Later On, Belize

If you ever decide to come to San Ignacio, I can tell you this:
Be succinct with your words: know what you want to say and mean it, because here, most things are taken lightly and no one wants to be overloaded with anything, especially too much information. This one has taken me some time, and I am still working on it.
Don't be too shy to look at anyone directly. People think "no way" about it and you can get comfortable with the townspeople. They notice. Most are aware and observant about their surroundings, and that is one thing I most respect of what I've found here: people whose eyes are open and unafraid. Where I live in the U.S., and where I've been to in Europe, people generally don't acknowledge passing strangers with interest, and that makes me feel alienated, or like an "alien" in the true sense of the word.
Let go of your worries. If it shows on your face that something is on your mind, you are thinking too hard. Life is simple: relax and enjoy when you're not working (or even when you're working) . . . at least that is the mind state that I have most encountered: Don't dwell on anything.
This land is sacred. Subtle, but powerful enough that with a keen sense of perception, you can feel a resonance of a high, yet grounded vibration that both awakens the "higher" mind and gives one a sense of connection to the Earth. The Mayans built their structures and monuments in accordance with
their knowledge of the stars. So, as you stand on their ground, you are uplifted and attuned with what they would call the "heavens." Of something universal. And of course, tapping into anything universal will give you a sense of connection to everything around you. This is only the beginning. The next time I come to Belize, I intend to take more of journey into the mind. The greater mind.
I've done a lot of things: went to the Mayan monuments of Cahal Pech, Xunantunich, and Tikal, visited the villages of Bullet Tree, Esperanza, Santa Familia, Benque, three different places called Santa Elena where I was fed bollos, corncob wine (only a sip), rice and beans, fry jacks, went into the Maya Mountains where I stood among a herd of calm white cows with draping sags of skin under their necks, floppy ears, horns and cowbells, took trips to the island of Flores and Guatemala, San Pedro and Caye Caulker where I got my hair "plat" (braided in cornrows) for the first time and was cleansed in the salt water of the ocean for hours, learned to use a machete to "chop" the ground, learned how to mix cement with a shovel and water, observed the thatching of a roof and lived under one, played soccer with the Belizean boys and blocked enough goals to let my side win, chased children around Smith's farm and got out of breathe, and then let them come into my room and brush my hair, play my uke, watch the television and sit all over me, became a "godsister" to Steven, had a local boyfriend (Teddy –local villagers are asking if we’re getting married . . . yeah, right) -- was offered at least seven places to stay for when I return. . . granted, I did see many sad puppies and stray dogs on every block and around every corner, observed a lot of "tough love" among the families here, and a good deal of unfaithfulness between husbands and wives/boyfriends and girlfriends, heard a lot of bad dancehall music, beard witness to the destruction of the environment -- the burning of trash, the pollution of the rivers, the clearing of forest -- saw that the vast majority of children and teenagers are NOT being enriched with arts education to express themselves . . .the list goes on.
But, one of my intentions in coming here was to find the heart of Belize and share in its beat. I didn't know exactly what I meant by that at the time, just that it sounded good -- and it was fulfilled. Here, I have encountered "one love" -- one heart. It's not just some Rasta term spearheaded by Bob Marley . . . it is the love generated by family, by being surrounded by nature (the most BEAUTIFUL I have EVER seen), by being proud of one's inheritance, by feeling safe . . . I don't know what it is EXACTLY that makes people heart's open so wide here, but love was offered to me freely. I did not just visit Belize, or tour it, I lived here, was a part of it, and built my love for it.

