Home sweet Home

My 'To Do in Holland' list was getting longer and longer in the past few weeks. Buy 'drop' (salty liquorice, which we Dutch consider a delicacy while the rest of the world finds it gross), renew my insurance, buy Dutch-language books for Soleine, get a new bank card, go for medical checks, buy souvenirs for housekeeper and my neighbors. I am counting down the days. Three more nights and we're flying...home! For six weeks, wow, that is the longest home leave we have ever had.

Only now Soleine realizes that the Netherlands is actually another country, far away. The country where Opa and Oma are living, where little children ride bicycles, where people walk on sidewalks and where Sinterklaas (sort of cousin of Santa Claus) arrives. For me it is the country where my family and friends live. And where I enjoy the luxury of having choice: the countless restaurants, book shops, toy shops, shops where you can buy leather shoes in stead of plastic sandals and good yet cheap wine in any supermarket! But most of all I look forward to seeing my parents, my brothers and sisters and friends. As the youngest of six, I get along with all of them, and although I only see them about once a year, I am probably the one who has the most contact with all of them. Everyone is always busy busy busy...

For Soleine I find it very important that she stays in touch with her Dutch and French speaking cousins and that she can be with Papy and Mamy. She still confounds Belgium and Holland but she is as excited as I am. Yet, although we have a nice apartment in Belgium, I do not really consider it home. And to be honest, after a few weeks I am usually ready to go back, because it does feel like being a visitor. In English they say Home is where the heart is. For me, it is more Home is where my life is.

So will I be happy to go back to Belmopan after six weeks? I will let you know!

The American Way

I have named my blog Dutch in Belize but sometimes I feel I am the only Dutch person in Belize. I know this is not true, and tomorrow I am meeting with a guy called Joop, so he is definitely Dutch. Occasionally I get to speak my language (Dutch) with Paul, Michel’s Belgian colleague or with Elsie Alpuche who immigrated to Belize ten years ago, but I haven’t met any other Dutchies here, nor Germans or French for that matter. There are very few Europeans, apart from some Brits, but they don’t really consider themselves Europeans. While in Asia and Africa there’s a lot of European influence, here I can clearly feel the American impact. How?

Firstly there is the particular preference for all things large. Fridges, cars, behinds…if you can afford it… get a big one. Secondly, there is the accent. Soleine learned her first English in Sri Lanka, When she was thirsty she would ask for ‘wo-teh’ while now she says ‘wah-der’. She also says ‘awesome’ and ‘you guys’. Then there are miles, ounces, cups, yards, inches, feet, 110 volts and thin plugs with tiny pins.

Our house came with some convenient gadgets which I consider American:

• a spacious walk-in closet (fantastic),
• a Jacuzzi in the bathtub (nice but rarely used),
• a dish washer (not used)
• an ‘insinkerator ‘(a noisy but handy thing in the sink drain that grinds waste before it goes into the septic tank)
• remote controls for fans and lights (really pointless unless you’re in wheelchair)
• smoke alarms and panic buttons (we’re not using the alarm system).

Americans like gadgets and security stuff. You should see how they live here. There is a humongous American embassy in Belmopan, amazing for such a small country as Belize, and the American staff live in a highly secured compound guarded by over 55 security guards, which is probably more than the number of residents. Once inside you feel like you are in a completely different world. Elegant houses, perfectly maintained lawns and sports facilities. When I first visited with Soleine she asked me if we could once stay at this hotel. The homes are dark and cool inside, with central a/c all day as if they don’t have to pay their own electricity bills, and everyone has gadgets. Giant gas barbecues, special beer coolers on wheels, espresso makers, yoghurt machines, ice cream makers, fitness equipment, fancy kids toys, 20-gear bicycles, computers and TVs in every room (always on). I can imagine that it is very tempting to stay there all the time.

When I moved to Zimbabwe from Mozambique in 1999, people remarked that living in Harare was Africa for beginners’ (how things have changed since!). I think the same can be said for living at an American compound: Living abroad for beginners… '

Heroine

Some time ago I blogged that the sun was the main reason we enjoy living abroad. I was lying, I must admit. Probably the biggest enjoyment is the quality of our life here. To a great extent this is contributed to by Silvia. Silvia is our helper. Personally I despise the word ‘maid’ or, even worse, the French term ‘la bonne’ and coming from Holland, one of the flattest countries in the world (both geologically and hierarchically), I prefer the term helper.

