Roadspill

Friday 4/18/03

I am up before the wild animals, the ants and before the last party people have made it to their park benches. The sky is bright, but the sun is still down. I saunter the 50 metres to the nearest dock -- and jump off the end into the Gulf of Mexico. At least that's what I think it is. No matter, it is clear, clean and warm. Looking like a manatee, I splash around in total privacy as a big red blob of a new day rises in the distance. It doesn't get much better than this.

In short order I am back in my room making awful instant coffee. It is so unlike coffee, I would think that Juan Valdez should be filing suit against the makers of this charlatan dreck.

I have learned how to overcome the smelly water that is common here this time of year. If you run the shower long enough to get water that hasn't been sitting and mutating in the pipes, you can actually enjoy an experience that doesn't smell like a Ukrainian border bathroom. The water is rather brackish as the wells here are getting low and the island is so small.

Time for breakfast: I saunter down the sandy main drag in search of something tasty. The Happy Lobster will do. Its not too busy, but the waiter is a slow motion Walter. I have to get my own coffee. Then my own menu. And then I sit and watch as he buses tables, one plate at a time. Concious of not wanting to be an impatient foreigner, I wait. And wait. And wait. After more than half an hour I bail. At least I got a free coffee out of the deal.

I head to Rasta Pasta for a great (big) breakfast burrito on the beach. A large group of tourists is complaining loudly as their kids wreak havoc. Luckily, their water taxi arrives and they have to scurry off to annoy more people. A feral cat comes to visit, and another tourist feeds it some tough-as-shoe-leather bacon. Or maybe it was jerky. Or flat tyre repair strips.

Later in the day Brent and Roh arrive and we go a-visiting. We meet friends of theirs from Vancouver who own a small inn. We hang with them for a while drinking fruity drinks. There is a BC flag flying next door. Strange.

Many hours later, I wander to the split to catch sunset. I snap a few thousand pictures along with a few other folks. Brent joins up and suggests one could easily start a photograph-the-tourists business and make a killing. Hmmmm...

Brent explains the concept of Rent-A-Dred: where portly middle aged European women come to find a good black lover. And to pay his rent and meals and bar tabs. You see it every where.

Speaking of Rent-A-Dred, we meet Maurice, the owner of a cheap eatery called Wish Willy. He serves cheap food and fruity drinks -- and tells many stories. He also has a harem of European women.

A feral cat comes to meow at us... and then we're gone...

Still hungry, we stop for some rice and beans and fry chicken at the side of the road. Yes, I am tempting the innard Gods, but so far so good. No need for the immodium just yet.

Brent is loaded by sundown, so Roh and I hang out for a bit. At 10pm or so, we pull the pin.

4.19.03 -- Saturday

Good news about the Canucks winning.

In Belize proper, the biggest sporting event is on -- a huge cycle race. Radios across the island are blasting the play-by-play in creole. The coverage is interruped by an ad for a car repair shop: "Disgruntled ex-lover scratch your fenders? Come see us!"

Breakfast this morning was super cheap: US$5 for Spanish eggs, fry jacks, coffee, fresh oj. Not bad.

In the internet cafe where I write I am just hearing how a European woman freaked on Maurice last night in the disco... I hope to hear more about that. Apparently for 90 minutes Maurice was pushing her away. The disco was boring, but this was keeping everyone entertained...

It's time for a rum... See you Easter Sunday...