What a delightful surprise this morning to open the latest post on San Pedro Scoop and find out it is all about my friends Mark and Deb Schaffer. Well, specifically, about the beautiful home they have built on the shore of North Ambergris Caye.
Rebecca “Scoop” Coutant is launching a new feature on her ever-expanding blog: a peek inside Ambergris Caye homes that are for sale by owner. Not quite “Househunters International” — how about “House Peekers San Pedro”? Something for the voyeur in all of us!
I’m going to jump right in and say that Scoop picked a cool one for her debut. Read the rest of this entry »
Upon waking up almost exactly one year ago to shredded and twisted bits of around a half-dozen piers littering what was left of our beachfront, this morning’s sight was a joy to behold.
My friend John East writes one of my favorite blogs about life in San Pedro. This one is a well-deserved plug for an old friend who has opened up a deli in South Ambergris Caye.
I’m not going to try to fool you. I’m sure that I could if I really wanted to. But I don’t. Want to fool you, that is. So I’m laying out upfront that I’ve written this edition to try and help a friend. Yes, this is an unadulterated plug to promote the new business that he opened just one week ago today.
But let’s back up a bit and start at the beginning.
Rose and I first met the guy in question on our very first visit to Ambergris Caye just over 18 years ago. We stayed at Lily’s Hoteland the bar closest to us was Cholo’s Sports Bar and well it would have been rude not to use it and we’re not rude. So we did. Use it I mean.
Now it’s not that long ago but when we first went there it wasn’t the Cholo’s it is…
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It is more than sentimentality.
Amy first made her mark on Ambergris Caye as chef at Victoria House with a celebrated cuisine that drew fans to what then seemed like the southern extreme of civilization. And like any inventive chef she eventually struck out on her own with the downtown San Pedro bistro, Wild Mango’s. Read the rest of this entry »
When is a bargain not a bargain?
Probably when it is a low-priced, round-trip, Southwest Airlines ticket from Belize to Houston.
We’ve all seen them since Southwest began flying into Belize a year ago. I was among the cheerleaders since Southwest’s aggressive pricing (initially, at least) often forces the big carriers to drop prices. Win-win!
My wife, Rose, recently snagged a too-good-to-be-true ticket to Houston. She has a son in Oklahoma whom she hadn’t seen since we moved to Belize nearly three years ago. She also has a daughter in Arizona and, not coincidentally, a friend had organized a weeklong yoga retreat in Sedona for early October.
So she jumped on the Southwest sale. And offered to get me one, too. Read the rest of this entry »
Still a few hours before the serious side of Earl begins to show himself but already he’s making himself known.
Already some planks on our dock are showing an independent streak. There will be some gaps before this night is done.
Mostly it has been intermittent drenchings and bigger than normal waves. Already our little retaining wall is proving no match for the waves, and fairly modest waves at that. The sky is a somber gray but the light still projects an eerie brightness, as if the air itself is burning phosphorescence. That, and the constant rumbling as the Caribbean’s massive waves trip over the barrier reef. Read the rest of this entry »
Somewhere in the dark and the rain along the rugged main road south from San Pedro Town, my friend Clive Brewster’s phone tumbled out of his pocket and skittered away in the blackness.
He didn’t even notice.
He was pretty busy steering his golf cart rumbling, stumbling, and trumbling, and sloshing in, around, and through ruts and bumps and deep rocky valleys in the road, in the rain.
The South Ambergris Caye road is so bad, I always feel a special appreciation when I see South island friends in town or up north at Marbucks for a Thursday night Wine Down.
It isn’t just a journey. It’s a commitment.
But the next morning, when he realized the phone was gone, a sense of what might of happened began to dawn, as he sat watching the sun was rising over the barrier reef in front of him.
A logical and methodical man — and by nature an extremely optimistic one — Clive drew up a plan for finding his phone.
He would walk back up the road, scanning from side to side. It was early yet. There was still hope that it would be lying by the wayside somewhere.
The first thing he encountered were the puddles, enormous deep murky brown puddles, as many as two and three, side-by-side, cratering the road. In some stretches during the rainy season, there is more deep water than road. So, Clive borrowed his wife Janet’s phone.
Every time he reached a cluster of puddles he called himself.
If indeed it still worked, Clive reasoned, the phone would send up vibrations from the murky depths and the vibrations would morph into ripples and the ripples would alert Clive to the presence of his rat-drowned phone. Kind of like finding the black box on a downed aircraft. With about as much hope, too.
So Clive slowly worked his way up the road, retracing his path left and right, pausing periodically to call himself and scanning the puddles for signs of life.
At some point in this northbound exercise Clive noticed a familiar face, a man walking in the opposite direction. David Thompson was someone Clive would often encounter with a smile and a wave as he bicycled north to his daily workout at the Train Station gymnasium. And normally, David was also on a bicycle.
Clive hailed him. “By any chance did you find a phone this morning?”
David pulled off his knapsack and pulled out a tightly wrapped towel.
“As a matter of fact, I did.”
David explained: “Just a few minutes ago I was passing this puddle, and the water started to vibrate. I reached in and found this!”
It was Clive’s phone.
Clive’s plan had worked! It just required the assistance of another pedestrian — and a cascading confluence of unlikely circumstances — what we often call “luck,” I guess.
Clive thanked him, then added, “don’t you usually ride a bicycle?”
David did indeed bicycle to work, but this morning his tire was not only flat but rendered unfixable from tread worn as thin as the elbows on a tweed jacket.
So he was walking.
Which is why he found the phone.
Clive immediately offered to get new tires for his bike and by the next morning the two bicyclists David and Clive were again hailing each other with hearty waves and wide grins — perhaps heartier and wider than when they were strangers — as they flew by each other.
Kind of a post script
The phone, of course, stopped working as soon as Clive got it home.
It had, after all, been immersed in muck for hours. It was as if it had clung to life just long enough to be rescued at sea, only to die in the arms of a loved one from technological hypothermia.
But in another set of happy circumstances, a house guest of Clive and Janet’s was a big fan of resuscitating wet phones by immersing them in microwaved rice, hot and dry. Five one-hour immersions later, Clive’s phone sprang to life.
So, there is a phone god. And rice immersion, apparently, is not mythology.
And, this is Belize.
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Charlie Guo is a self-described nomad. For the past two years he has traveled the world, doing amazing stuff.
And his life sucks.
Wait. His life doesn’t suck. Charlie thinks it sucks. Read the rest of this entry »
True to its word, Belize Electric Ltd. (BEL) shut down the entire island’s electricity at 6 a.m. Saturday morning for some maintenance projects.
I suppose that sounds a little strange to you, my First World family and friends, but that is how things are done here. When something is taken off-line for repairs, the whole island goes black. I guess we just don’t have the redundancy systems that would allow them to bypass a transformer, feeder, substation or whatever.
By BEL does have a Facebook alert system and the utility posted warnings as early as Friday about the shutdown.
So, you adjust, roll with it and move on. Read the rest of this entry »
Your first thought when you step off the boat and on to Blackadore Caye is “This can not be real.”
It is like a Hollywood movie set for a tropical island adventure film.
The coconut trees seem too perfectly spaced to be real. The ground beneath them too perfectly swept clean. The sand too white. The water on either side of this long, narrow caye shimmers in variants of teal, turquoise and aquamarine. The dry, cool wind sweeps so sweetly upon the skin, not a drop of perspiration survives. The cloud-dappled sky is a dreamy blue — azure color #007FFF, if you are into replicating sky colors from an RGB color wheel. Read the rest of this entry »