I was born with a peculiar form of indolence. I would not call it outright laziness, more like a gift for avoiding unpleasant chores. Such as: cleaning, cooking, washing, ironing, in short all domestic tasks. I can confirm what my brother told me years ago: nothing in life gets you hooked so quickly as the absence of domestic tasks.

Back to Silvia. She went to the bank last week to fetch some money to make a deposit for a piece of land she had bought. She is walking to the deposit office, a bottle of coke in her hand, as suddenly two guys jump out of a tree and grab her purse. She doesn’t let go but one guy hits her in the face and brings a broken bottle near her throat. Then she remembers her own empty coke bottle; she quickly slams is against the wall and with all her strength whacks him on the head until blood spurts out.

A woman who has witnessed it has gone to the police station, 300 meters (imagine!) down the walk way. De police find Silvia with a cut on her nose and only the straps of her purse on her shoulder. But she is not yet defeated! She has recognized the guys from when she worked at the American Embassy. They once were waiters at a cocktail party. And because the one chap had to go to the hospital for sutures, the police are able to catch them quickly. The next day they are locked away in a bare cell with no toilet at the Belmopan police station. Good job…End of story?

Not in the least. It has just started. Silvia has lost her 250 US dollars, and she wants it back. The police want her to testify. If you have read my previous post - The Country Where Everyone Knows Everyone – you’ll understand that she is scared. She has filed an official statement, three copies on authorized paper with all the right stamps. She has paid a judge to hear her statement. He will now have to decide if there will be a public court case. If she has to testify I will go with her. Because she is so brave, she is my heroine. There is such a word as heroism but I could not find the female version so I will invent it today: heroine-ism.

My First Time Ever...

Today I did something for the very first time ever. I felt very shy about it, even though (or maybe especially as?) I was on my own. Afraid of being caught, I had closed the curtains and even locked the door. Despite my reluctance I did it anyway and boy, did I feel good afterward. Okay, I was tired and sweaty but the physical relaxation that flowed through my body was worth the embarrassment.

What did I do? Aerobics in my living room while watching Fit TV! Do you know Fit TV? It is a non-stop parade of fitness kings, yoga gurus and pumped up Pilates princesses in tight pants and pink mini-tops showing off their muscled tummies, screaming to the TV- audience as if they were a bunch of teenagers in a self-esteem workshop … “You’re doing great, keep going, feel your power, gr-r-r-r-reat job”.

There are no sports clubs in Belmopan, at least not that I am aware of. I went a couple of times to the En Croix Christian dance school run by Youth With A Mission (they abbreviate themselves as Y-WAM, how cool is that?) but they closed last week for a long summer holiday. There is aqua-gym for ladies but I feel I haven’t quite reached the stage where I have to do things in the water while I can still do them on the floor.

So, unless you want to work out in a non-air-conditioned gym club with a handful of big black bodybuilders where you can smell the wafts of sweat and testosterone even when driving by, there seems no other option than Fit TV.

Thus this morning I rolled up the Indian floor rug in my living room, rolled out my gym mat, put on my sweat pants and followed the warm up moves of Sharon Mann, four-time Canadian Aerobics Champion. Just as I get warmed up, there is a commercial break. Come on guys…you can’t do this. This is good for public health…why can’t this be on public TV without commercials? Anyway, Sharon, who is wearing her hair in two ‘cute’ little pigtails for the occasion, is so enthusiastic that I can’t let her down. I try to follow her but it is not easy. Just when I get the hang of one step, she goes onto the next one. And on and on and on. Anyway, it doesn’t matter if I don’t follow exactly, nobody is watching me. When it is time to stretch, I almost lose two fingers in my ceiling fan. But you know what, if I don’t have too many muscle aches, I think I might do it again tomorrow! Behind the closed curtains...

The Country where Everyone Knows Everyone

Antoine, Michel’s son, came to visit us for the first time in Belize over Easter. When we drove back the 80 kilometers from the airport to Belmopan, I was carefully studying his face to see his first reaction to our new country. He kept quiet during the first 40 kilometers, and next he asked: “Papa, where are the houses? Where are the people?”

