Bella Finds Comfort Food

Hammocks on the Beach Front

So let’s say you’ve been hanging out in Belize for a few days or a few weeks and you’re having a hankering for something to eat a little more North American. Fear not. San Pedro can deliver more than authentic Belizean or Mexican meals.

My favorite comfort food, to date, is at the Roadkill Bar across from The Crazy Canuk’s Bar a half mile south of town. Shelley refused to eat there announcing loudly (well, you’d have to know Shelley), “That’s disgusting!” Well, get real—I’d roll in road kill if I could! I’m a dog, for crying out loud. I didn’t find it disgusting at all.

“The Mega Gringa”

Matt and Wade at Roadkill are famous for their “Gringo Burgers.” The first thing I noticed on the menu was a familiar slogan: “Two beef patties, special sauce, onions, tomatoes, lettuce, on a sesame seed bun.” Then I noticed that everything on the menu sounded exactly like McDonald’s. When I commented, Matt showed me their claim to fame, a framed letter from McDonald’s lawyers threatening to shut them down! They display it proudly.

The Gringo Quaterpounder with fries costs $6 USD. You can eat in, or call for delivery. Karoke is on Wednesday nights. The picture above is “The Mega Gringa” which is obscenely large. I’m sure it could feed a family of four, or a whole lot of Maltese puppies!

Mike at Average Joe's

Once again, Shelley has very distinct views about food preparation, including hot dogs. (BTW, I hate that name "hot dogs"!) She believes that hot dogs should only come from “Oscar Mayer” and should be burned to a blackened crisp over a too-hot barbeque grill. Not so at “Average Joe’s,” also south of town. There, Mike serves absolutely marvelous all-beef hot dogs reminiscent of Nathan’s Famous Frankfurters from Coney Island, New York. You can get an amazing chili cheese dog, or one smothered in onions and mustard, or however you like it. Yum! Also, they advertise the “Island’s Best Chicken Wings.” Didn’t try them, but they looked great.

Pizza places abound, and I’ll give details in the future. My favorite so far is “Pepperoni’s.” They must have spent a lot of time coming up with that name, huh?

We’re off this morning to Belmopan, the nation’s capitol, where Shelley will attempt to defend her immigration status. I’ll have plenty to say about that later!

Y’all come to visit. We’ll lay in a hammock and eat hamburgers and hot dogs! You’re gonna love Belize!

Bella Makes Friends

Today I wanted to introduce you to some of my new friends I've met in San Pedro. It seems just about everyone is attracted to me--what can I say--and I welcome them into my world. Not all, though. One rude man looked at me and said I would probably make pretty good taco meat. I have chosen not to include his picture.

The gal to the left is Angie. She has lived in San Pedro for a lot of years, and her smile tells a lot about her. She is a wealth of information about where to go, which grocery stores to shop in, who the best guides are, and so forth. I've been to her house and liked it a lot, though I have some reservations about her cat who is, in my opinion, overly friendly. Plus, the cat outweighs me by at least four pounds.


This gorgeous couple from Texas are Bart and Mandy, frequent visitors to Belize. Tom and Shelley were immediately drawn to them and have shared some good times and stories. Congratulations on their newest grandchild born two days ago! Now I understand why Mandy has been sitting around knitting the cutest baby outfit. I thought it was for me, but that's okay, Mandy.

The guy on the left is Caspar, the music director at Fido's. [FEE-doze.] Originally from Panama, Caspar has literally traveled the world playing bass guitar--Hong Kong, Paris, Brazil, Japan, all of the United States plus Guam and Puerto Rico. He has amazing stories about life on the road, and so far I haven't been able to name a place he hasn't been to.

The next young man, Evan, is also a world traveler, but I didn't meet him in Belize. He is Shelley's cousin's grandson, a student at University of Kansas and student advisor with their Office of Study Abroad. Yes, that is me with him at a family reunion being carried and adored. Evan, one of my faithful followers, has already made his reservation in stay with us in San Pedro in May! Remember the old adage: You snooze, you lose! Call us at 281-754-3201 or Ticket Master for reservations.

Well, I still haven't told you about the Mama Vilma fashion show . . . or about the crocodiles at the Mayan ruins . . . or about Shelly's golf cart taxi service, but I shall, I shall. Keep reading and commenting. 

Y'all come visit. You'll meet lots of new friends. You're gonna love Belize!

