  It was a lot of fun to move through the hallways and stairs from one area to another and - always a water and sanitation buff - fun to see how the water and drainage systems worked.  There was something akin to a gravity fed shower system which elicited a lot of jealously and envious questions about water temperature from our group.  Hot showers are not an every day occurrence among my travel companions.

From there we moved eastward and visited the Inland Blue Hole.  Although we didn’t have time to wander the caves or hike the area, the site does have sufficient facilities to use the bathrooms, change clothes and easily hike down the granite steps to a jungle oasis, swimming into one of the caves in total darkness.  Not gonna lie, it was pretty cool. 

https://media-cdn.tripadvisor.com/media/photo-s/07/2d/34/1a/cave-tubing-belize-inland.jpg

 Although this blog post is the result of a special trip arranged for the group I traveled with, I have no doubt that any tour arranged and guided by Jenny and Epic Mayan Tours would be equally engaging and tailored to those present.

epicmayantours.com

Adventures of Misinformation: Sale of Tissue

At least once a week I pass a large warehouse in the middle of sugar cane fields.  The first time I passed by, I noticed a sign out front which caught my attention, but this week I had to start laughing as I passed by.  The fence on the edge of the property was inhabited by 4 large black birds.  There are flocks of  vultures in the area, so it’s not unusual that you would see a group of them in the fields.  The reason it’s funny is the same as the reason I noticed the warehouse at all. 

There’s a sign out front which reads “Sale of Tissue”.  This would be funny in its own right, but for me it’s amplified by the fact that the first time I asked for a Kleenex in Spanish I mis-translated and asked for spare flesh aka biological tissue.  Every time I pass the warehouse with Sale of Tissue, I giggle at how boldfaced and public the sale of  - presumably human - flesh is in these parts.  Today though,  I am concerned for a turn in the economy.  With that many vultures/buzzards out front, they seem to have a large stock of inventory that isn’t moving quickly enough.  Luckily their sign also says, Venta de papel higiénico or “toilet paper for sale”, so they can clean up the mess with their other merchandise .

Happy Happy!!

With all the holidays converging together this December/January/School Vacation/Family Recognition etc. etc. etc. I will be postponing the January scheduled post until Tuesday the 16th (because even that Monday is a holiday in some places).  Please stay tuned, and in the mean time enjoy this picture that I borrowed from the internet: 

 from:  http://creagrus.home.montereybay.com/vultures.html

September in December

This month’s post will focus a little more specifically on my travels and local interactions.  I’ve been in Belize for a few months now and had the pleasure of being a part of some fun traditions and celebrations.  I’ve even successfully made some tortillas – still not well enough that anyone from Belize would be proud to admit they made them, but well enough that my host mom was proud of me, and sometimes that’s just good enough. 

As you may or may not have noticed, I tend to delay my posts a little.  This month is no exception.  I do this for many reasons, but just a heads up this whole post will be about events that took place in Belize this past September. 

September celebrations are a string of well observed holidays here in Belize.  The one I was most involved with was Independence Day which occurs on the 21^st of September.  The days surrounding the holiday have local parades in which kids decorate their bikes, and even the preschool makes floats to parade through town.  There are fireworks, and there’s food and general jubilation.  The culmination of the festivities is a parade in each of the regional town centers, the biggest and most famous of which happens in Orange Walk Town. 

There are floats and spectacles involving the whole family.  From children who are part of the drum squads, police cadet force, and a program called GREAT, which I imagine is something like the anti-drug campaign DARE in the United States in the 90s, only more focused on gangs than drugs, to adults passing out adult beverages (more on that in a bit).

Here is a video of a particularly energetic and talented youth:

It might be because of our position at the end of the parade route, but there also seemed to be a very wide range of enthusiasm for their part in this spectacle.

Alcohol also plays a big part in the celebrations.  Right at the beginning of the parade, before any of the floats had come through, what I assume were either members of the Belizean Defense Force or Customs officials walked the parade route.

The area is close enough to Mexico that contraband is a problem for the local authorities.  The officials surveyed the crowds and when they saw a group with Mexican beer still in the original containers, they dumped all of it ….

… all that was visible.

Beyond the contraband though, there were many floats which were sponsored by local brewers and distillers.  Many of them even passed out drinks to the crowd as they rode by:

Belikin – arguably the most well known Belizean beer – not only sponsored a float, but they even had the forethought to provide a porta-potty for the revelers on the float.  #thoughtful

Caribbean Rum was a little more low key.  Instead of going all out with a big float, enormous speakers and a DJ, they focused on what they know.  A vat of rum and two guys to hand out drinks was enough to keep the crowd happy.

You needn’t worry though.  The floats that followed provided plenty of beats.  New Wave Soundz packed so many speakers on their float that their DJ had to duck under the parade banner which was hung 3 stories off the ground.

It was a beautiful display of sounds and colors and I look forward to going again next year and seeing what new attractions they can provide.  Bring on year 37!

Housing and Other Oddities in Gratitude

Just about 2 years ago I quit my job, packed up my things and changed countries.  It’s been an amazing adventure.  In the intervening time I have created and sometimes simply experienced some interesting housing situations.  As I have had to navigate voter registration, tax filing, and renewal of my driver’s license it is not lost on me just how transient I’ve become.  One day, about a year ago, I got a call from a social worker from my health insurance company.  When I signed up for coverage they had asked me to complete a survey.  Ever mindful that my professional life often requires data from such surveys, I dutifully complied and in doing so flagged myself as homeless.