It’s true and especially remarkable to us coming from crowded Sri Lanka that Belize has only 300,000 people and consists mainly of jungle. With a meager 12 persons per square kilometer, Belize is among the countries with the lowest population density in the world (bottom of the list is Greenland with less than one person per km² and on top is Macao with more than 18,000 people per km²). We all know the problems associated with overpopulation in poor countries: the poverty, the pollution, horrible traffic situations, overstretched use of resources, devastating natural disasters… but have you ever thought about the opposite? Countries like Belize with low population and low GDP have their own set of problems.

Evidently, the key problem lies in the use of resources. Take infrastructure. Belize has only two major roads (‘highways’) which are sufficient to connect all the cities and towns. The other roads are dirt tracks. Now there is money available from the EU to build new roads, but is it worthwhile to construct an expensive tarred road if only 20 cars are using it each day? In Belmopan, new cafés and restaurants open regularly but many disappear as quickly as they pop up for lack of clients. At Brodies, the only air-conditioned supermarket, I am often the sole customer; I don’t know how they survive. My friend Edna, a pediatrician at the Belmopan hospital, has an agonizing dilemma; should they purchase an expensive neonatal intensive care unit when they average only 30 babies delivered per month, most of whom are healthy? It is difficult to develop an underpopulated country, simply because there are too few people to utilize available resources.

But that is not the only challenge Belize as a low population country is facing. Recently, a twelve-year old boy accidentally witnessed a brutal assassination by a drug lord. Terrified, he did not want to testify. The Belize police came to his house over and over to pressure him into testifying. A few days later he was found murdered. Obviously, everyone saw the police at the boy’s house, but nobody could protect him. Witness protection, undercover police, officers in plain clothes; these concepts may have very well prevented this boy from being killed. But these things simply don’t work in a country where everyone knows each other.

The flip side of this is perhaps the consolation that it is practically impossible for prisoners to escape and disappear because everyone knows who they are...

Sugar beats Banana in EU football

Last Saturday, our friend Tony organized the first ever EU football tournament on the occasion of EU day here in Belmopan. Yes, there is such a thing as EU day, it is called Schuman day named after some French guy who considers himself a founding father of the EU. It is normally celebrated on the 9th of May but because of the swine flu break out in nearby Mexico it had to be postponed. Anyway, EU day is probably only celebrated outside of Europe and I am pretty sure that 99% of Europeans have never heard of it, which can probably also be said for the European Anthem, Beethoven's Ode to Joy.
There are four EU-funded programs here in Belize: one for the sugar sector (ours), one to support the banana sector, a rural development project, and a government support project. Each project formed a mixed football team, with the rule that at any time at least four women had to be on the pitch. I was ready to play but I am terribly bad and when I saw the five girls in our team, all working for the Sugarcane Farmers Association, I humbly gave up my place to let them play. The first match ended in penalties with a close victory for the Sugar team, which then had to face the dreaded Banana team in the final. And what a final it was! It had all the ingredients of a breathtaking, nerve-wracking, nail-biting grand finale: a send-off, a penalty, an 18-meter free kick and a last minute goal, scored by...Michel! My own little sugar daddy...

Weather Quiz

Dutch people like to talk a lot about the weather. When I was still studying anthropology in Amsterdam, I read a study by an Indian anthropologist researching a small village just off the Dutch coast. One of the things he found peculiar with the Dutch was their preoccupation with the weather. They can not stop talking about it. One of the easy explanations the Dutch people offered him was the fact that the weather is so unpredictable in Holland, and therefore you can talk about it all the time. But that would be the same for Germany or Denmark, and the anthropologist found that Germans and Danish would not constantly refer to the weather. So hmmm, what could be the reason for this Dutch obsession? After long and hard thinking, his final conclusion was that it had to do with control. Dutch people like to have control over things. They are well organized and tidy people, and they have a place for everything. Bread goes in the bread box, tools in a tool box, and dirty laundry in a basket. (Sometimes I wonder if I am really Dutch). Everything is done according to rules and regulations. And because we can not control the weather, we need to talk about it often... Here in Belize the weather is not very predictable either. Although it is hot most days, there are storms, rain, thunder, earthquakes, floods, hurricanes, droughts you name it. Belizeans do not talk about the weather often, why should they? It is boring and you can't change it anyway.

