Sounds exotic doesn’t it? It’s basically one of those bits of the Empire that time forgot. I think it had some strategic value once, and squaddies trained in the jungle eating rats and stuff like that, but now it’s like Gibralta, without the rock. They have a toy money here, as all money that is not yours appears to be toy money, it has a very old picture of the queen on it, like when she was a teenager. I guess they can’t afford to update it. At least it says “Belize” on it and not “British Honduras”.

The bus ride from Merida was without incident, and not to tiring. Then you get some chicken bus for 60 pesos that gets you through the border and the first place you hit is Corozal. It’s like Mexico, except all the signs are in English and there are some black people who are not American toruists. The sea is very tanquil, and the beach empty, and the town at the moment empty. Only food to be had is Chinese, but I’m assured it will get a bit more lively later on.

If you are into nature and jumping on a plank with a sail attached I’m told it’s fine. If you are a tax exile with you own supply of cocaine and Colombian supermodels and Sky TV, I’d guess it’s tolerable. If you have the misfortune to be in an iron lung, then I’d guess it’s as good or better than anywhere. The closest I can get to this to give you an idea is that it’s like Anglesey with sun.

Maybe years ago I had to work in Anglesey, when I arrived at the hotel it was raining, and windy and nothing matched anything in the room, and everyone was Welsh.

I sat in my room, and wept.

The builders are here today. Oh joy! ( sarcasm ).

They arrive when they say they will not, fail to come hen they say they will, they work at the pace of an arthritic snail, that is when they are not just sitting round staring into space. Not much different then to the British jobs for British workers then. Except this lot don’t drink tea, and the numbers of them that arrive on the back of a pickup truck. I’m told it’s illegal for a gringo to travel on the back of a truck, but the obraros are maybe a bit more expendable than a tourist.

There are only four here now, at times I’d swear there are thirty, and most of them seem to be watching or sitting around listening to one of those tinny radios that I think only builders can buy, maybe you need a union card, and it plays what seems like the same tune all day long with trumpets and some woman wailing away.
One young lad charged with fitting four cupboard door knobs has taken a good hour, really eking it out is an art south of the border.

So to go with it I get a nose full of wood dust, and an ear full of Black and Deckers.

Like I say Oh joy.

So here’s a very appropriate video, one of my favorites …

Went to the library on Monday last week for my Spanish conversation group. It’s good fun, you get stuck on a table with a group of Mexicans and some English speakers, and it’s a good way to improve your Spanish and make new friends. I expressed a wish to improve my salsa dancing and got directed to a tall Chinese looking guy who said to come down to the church opposite Burger King on Saturday at 8-00.

I did expect a professional setup, but it turns out this guy gives lessons in the open air and bums free music from the restaurant next door. Still, since it was for freemans….

I learned quite a bit of Puertorican salsa ( it’s all in the hands ), and I only stepped on my partner once ( maybe she has a different recollection ). Pretty funny to see all the tourists staring at us. Then it was off down the Mayan pub for a few beers, some live music, and some more beers. Got invited to a party, ended up not going, got home at 3-00 and can’t remember how I did it.

All in all, a success I’d say!

Let me leave you with a video, you should like. A cover of Simon and Garfunkel “The only living boy in New York”, which has some Mexican connection, if you should bother to look it up.

It ain’t half hot mum.

I don’t know what the official temperature is here, I guess about 35, but what’s that in old money?

Last night I filled up the bath, which is a sort of tiled japanese thing for at least two people and lay in cold water for a while listening to Radio 2. It was very pleasent, but still hot.

That night came a plague of long black flies, that I had to swat and spray and stamp on. It was like a scene from “Pacific Heights“, what a great movie. I killed them all, and today they are gone. Also there is a rat in the back yard, I am poisoning it as I post. Problem with hot lands is the creepy crawleys.

I managed to get myself down to the library tonight, which I don’t often do. Met some interesting people, so it was worth the ten minute walk. I usually intend to go, and end up sleeping through it and missing it.

