Enter San Ignacio

Disclaimer: This is going to be long.

Firstly, belated wishes: happy anniversary to madre and padre and happy Easter to everyone! I hope it was filled with more delight than a Cadbury egg. I really want a Cadbury egg.

Secondly, a recap of last week (another disclaimer: there are going to be a lot of colons): It was officially our service week, which I have just now decided to deem “How Do You Run an Easter Camp With Only Construction Paper and Why Can’t We Get There Early to Cut the Paper?” week. To clarify, our group of sunburned, aspiring teachers made our way to the local library Monday through Wednesday in order to head up an Easter camp for some of the local youngsters. It was a very enlightening experience in that I never knew there were so many Paschal uses for paper, glue, and crayolas.  Baskets, placemats, ducks, eggs, and crosses require little more to make than some scissors and overly sugared seven-year-olds.  

This last week also gave me more of a glimpse into Belize’s laid back culture. On our first afternoon camp shift, Lauren, Alyssa, and I showed up early to get the materials ready (cut out paper, pour glue, other exciting things) only to find we were locked out of the library. As the time for the children to show up got closer and we were still locked out, I felt my desire to distribute scissors grow stronger and stronger. Back in North Carolina, we would have had ample time to prepare materials and lead the lesson with astounding grace. However, in Belize one must lend themselves to a much more go with the flow school of thought; we had to organize the craft in the midst of actually doing it, leaving much to be desired in the way of planning time. Since it logically follows that this method of “thinking on your toes” extends to the schools as well, I may have to adjust my mindset (which is already pretty far away from Type A to begin with) to accommodate for planning at a moment’s notice.

Thirdly: I have a new home for the week. This morning I packed up five days worth of belongings, shoved them into my backpack, and headed off for San Ignacio. While it sounds simple enough to travel inland, the reality is an intricate maze of transportation changes and crossed fingers. Our journey began with a water taxi from San Pedro to Belize City, on which I shuffled my iPod and stared peacefully out to sea for the 90-minute ride. From there it gets much less romantic. From Belize City we hopped on a chicken bus (read: old school bus crammed with more humans than should ever be allowed in one place at the same time) for the two-hour ride to San Ignacio. While the bus driver’s complete indifference to the posted speed limit and penchant for driving as if he were Luigi were memorable enough, it was the way we got on the bus that stands out the most. We were lined up at the terminal, waiting for the gates to slide open and to board in an orderly fashion, when all of a sudden the gates were up and it was a mad rush to the bus. Those of us from UNCW were herded to the back and boosted three feet in the air, limbs flailing and heads hitting all manner of objects (sure to include both alive and inanimate) as we scrambled for a precious seat. I have never before felt such a primal need to shove children out of my way. Parker and I secured ourselves a spot in the middle of the bus directly behind a less-than-rosy smelling man, but at least we had a seat, which is more than we can say about some of our fellow travelers.

Now I am sitting in front of a fan at Rosa’s Hotel, trying to ignore the ants on the wall, happily staring at my inexplicably fluffy towel, and looking forward to the continental breakfast in the morning. Tomorrow I will be channeling my inner Eliza Thornberry as we hike to a Mayan ruin, so expect a detailed account tomorrow evening. Goodnight from the Cayo District!