PCV: Paid Caribbean Vacation

Is February 23rd my birthday? I didn't think so. But it must be or 15 kids wouldn't have busted into the computer lab yesterday morning singing to me. I guess some things don't matter.

There I was minding my own business, checking email or something else that takes up my time before the bell rings and pretty much every girl from the Infant II class came in doing a rhythmic dance and singing happy birthday to me. In English... and Spanish.

They went through the entire procession, which lasts about 2 minutes after they go through all the verses and then clap one time for every year in age as they count how old you are.

Then when they all finished, the all came around me, hugged me and told me happy birthday. Then the bell rang and they all screamed as they ran out of the room back to class. They made sure to tell me happy birthday one more time as they were running out the door.

Afterwards, I wasn't sure what happened. It was one of the weirdest things that ever happened to me. Maybe when you have a fan club of 5 year old girls, you get to have your birthday whenever they feel like celebrating. That would get annoying, I bet you Hannah Montana has her birthday everyday then.

Just another day in the life of a PCV.

Valentine's Day is a stupid made up Hallmark holiday that consists of people who suck at telling those they love on a regular basis making up for it on February 14th each year.

I've been noticing something recently and I will assume that anyone I have talked to from home or Belize can attest to it. It's either that or you don't notice because I'm not in that frame of mind when I'm around you and feel more comfortable. This may be the problem to begin with.

The problem: I talk too much, I talk too fast, I mumble.

What am I in such a hurry to say that I can't just relax and say it in a civilized manner? Why do I feel the need to get as much information out as fast as possible?

I was thinking about solutions to those questions when I realized one of the biggest changes that has been occurring while I have been in Yo Creek. While here, I do more listening than anything. This is mostly because people are speaking in Spanish and it takes an extreme level of concentration for me to understand anything. Then I either know how to respond but am timid, or I have no idea and just there smiling and nodding. Something I do very well.

Then I notice that when I talk to fellow PCVs or people from home that I suddenly have all this stuff to say. I've always talked a lot but I am noticing just how much I do it now, and I'm not really a big fan of it.

It probably has something to do that even when I do speak English it is mostly to people that do not understand my sarcasm, do not speak English, or understand English very well. When this happens, I usually find myself enunciating better, speaking much slower, and trying to not use words that might confuse people. Things like metaphors and figures of speech are an absolute NO NO.

While things take a lot longer and are often frustrating when speaking this way, I find that I am actually forced to think about what I am saying instead of just spouting off at the mouth. It's crazy how differently you speak when you know that what you are saying may be falling on deaf ears and you must try to make them understand anyway you can.

I think this type of constant interaction with Belizeans where I am watching what I am saying has really helped me to notice how different I am around those that know me. I'm not sure which me I like better. The one that has diarrhea of the mouth, or the one that takes all emotion out of what I say in order to be understood. I think some middle ground would be appreciated by all.

The thing I am finding so fascinating about my experience thus far in the Peace Corps is how often we just take language for granted. Have you ever sat down and thought about how hard it is to learn English? It's impossible! Spanish is hard, but there are very consistent rules that people can follow and not look stupid. English has no such thing.

Coming from a country that doesn't understand the notion of why it might be important to teach people more than one language, it is easy to forget how important language is to a culture and ,most importantly, keeping us sane.

It's a lesson I'm learning. It's coming slowly and I hope there is a middle ground that I can someday find. So next time I start getting excited and start talking too fast, too much... just tell me to shut up (especially if any alcohol has been involved). As for all you English only speakers out there, make an effort of trying to pay attention what you are saying instead of just talking.

It's a challenge, but it's worth a try.

There stood two chairs divided by half broken table in a moldy room. One chair would win, one chair would lose. To one chair would go all the spoils. In every Peace Corps event, we try to have a little themed contest to give ourselves something to do in between the countless ice breakers and millions of other things that are important but we usually don't listen to. Then we head back to the GarDen and do stupid things like ass grabbing contests, hand stand contests, mustache bashes, limbo competitions, and the annual arm wrestling match. Many men and many women enter, only one of each emerges a victor.
Some take this very seriously while others pretend they didn't know what was going on. Let us compare our field. There is me, who know about it, but didn't care. That seems to be the majority of the field. Then there are people like Adam, who knew about it, joined a health club and has been getting 'ripped and shredded' for months in practice. Then enter Dave Thomas, the guy who just disgraces Cincinnati at ever chance. I will mention that he did make it farther than I did despite being 100 lbs. less in muscle but much stronger in heart.