(photo @ Belize Tropical Educational Centre)

Shocking

Woke up last night in the middle of the night because of some funny sounds in the bedroom. Our bed is dancing on its four legs, the windows are shaking and my dream-catcher is swinging frantically above my head. What is going on? Am I dreaming? Must be. I poke my husband who gets up to go to the bathroom. The shocks last, a few minutes but I still can not determine whether I am dreaming or not. Next morning, I ask my husband. He can not remember anything. Then I hear about the earthquake in Honduras and the tsunami alert for the Caribbean countries. Wow, so I was definitely NOT dreaming. A real earthquake in my bedroom. Truly shocking!

Sweet Deal?

The reason why we are living here in Belize is a sweet one. Michel is working as a consultant for the European Union to support the Belize sugar sector. For many years, the EU and the so-called ACP-countries (African, Caribbean and Pacific countries) have had a mutually beneficial relationship established in the sugar protocol. This agreement, which dates back from the seventies, stipulated a guaranteed access to the European market of fixed quantities of sugar cane for a certain minimum price. Sugar accounts for 60% of Belize’s agricultural production so you’ll know how important it is for this small country.

You will also understand that this is a kind of protection measure and that not everyone is happy with that. Other sugar-producing members of the World Trade Organization, such as Brazil and India, as well European sugar beet producing countries, saw their sugar prices decline and started to complain. This has lead to the ending of the EU-ACP sugar protocol in 2006. As a kind of compensation, the EU waived its magic wand, did a little hocus pocus and voila.., there was 48 million euros to upgrade the Belize sugar sector, which is known to have one of the lowest levels of efficiency in the world while the price per ton had been slashed by 36%.

It is Michel’s job to advise the Ministry of Agriculture on how best to spend that money. Part of it has to be invested in infrastructure (roads, equipment) and part for improving production methods and diversification. There are about 6,000 cane farmers in northern Belize, and as you can imagine, they don’t all have their nose in the same direction (as we say in Dutch). When I had just arrived here in February, the cane farmers were on strike and rioting against the police. One farmer even got shot dead! In this peaceful country?

The same can be said for the Ministry people, and other sugar stakeholders. They all have different ideas on how to spend the money. They all know what the other should do. Combine all of the above with a general Caribbean attitude of all talk and little action and you have a guy coming home in the evening answering my question ‘How was your day, honey?’ with the usual: useless. Not so sweet after all. But he does not give up easily so we’ll see what happens in a few months. To be continued.

Feather or Dot?

I have mentioned it a few times before; Belmopan is not exactly the centre of the world and there is not much excitement here. We don’t even have traffic lights. Not that those are exciting, it’s just to illustrate the scope of this capital. Anyway, in places like this you have to create your own fun and luckily for us, we are pretty good at that. We have revived the Belize Hash House Harriers (you can check it out at www.belizeh3.org) and Michael has set up a thing called ‘Belmopan Bravo’. It’s a weekly get-together TGIF idea, every Friday in a different place. In Sri Lanka we had Colombo Charlie, same idea, go for happy hour with a group of friends. This first time we proposed it here, a few weeks ago, we were five people, now there are twenty to thirty people weekly! A nice mixture of Belizeans, Europeans and Americans. It is supposed to be a 6 to 8 pm thing, but we never reach home before 11 pm and that is because we have to drop off our baby sitter.

Last weekend we had a party. It was hosted by Richard, a colleague, at our house. He had thought of a theme: Indian, and he had made a couple of curries with yellow rice. It was a costume party, which the British call a Fancy Dress but that only created confusion as the Americans thought they had to dress in an evening gown. For Micheal and me it was easy because coming from Sri Lanka I have a pretty sari and he has his Bollywood party costume. For other guests it was less obvious however, as people started to ask: what do you mean by Indian? American native Indian or Indian from India? In other words: do I wear feathers or a dot on my front? It did not matter, I just replied: come in whatever you look most sexy. And interestingly (and understandably), most Americans and Belizeans came with the feathers while the Europeans wore the dot. And that is how we ended up having a party with pretty girls in sari’s, sensual Zen masters, a cool-looking Indian casino worker, an American ambassador with feathers and finger paint on his cheeks and even Ghandi himself appeared in his self-made diaper made of white towels. Who says you need to go to bars and clubs to have fun?

