May I check your cultural bias, please

Whenever I travel, along with my suitcase, I try to check my cultural biases at the ram which leads to the plane taking us to the places we visit. However, I still get caught short sometimes and this happened to me this last day in Belize. We were waiting for the 16 passenger plane which would take us to the int’l airport when a dog wandered by and someone remarked that there went one which made it through the night. I asked him what he meant, and he told me that there were signs around town for people to keep their dogs inside for the night because they were going to poison the strays that night and pick up the dead bodies the following morning.
My first thought was one of revulsion at the barbarian actions of going around killing dogs randomly. Having a dog poisoned when I was a boy probably added to the feeling, but I was really repulsed by this idea.
Upon talking with Carol ,who initially had the same reaction as I, we reflected on the places where we have seen packs of hungry and uncared for dogs which pose a health and safety problem for any and everything who gets in their path. So many times we have seen them create so many problems. We also thought about home, where the city pound will routinely go around and pick up dogs which are unlicensed and then gas them after a few days if they’re not picked up. The difference in method couldn’t hide the fact that the results were the same, and at least in Belize, everybody had warning and could protect their animals. Suddenly, it seemed a whole lot more humane and certainly more logical than the alternatives.
AS I write this, there is a hurricane battering western Mexico and Belize has certainly had their share. Ironically, the years that end in “1” have been hurricane years – 31, 61, and lastly 01. Last year when Iris hit Belize and did such terrible physical damage, there was no loss of life, with the notable exception of a boatload of American tourists who, instead of taking shelter o land, decided to ride it out on their 100 foot boat and weather the storm, as it were, with a hurricane party. Some crew members were summarily fired (lucky them) when they refused to be part of the Gringo stupidity and wanted to go ashore. Those who strayed on board drowned when the boat capsized with 19 people getting up close and personal with a petulant female named Iris.
On the coast houses are built on concrete columns and living space is 10 feet or so off the ground. In the small village of Monkey River where there were 38 houses before the storm, only seven were left standing afterwards and only three did not have significant damage. The 160 people crowded into the school and community center to ride out the storm and all survived. Since the village members are mostly related in one form or another, they all pitched in to rebuild. However, they still don’t have electricity or phone service, because the privatized electrical company doesn’t see a profit in spending money to reconnect a small village.
The guy on One Man Island lost his tin home and half his island and had to rebuild accordingly. He and his dog did survive, apparently by fleeing the island prior to the storm hitting.
Houses in the highlands are build in much the same manner as on the coast, but in this case it’s for ventilation. On a personal note, anything that keeps the Fer de Lance poisonous snake from crawling into my shoes at night has to be seen as a positive aspect as well as channeling the breezes.
As you might guess, fishing is a major industry, and small boats and big boats alike ago after all kinds of delicacies. We didn’t see a menu where fish was not prominently featured. We had a grilled lobster dinner and an entire tail and half another for $15. They have shrimp ponds where they cultivate them commercially and the fish is both delicious and cheap. We saw people free-diving close to shore and many make their living catching the spiny lobsters displayed on the menus of the restaurants. All classes of restaurants have it offered, not just the big, expensive resorts.
I need to talk about safety for a moment because so many people fear going to places here in Central America. Not once during our time in Belize did we feel threatened or intimated. Now, we understand that Belize City can be different, but then there are parts of Stockton where I would never venture during the day, much les at night.
One resort worker told us they would give us a key to our room if we wished, but there was no reason to think our things would not be totally safe. They understood the fear factor of many Americans, and so they are sensitive to it, but the general attitude is to not worry, everything will be all right. On Ambergris Caye, the big dive center, we walked down dark alleys at night with never a fear. We were merely accosted by continuous hellos, how are you doing? having a good time? and similar expressions of friendliness.
There is a 55 mile an hour speed limit on the three main highways of the country, there is a mandatory seat belt law, and people are forbidden to talk on their cell phones while driving. All good rules, except there is no enforcement. No highway patrol, no radar guns, no hiding policemen, just public acceptance of the law, which as far as we could tell, was adhered to by the citizenry. It’s interesting that while at home people’s eyes would light up at the lack of enforcement, people accept it and obey it. Okay, so they cheat a little on the speed limit, but I never saw anybody really doing the pedal to the metal thing. “Over 10 over,” as my CHP coworker called it, seemed to be the natural limit and most people didn’t even go that much faster than 60. It took some real self-restraint to maintain a slower speed when the highways are so empty of traffic. I kept catching to drivers in front of me and then having to slow down or pass them, and then slow down again when my vision of the road ahead was no longer blocked.
They do have speed bumps. They call them “The breasts warnings” since the signs alerting you to their presence looks like a picture of a woman’s breasts taken from an overhead camera. Carol noted that some of the different signs looked more like fried eggs, but that must be a girl thing. Certainly I’d never come up with something like that.
We’re off to Costa Rica again. Antonio’s birthday was last weekend and they waited for us to arrive before having the party. So tonight, the joint will be jumping and the liquor will be flowing. There will be much kissing of cheeks upon arrivals and departures, and any excuse in between that. We’ll all look like prunes in the end. The whole family will be coming. That means five generations – from 95 to two years old. But that’s part of the Cost Rica letter to be coming later. We know the family plans to take us somewhere for the weekend, but after tonight’s bash, it won’t be early. Early is when the party will finish, as ins 3 a.m. or thereabouts. This is the land of the fiesta, after all,
Thank god they love baseball here, so I got to see my beloved Giants crush the Angels, but I’m betting ahead of myself.
Love to all,
C and J