Bella Loves Kelly McGuire

Bella's Outfit for the Mama Vilma Benefit Fashion Show

It's cloudy today. I don't mind, because I have to be careful of my pink belly which, I'm told, is subject to sunburn. Tom got smart and took his shirt off one bright afternoon. Now he's as pink as I am. Shelley tried to warn him, but oh, well.

Tom, Bart, and I went to Fido's (pronounced FEE-doze) last night to hear Kelly McGuire sing while Shelley and the girls went to the fashion show. Home-based in Austin, Kelly says Ambergris Caye is one of his favorite spots, and he visits frequently. He gave an amazing solo performance with no backup. It was like watching Garth Brooks in the old days while he was still playing in Stillwater bars.


Here's an excerpt from "Boat in Belize":


     He sits at the bar while he's waiting for charters

     He's up at the crack o' noon

     At night he's at Fido's dancing with ladies

     He's a strikingly handsome dude.

     His boat in Belize is docked in San Pedro

     A coconut fall from the bar

     His back to the beach on his favorite bar stool

     He don't have to stumble too far.

     He plies his trade in the islands divin'

     Tryin' to forget what he left far behind.

     He's just what he seems--

     He's lovin' his dream--

     With his fishing boat in Belize.


Catherine Zeta-Jones and Michael Douglas were in San Pedro the past few days, but I didn't see them. You'd think they could at least call ahead.

We're heading back to Fido's at 4 o'clock for another McGuire concert. I'll let you know about the fashion show soon. 

Bella Meets "River of Fire"

Tom had a phone call recently from a guy named "River of Fire," for real! Sounded interesting, so off we went, walking (well, actually, I got carried into town to meet up with him. I think Tom is now going to buy me a satchel, whatever that is.) 


Turns out that "River of Fire" is the pen name for Harley Evan Burn, a Belizean poet from Belize City.  He was on the island for the day peddling his books on the beach.  We talked with him for a few hours, and Tom says River's poetic style is unique. Personally, I prefer Shelley's style of writing: short, funny, and insightful!
(That ought to be good for a treat.)

Back to River---He asks someone to give him a short phrase, such as "It's a beautiful thing," or "Love, love, love," and he writes an acrostic poem giving credit to the person who gave him the phrase. Here's one he just wrote:

Sand, sea, and sun, the place to have fun,

A dream vacation, in the Caribbean,

Never worry ‘bout time, everything will be fine.

Party down the line, try the premium wines,

Escape into a fantasy, there you can’t get antsy.

Dare the surf and sea--San Pedro holds a mystery.

Relax under sun or star. Make love, not war,

On the biggest caye off Belize--under a coconut tree--under a breeze.

I know it sounds romantic, but it ain't all about lying under the coconut trees here.  Besides . . .

Falling Coconuts Kill More People Than Shark Attacks *

"Falling coconuts kill 150 people worldwide each year, 15 times the number of fatalities attributable to sharks," said George Burgess, Director of the University of Florida's International Shark Attack File and a noted shark researcher.

Tom asked River what he did to bring in additional income.  He said, " I sell roasted squash seeds (called pepitos) and homemade fudge." I wanted to try the fudge, but Tom said, "No way."  Something about dogs can't have chocolate, but Tom said it was delicious. Guess I'll never know.

River, father of two, is also a radio talk show host, and a political activist. His annual income from all sources is approximately $7,000 USD, better than the average income, so we hear.

If you want to know more, or if you want to buy one of his seven books, here's a link to a news article from a Belize City television station:

http://www.7newsbelize.com/sstory.php?nid=21589 

According to Tom and Shelley, who are kind of my only source of reference, it's the warm and friendly people of Belize who make this place so special.  Visitors like the laid-back lifestyle, the coconut palms, the balmy breezes, the sand, and the turquoise blue of the water, but it's the people of Belize who really impress them.  And as Shelley says, "Everyone has a story!" 

Well, get ready for hard times: Shelley is going on a diet. And you know what that means: When Shelley goes on a diet, we ALL go on a diet. Yikes. I only weigh six pounds, although an insensitive veterinarian told us once that was practically obese for a petite, "little thing" like me. Looking at Tom's double chin, I think a diet would do him good, but, overall, island life is certainly agreeing with him. I never see him in long pants anymore, and I think he's considering a hairstyle like Hobie's--a ponytail!



Y'all come visit. We'll hang out on the beach. You're gonna love Belize!

                               * Thanks to faithful follower Amanda Munro for the coconut/shark reference!

Bella Goes to Dinner

I know, I know, I'm adorable.

