Odds & Ends

It’s funny how when you get used to a place, and people get used to you being there, you become both very visible and invisible, at the same time. The very visible happened yesterday with the police checkpoint and the ice cream store owner, and we noticed the invisible this morning when we went for a run. We’ve been running through a neighborhood near here almost every day with the Jacks. The first few times through, all the local dogs would bark and howl and lunge at their fences or the ends of their chains, and, if possible, they’d come after us. Some time at the beginning of the week, we noticed that they’d stopped expending as much energy when we passed. Most of them would still bark, and if they were in a fence or on a chain, they might trot to the line, but the lunging and running had pretty much stopped. We ran through this morning, and while a few still barked on a street that we don’t run on as often, most of the dogs that we’ve been passing every day barely lifted their heads. One, which we like because he looks like a miniature version of our old dog Weiser, lifted his head and thumped his tail – and that was that. Tom didn’t even get a chance to say “Hey, Weiser, good boy. Good to see you again.”

This morning was sunny and warm, so we dropped our laundry off in town first thing this morning and asked the woman to wash but not dry it. She told us to pick it up at three. We went back around 3:30, still in the sunshine, and found our wet laundry neatly folded in the collapsible hampers we use. We brought it back to the campground, hung it on the line, and the black clouds rolled over and it immediately started to rain. Not hard, just hard enough to let us know that the gods think our obsession with doing laundry a little less expensively is pointless.

We also registered the truck in Belize this afternoon, taking the checkpoint policeman’s recommendation. It was quite simple. We went in and told them that we wanted to register the truck and get plates, and the assistant came out to look at the truck and make sure it ran and had all the appropriate lights. That’s it, literally. They didn’t care if the truck could move, only that it the engine sounded like it ran, and they didn’t care if the lights worked, only that they were there. They didn’t even ask to see the headlights or if the blinkers worked. Tom paid the fee, walked out with the new plates and registration sticker, came back to the campground, and put them on, so the truck is now Belizean. The only catch is that we couldn’t register the trailer because we didn’t take it, so tomorrow we’ll probably batten down the hatches, hook up, and tow the trailer across the river so they can see that it exists and has lights installed in all the appropriate places. It was funny, because you have the option of registering a vehicle for three months, six months, or a year. Tom asked which way it was cheapest, and the guy looked at him like he was crazy and said three months, of course, for $50 (Belize $ - $25 USD). So Tom asked how much it would be for a year, thinking there might be a discount for a longer registration. Well, a year is $200, and that’s the most expensive. Six months is in the middle for $100. This was explained to us very patiently, since we were obviously a little slow. Even though it was the most expensive, we went with the year anyway so we don’t forget to go back and re-register it in three or six months. At least we’ll know the procedure when we take the trailer over, so we won’t look quite so dimwitted.





I’m really missing my lovebirds right now because I’m constantly being reminded of them. There’s a nest of parrots in a tree near our camper, and these parrots do the same morning and evening screeching that the lovebirds do. They’re quiet at night, and they chirp and squawk intermittently during the day, but they let loose in unison just as it’s getting light, and just as it’s getting dark. I also realize now what the lovebirds missed because they lived in a cage, because this flock of parrots also does a screeching, flying circle right after the morning squawk. They act like they want to be noticed, and seem to be saying, “Just in case you couldn’t tell where we are because of the racket we make, let us show you where our nest is.” The only thing that comes close to overpowering their noise is a cicada that makes a noise that sounds like a power tool running amok right around dusk.

We are still pursuing our real estate options and will let everyone know when we have some news for the blog. We are learning a lot about the cost of many things here in Belize, from solar electrical systems to bathroom fixtures – and sooner or later we’ll get a place so we can apply that knowledge.