Freaky

One of the major reasons we enjoy living abroad is of course: the sun. It is just easier to wake up in the mornings when the sun peeks through your curtains, when you can wear cute sandals without having to worry about socks and when your face is tanned.

Of course we sometimes complain that it is too hot but I am careful with what I wish for. However, there is one serious down side to the hot tropical climates we have been living in for the past fifteen years. With heat comes humidity, and with that comes…bugs. Roaches, mosquitos, flies, fleas, ants whatever... I thought I was used to it by now. Until…

…on the very first day we stayed in our newly rented house, we had two ladies giving it a good clean up. They found a tiny bright green frog in the store room, screamed and then ran away from it. They said it was a poisonous frog and that it could spit in your eyes and make you blind. I found that hard to imagine from such a tiny thing that looked like a Haribo gummi candy. But am I going to disbelieve these Belizean women? No way, so we took it seriously and approached the empty room with utmost care.

Later that day my guy wanted to see if froggy was still there and he found a black spider keeping it company. Now this was getting interesting. A frog and a spider in an otherwise totally empty room? Is this a new fable of La Fontaine? Later that evening he took another peek into the store room, and to his big surprise the frog and spider had been joined by a scorpion! Really true, all on the same day in the same room! What is this? Some kind of plot to say that we are (not) welcome in this house? A scorpion? I have never had those in my house… those fellows are a little dangerous aren’t they?

We have baptized that store room the Freaky Room. I will forever be careful when I go in there, and will never go near it with bare feet. We’re still enjoying the sun but have yet to learn to accept all creatures that come along with it. If you decide to visit us I promise you you won’t have to sleep in the Freaky Room. Unless you like scorpions…

Viva Mexico?

We’re going to Mexico! Michel has to go for work to Orange Walk and Corozal, two cities in the sugar belt of Belize close to the Mexican border. We’re going to do some shopping in Chetumal, where many Belizians go because it is much cheaper. Belize is an expensive country…a small bottle of beer in the supermarket costs 3,50 Belizian dollars (or 1,75 USD) and a loaf of brown bread is 2,50 USD. Buy anything slightly luxurious and we pay through the nose like 5,50 USD for 10 slices of turkey ham, 6 American dollars for half a liter of plain yoghurt or for a bottle of shampoo.

I am excited to see Mexico and am even wearing a dress for the occasion. And a pair of high heels! I imagine Mexico to be a little more urbanized and stylish than Belmopan, where everyone always wears jeans and plastic slippers. Belmopan is very dusty and low-key and nobody seems to care much about looks. In a way that’s cool, but sometimes I just miss dressing up and hearing the clickety-clack of my heels on the street.

Upon exiting Belize we have to pay an exit tax. Ridiculous. Arriving at the Mexican border the border officers just keep waiving us through. Before we know it we have crossed the border and are on a 4-lane high way to Chetumal. Shouldn’t we have registered ourselves to get an entry stamp in our passports? Too late. Around 6 pm on Friday we drive into Chetumal, and because I am expecting (or hoping) to see Latin or Spanish looking buildings with white verandahs and lovely small plaza’s with orange trees, I am disappointed. It is not pretty… just like Belize's towns…low, square shoe-box type houses, electricity cables hanging everywhere and plenty of Chinese shops with cheap clothes. The city centre is comprisesd of one street and the beach boulevard is dark and deserted. The first thing I do at the hotel is exchange my dress for a pair of jeans. We find a restaurant that serves excellent steak and Margaritas so at least we feel a bit like being abroad.

The next morning we go the shopping mall where shops are good (especially the Liverpool department store) and prices are cheap, compared to Belize. We resist Soleine’s begging to go to MacDonalds and enjoy a small restaurant with local food. Then I start feeling sick, my stomach is upset and I am weak in the knees.

