The Fatman Cometh....

Casa Perico. Lovely looking place but the bedrooms hide a dark secret....the fatman....!
Farnaz and I were allocted to a huge double room with 3 beds attached to another cabana, but despite having brand new netting on the windows there was an enormous gap above the wall into the eaves between us and the unknown resident next door. We only became aware of this person late at night when we heard eerie repetitive whispering and muttering, shuffling, dragging footsteps pacing up and down the room and other mysterious and frankly scarey sounds that kept awake much of the night. We just had to move, who knows if they could get over the top?! So we get the OK to move to the room behind Heather and Rachel, and finally at breakfast we see the one other resident of Casa P - the fatman; Ray. Conspiracy theorist, obsessive compulsive and all round nutter. I could go on about his theories about the US poisoning everyone with a brand new strain of Mycobacterium, or the benefits of Grapefruitseed extract that the US government is too scared to investigate, or colloidal silver...but, damn I just have. He has stand up arguments with a few people here over the next few days, and you would think that he would be bad for business....he's been there for four months and still askes why there are so many mosquitos around but still dosen't wear long trousers just drapes his net over his large legs, and expansive abdomen. There are quite a few beardy wierdys here in the swamp......

The Road to Rio....

Thursday. Belize has offcially been spared the Felix and warnings are downgraded to Tropical Storm. PG is all safe but very low on staff as all ran for the hills (metaphorically - Jeff to Dallas, Laura to Houston) so nobody is around to watch over us and as a result we get an official very long weekend. Flores is declared dull despite the sun being extra shiney today and plans made to voyage south to Rio Dulce. Out of the blue I get a message from Ben and Hazel saying that they are en route to Flores... typical! I miss them entirely. No machete men out today, and we make it to the bus terminal in good time and get thrown on a Marie Elena chicken bus (rather than the 1st class coach we were expecting) to Rio. Its a good trip all in all, nice scenery of little and large round lumpy hills that could easily be hiding the next big lost city, mountains and sun with added entertainment by batty dancers and latterly a new looking Zorro film which sadly we miss as a very quick 4 hours later we are poured with the drizzling rain into the wet streets of Rio into the waiting arms of hostel hustlers desparate to get us to Casa Pericco which luckily is where we wanted to go!

The Rain, The Rain.... (with apologies to Iris Murdock)

Tuesday and Wedneday. And the heavens opened and poured forth. With thunder, lightening and a small gale or two. But nothing special compared to Nicuragua which got moshed by Felix. I´m not really the best person to write about Tuesday as I took a cetirizine for my bites (spelling corrected by Karen a still practising pharmacist) which is supposed to be non drowsy and was monged for the WHOLE day - out of it completely. Did manage to stem the tide that gushed under our hotel door though. Flores was officially a river on a lake - unique!

The others were zip lining and Tikaling....and apart from being held up by men wielding machetes demonstrating about the crappy government (elections are on Sunday) were damn wet when they returned. Films were better though....Little Miss sunshine and Night at a museum.

Team Scarlett

Panic ensues.....OK if Joyce is scared then it must be bad and the nunnery where Ben and Hazel had been sent for Dean is deemed unsafe. We prevaricate for a while then head off to the airport to see what the flight situation is whilst discussions abound about getting a boat going south (into the path of the hurricane yeh right....) or via bus (coz thats the fastest way out and the roads aren`t gonna be blocked by rain and other cars...OK...). The good news is that there is a flight to Belize City and possible Flores going in 2 and 1/2 hours which we all can get on so we book it (but still prevarications continue!). After waiting what seems like an eternity Jeff reappears with the bus and we go back to pack what we only unpacked the previous day in the fastest time ever then hare back to the airport with the shortest of goodbyes to all the staff that we`ve only just met....Oh I hope they`re gonna be OK - there is literally no where to run to.

Stressed phone calls to relatives occur leaving many of the group in tears, but stiff upper lips return and we board our magic carpet to Belize and beyond after a nasty meal at BC airport whilst the others try and book flights to Houston. One makes it, another doesn`t at the last minute which is a decision greatly regretted later.

I never thought that I would go back to Flores...not because its not nice - it is, it´s just I thought there would never be a good reason to. A mere hour after fleeing Belize City I am there again wandering the streets with clumsy wheeled suitcase in hand trundling over cobbled rocks (too big for stones) taking in vistas long since consigned to memory but none the less very familiar. After some debate over where to stay half the group decamp to ´Los Amigos´ hostel just up the road from a cafe I used to frequent in days of yore, whilst my splinter group head for a hotel which is only slightly more expensive at 4 quid a night but has its own shower, beds and view of the lakeside roadworks (with built in alarm clock for 7am). Despite not sleeping at Los amiogos we spend a significant amount of time there courtesy of the cosy sofas, palm trees, kitten, dogs and fabulous veggie food. MOvies next door...Notes on a scandal...nah don´t fancy it...maybe tomorrow. No-one is bothered about Felix coming here, but we all watch the news obsessively for news of PG. It looks like it is to hit Nicuragua and Honduras first.

Gone with the wind.

Holy smoke Batman Jeff Fox is there to meet me at the airport! Apparently the message that I wasn`t coming did not get through, but Tropic Air told him that I was coming the day after...now that`s good service. Jeff is a truly lovely chap - tall and gentle about 55 with a beautiful Phillipino wife Ivory who is 37 and mum to Xavier (1) and Ian (5). They are volunteers with the Catholic Mission Board so I better mind my language and anti-Catholic tirades! PG is a tiny place with a triangle for a town square, a strange grid like street plan that isn`t really grid like and lots of shacks that don`t look very wind proof (with only a few bunkers that do). Hillside is a good 5 miles outta town up a hill (odd that) and is a concrete building and a wooden `tree house` which is to be where I am to live with some Leeds medical students (Heather, Fahnaz and Rachel) wheras Emma the other GKT student is above the clinic. We also have Maureen a slightly neurotic Canadian Physio student with us but the nursing students have canceled due to fears about Felix. A rather aborted welcoming party occurs (due to lack of cake or drink) and we head to bed for our early start the next day.