Hey, guys. My new web site is up and running! Just type in (or bookmark) bellainbelize.com  and it will bring you right here. Much easier! Pass it on.

Here's a shout-out to my new followers. I hope you tell your friends about the blog so that I can become rich and famous and live the island life to the maximum.


If you're new to this site, please read the previous posts as well. Blogs run backwards, at least from my way of thinking, and you have to go to the end to see the beginning. Does that make sense? 

Previously, I asked you to make comments so that I know you're out there.  A faithful reader, Jane Kirk in Sikeston, Missouri, said, "Fine, but how do I do that?" Well, it turns out it is easier than we thought.  At the very top of my blog, click on "Follow." Followers will see a little pencil at the end of each post. Click on that and leave your comment. Leave it to Bella to figure it out!
 

Okay, to the business at hand: Last night's dinner was fabulous. Our friend Obby cooked the red snappers he and Tom caught the day before.  Obby prepared them in a buttery onion sauce until it was perfect. Then he prepared sliced potatoes with onions and a few tomatoes for flavor. And, finally, some white rice. Shelley ran all over the island getting the ingredients and getting the food from Obby's kitchen while Tom made a spinach salad to die for: fresh spinach leaves, fresh pineapple, a little chopped onion, olive oil, red wine, and salt to taste.


I wish Tom or Shelley had taken pictures of the food, but they forgot. Our guests, Arnie, Bart, Mandy, and Angie said they really liked the fish (Tom says he caught three of them), but the proof lay in their plates. Wiped clean! The only morsels I got were the ones Tom slipped me. And, boy, was it good! I finally got to spend a night at home! That Tom and Shelley do run around a lot. I guarded the apartment insuring a safe domain for the guests.

High today 81 degrees. Heat index 87!

Tomorrow we go to a fashion show at the San Pedro Fitness Club pool, a fundraiser to build "Mama Vilma's Family Home." Presently there is no shelter on the island for women and children who need help of any kind. Our friend Lisa Rhees from Ohio, one of the directors, invited us. Last year's fashion show, the very first one,  was attended by 400 people, and we think this one will be even more successful! I'll be there to take down the details. I have been told that Bart and Tom will be eating pizza and drinking beer during the event and will be unable to attend.



Y'all come visit. We'll have red snapper.  You're gonna love Belize!

Bella Goes Fishing

Yesterday we went fishing!

The evening before, Shelley loaned out the golf cart to Anna who was planning a baby shower and had lots of running around to do in preparation. So when our friend Obby (rhymes with "Hobie") called to take Tom fishing, we had to track down the golf cart, which wasn't that hard to do, before Tom could pick up Obby at his house. Tom got lost, of course, and, when he stopped for directions, was given the opportunity to buy some marijuana. He graciously declined.


Obby is a wonderful young married man with three children. 29-years-old, he works a full time job as a waiter at Carramba's from 9:30 am to 2pm, off from 2 to 5:30, then back from 5:30 to 10 pm. He and his wife Ruby also own a restaurant that they run out of their house which Obby is also remodeling. Plus he owns property on the mainland at Orange Walk. And, most important, he has the best personality of about anyone you will ever meet. Hard worker--good attitude. Hard to beat that!

Obby loaded up the fishing gear and lunch that Ruby had prepared for us. (Pork chops, plantains, rice and rice.) Unfortunately, he forgot the fishing bait, but we got that at the same store where we purchased the rum and coke--talk about convenience stores--and off we went.

How's this for a fishing hole?

We headed south of town about ten or twelve miles, pretty much to the end of the island and certainly the end of any road or path, an area called Siete Canales (The Seven Canals). There behind the palm trees and brush was an abandoned dock built originally for a dredging operation. We had to wade into the water before we could get a toe hold up to the dock, and there we set up our gear and lunch.

Bella hangs on for dear life!

We should begin by pointing out that Tom has always, and unashamedly, been a city boy. The fish he remembers from his childhood was frozen, oblong, and already breaded. Obby was typically gracious and showed him how to cut the bait and hook it on his line. Then, "Cast that line out, let the sinker do its work for a little while, point the rod into the wind horizontally, and wait for the little fishies to start nibbling. When they take the hook, bam, pull that rod straight up and start reeling!"

The fish isn't little. Tom is just large.

Honestly, I thought Tom was only out to feed the fish. Bless his heart, he'd throw out the line and wait and wait, then reel it in with the bait nibbled off. But he finally got the hang of it. Only three, and, shall I say, beautiful red snapper, but it was a great start. I'm proud of the boy. Obby caught seven before the fish stopped biting. 

