Living La Vida Boca

Prior to moving to Chetumal Mexico I searched the internet for a Spanish school in Chetumal, to no avail. An acquaintance found me a private tutor, a Belizean man studying at the university and living in Chetumal. So at least once I week I get my Spanish class, which is tailored to what I need to survive here. I couldn’t imagine sitting through a public Spanish class and asking the teacher… “Como se dice ‘Do you have hormone cream for menopause’ in Espanole?”

How do you say “I am 48 and learning a new language.” In Spanish?

My first meeting with the Spanish Teacher established that I knew quite a few words, which made me proud. My pronunciation and grammar were, let’s say, not as good as the 3 year old who lives in the house behind us. I am unlearning all the bad Spanish grammar and pronunciation taught to me by Bigness so that people won’t laugh (and call me an idiot to my face) or get that puzzled look on their face which tells me “we think she is saying Spanish words, but what are they?” Bigness thinks my Spanish is already good enough, all he has to do now is to teach me the curse words.

My one saving grace is that I don’t care how stupid I sound. No, really, I don’t. And when I get real frustrated I revert to English, which has a startling effect on sales personnel (especially when I use the phase “No speaky Spanish” and turn my palms up). A couple of times the have answered me in English. And I wonder why they couldn’t have put me out of my misery a little sooner.

I came here with some misconceptions. I assumed I would start out asking questions in my mush mouth Spanish and invariably I would get an answer in English. I assumed that if the clerk didn’t understand me, he or she would find someone to interpret. I think every foreign country should be this nice when dealing with egotistical English speakers. NOT SO. Big new to me: in Mexico they speak SPANISH and in Chetumal, Mexico which borders an English speaking country, they have just started teaching English in High School THIS YEAR. Nobody is busting out in English here to rescue me when I refer to MYSELF as ustedes. For the non-Spanish speaker, a rough translation is that, I have a bad habit of referring to myself as YOU in the plural form. I just blunder through with my 100 phrases adapted and borrowed from. I just describe the thing if I don’t know the word for it, the colors, the size, and eventually someone understands my kitchen Spanish. I've stopped caring how ridiculous I sound when I point to the door and call it a window, because maybe someday “me talk pretty”. Yes, I actually pointed to the door at Sam’s Club and said “Abierto la ventana, por favor” and they opened the door, even though I had just called it a window. See... I’m making progress.

So now Bigness and I play a game when we are out shopping. I do all the talking – in SPANISH. And I only talk to him in ENGLISH and I act as a mentally challenegged interpreter for him. He lets me know how close I am to understanding what they are really saying. I get more respect that way, no one clicking their teeth at me. I would like to think it is because my Spanish is improving, but down deep I know it is because my ham fisted 6 foot 4 inch husband is so scary looking. I make excuses for myself trying to joke in Spanish and explain to the unsuspecting taxi driver or store clerk that my school for spanish is the telenovella (Spanish soap opera), it sometimes gets a chuckle, but most of the time I get a worried look.

Spanish Vocabulary

I know that SHUT UP is not a Spanish phrase so I say it quietly in English out of the corner of my mouth at the Mexican woman next to me at the internet cafe who is talking VERY LOUDLY on her cell phone. So loud I can hardly think, and then I tear off a peice of paper, wad it up and stick it in my ear on that side to try and block the conversation from which I understand 1 in 8 words, the rest sound like SLDKFJD CKLSDLKS SKDKFEOWK mi amore.
We are the only two here, so I don´t understand why she chose to sit right next to me where there are a dozen other computers. Must like my perfume or maybe I´m a people magnet again.

I look over to the attendant to give him the "please shut her up" look with my eyes, but he is busy chatting in messenger and managing his music downloads.

The Spanish teacher says that I should say:
"Senora, silencio, por favor" which translates to "Mrs. Lady, quiet please." but that would lead to other Spanish words which would lead to me having to say "Sorry, no speaky Spanish," ...again.

I would so the shush! sound but it would be mistaken for the hiss sound and that can only mean trouble for me, so for today I am just balling up a peice of paper and shoving it in my ear on that side.

Swine Flu Update 2

I´m typing from a Spanish keyboard, so if it my typing looks funny to you, imagine how it looks to me. My fingers don´t know quite what to do.

It seems that the crisis here is nearly over. Any suspected cases in Chetumal were mild, the patients treated and sent home the same day. The schools are still closed but will reopen soon. I am still not putting my fingers in my mouth or nose or eyes, so I feel pretty safe. Bigness is practicing covering his mouth when he sneezes, however, once the crisis is over, I imagine he will go back to being a directional spray nozzle again.