I had very mixed feelings about this phone call.  On the one hand, I was thoroughly impressed at the program which my health insurance had to help assist the homeless population in their care.  Should such services be more ubiquitous, I wonder how we could reduce the number of people who fall into that category.  I was unimpressed by the fact that a full year had passed between the time when I filled out the survey and when the social worker called.  Were I to be more traditionally homeless, I wonder whether the phone number at enrollment would be reliable a year later.  A year on the streets, seems to me, is a much longer measure of time.  I did inform my social worker and then quickly ended the call to ensure that her time was spent with other individuals whose transient housing situations were driven more by circumstance than personal choice and non-traditional career paths.

This experience has demonstrated how easy it would be to fall off the grid, or perhaps alternatively, how difficult it is to keep from falling through the cracks of society.  Even answering the simple question of, “what is your address?” becomes complicated.  I’ve never been without a roof over my head, but my legal address, mailing address, permanent address, where I’m registered to vote, and home address have at times all been separate addresses based on the definition required by each system.  I commend the driver’s license bureaucracy for acknowledging homelessness and providing the option of having a shelter as your address, but even this requires certification from a shelter and ignores individuals who are living in their cars or avoid shelters for health and/or safety reasons. 

This is the point at which I pause and thank my wide safety net of friends and family who regularly allow me to crash in their spare bedrooms, couches, and air mattresses on spare sections of the floor.  These people also deserve a shout out because of their utter offense at the notion that I am homeless or somehow outside of society.  I am also grateful for Airbnb.  As much as I recognize that the disruption in housing markets has caused inflated prices and potentially resulted in more transience, there is no other way in which I could imagine living 2 weeks in one location, and 6 more in another.  No way in which I could have afforded to chase the opportunities that I have had. 

I am grateful because I am fortunate. Because of this new perspective on my own fortunes I hope I am also more cognizant of the fortunes of others.

Gratitude – an unnumbered series of posts

I’ve been wanting to write and reflect on how grateful I am but felt like no matter how I wrote it, the end result would be a humble brag.  So let me start this exposé by saying I am grateful to have so much to humbly brag about and I am also grateful to have those around me who remind me that my reality is not typical and worthy of extra thanks and recognition.

This series was written while “stranded” in an airport.  I had woken up at ridiculous o’clock in the morning, had a lovely conversation with a gentleman on the bus who was dreading the coming day and his 16 hour shift.  Flew through security to arrive barely on time to receive a text from the airline informing me that my flight – which was scheduled to board in 5 minutes – was unceremoniously cancelled without explanation.  I spent the next 2 hours on the phone and in-line being sent always to the next customer service representative because whoever I was currently speaking with had some kind of “view only” software capability and hadn’t actually been trusted to serve customers.

Finally, at the end of the two hours, I resigned myself to my fated airport limbo, despite the fact that I knew I could rent a car and drive to my destination arriving two hours before my newly scheduled departure time.

Expecting a short flight without connections, I was woefully unprepared to spend 8 hours in the airport waiting for my next departure.  Frustrated with my predicament, I went in search of entertainment.  I needed a new notebook anyway so I decided to search one out and indulge in writing some of the backlogged blogposts that have been floating around in my brain.  3 stores later, I was approached by the sales woman.  It was a tiny store and her question, “Can I help you find something?” had more concern and confusion which put the emphasis on the fact that she clearly believed I needed help of some kind, but probably not of the shopping assistance variety. 

Knowing that I was clearly in the wrong store, I asked, “Do you know of anywhere in the terminal where I could buy paper?”  [Pause of confusion on both sides.] “… of any kind, but preferably of the notebook variety.”  Her face lit up!  “We have TWO notebooks!”  She’d clearly expected that they would never sell.

Exhibit A and evidence that I chose wisely (hint: check out the name of this Blogovel)

I brought the notebook to the cashier and handed him a 20 dollar bill.  The cashier’s eyes shot from my hand to the credit card machine, back to the cash in my hand.  Eventually something clicked and he took the money laughing at my excessively analogue interaction.  

Walking out of the store I was struck by the triviality of my frustrations.  Yes.  My trip was off-schedule and would take longer than expected.  Yes.  The delay cut into time with family.  Yes, this delay would also cost money for entertainment and food costs in the crazy economy that is an American airport.  

All-in-all though, I was stepping onto a modern marvel which would transport me hundreds of miles in a matter of minutes.  I had a plethora of things that have caloric value and resemble food at my disposal, safe drinking water, and the means to purchase additional supplies as needed.  Top all of this off with literacy, time, and space to write and the ability to interact in this environment as an unaccompanied woman, with relative safety and I had reasons to be grateful.  So there you have it.  This begins my series on gratitude.  As I start yet another transition and accumulate stories for future posts, I will leave you with some gratitude to keep you thinking and reflecting.  Thank you for being part of my community of readers, writers, and observers.

*Epilogue*

In the days that followed the writing of this blog post, I was subject to 4 flight cancelations, spent over 48 hours stranded in various airports and only about 8 hours flying.  When Murphy’s Law takes hold, find something to hold onto … apparently my something is airport security screened.