We had been warned that the weather was stormy this time of year but nothing could have prepared us for that nights entertainment....the thunder (ALL night) was SO loud it shook the treehouse, lightning hit trees and felled them taking the phoneline with them, and the wind worked better than the fan to chill an otherwise steamy night. Needless to say even with earplugs and my mossie net I like the others got little sleep, leaving us unprepared for the bad news we were to receive the next day.

Monday started with Joyce the adminstrator cancelling orientation and giving us grave tidings....`Felix is coming and he is now a grade 5 hurricane. PG only has shelters that protect up to grade 3. We cannot protect you and we suggest you take steps to protect yourselves. He will hit Tuesday evening/Wednesday am so you need to be safe by then. And the airport might close.` Oh crap.

How the other half live !

Belize like most countries is one of contrasts. It seems you are either really rather rich or very poor. The Roes are the former. They are also incredibly welcoming and generous. I am invited to spend the weekend with them visiting their cabana at Honey Camp and at their beach house on St Georges Caye - how could I say no?! A quick call to Tropic Air and my flight is delayed till the next day and a message left on the answer phone at HHc. Honey camp is so cute - its up country towards the Mexican border by a lagoon and consists of some trees, a thatched veranda and a weatherbeaten Airstream type caravan. The storms that followed hurricane Dean did hit here, but not badly and the most damage is to tall trees which aren`t tall any more and the rest are being eaten by huge stripy caterpillers!! We stop off at `Victor`s apparently the best restaurant/ take away in Belize for tortillas, PilBil (spicy pulled pork), shrimp cerviche and a venison thing very yummy...even the cerviche! and a few beers. It seems there is a very relaxed view to drink driving here..... Anyway we go for a swim in the lagoon, not via the pier which is pretty much submerged under the water dumped by Dean, but which provides a playground for Ziggy the Silky Dog to zip up and down on without the need for him to swim (big wooss). Then a few more beers/wine and Roz is flat out in the back of the jeep for the way home happily sozzled! I go out with the kids, the cousins and their boyfriends that night to Old Belize: a terrible tourist trap that exists merely for the cruise liner trade which is a bit light due to the immenent hurricane pitched to hit on Wednesday...everybody is pretty laid back about it so I don`t get worried. I manage to last till 10.30 that night!

The next morning I`m the first up at 6am again and spend some quiet time reading and hanging under a fan in the breeziest part of the house next to a giant smelly vanilla candle...heaven. Then its all hands to the pump and we`re off to the Caye on a speedboat (because everyone has one!) Speeding down the river then over the sea to the cayes everybody is whipped by the warm winds and the dogs get their fur whipped about in a hysterical fashion. The sea is still really muddy from Dean but just as we hit the cayes it changes to azure and become the embodiment of a postcard. The beachhut is reached via a wooden pier with a useful cabana to one side and can sleep about 20. Property is pretty cheap here compared to the UK, Honey Camp would cost about 20K and Ladyville less than my house by some measure. So why do I live in the UK? Less mosquitos I guess! Am already up to 15 bites which are blistering alarmingly.... We eat, drink and are merry than pop over to a nice swimming spot with a shallow sandy bottom and splash around; Roz had her 50th party here with a floating BBQ and 80 friends in the middle of the ocean on a sandbank. Then back on the boat, over a soggy lawn as its rained again watching the hired help fit the storm shutters to the windows to protect against whatever Felix brings. And back to the airport where I finally catch my last flight to PG. It`s been a fantastic start to the elective so far!

And we`re off.......

I have rarely felt so little excitement about leaving for a trip. There are a few reasons for this; my next door neighbour is rapidly being consumed by her lung cancer which the day before I left made the final trip up to her brain rendering her unusually vague and confused. Less than a week I thought knowing I was to leave the next day and not being able to be there to support John through this last stage. At least the son appeared, summoned by our other neighbours for her swansong.

Then there is the fearful anticipation of the job itself and not being up to the challenge, together with the absolute certainty of being bitten viciously despite all my anti-bug sprays. And the guilt of abandoning Snowbelle (sigh). And just to complicate matters there is a REALLY tight connection time at Houston between my flights which could knacker everything if it does not come off.

So even whilst I am accelerating down the runway leaving England`s green and pleasant land I am still morose, that is until I watch Blades of Glory....man that is a funny film! And I start to lighten up (thank god I hear you cry!) so by the time I get to Houston (having eaten a bizarre interpretation of a chicken tikka massala) I am mentally prepared to push and cajole my way through the system to get my flight....which I do only after being sent the wrong way twice and sprinting through the terminals to make the gate by seconds (phew). And my luggage made it too - incredible.

The air here in Belize has no smell, unlike Africa but is like a warm sweaty blanket enveloping everything...its gonna take some getting used to. Nobody to meet me....not that it matters, two locals check who I`m meeting and Marilyn ( whose sister was married to Mr Roe`s brother for a while) rings them at home to summon them to pick me up - now that`s a small town! Roz plus Viv (one of the quads) appear in a screech of dust and whisk me about quarter of a mile back to their fantastic pad where I meet the others (Nicole also dark haired like Viv, and Lou & Andrea the blond quads). I am relocated swiftly to the Manatee club for a few beers and great Lebanese food (go figure...) and introduced to some of their friends and relatives (who it appears live in the same enclosure as Roz and co.) But my 8.30pm local time (3.20am home time) I am bushed and need bed. I still wake up at 6am - how does that work?!