They closed the Corozal Free Zone in Belize and are guarding it with BDF soldiers since they estimate that 4000 people work and shop there daily. There have beenno reported cases of the flu in Belize as of today. Doctors on both sides of the Mexico/Belize border are standing by to assist any suspected cases trying to cross the border.

Store clerks are still wearing the blue masks though, which I kinda like since I can´t really see them snarling at me when they wear them properly covering the nose and mouth. I can hear, however the growls and gnashing teeth.

Swine Flu Update

The swine flu may have reached Chetumal, Mexico with 5 suspected cases in the hospital. They have closed the schools and have advised people to stay home for a while. I´m seeing about 1 in 10 people wearing the surgical masks. For myself I´m not high risk since I hardly ever leave the house anyway and I promised myself when I moved to Mexico to not stick my fingers in my mouth. I am most concerned with Belize closing its border with Mexico, that would really mess things up.
So I´m making preparations for a long quarantine, stocking up on food and medicine and hunkering down. My gut feeling is that as usual the media overblows everything and that its not as bad a they make it seem, but on the other hand...

Practice Makes Perfect

My Mom is coming for a short visit to escape from the frozen North.

So, Bigness and I are practicing:
Closing the bathroom door
Not talking with our mouths full of food
Eating with silverware

Things that he still need to work on:
Bathroom sounds and running commentary describing things even with the door closed, the prolific use of the word FOK and wearing shoes.

Things that I still need to work on:
Brushing my hair, the use of room spray and not walking around in my underwear

We wouldn´t want her to think we are animals of course, but when you´re not out there trying to impress someone, its amazing how you let things go.

Sometimes Impatience is a Virtue

The first house in Chetumal didn’t work out so well. It’s a learning curve we are on. The arrangements were made, deposits were paid, lots of conversations in Spanish between Bigness and the house owner. Si!Si!Si! And 3 weeks later when we arrived, nothing had been done. NOTHING. No water or electricity turned on, no yard cleaned, broken windows, dead cockroaches everywhere. I think I heard WTF uttered about 10,000 times that day. I decided I could deal with this, since My Little Monster (Bigness) was about to blow his top. So he left to go live in the middle of the party (back to Caye Caulker) until things straightened themselves out. We did actually have water though, it was in the form of a 100 gallon cistern on the top of the house, which meant that I could at least flush the toilet and take a quick shower.

So basically, for the next 3 days I became a mall rat, biding my time, waiting for the electrician to come and check the wiring in the house so that the electricity could be turned on and the meter installed. I was the consummate browser, sashaying through the aisles in CHEDRAUI. Hours were spent comparison shopping for sandwich rolls. In the larger stores they pretty much leave you alone, and actually I’ve found that the clerks kinda run or scoot around the corner when they see me coming. I guess they feel like my Spanish assaults them. But I am digressing.

I was staying in the house rather than at a hotel, and just dealing with the camper’s dilemma of what to do after dark and no electricity. I guess that’s what they invented movie theatres for. The electrician did show up 2 days later, and what an entrance he made. I had cleaned the house and had started purchasing furniture. All of this was exhausting especially since I couldn’t watch Oprah on TV while doing it. So I had just taken a shower and lay down on the newly delivered bed nekkid. This electrician must have a 2nd job as a cat burglar. I never heard him coming. Needless to say, my life is so predictable. I was walked in on, and to my surprise he didn’t seem to notice that I was sans attire. Maybe this is something he’s used to, walking on big fat white ladies reclined and probably snoring. Anyhow, I’m sure I blushed as I grabbed for the sheet and scurried into the bathroom to dress, although I don’t know why I bothered. The clothing was for me, not for him, something to do with my self esteem I guess. He just went about his business checking outlets, and light sockets, because he had run a line directly from the pole into the house (down the metal fence – didn’t look so safe to me), let there be light. Now all we need is water to flush the toilet, glass for some windows, etc. etc. Bigness came back the next day in time for the 100 gallon cistern to deplete and to the announcement that “The electrician saw my tits and I think my ass too.”. WTF was uttered about another 10,000 times and I thought he was going to throw himself down on the ground and have a screaming fit. All of the cooing and petting in world wasn’t going to make My Little Monster settle down.

So that was when impatience became a virtue. Across the street and over 2 houses was a sign “House for Rent” I hadn’t noticed it before. We went over and peeped through the street side access window (complete with burglar bars and chicken wire) into the inner courtyard. There was no though of going closer because a 10’ high fence (with spikes on top) and a metal privacy gate kept you out. So he called the phone number and the lady came right over. We moved in the same day.