Some came well dressed to the event, others came in their boxers. Sam claims to have had no idea and was sleeping but we pulled him out of bed in his underwear to compete. He made a strong showing and made it all the way to the semi-finals. A good strong showing from the village boy who chops entire farm plots with one swing of his machete. Sam is all that is man. He is like Everclear. Clear, compact but concentrated to give you a strong blow.

Greg brought his mustache. Need I say more? I think not. If only the bonds of his wax weren't stronger than his arms. At least someone in the family makes the family name proud.

Adam, the privileged Beverly Hills boy, trying to look ghetto against the reigning champ Coy. Many people had nicknames on the bracket. Coy was just Coy. It's all that needs to be said. He is Coy and will cook you a gourmet meal and beat you up all without breaking a sweat. He is just that good. Adam didn't stand a chance. Regardless of a gym membership or not.

The finals came down to Coy and Steven on the men's side and Kevina and Kristen on the women's side. It was clear from the get go when Kevina dominated Katie that we'd have a new female champion this year. Coy retained his title and stopped Steven from beginning Peace Corps' first ever trifecta champion. He had already previously won the limbo contest and the nicest ass competition. No small feet for either. He was just no match for Coy. Coy is Coy. Some will never understand.

Kevina, being one of the smallest women in the contest, showed that (contrary to what most women say) size doesn't matter. She blew through probably the top 4 women in the tournament with ease. I feel sorry for the next batch of volunteers because no one notices just how strong she is. Coy is easy to see by his huge arms and general physique, but Kevina hits you with a surprise attack. I guess it just has more to do with the name. Whether it be Casaletto or Kevina, she is too much for far too many to handle.

I'm going with the name. Kevin or Kevina. This is something big. I need to start training. I'll win next year and that is just one more step to the Kevolution of a lifetime.

Last night I went to a birthday party of an older guy in the village that now calls me his son. He is quite the comedian and although he was turning 64, he swore that he was really 18. Never mind the grand kids piled on his lap or the scores of family that were in attendance, he was only 18. He sure acts like it anyway, and I couldn't be happier because of it.

When he told me of his party during the morning, I knew that's where I'd be later in the evening. I also thought that there would be some kind of partying going on being that it was Fat Tuesday after all. I assumed they would call it something different. Not Fat Tuesday, not Carnival... Nothing. No one was doing anything. As I walked home around 9 pm (well past my bedtime), the village was completely dead.

Mr. Cantun even had a sister who lived in New Orleans that called to wish him a happy birthday but most of them were convinced that Mardis Gras was a celebration only in the States. Never mind the many more people in the world that celebrate Carnival in a much bigger way than anyone in New Orleans ever dreamed of.

I guess to my surprise, this is just one of the things that Belizeans miss out on. They have every other holiday that they celebrate as well as all the British holidays they still observe from when they were a colony. Carnival must have slipped through the cracks. I know its still relevant because I heard rumors of people going to Chetumal, Mexico to partake in the big festivals that were going on there. That is only 25 miles away. Surely, people here would have heard of it? Nope. Not even a little bit.

The biggest surprise is how much of a Catholic community this is. Or the country is for that matter to miss out on something such as this. Most Belizeans either don't party at all, and the rest seem to make up for those who don't. There are times when just like us, never mind a reason to party, they just do it. So on one of the most internationally renowned days to drink of the year do Belizeans seem to abstain? It doesn't make sense. Seems to go against the laws of gravity.

Tonight at church they get to break in the new Deacon. Its supposed to be a big deal. I don't really know what that means but Ash Wednesday is no laughing matter. Its a big day from what little I know. They celebrate that, why not the day before. Lent hasn't really come up in conversation either.

Which leads me to my big question: Is something missing in Belize or are my conceptions of Catholics in the States wrong? Probably both, but one thing is certain: Catholics here and Catholics at home are not exactly the same.

I saw this a few months ago and just figured out how to put it on my blog. If you have the spare time, it's well worth the watch. He brings up some amazing points.