Raw material for drinking cups.

I have neglected to tell you that, unlike the States where beer is a national staple of fishermen, in Belize the fisherman's choice is rum and coke. We had the rum, coke, and ice, but those guys forgot to bring cups! What to do? What to do? Not a problem for Obby. He found a coconut tree, cut two down, and carved a hole in the top of each. Tom and Obby then drank the coconut milk which, according to a local newspaper article, has 88 benefits for humans. Then the holes were enlarged to acomodate ice cubes, and, voila, cups! Tom reported that they worked quite well.


Afterwards, we stopped by an ancient Mayan archeological site where, for ten bucks apiece, we were allowed to walk on a temporary wooden pathway into the mangrove swamps and the land of very large mosquitoes. We always carry Off! with us, it is another staple of island life, so that wasn't a problem, but the site hasn't been excavated very much and there wasn't a whole lot to look at. It was still pretty fascinating, and if you're interested, you can go to this link:
 www.marcogonzalezmayasite.com/history.php

Well, the fish are going to be served today to Tom, Shelley, and five lucky friends. Personally, I still prefer beef, but I will occasionally eat fish, particularly red snapper.

Y'all come visit. We'll have a fish fry. You're gonna love Belize!

A Hectic Island Life

 C'mon, people. This blog ain't gonna write itself! 

I know, I know. We're all tired. Island life isn't all about lying on the beach. There's a lot going on in San Pedro, and sometimes it's hard to keep up.

First, a shout out to faithful follower Honey Dunlap for her encouraging comments. I absolutely live for comments, darling,  and hope you will take the hint. For those who read this blog and aren't yet followers, hit on the "follow" button. There are only a few simple steps to take, and it will be much appreciated. (My, that was shameless.)

Lunch at Dianita's

A few words about lunch the other day. We took our friend Bradley to our favorite lunch spot, Dianita's, near the airport. Bradley has been living in San Pedro for the past 23 years, and his story, as so many of the people we meet, is fascinating. 

Bradley Haylock

Bradley's father stowed away on a banana boat to New Orleans as a teenager about 80 years ago following a failed banana crop in Belize and eventually made his way to New York City where Bradley was born. Bradley's parents wanted him to surpass their humble beginnings, but, unfortunately, they were abusive toward him. Lots of threats, lots of physical abuse, even more mental abuse. Bradley moved to Miami where he became an airplane mechanic and a pilot! Not a bad combination.

His book, Aerial Smuggler, only covers three years of his on-going criminal lifestyle, but it gives you the flavor: Bradley may have been the worst smuggler ever! 28 drug runs to South America, and only one was "successful." Let's just say Bradley is an expert on prisons. His favorite, surprisingly, is Columbia where, he says, the prisons are so overcrowded that if your crime is minor, like cocaine smuggling, you only have to check in once a week with the authorities.


We met Bradley at church. He's now a born-again Christian, one of the smartest people you'll ever meet, and a certified character.

The Famous Ambergris Brewing Company

We visited at the house yesterday with a gal who was selling makeup. Yep, just like a Mary Kay visit back in the States. Sophie, too, has an interesting story. She is a certified lab technician but hasn't been able to get a job. So you do what you have to do, right? 

Bella Jams at ABC

Then it  was off to the clinic again for Shelley (just a followup visit) while Tom and I walked to Ambergris Brewing Company to meet up with our friends Bart and Mandy on vacation from College Station, Texas. You may be thinking that we are spending entirely too much time at a brewing company, but I assure you, we're there solely for the live music. Well, mostly for the live music. I do want to tell you (purely for information) that the cost of four beers, a glass of wine, a coke, beer-battered shrimp, onion rings, and a pizza (we were there for hours) came to $25 USD per person including a generous tip! The four hours of live music were free!

Shelley and the Girls at Reef Village

Shelley took off in the golf cart the other night, leaving me at home with Tom.  We think she's sort of independent!  She met up with young Belizean friends, headed a little north of the bridge, and went swimming at Reef Village. Shelley and Tom tell me that years ago they got some very good advice from an older lady:  "Always have younger friends!"  I think they take it seriously.  And now they have learned  (listen up folks, this is Bella talking) that a dog adds 10 years to your life!