I would have stuck it out at the other house, but I’m so glad now that Impatience is a Virtue with My Little Monster. The new house is still in our budget, but its so much nicer with air conditioning in the bedroom, cable TV, ceiling fans in all the rooms, ceramic tile, water heater, intercom from the kitchen to the front gate, and a covered verandah in the back where I have my studio.

I feel content.

Little Bo Leep

Little Bo Leep
has lost her links
and doesn't know where to find them

Leave them alone
and NO ONE will come home
waggin their tails behind them

When I changed my template, I didn't read the fine print (a character flaw of mine) and poof they were gone. Ctrl-Z Ctrl-Z Ctrl-Z Undo Undo Undo I typed, but no one in cyberspace heard me. Crying and screaming didn't help, but it sure quieted the neighborhood down.

Please email me at caribbeancolors1 at yahoo.com because I'm too lazy to read through the 1400 pages of comments and click on the comments links.

Getting Ready to Bust a Move

I’m really bad a finishing a story, and answering the door. If you knock long enough, I’ll eventually answer the door, or the phone, so thank you to those friends who have emailed me asking what is going on.

I've been playing my cards pretty close to my chest as we were making major decisions and turning this way and that trying to figure our way out of this maze.

I feel like Rumpelstiltskin, having woken up from a 20 year sleep with the price of everything doubled. I thought I was going to go into shock walking down the aisle at Brodies where they hadn’t even bother to peel off the old price sticker before sticking down the new ones which were 50% higher across the board. In general, imported foods from the U.S. cost double, but we still indulge ourselves in a few luxury items. Most of what we buy is grown locally, rice beans, chicken, vegetables, fruit. It had been months since I had actually been grocery shopping. Bigness usually does the shopping in Belize City weekly, because prices in general are too high on Caye Caulker. If tomatoes are 1 bzd a lb (50 cents U.S.) at the central market in Belize City, then they are 4 bzd a lb. ($2 U.S.) on Caye Caulker.

He had been complaining of price hikes, but then again he complains about the price of everything. His favorite reminiscence is about Target in the 1990s where he could get a polo shirt for $4.

“Babes, next time you’re in de steytes, get some more of deez shuts fa me. I oonly peey foor dalla fa dis one” and he stretches the threadbare polo shirt over his belly.

“What century was that?” I answer.

I hate that friggin shirt, I think to myself and make a mental note to turn it into cleaning rags when he’s not looking. You know, the burgundy one with a stripe across his chichis and the moth eaten hole conveniently located at his belly button (ventilation).

With food prices up 50% on most of our essentials like rice, beans, and butane gas for cooking. Plus now with the great floods of 2008 detroying large portions of the rice, corn and sugar cane, Belize will have to import all these staples. Tourism reported to be down 25% for the last 2 quarters. Reported, that is by the tourist board, as an average for the country. But I know that for Caye Caulker we were way lower than the 25% drop that our tourist board reported. High season started late in 2007 and Easter came early in 2008. As an example, last year, even with hurricane Dean at the end of August, I still made my break even. This year, for the month of August I was down 75% from last year.

I DO DECLARE
Even with downsizing, I now know I am not recession proof.

I made the tough decision to close my store after having a continuous presence on Caye Caulker for 7 years. I’ve decided to take a year off, close down and wait out the U.S. recession which has directly affected tourism in Belize. I am still going to have my paintings, prints and sarongs available throughout Belize at these fine stores:
Belizean Arts in San Pedro - prints, original art, cards and jewelry
Pretty Ethnic in San Pedro - original silk paintings, prints, silk sarongs and jewelry
Fine Arts in Belize City located near Wet Willy's outside of the Tourist Village has original silk paintings and prints
Caesar’s Place in San Ignacio on the Western Highway near Gerogeville has prints and cards
Art-N-Soul in Placencia on the sidewalk has original art, prints and jewelry
Los Cocos Cantina - in my old location next to the police station on Caye Caulker has prints and a few originals
De java House on Caye Caulker located next to Atlantic Bank has prints and jewelry

In the U.S. you can get my original art at River's Edge Gallery in Wyandotte and in New York City Chelsea District at the Agora Gallery.

In the interim I am only selling wholesale, to art galleries and on the internet and with 7 outlets carrying my art and merchandise, I'm pretty busy creating enough stock and painting almost full time now, when I'm not playing Spider Solitaire on my laptop.

Bigness and I are going to slide 6km over the border to Chetumal Mexico to lower our cost of living to less than ½ of what we’re living on now.

We have emptied out the Little House in the Bush, and put someone there to take care of the property since it has become too dangerous for me to stay there alone. We can not sell the property because we were SWINDLED by the former PUP Belize government (that is a WHOLE other story)... and a class action lawsuit. As we have recenlty found out that the DFC (Development Finance Corporation) has been lying to us for several years.