On the way out of Mexico we have to pay tourist tax which we did not pay when entering, and we have a car accident because some Rasta-man, totally stoned and wasted, decides to pull up out right in front of us on the high way in his jeep. We damage our car and the man is very apologetic: he tells us at least 25 times how sorry he is and that he loves us. The police arrive, surprisingly fast, and they ask us if we want the Rasta man (who introduces himself as Mr. Too Tall from Crooked Tree, can you believe it) to be taken to station for alcohol testing. We just want to get a police report for the insurance and get out of there. Back home the swine-flu thing is all over the news and I am even thinking I might have caught something as my body feels weird returning from Mexico. What a trip! I don’t think we’ll go back to Chetumal again. Okay, shopping may be much cheaper but add up the cost of the trip, the exit tax, the entry tax, the hotel and the car accident and the Swine flu stress and I don’t think we have saved any money on turkey ham or beer. And what is the point if nobody wears a dress and clickety-clack shoes anyway?

Stuff

Our container has arrived in the port of Belize city. Yeah yeah yeah! After traveling at sea for almost three months - from Colombo to Singapore to Hongkong to Panama to Jamaica – our 88 boxes should arrive in our new house in Belmopan TODAY!

Everyone who has ever shipped stuff must know this feeling… I always consider it the best day since arriving the new country. Knowing Belize as an easy-going country, we’re expecting the container to be released and brought to our house the same day. But, from experience we also know not have expectations and to apply the ‘first see then believe’ principle.

Funny enough, I have half forgotten what’s in it. Apart from two princess dresses of which my daughter constantly reminds me, my newly acquired mega-painting from Sanjeewa Kumara and my salad spinner I can’t say I miss much. Having been here for three months, I have bought all there is to buy in Belmopan, which includes essentials such as beds and plates but of course not books, CDs, toys nor pictures, just to name a few items.

But, I must say it is actually kind of nice to have a tidy house without clutter. For the first time in my expat life I wonder if it is worth it to constantly travel with all your stuff and to pay large sums of money for the shipments (which, mind you, we have to pay ourselves).

Eventually, the container came four days after its arrival in the country. A customs officer was present at our house when we unsealed it. Out came our 88 boxes with the forgotten items – according to what the Sri Lankan packers had written on them, such as: cresmas deceracion, helmuts, ormanents, pientings and ladies axeceseres. Add to that Soleine’s books in three languages, family photos, pretty bed sheets and my Abba CDs and the answer to the question: is it worth the time and money to take your personal stuff when you regularly travel half the world, becomes easy:- without a doubt!

Belmopan Slide Show

Belmopan has been the capital of Belize since 20 years or so. Before it was Belize city, which makes more sense because it is much bigger though still small. The Belize government and many of the embassies shifted to Belmopan because of the hurricanes and floads affecting Belize city. Belmopan basically consist of one road, named the ring road. There are 12,000 inhabitants in this town...it's even smaller than my home town in the Netherlands which I managed to escape on the day I turned 18. Sorry to say but Belmopan is boring and dusty. And I mean that literally and figuratively. There are no shops (unless you consider Chinese supermarkets as shops), no good restaurants, there is no cinema or theatre. Being in Belmopan feels like living back in the fifties. The good part is that the people are really friendly, strangers greet eachother when they pass in their cars, you can leave your car unlocked with the key in it. I find it hard to preserve my good habits of locking doors and putting seat belts. It is easy to do your shopping here because you simply buy what is available. Having limited choice is acutally convenient I have noticed.

Apart from a few colorful trees such as the Flamboyants, Golden shower and Jakaranda's there isn't much beauty in Belmopan. Nobody makes any effort to please the eye here. Restaurants and bars consist of wooden picnic tables and tasteless overdue Christmas decorations. You will understand that we have to make all the fun ourselves here in this hole. But we're pretty good at that...

Women's Fun

Fresh in Belmopan, I learn that there is such a thing as the ‘Belmopan International Women’s Group’. There happens to be a meeting at the Mexican Embassy the first week of my arrival. I go and I am surprised by the number of 50 or so women present. It was a lunch meeting and everyone had brought a dish so the large table was full with sandwiches, dips, cakes and what not. Each woman is wearing a name tag, the American way. I sit down, look around and listen. There are announcements about how to register as a member, about how to attract visitors the website (suggestion: putting recipes!), how money has been spent for a sick child and then there is a draw. You can buy a ticket and win a lamp made by one of the women. Then everyone attacks the lunch table and leaves.

I am not impressed but have learned not to judge too quickly. After all, there is very little to do here in Belmopan so every initiative should be supported.