Fresh Medicine, Iguana Eggs and Monkeys

Since I last wrote, I have gone on many adventures: I saw Aktun Tunich Muknal Cave, which is the most spectacular cave in Belize, and a site of human sacrifice to the gods of the underworld (the site became most active during a time of turmoil for the Mayans that archaeologists find somewhat mytifying. For some reason, they were trying to appease the Gods in order to save their way of life -- I think). We had to wade through water that ranged from ankle deep to chest high for about a mile into the cave, where we climbed into a "dry chamber" and had to remove our shoes in order not to disturb the texture of the cave floor. There lied clay pottery and human remains (bones), which many of the people on the trip found eerie. Me on the other hand, am kind of hard to spook. I have somehow learned to dismiss most of my fears, which may or may not be a good thing . . .
Recently I made a new friend, Teddy, a knowledgeable young "man of the jungle." He is a native Belizean who is a licensed tour guide and has taken it upon himself to introduce me to a local herbalist, to lead me side by side through the scenic terrain, and has given me my first cup of "bitters" (a tea comprised of local herbs/vines/barks meant to cleanse and build the blood, purge the digestive system of harmful bacteria and parasites, and immune the body from pathogens in general) -- free of charge. The first day that I hung out with him, he took me to a medicine man, Humberto --a healthy old clay-like Mayan man -- in a place called Bullet Tree Falls. Humberto has a "medicine trail" that he leads people through to educate them about the medicinal properties of various plants, trees, and vines. I was very fortunate to have met him, because at that time, my feet were severely bitten up and swollen from ant and mosquito bites. I could not walk down the street without people wincing at that sight of them (that's when I met Teddy). Humberto showed me the Poly Redhead plant, and picked a few handfuls of the leaves, which he proceeded to crush into a paste using two stones -- one large and flat, the other small and round. After I watched him do it for a few minutes, he handed me the small stone and told me to try. The trick is to roll the stone down the length of the plant (out towards the stems) while pressing hard, to release the juice. After about fifteen minutes, I had about a cup of the pulverized plant, which I rubbed over all exposed and affected areas of my body. Basically, I painted myself green from head to toe, while Teddy watched in amusement, pleased that I was educating myself about the secrets of the jungle. I immediately felt the effects. Not only was it soothing, but it was energizing as well. I wanted to get up and move my body, to release stagnant energy from my system. This made Humberto chuckle to himself a little bit. This was FRESH medicine, medicine with LIFE FORCE, rich in oxygen. This experience reinforced all my trust in the plant kingdom. Humberto left me with a bag big enough to last me a few days, and I continued to apply it until the swelling drastically decreased. I am still using it (there's actually a big plant growing at Smith's Farm where I live), and am almost completely healed.
The next day, we went with a small group to an organic farm in secluded, highland jungle, home to howler and spider monkeys, jaguars, tapirs, and a diverse variety of birds including the tucan. Here, I had my first taste of iguana eggs. I have never tasted anything SO DELICIOUS as iguana eggs!!! They are small and dense, completely yellow in the middle, and have a sharp taste like cheddar. We spent a couple nights there in thatched roof cabins, burning fires in the night to keep warm, and taking short hikes into the bush where Sabala (the guy who owns the farm) educated us about the flora and fauna.
After our return from the jungle, Teddy and I, along with a couple girls from the East coast of the U.S. that Teddy agreed to guide through the country (because he is fluent in Spanish), crossed the Guatemalan border to reach Tikal, one of the most impressive Mayan cities in Central America. There were a lot of tourists there. To be honest, I didn't really start enjoying myself until we started walking the trail to "Temple V," a path that tour guides often avoid due to its long length and isolation from the rest of the park. It is not uncommon for people to get robbed or mugged. Unfortunately, we weren't carrying any machetes. Here, for the first time (thanks to Teddy's keen eye) I saw my first spider and howler monkeys. When we first spotted the spider monkeys, they were hanging out at the top of some tall trees. Teddy made some crazy monkey sounds, which galvanized them to race across one of the extended branches, making the whole tree stir and causing a shower of leaves. This greatly scared one of the girls, Kim, who almost took off running when I dropped my water bottle (she thought it was a monkey coming to chase after her). Soon after, we came to the howlers, who were a bit more tranquil. We saw a mother with two or three babies, climbing near the top of the canopy (they generally stay high ion the trees, especially when it's cold out). After reaching Temple V, we were met with an old Mayan man asked me: "Piensas mucho, porque que?" (You think a lot, why?") And I just said: "Si, yo sabe, piensa mucho, todos las dias, todos los veces." (I don't even know if I said that right -- I said: "Yes, I know, I think a lot, everyday, all the time.") (Everyday it seems, someone notices how pensive I am and tells me I need not worry about anything. That I should just enjoy myself.)
The drive back home was amazing, as usual. I have never so much enjoyed the scenery of any place. In both Guatemala and Belize, there are rolling hillsides, blanketed in dense forest and shrubbery, a continual green disturbed only by the areas of the land which have been clearcut or slashed and burned (which, sadly, is not uncommon. Many people own pasture land).
The best way I can think of to describe the land is that it's like a young child, somewhat out of control, beautiful and exciting in its spontaneity and lack of order. Even when people plant their own monocultures, like corn, the rows are usuallly not perfectly straight, as we are so accustomed to with the practices of multi-national corporations. Things here are loose, the rules are not so stringent. As the sun went down, I fell asleep and remained so until our return back to the island of Flores.
Back in San Ignacio, I am continually meeting people who want to "show me around," who want to invite me to their village and have me meet their families, who want to introduce me to areas of the land I have not yet seen. My time here will soon come to an end, and here I know I have a third home (California the first, Hawaii the second). If I ever want to live here, I know exactly who will build my house (the guys who I helped build the bathroom and septic tank with), where I will buy land (Steven told me he would love to have me be part of a type of cooperative he wants to create), who I will study under when I want to learn the medicine of the bush (either Mr. Pollo, a local bush doctor who has a certification program, or Sabala if I want to do it less formally and in less structured of a way). Not that I will necessarily be LIVING here anytime soon on a permanent basis, but I know that if I decide to, there are plenty of people and places ready to accomodate me.
Next stop in early February: Santa Cruz, California. I'm not looking forward to the rain, but it's time to see the good friends who I have missed for some time now. I need to touch base. After a few weeks there, I am probably going to return to Hawaii to resume my days of enjoyable hard (and not so hard) work as I bask in an abundance of organic, whole food that I have OH SO GREATLY missed. I was in a solid groove when I left and want to continue it in some way, shape, or form. As far as I know, the farm I was staying at is no more, because while I was there, the owner was busted for growing medicinal marijuana, which the Bishop of State has no tolerance for. So that's one of my next adventures -- starting over in Hawaii-land.