"Yah, we're going to get you your title, its in proces, the lawyers have it, everything is fine, just keep giving us your money, its going to go through before the election, no, we have to wait until after the election, we're reorganizing after the election blah blah blah." the lies go on and on and on with the DFC. So many rumours and nobody knows what's going on.

The former PUP government who dreamed up this project called Mahogany Heights on Mile 31, did not have clear title to the property before they sold us ours (and to 300 other families), and they knew it, and still did it. Someone needs to go to jail for this. Might I suggest someone with the initials of SM, RF and GG, all former leaders of the People's United Party?

We’ve decided to go to Chetumal to wait out the sale of Bigness’ prime beachfront commercial property on Caye Caulker. We are in no hurry to sell and will be waiting for the right buyer. WHO will the right buyer be? The one who has the money.

Plans for the future? We are not giving up on Belize, but are taking a break. Once the property on Caye Caulker sells. We plan on staying in Belize, but splitting our time between it and the U.S. In the meantime I am setting up my studio in Chetumal and will only be here in Belize when I have to do business, or if friends are visiting, or when we have a check-in to the beach house.

I bet you wish he was your boyfriend too!

Bigness has tired of the power outages, the water outages and has pretty much dumped me in the bush to finish my projects while he goes to Caye Caulker to live in the middle of a party.

Peanut, the closest neighbor across the way, has been admonishing me for my non-Belizean faux pas while helping clean and cook at the little house in the bush. When I’m involved in a big painting production, I barely take time to even bathe. I don’t actually need help at home, but its nice sometimes to get some help and to hear a human voice.

“Miss Lee Ann noh hang yu laundry close to da chaya tree. It make you itchy itchy.” Peanut moves the laundry from where I pinned it out, to a different spot on the line.

“Miss Lee Ann mek Mr. Bigness chop down dis chaya tree, it too close to yu batroom window and pipple can peep on you. Mek I call Carmel Corn (her boyfriend) ova to do dis ting.”

“Miss Lee Ann mek I kill de spring chicken inna for you batroom” and she points to the little tiny frog clinging to the wall of the shower.
“Why?”
“Dey is pieyzon”
“Poison?
“Noh mek he piss pon you. Pass me the fish spray”

(Fish spray is a super toxic insecticide made in Trinidad)

“Miss Lee Ann, dis how you have your machete?” Peanut points with her lips at the machete laying on the floor next my bed that I named “Boyfriend”.
“Sure,” I say puzzled, not knowing where this is going
“Ayee yi yi gial! Yu not fraid fu cut up fa yu foot?
“Ahhhh” I had never thought of it that way. You know you’re in for trouble when you name your machete “Boyfriend” That's a rule in life, also here's another one: don't ever date a man who is named after a disease.

“Mek I show you how to do it.” she takes the sharp edged 30” blade and slips it between the mattress and foundation, then lays down on the bed to show me where her hand easily dangles near the handle.
“See how easy easy easy?”
“Ooooo. Kaaaaay.” I answer wondering how I made it this long without killing myself.

I went to bed that night with the satisfaction that my sheets wouldn’t itch me, the poison frog wouldn’t piss on me and I wouldn’t step on the machete.

After the break-in last year in December, Bigness installed additional outside lighting, motion sensors and some simple battery operated door alarms you can get at Radio Shack. I used these alarms years ago during my three daughters’ teen years to keep them in the house and to keep boys out. They work with a little key and can be set for instant alarm or give you 15 seconds to disarm after entering. They emit the most annoying blood curdling scream that could drive you to murder. At night I set them to instant. It had gotten to be a routine, and I started to feel like I was being security paranoid. I would let them go off every once in a while for a few seconds just to remind everyone within hearing distance that we here were PROTECTED and READY FOR INTRUDERS.

A couple of things I’ve learned since living in Belize are: hide your purse in a closet and away from even closed windows with burglar bars, keep your cell phone charged, and keep credit in your phone. Run out of phone credit in the middle of the night and there ain’t no 7-11 on the corner open all night.

Minutes after 4 a.m. I was woken up by the hair-raising shrill screaming of our door alarm system. Disoriented with the alarms screaming at me I thought the intruders were already in the house.

I hauled out the machete now conveniently located near my dangling hand, slammed shut and locked the bedroom door and called Peanut. She and Carmel Corn were closer to the house than the police. (more reliable too)

“What happen Miss Lee Ann?” a sleepy Peanut answers the phone
“Look at the house, Peanut” is anyone out there?”
“Nooooooooh, Miss Lee Ann……… oh FAAAAAAAK, Carmel Corn, git up!” a man was crouched beneath her window.