The second meeting takes place at the huge fancy house of one of the most important families in Belmopan. Again there is a good turn-out with a mixture of women in terms of age and nationality. I did not bring a name tag and learn that we have to pay a fine if without tag. A symbolic one but still..I am beginning to feel uncomfortable. The meetings starts and I feel even more uneasy. I decide not to buy a ticket for the monthly draw.

Why I am feeling so misplaced? Because I am one of the younger women? Because I consider myself a professional women and do not want to be part of housewives / spouse clubs? Then one woman stands up and complains that the meetings always take place during day time. ‘I am wórking you know...’ she says with such an air of ‘I am better than you’ that I feel like slapping her. I shamefully recall that I probably used to say the same thing when I was working in Sri Lanka…

There is also a men’s club in Belmopan. They go out on trips; kayaking in caves or diving in the blue hole. They have ideas for poker evenings, car rally’s and spicy dinner parties. They drink Belikin beer, talk shit and have fun. Like men do. Then I realize why I am not at ease with the ‘women’s thing. It has nothing to do with working or not…it’s about having fun. The women’s group just doesn’t have fun. Not my kind of fun at least.

Guests and Fresh Fish

We’re having visitors! I find it always exciting when people take the time and effort to come and see your new country. I realize it is not for everybody to just leave your life for a while and hop on a plane like we do all the time. Especially when it involves a journey of almost 2 days and multiple airplanes. So I was happy to welcome my brother in law and his wife and daughter from Belgium. Soleine was all excited to have a room mate, even though she did not remember her 10 year old cousin Sarah at all.

They arrived with 6 suitcases stuffed with children’s shoes, liver pate and Belgian chocolate. Seriously, at least 10 kilo’s of the finest Belgian Leonidas pralines have been ‘smuggled’ into Belize. Upon their return, the family exported 10 liters of hot pepper sauce for their friends in Belgium. That’s fair trade…don’t you think?

One of the nice things about having guest is that it’s a great opportunity to see the country. We all know that those who live in a country know it the least. How many French have climbed the Eiffel tower, how many Dutch have seen the colorful tulips in the Keukenhof or looked at Rembrandt’s Nachtwacht? How many Americans have climbed down the great Canyon or gone up the Empire State Building? Exactly!

For almost three weeks we explored Belize. And have not been disappointed. Creepy jungle trails ending in bright blue rock pools, climbing Maya temples to enjoy 360 degrees views, lazing in a hammock on Placencia beach…Belize is surely a beautiful place.

Good as it is to have guests, I am also always secretly happy when they leave. In Dutch we have a saying where we compare guests to fresh fish...you know what they have in common? The both only stay good for a few days, then they start smelling. Ouch…that is not a nice. My dear brother and sister in law…it was great having you. To all future visitors: don’t take it personally!

Happy Clappy School

Let me tell you a little about my daughter. She is four (going on ten). In Sri Lanka she used to go to a preschool named Stepping Stones, a great school for little people.

As soon as we arrived in Belmopan, I inquired about schools. Many people pointed to BCA, supposedly the best and only 'international' school in Belmopan. So, on our first Thursday we went to check it out..me being as excited as Soleine.

My first impression was okay from the outside. A dozen small wooden buildings on stilts, one for each class, painted white, looking like a cute holiday village. Inside though, the classroom was very small and not half as neat as Stepping Stones in Colombo. Old plastic toys, wobbly furniture and awfully dirty and ripped floor covers.

BCA stands for Belize Christian Academy. That was my second uneasiness. It is a very Christian school: with crucifixes in its logo, God in its overall objective and compulsory clapping to Jesus on Fridays. It's just not my thing. I find that schools should not be involved in preaching one single religion only. But according to the Belize government, all schools are required to have a religious affiliation.

To be very honest: I was disappointed. Was this the best school of Belmopan? Then I met Soleine's teacher. She is Chantelle, and she is a star. I respect anyone who can keep 14 toddlers busy from 8.30 to 15.30, but if you can keep them busy in a meaningful and fun way, you're a super star! So I asked myself: what is most important for a 4 year old: proper facilities or a proper facilitator? And, will the religious 'brain washing' have a permanent effect on her 4-year old psyche?

What do you believe?