I have been trying harder to integrate into my community, which means I would ideally fit in. This would make me less of the celebrity and more of just someone who lives here. The idea is to fit in, not to stand out. Other than the lack of fluency in kitchen Spanish and slightly "clearer skin," this may be possible to accomplish.


It has been happening slowly but surely. I have people call me now to see what I am doing. People sometimes stop by my house. I get invited over to dinners and lunches often. It's a great honor and most of these events occur on Sundays.


Last Sunday, I had one of my many Couchsurfers staying with me and was invited to lunch from my counterpart Damian. We were to go to his mom's house for Tomalitos. Now, these are some of the most delicious things I have ever eaten. If it didn't take an entire day to make them, I would eat them everyday.


While on our way to Damian's mom's house, we were stopped by Lia. Lia was on her way to my house with rice, beans, and lobster for lunch. I'm trying to watch my weight so there was no way to eat all of it so we said we'd eat it later assuming we wouldn't have to make dinner.


Before leaving, Damian took us out to check out his Zapote tree. I had never heard of this fruit and we cant seem to find a translation into English so Zapote it is. They take about a week after picking them to ripe but they are delicious. They are very sweet and have the consistency of a peach with cinnamon flavors.


Then we walk on back to my house making sure to stop by Lia's to pick up the lobster for later. I couldn't forget about lobster after all.


Before night fall, I was ready to eat dinner. I ate my lobster but my guest Milou didn't want anything to eat yet. More for me, I thought.

While I was eating this delicious lobster meal, I get a call from Andrew, my neighbor. He wants to invite us to dinner. I don't know how to turn that down even though I just ate. I wasn't sure what we'd be eating but his mother, Judith, is arguably the best cook in the village.


Sure enough, it was lobster. Not once, but twice. She had also made barbeque pork ribs with homemade flour tortillas. I had already accepted and made Milou get hungry and we walked across the street for more food. Stuffed and happy, I was ready for bed. What a great Sunday it was. It must just be a fluke.


No fluke at all actually! Yesterday, I got to go Cave Tubing with another couple from the village. I was the only gringo in a group of a about 16 people. We left at 7am and went off towards Belmopan on the way to Jaguar Paw. We were on the tubes by 10 and tubing through caves that have been used by the Ancient Maya for thousands of years. Jenny is a tour guide in Belize and is trying to start her own business giving tours. This trip was designed to take pictures for her new website that I'm helping her with. Not only am I helping her with the website, but she needed someone to take pictures of that will be going on her tours. Most Belizeans don't fit that category of person. Enter me: white boy with a farmer's tan and a lot of body hair. Win Win.


I got back to the village around 5:30 just in time for dinner. Damian's dad had been having a birthday party during the day that I missed. Would you believe that they saved Tamales for me? These are delicious as well and take a full day to make. I'm not sure what all goes into them, but they are quite the feast when a family makes them. It is usual to eat them for 2 or 3 meals in a row because it doesn't make sense to make them unless you are making a bunch of them. I've had Tamales from about 8 different cooks in Belize and they have never been the same. Some put beans, some put chicken or turkey, some put habanero, some put tomatoes, but all are delicious.


I went home around 8pm to get ready for bed and call it a night. I began reading when I heard my host mom from outside. She had come to bring me Tamalitos that she had made. They were still smoking hot. I couldn't eat them then because I was still full from the tamales but I knew what I'd be having for breakfast the next 2 days and I was pumped.


If that wasn't enough, about 8:30 I got another knock on the door. It was Andrew. His mom had brought me a dessert in case I was hungry. sweet potato pudding. Sounds disgusting, sounds delicious. Of those, it was the ladder. Not what I would have thought of when thinking of pudding, but it was sweet and closer to pumpkin pie with a sweet potato flavoring. I don't know how Judith does what she does, but I like what she does.

I know both of these days could have been fluke happenings. Somehow, however, I get the idea that Sundays are going to start being my favorite day of the week. I don't have to cook, and I get stuffed full of food so good that I have trouble asking for seconds when I've already had a meal before that.


I'm not sure how I've lost 25 pounds, but the weight still continues to fall off. I figure if I just keep doing what I'm doing, and eating as much of this lard filled food as these women cook for me, then I'll be right where I need to be.