The other day Shelley and I were in a store which, of course, is allowed in San Pedro.  (Can you believe one time in Houston at a Sam Moon's store the security guard made me leave?  And I was much younger, much smaller, and inside Shelley's purse!)  Anyhow, at the store here in San Pedro we were looking at tiny bathing suits with floatie's built-in.  Perhaps I could use one of those. First, I could use a few swimming lessons.



Well, it's time to go fishing. Our friend Obby is taking Tom fishing for red snapper.  That should be fun. I'll be sure to tell you how that goes! At least Tom can swim. 

Y’all come visit us. We’ll hang out at Reef Village. You’re gonna love Belize!

Bella Checks Out the Free Clinic

I have to tell you about going to the San Pedro Polyclinic. Both Shelley and Tom had gotten sick in the past two weeks. Nothing serious, but their coughing, frankly, has been keeping me up at night. One of their friends said lots of people were complaining of a lingering cough and suggested going to the clinic in town, so they decided to check it out. 

Let's face it, I knew from the outset that I wasn't going to actually get inside the clinic, but I sure wasn't about to stay at home either. The picture to the right is my sad, forlorn look (Aww, let me in. nobody will mind) but of course it didn't work, so I stayed outside on the steps. By the way, even though it's January, it's HOT here, but the clinic isn't air-conditioned, so I guess it didn't make much difference.

The upshot is, the clinic was clean and efficient, and the staff was
pleasant. Weight and blood pressure was checked, and after a short wait, they saw an extremely pleasant doctor who did a thorough examination, then prescribed the necessary medication. Both the treatment AND the medication were totally free. The clinic is run by the government and is even free for tourists. Posters on the wall say that Healthcare is your right! We left a donation which was graciously received, and then Shelley volunteered to go buy lunch for the receptionists who were working a double shift that day! Boy, did the ladies love that. It never hurts to plant good seed!

And now a little update from yesterday:

A lady told Tom last week that she had gained 40 pounds after she and her husband got a golf cart. So Tom has been on sort of a kick about walking into town or sometimes to town and back. Round trip is about five miles. Tom thinks that I should get exercise as well and likes to take me with him. 

Bella at Dianita's

Well, after lunch at Dianita's, a Belizean restaurant owned by our friend Anna, Tom said he and I would walk home. (Groan. I'm telling you, it's HOT here!) Off we went. I've told you before, my legs are only six inches long, so I walk about half a block, then get carried. Tom knows when to carry me, because I sit down and refuse to move. 

About a quarter mile from our house, right past where the crocodiles live, the road turns left. If you were to continue straight rather than making a dogleg to the right (I don't particularly like that term ) you would wind up on the beach on the Caribbean side of the island. As we made the turn, a guy on a golf cart with a little white dog on his lap was coming from the beach road--where the really nice houses are-- and stopped to say hi. Tom carried me close to the other dog and I did my obligatory growl meaning "Back off, buddy." Tom and the guy chatted about their dogs (his was named George), then Tom introduced me and himself. The other guy said, "Pleased to meet you. I'm Jerry Jeff." 

Oh, yeah!  Jerry Jeff Walker, the famous guy we said we didn't hang with. Well, I guess now we do!

When Shelley and Anna got back to the house, Tom told them the Jerry Jeff story, and both of the women asked what Tom had said or done after that. Tom said, "I just said goodbye. What did you expect me to say?" Anna said, "You should have said, 'Will you sign my dog!'"

Y’all come visit us. We’ll hang out with Jerry Jeff. You’re gonna love Belize!

Jerry Jeff Walker in San Pedro

It was only 7 pm, but Tom and I headed out to Ambergris Brewing Company about 3½ miles from our house. As I’ve mentioned before, the available modes of transportation on our island are bicycles, golf carts, and taxis. We have a golf cart and are practicing not looking like complete idiots while driving.

San Pedro does not reflect the idyllic, tranquil island life I had anticipated prior to my arrival. Taxis, golf carts, and bicycles are driven as fast as possible, and it is common to see toddlers bouncing along on the back of the carts or perched on the handlebars of bicycles. There are no seat belts, no doors, and, remarkably, very few accidents. The golf carts are gasoline powered and Belizean teenagers seemingly have the ability to get them up to 70 mph! Pedestrians, beware.

Anyway, Tom and I were going to check out the Jerry Jeff Walker Band performing at Ambergris Brewing Company next to the Phoenix Resort, just named the number one hotel in the World. According to Trip Advisor, the Phoenix Resort located in San Pedro has received the Traveler's Choice 2012 Award, as "The Best Overall Hotel in the World." According to them, the Phoenix has "the best of both worlds: island life and modern conveniences, including an exceptionally clean property, perfect location, and superb staff."