A long list of people said they would be sure to visit me here in Mexico. I am waiting todavia.

Professor Dennis, you are most welcome, tho I expect you are not reading this due to an internet allergy.

No se si mis amigos hispanoparlantes me sigen todavia, lo siento, trataré de postar mas in castellano, pero sabéis que flojo soy….

I’ve just discovered that Lena Zavaroni  and Bonnie Langford were two different people!

Here’s proof.

For me, Mexican is not one of the great cuisines of the world. Some seem to hold it in great regard, but for me it’s usually over spiced, repetitive, lukewarm, and gives me a gippy tummy for a few days afterward. There are indeed a few good places to eat in the city, such as La Choperia, and Los Almendros. Both are tourist haunts, but as well attract Mexicans on a special night out or a birthday or such. I was guilty on my arrival of going every morning to the big gringo hotel, Fiesta Americana and pigging out on the buffet as it has a lot of American style food, but I’ve also started to eat at what the sometimes call “illegal restaurants”, tho I think many of them are legal. It goes here that you can stick a sign outside your house, open the front door and suddenly you have a restaurant. I’m thinking now that that might be quite a jape. I could do roast beef, two veg and Yorkshire and see if I get any takers. The menus in these restaurants are basic, but the food is pretty good and will set you back about £1.50 for a meal.

Often times I prefer now to go down to Walmart and get stuff to cook. Due to being off my food, I tend to get cravings, at the moment I can’t get enough pig’s feet. Before that it was rump steak, and I’ve also dabbled with chicken thigh and fried plantain, which goes by the name of “platano macho” ( male banana ). Strange to say, I have yet to venture into the world of fish, but it all looks good, and we are but 30 km or so from the sea.

I am pleased to say I bought a small box of tea yesterday, yes it’s only Twining’s, but it’s better than nothing. Mustard is still only that funny American one that tastes of piccalilli, brown sauce has a funny perfume smell ( A1 chop sauce ) and the bacon is always streaky.

There is a nice dark malty beer called Bohemia, and a cheapy lager one with a Mayan name that I forget. I’ve been shown how to drink it by sprinkling salt on the top and squeezing a lime into the rim.

So, it remains, that unless I can start whipping up imaginative dishes myself, I’m doomed to put my eating adventures on hold until I move on down further into South America.  Must go, I’m getting peckish and those pig’s feet don’t half take some cooking.

Yes, I have moved. But not far, in fact about “dos manzanas”, which means two blocks, though a “manzana”  is an apple if you look it up.

I am house sitting for my friend Sharon, as she has returned to the US of A for a while, and while I will miss her company and conversation, it’s a two edged sword that blows no one any good, so they say. It’s nice to have a house, because it has a small yard, and I now have somewhere to sit out, and to hold a BBQ when I get around to it. At the moment the builders have been in fitting wardrobes and doors, but i expect them to finish next week and the cloud of sawdust to diminish.

My duties here include cleaning, getting the bills paid, dealing with “the men”, watering the plants, and killing off the ants. These are a pest, and seem to live in the electrical switches and wall plugs. I have pretty much killed them off in the house now, using honey mixed with poison, but the battle remains in the patio. As one of the workmen remarked “what a sweet death”.

The house is very tastefully decorated, and quite big. There is an atrium and lots of bathrooms. An added bonus we have an off license directly opposite. It is run by a young couple, they are either married, or brother and sister, or maybe both. The boy never smiles and seems very pissed off. He looks like one of them swarthy types that chews at matchstick and says “gringo”, in an old western. The girl is more pleasant, but she always seems to be soaking her feet in a bucket of water or painting her nails, so if you ask her for anything she tells you to get it yourself. In spite of it being an offy, it only sells one sort of beer, Sol, which is my least favorite, but being of a lazy disposition, what do you think I am drinking now?

Remind me to do a post on Mexican beer some time, it will be quite short.

Cheers!