Today was a hard day for me. Originally, we were supposed to go tubing on one of the rivers around here. But according to Marcus, the man who would have taken us, it was too cold to do it. That was a little frustrating. But I am going to be down here until May, a good 3 and a half months yet, so there will be plenty of other times that we can go do something like that. At the very least, I am sure that there will be one other chance. So instead of the tubing, Dr. Skon was throwing some ideas around for what we could spend our day doing. The idea that stuck was to go to Spanish Lookout. We were told that it was a Mennonite community here in Belize. That instantly struck a chord with me. My mother grew up as a Mennonite, and I have lived in an area not far and heavily influenced by the Mennonites and the Amish. I was quite eager to go for a handful of reasons. I was really curious to see how it might be different from the type of community back home, which was of the Swiss Mennonite background, compared to the Russian Mennonite down here. And frankly, I was hoping that it would be very similar and that it could serve to help ease some homesickness I have been feeling pretty badly the last few days.
We got on the road shortly after lunch, it was supposed to be a relatively short drive. After leaving San Ignacio, we headed North. On the way out of San Ignacio, the sights were pretty much the same, makeshift houses that looked pretty beat up on the outside and woods and hills around us. Then we got to a river that had to be crossed. But this river did not have a bridge spanning it, rather it had a small ferry that traveled back and forth often. The ferry could hold up to 3 vehicles (plus some motorcycles) and passengers. It had just left when we arrived, so we had to wait a while for it to reach the other side, unload, load back up, and unload on our side. When it was our turn, Dr. Skon drive up the ramp onto the boat and we followed close behind him. I immediately understood why it took so long for the ferry to go across the river. It was a hand crank powered vehicle. There were two large steel cables spanning the width of the river, one to make sure that the vessel did not go downstream and one to allow movement. The man who was running the ferry was obviously quite strong from all of the cranking he did. It was a peaceful ride across, the view was very impressive. Once we reached the far side, we walked up the hill a ways and waited for the van, so that we would not hold up traffic. Very shortly after getting away from the river, I notice a huge change in scenery. Suddenly… it looked like home. Not the Log Cab-Inns, but like Holmes County. Literally, if the palm trees were replaced with pines, it could have been a scene from the country landscape not 15 minutes from my house. It was marveling to me to see things so very similar to home there. Not long after we reached Spanish Lookout did we start to see people. They were dressed as I would associate the Mennonites from home, very conservative and plain. It was definitely a sight for sore eyes. As we drove around town, so many things seemed right, the right types of shops and people were there. Once we got to the hardware store and stepped out of the van, it hit me. While this place may seem very similar to home… it was not. I was still more than a thousand miles from home. And I would be that far from home for a long time.
Walking through the store was very conflicting. On one hand, it felt right, being at a store like that with the type of people who surrounded me, yet in addition to light skinned people such as myself, there were native Belizeans who were, of course, Latino. In my mind, this type of mix just does not really happen. I was getting more and more homesick every minute. As I was walking towards the exit, I overheard some of the employees speaking. It was not English, and it was not Spanish, rather, as I had suspected, it was a form of German. I was quite excited to hear it. While it was likely not the same dialect that is used at home, it was still understandable to me.
Once we had all checked out, we left the store and went off to dinner. As usual, I was one of the first people in line of our group, but was next to last to order my food. That is what I get for being so non-aggressive I suppose. The seating for our group had already been filled up by the time that Mike and I got our food, so once again, we were the two off at our own table. It gets tiring always being one of the ones to be cut off. I did not feel much like speaking at that point, so I drifted off into my own world and thought about home the most I have on the trip so far. Once we left, I once again noticed just how different it looks in that part of Belize compared to the rest of what we have seen. It looked in general a lot more upkept and even more wealthy. But yet, this part of the country is where the agriculture is. It is strange, in the US, many farmers and agricultural areas are looked down on by those in the city, they are seen as poor rednecks and hillbillies. Yet down here, the farming region seems like it is doing better than the rest of the country. I think that goes to show that what we are taught and how we associate things in the US may not always be in align with what reality is.
On our way back, some of the same old stuff began to surface once again. People started bickering and arguing. It really gets old very quickly, all of the disrespect and immaturity. I really do hope that it gets better after the temporary guests leave in 9 days. I also hope that getting into a regular routine helps, I really do miss home a lot right now.
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