Ambergris Brewing Company is neither a brewing company nor “The Best Overall Bar in the World.” One step above a shack (next to the Best Overall Hotel in the World), it sits on the beach anchoring “Wet Willy's,” the most popular bar on the island, Wet Willy’s sits out on the dock, and it is at Wet Willy's that Jerry Jeff Walker is set to perform. So, anyway, Jerry Jeff’s band was playing at the Brewing Company, but Jerry Jeff is under contract to Wet Willy's for the week and couldn’t play.

Jerry Jeff has a house about a quarter mile from where we live, but we haven’t been hanging with him yet. It’s also doubtful that Tom and Shelley are going to make the concert since the tickets cost $150 each, that's USD, and especially since I told Tom (Bella has the inside scoop on everything on the island) that Jerry Jeff will be performing this coming Tuesday at Fido’s for free. Plus we’re in tight with Caspar, the bass player at Fido’s who performs Thursday through Sunday with his band, “All the Usual Suspects.” Don’t worry, we’ll introduce you to Caspar when you get here. He’s fixing his specialty, grilled barracuda, for us this week. Whoa!  And yes, I DO eat fish. I am, after all, an island dog.

On the way to Ambergris Brewing Company, Tom gave a ride to Corey, a young musician whose bicycle tire had a slow leak on his way to the Marina Store to buy beer for the band. When Corey hopped off, Tom offered a ride to a young family of four who jumped on the cart with no hesitation whatsoever. Byron, married to Amy, hosts a 2-hour Christian radio program every morning. When they got off, a guy named Wallace whistled us over and said he would appreciate a ride downtown. Wallace said he was a jack-of-all-trades and would be happy to be our driver and tour guide as long as we lived in Belize. He expressed disappointment when we arrived at our destination that Tom refused to give him a tip!

By the way, the band was really good, and we had a great time.  Y’all come visit us. We’ll do Ambergris Brewing Company. You’re gonna love Belize!

Bella Goes to Church

I went to church the other day. As you may imagine, I don’t go to church very often, but I was still getting acclimated to island life, and Tom and Shelley didn’t want to leave me alone in the hotel room. Their concern, frankly, had little to do with me. I had been living at Coconuts Hotel (now part of Corona del Mar) for five days awaiting the plumbing problem at the apartment to be resolved, and pets weren’t exactly allowed at Coconuts. In fact, the day we arrived someone else had requested their pet be allowed to stay with them, and they had been denied. As a result, we were placed in a room on the second floor as far away from the rest of the complex and the other pet owner as possible. If you know me, you understand my bark can be somewhat shrill and loud, so the decision was made to take me to church and see what happened.

It had rained very hard the previous two days, and the unpaved back street the church was on looked like a lake with occasional islands of semi-dry land. It was hard going in a golf cart, but we navigated it okay staying reasonably dry and mud-free. When we arrived at The Living Word Church, the greeters opened the doors wide to let us in, then balked. It was exactly the same reaction we have seen when the Phantom of the Opera rips his mask off revealing his horribly disfigured face. “A DOG? IN CHURCH? Whatever shall we do?”

Do I look scary?

No dogs in church was the immediate and seemingly resolute response, but Tom and Shelley began to negotiate. Apparently the greeters thought I would roam the pews attacking the parishioners in a rabid frenzy and cause havoc amongst the faithful. Good grief. I am carried practically everywhere I go. Who has time for a rabid frenzy anyway? How exhausting. Finally common sense prevailed, and I was allowed to sit in Tom’s lap near the door in case of a breakout. Shelley, of course, sat with a group of new friends in the center of the sanctuary. 

The praise and worship music at Living Word Church is a mixture of five singers, a guitar player, and a drummer playing along with video music projected on a screen and played over the amplification system. Like so many churches these days, it is absolutely necessary to play the music as loudly as possible so that surrounding neighborhoods will also have the benefit of the music. I was doing okay with most of it, but the drummer got to me, so I decided to bark along. Whoops. Rushed outside. 

Well, not exactly “rushed outside.” It is the clear responsibility of the head greeter to open the outside door. Apparently there is a certain protocol involved including puzzled looks of “Why is that dog still here?” and “Why are they going outside during the service?” Anyway, out we went after a series of false starts as to who was in charge of physically opening the door. 

