I was so exited to finally get on the ground in Belize.  After months of reading, planning, and well, worrying, I couldn’t wait for our trip to finally get started.  I spent so much time preparing for all of the things I thought I might have had to deal with (parasites, malaria, snakes, and God forbid, the botfly) that I think I failed to stop and imagine how the landscape would look, how the people would be, and on what unbelievable adventures we might find ourselves.  This may have been a good thing, though, because first, I was well prepared for all those snakes, and second, because I had very few preconceptions about how our traveling and field work would unfold.  I actually just let it all happen, which I don’t do very often.

 
The diversity of the population in Belize was fascinating.  After reading about it in books for a few months, I was really looking forward to seeing and talking to Belizeans in person.  Our few hours at the bus station gave me an opportunity to people watch, a favorite pastime of mine in any country.  During my time at the bus station, and later on the bus, I also began to understand and appreciate the meaning of time and patience in Belize.  With such an underdeveloped infrastructure, although improved from the recent past, everything moves more slowly, without so much certainty, and people don’t get distraught and panicky when they are running a little late like they do here.  Getting there becomes half the challenge….

I enjoyed my days in Monkey River more than anything.  For the short amount of time we were there, we were allowed to get very close to these amazing people.  I liked talking with older folks and hanging out with the kids.  What struck me more than anything was their sense of dedication and attachment to their place.  As Percy said: “This is my jungle, and that is my sea.  Where would I go?”  As a community, they are inextricably linked to the land and water, by deeds of gift passed on by generations, by their dependence for food, medicine, and livelihood, and it seems that no matter what happens, they will fight to stay there, regardless of what challenges they are faced with.  Miss Eleanor talked of living in New York for twenty-five years, raising a family, and then returning to Monkey River.  She gave up the “comforts” of life in the US to go home to no electricity or running water. 

 
After visiting Placencia, I understood better what Monkey River did not want to become.  Placencia was a beautiful place with kind people, who were relatively prosperous, but I felt it was missing its soul.  The people there had changed their priorities from what they needed and wanted as a community to what tourists need and want during their few days passing through town.  It seems an incredibly difficult balance must be struck between development, tourism and economic growth on one hand, and preservation of a way of life in Monkey River on the other.    This way of life includes fishing, hunting, farming, maintaining a small, tight community that can survive without a police force, networking to outside of the Belizean government for aid, and many other aspects that are still a mystery to me, but make this place unique.  Coming home, I realized again that it is sad what America is becoming.  Every town is becoming the same: a Wal Mart, a Home Depot, Target, McDonalds, Burger King, a few neighborhoods of mass produced homes, etc., etc.  Visiting a place like Monkey River puts into perspective the true value of what is at stake: the history, identity, and future of a unique place and its people.

Thanks guys- I had a great time!