Carmel Corn sprang into action like the little incredible hulk that he is and chased a young man around 18 years old, thin and dark skinned wearing a white shirt and khaki pants back into the bush behind their house where he lost him. He melted away into the darkness.

Needless to say, I didn’t get much sleep that night and in the morning found a piece of rebar bent to the shape of a square C that the would-be burglar used to push through the burglar bar screen door to try and pop open the steel door.

The next night went by uneventful, however nervous I was, I finally drifted off into a fitful sleep only to find that in the morning the screen on the front door had been peeled back in another attempt.

What about the police? I called to inform them of what had happened, but no one came, it was after the fact. They suggested I get a gun.

Bigness assured me that it was ONLY sprungheads trying to phish the room, for whatever they could pick with a stick and sell for 5 to buy a rock. He reassured me that the only way into the house was with a car, a chain and a bumper.

I think that’s pretty facey that the house would be under attack when I’m there. Its obvious, the car is in front, the lights are on. These bad boys are getting BOLD.

In MYSPACE they have a mood section, I am unnerved.

Art credits:

Hand-painted silk

Bamboo & Banana Leaf 20" x 28" $250

Lillies in the Window 20" x 28" $300

Sweet Plumeria 20" x 28" $250

Conspiracy Theory

The Little House in the Bush
If something drastic electricity-wise (read: exploding transformers or downed lines) happens on Caye Caulker, after dark, we know that we have to wait until daybreak for a technician to come over by boat from San Pedro. On the mainland of Belize where the Little House in the Bush is, we don’t have transportation issues in getting repair technicians in place, we have problems with theft and sabotage.

Recently, the whole area was without water for 5 days because theives had stolen the pump and water purification system from the community well. Talk about cutting your nose off to spite your face...

The electricity went out at 9 p.m.

“FAAAAAAAAAK!” I said very loudly, and instantly felt better.

I had consumed 2 big cups of coffee an hour earlier so I could stay up late and paint. Bigness was already asleep, but the dead calm blanket of air air woke him up.

“Better jump in the shower to cool off before the tank empties”, I called from the kitchen where I was looking for the lighter to get the candles going.

“FAAAAAAAAAK!” he said very loudly, and instantly felt better.

We lucked out, the water in the community well’s holding tank lasted until both of us could shower and I could fill up the two five gallon jugs we keep for spare water.

I unhooked the computer from the UPS battery backup and hooked the fan to it setting it on low to conserve the battery. It was so hot, the air hardly moving at all, like breathing through a blanket, the air hung on my neck.

The laptop battery was fully charged so I set it to low consumption and put in the DVD, “Teeth” a movie that I had just received from the bootleg movie guy. Every man’s nightmare, a cautionary tale. I love Indy movies, and this one won a Sundance Award and a bunch of others.

A totally pointless and psycho movie about a high school girl, not very in touch with her own body, and to put it simply, a girl who’s coco chews off boy carrots if they are not nice to her.

Bigness was my captive audience. I knew as long as the fan was semi-blowing, he wouldn’t stray too far.

It made him chuckle, and then laugh the unabashed belly laugh I love to hear, especially during the really gory parts, blood squirting, boy carrots being flung hither and yon. He stayed awake during the entire film, which is a record, since usually 30 minutes into any movie he’s snoring, unless there are nekkid ladies jumping up and down.

The movie finished, and the computer died. After 2 hours I called the electric company and a very nice young man answered the complaint line when I inquired why and for how long. He told me that someone had cut a high tension electricity pole with a chain saw to steal the copper from it. The electricity company techicians had to install a new pole.

THEIVES CUT DOWN A HIGH TENSION ELECTRIC LINE SERVICING THE WHOLE AREA TO STEAL THE COPPER FROM IT.

That just pissed me off.

I finally slipped off to sleep, sweating under the sheet that was keeping the mosquitoes at bay and woke up hours later to the sound of the big ceiling fan in the bedroom on high speed whamp whamp whamp sounding like a helicopter rotor, and the lights blazing through the house. Only, after turning the big overhead helicopter-sounding ceiling fan off, I realized that I was actually hearing a helicopter outside in the night. The only legitimate (read: legal) helicopter sounds we hear in the night are British military search and rescue. This wasn’t a British military helicopter I was hearing, this was someone else taking off and landing on the next field over. Helicopters in the night, are never a reassuring sound. I try to not ask too many questions, but why are helicopters taking off and landing in fields in the middle of the night just west of my little house in the bush near Mile 31 on the Western Highway?

Things will get worse before they will get better.