Once outside, I wanted to return, of course, so, after a few moments, in again we went. Tom nodded to the head greeter. He frowned slightly. He opened the door. We returned to our near-the-door seat. This procedure reoccurred four times. In the meantime, Shelley had a coughing fit and also went outside, so, of course, I wanted to go out to be with her. That necessitated another interaction with Head Greeter who no longer even tried to wear a happy face. 

Three hours after arrival, we left for lunch at Hurricanes on a dock at the beach. I sampled everything and can honestly say it is a not-to-be-missed experience. The tables are actually on the dock itself, so no one seemed to mind the dog-in-the-lap thing. Not that they should. Try the fresh catch of the day. It’s marvelous.

Belize is a very laid-back place, and the most common expression one hears is “Everything’s good, mon.” That may or may not apply to The Living Word Church.

Y’all come visit us. We’ll do Hurricanes. You’re gonna love Belize!

Afternoon at Cholo's

Shelley and I dropped Tom off at Cholo’s, a beach bar, while we went to do girl stuff—you know, run by an ATM, pay the rent, buy a few groceries, and check on Anna, a Belizian friend who just got out of the hospital on the mainland—things like that. We were gone about two hours when we went back to see how Tom was doing. Amazingly, he was in exactly the same spot where we’d left him.

Shelley and I joined him even though there were no other dogs around. I certainly didn’t see any “No Dogs Allowed” signs, but apparently dogs don’t usually hang out at Cholo’s much anyway.

Cholo’s is, shall we say, a little rough. A pool table, lots of guys just off work drinking beer, loud music, and a flatscreen TV highlighting a soccer match, that kind of thing. Tom said that, in the two hours he had been sitting there, no one had spoken to him except the bartender who occasionally said, “Another one?” But that all changed once Bella the Boss arrived.

It always amazes me how big guys with lots of tattoos start melting and talking baby talk when they see me. Two of them walked over saying, “Aww, look at da puppy!” and patted my head. Head patting isn't my favorite thing, but I usually acquiesce (Shelley taught me that word) because, hey, they may have bar food in their hand. “Top,” a fishing guide, wanted to know if I bite (I don’t, but I fake it pretty good if people I don’t know get too close), and “Eddie,” a diving instructor, pulled out his phone and started showing us pictures of his Maltese. Drats, it appears I’m not the only Maltese on the island. I hope Poochy, his real name, sticks to his end of the island, because I rule on the southern end.

Well, after Shelley met another four or five people, we rounded up Tom and headed to the golf cart which Shelley drove. For those of you who have ridden with Shelley previously, add the concepts of no doors, no seatbelts, lots of speedbumps, and a dirt road! You get the picture.

Y’all come visit us. We’ll do Cholo’s. You’re gonna love Belize!

The Crocodile

Tom and I took a walk a few days ago. (Actually, I prefer to call it a "carry." Seriously, just how far am I expected to go with legs that are only six inches long?)
Anyway, Tom and I were walking down a dirt road south of San Pedro that runs by a lake. We knew there were probably crocodiles in the vicinity because a sign was posted that said "It is a crime to feed the crocodiles." As we walked along there were a lot of crocodile-looking things in the water, but just about anything can look like a crocodile if you're looking for crocodiles. 

About 15 feet from the shoreline--which was exactly about 15 feet from where we were--one of the logs blinked! Dear Lord! There it was. An "American crocodile" about ten feet long just lying there looking at me like I was an afternoon snack. How demeaning! I mean, like I'm a piece of meat, which I suppose I am to a crocodile.  I find out later they can run 35 miles per hour for short bursts. I'm pretty sure 15 feet is a short burst. 

Tom started waving to tourists passing by and pretty soon there were about five golf carts lined up. One young mom with three little kids said she didn't exactly feel like the mother of the year as her children were walking toward the shore line. That was before we knew about the short burst phenomenon.

Shelley has now told Tom seven times that he is not to walk/carry me near the crocodiles. I guess he finally gets it. I figure I can run about three miles per hour for short bursts, but that's pushing it, so Shelley is probably right . . . again.

Y'all come down, now. You're gonna love Belize.

Leaving Texas

Just when I thought I had it good, Tom and Shelley decided to move . . . again. 

Although I didn’t like it, I had suffered a series of moves previously when I was living in Texas, mostly from apartment to apartment. Then Shelley moved to Tulsa for a while and Tom and I lived with Aaron, then Aaron and Craig. Then Shelley moved back to Houston. Then Shelley moved again leaving Tom and me. You get the picture.

As you know from my profile, I am a Maltese. Some refer to me as a dog. I certainly don’t think in those terms, and we don’t have to dwell on those images. Tom and Shelley are my so-called owners. I think of them as my providers, caretakers, and satisfiers of my every whim.

This move was different even though at first I thought it was the same. A bunch of packing boxes and suitcases and endless trips to the storage unit. Then a stay for a short time at Sandra’s house. Then over to Honey and Trey’s house with Tully and Taylor and the big dogs, Daisy and Luke. And then “the crate.” That’s right, a crate. I hadn’t seen one of those since I was a puppy and they thought they would crate train me, right, which lasted exactly one night. Hah.

Tom bought a crate and started putting treats in it like I couldn’t figure out what he was doing. I began going in and out to snag the treats, but never for longer than a minute or two. Early one morning in January 2012, suitcases got loaded up along with the dreaded crate, and we headed for the George Bush International Airport (IAH) in Houston.
As usual, Tom carried me and we headed for the check-in counter. We were asked all the standard questions, then the more specific ones about me. Did I have a ticket? Yes. Did I have my shot records? Yes. Did I have the veterinarian’s  okay to go to a foreign country? WHAT! The airport was scary enough, but what was that all about? Nobody had said anything about a foreign country.

Out came the crate, and the ticket agent said it was too big to go under the seat. But wait a minute. We had upgraded to first class (a mere $99 charge) and ticket agent #2 said the crate would fit under the seat in first class, and everything was fine until Tom put me IN the crate and locked the door. Whoa. “Make sure the dog stays in the crate throughout the flight,” we were told. The good news: We went to the First Class Lounge where I sat on Tom’s lap and shared a muffin, that is until a very nice lady with a very big smile told us how much she loved dogs and that she had two herself and that I would have to go back in the crate and stay there. Period. No exception. Back in the crate.

Well, I whimpered for a minute or so, but to no avail. First class passengers get early boarding privileges and we had two perfectly good seats to ourselves, but, oh, no, in the crate I was and in the crate I stayed, on the floor, under the seat. Oh yeah, a few bites of scrambled eggs through the bars of my cage, but that was it. I may have just as well been going to Shanghai kidnapped by slavers.I slept most of the way. Why not? I wasn’t going anywhere. 

A couple hours later we arrived in Belize City and went through customs. That went more smoothly than expected even though Shelley had asked us to bring hundreds of items ranging from mosquito spray to cosmetics to a pink laptop she had promised to her favorite taxi driver’s girlfriend. 

The test came when we got to animal control.  When we had gone to get the veterinarian’s health certificate, we were told it had to be a special certificate from the United States Department of Agriculture which would be sent from the vet’s office to Austin, then back to us . . . except the flight was booked five days later. That wasn’t going to work. Tom called the Belizean Animal Control Office in Belmopan and was told the local vet’s certificate would be just fine, thank you very much. Except the guy at animal control in Belize said, “Where’s the certificate from the USDA?” Tom practiced law for a very long time and told them it really wasn’t necessary, and the man said, “Really? I didn’t know that. Okay.” (If you're thinking about bring a pet to Belize, we would recommend getting the more acceptable certificate. And don’t check the wrong box on the form, the one that says you are importing the animal for slaughter.)

I was taken outside the customs office with Tom and the luggage and freed from the crate. Not much grass at the Belize International Airport, but we found some. Tom tipped the porter a whole lot of money to load up the luggage and help us get to the Tropic Air (“the Airline of Belize”) terminal while I was looking for the grass. When we returned two minutes later, the porter pointed to the Tropic Air terminal which was immediately next to the door we had just come out of. The porter was very happy with his tip.

After a 30 minute wait, boom—back in the crate! This time I was carried aboard a Cessna Caravan with seats for 13 passengers. Tom held me in his lap for the duration of the flight, about 15 minutes, to San Pedro. Ambergris Caye (pronounced amber-gee key) a small island 35 miles away. This, I was told, was my new home.

In San Pedro we ran right into Abby, the taxi driver, who recognized Tom from an earlier trip and volunteered to take us to the apartment Shelley had previously gotten for us. It’s a good thing we called ahead. Shelley was on the way to the airport to pick us up and take us to a hotel. Seems like some heavy rains had pretty much destroyed the septic tank at the apartment plus the refrigerator hadn’t worked for a week. So off we went to “Coconuts” where dogs aren’t allowed, but heck, this is Belize, right? The next five days we lived in a hotel room.

I am officially an islander. Hello, Belize. Here comes Bella!