I had a new experience in Belize.  It’s something that never has happened before anywhere in the world.  And, it happened while I was sweeping my sister’s kitchen with a broom.  No, the sweeping wasn’t anything new.  I don’t like to clean house, but I know how to do it.  This time, however, the broom handle broke in my hands in mid-sweep.

I was not whistling while I worked.  There were no merry tunes hummed.  And, certainly, there was no dancing (yet).  I just pushed the broom and it broke.  If you are assuming I’m no Superman, you would be right.  I’m going to guess that there might have been some termite infestation in the wooden handle.  Whatever the reason, I had two pieces of wood in my hands.  I could have thrown it all away, but I decided that wood glue and duct tape might be the solution.  So, I took it to my sister’s other home, repaired the broom, and left it to dry overnight.

The next morning, I headed out to retrieve the broom for another morning’s sweep.  Now, don’t be confused.  I never clean my own home that often.  But, when you live on the beach, sand gets tracked in every day.  So, in Belize – and not Ohio – I sweep every day.

Remember, it’s about a ten-minute walk across a wetlands to get to my sister’s house on the Caribbean. I’ve walked it for a month.  On this walk, I’ve seen pelicans, egrets, spoonbills, storks, iguana and assorted lizards.  I’d never seen the crocodile reportedly living in my midst. 

That is, until today.

I’ve been on safari and know that something as big as an elephant can be really close to you in the African bush and be nearly invisible.  Well, it’s the same with a crocodile in the wetlands.  There were a lot of fallen trees in the area.  At first glance, I thought this six-foot crocodile was just another log on a sandbar.  But, I took a second look.  Finally, after more than a month, I had my first sighting.

The reptile was about 40 yards away.  My camera has a nice zoom lens, but I wanted to get a little closer than 40 yards.  You may be wiser than me.  You may already guess that 40 yards is plenty close to a dangerous animal in the wild.  I’m a little slower learner.

There was the smallest stream of water separating the main road from the sandbar and my crocodile.  My thoughts were to cut my distance in about half.  As soon as I stepped next to that stream, my sandal sank in muck, covering my foot.  Now, you might think of a wetlands area as something totally romantic and exotic.  I hate to burst that bubble, but this wetlands had swamp gas that smelled kind of like a sewer.  So, when you step in swamp sludge and cover your foot, you might be tempted to scream out just what it smelled like.  “Sludge” isn’t the word that came to mind.

But, I was a man on a mission.  I was not about to let some smelly sludge stop me from getting a little closer.  I spied some driftwood to my right and thought I might just be able to make a walkway to the sandbar.  It was not my brightest move.  It was not my proudest moment.  I am thankful that I was alone and nobody else witnessed my stupidity.

Okay, I moved a few pieces of driftwood.  My walkway made a little progress.  Then, I took one more step for an additional piece of driftwood and lost my balance.  No, I didn’t fall, but I took four quick steps in the muck and mire -- up to my knees -- before regaining my balance. 

I learned my lesson.  There was not going to be any walking on a sandbar to get any closer to a crocodile.  Mr. Dundee never mentioned anything about smelly sludge.  I had no idea how safe and solid that sandbar was.  You can’t possibly outrun a crocodile when you sink in mire up to your knees with every step.  I love a good photo, but it isn’t worth risking my life over.

In a perfect world, there would be no sludge.   In a perfect world, I would have foolishly gotten closer to that critter.  But, I was in a smelly swamp, it was not a perfect world, and my lesson wasn’t over.

During my “trip” and that quick four-step dance in the mire, I lost both of my sandals.  I needed my sandals.  Of course, I considered just leaving them, but I really needed my sandals.  I needed them enough to reach my hand down into the mire that smelled like “that which will not be uttered” and quickly found my first sandal in hole number two.
 
I didn’t know for sure where my other sandal was buried.

Now, as I slopped through the sludge, I had to keep one eye on the crocodile as well.  I didn’t want him slithering any closer to me while I was distracted with slime.  While I was hunting – and hopefully gathering – I didn’t want this reptile to do the same.

He held his ground, or sludge, as the case may be.

For some reason, I thought my other sandal was in hole number four.  I dug out sludge, reaching in farther and farther until I was up to my elbow.  If it was there, it wasn’t going to be found.  Okay, there was a chance the sandal was in hole number three.  I repeated the process.  I went in elbow deep one more time with no hint of sandal.  By this point in time, I wasn’t even sure if I pulled the sandal in my possession out of hole number one or two.

I quit.

I failed. 

I had done everything I could to find the missing sandal.  It wasn’t going to happen.  I looked back over the mess in shame, and that was when I spied the straps of my missing sandal in hole number one.  It was not buried elbow deep anywhere.  The missing sandal was right at surface level.

Sandals reinstalled where they belonged, with mud up to both knees and one elbow, I quickly hiked on to my sister’s outdoor garden hose before anyone saw me.  When I got home, everything including the sandals took a shower to wash away the remaining sludge.

As for the broom at my sister’s house, the glue didn’t hold.  I found the broom broken in two, hidden in the back of the closet.  So, my hike across the wetlands did nothing for the sand situation in my sister’s kitchen. Nothing got swept up.  But, I certainly collected one of my more memorable – and disgusting – experiences from my time in Belize.

P.S.  Later in the week, my brother-in-law walked through the wetlands.  In the very spot where I was stuck in the sludge, two large crocodiles basked in the morning sun.  By the time I arrived on the scene, one slithered down the sandbar while the other completely disappeared.  Jim waded through the sludge and down the neighboring sandbar.  When I saw that it was possible to walk on the sandbar without hopelessly fighting sludge, I took off my sandals and waded forward, ankle deep in muck, but only for a little bit.

You can see how closely we approached the crocodile.  It seemed like a very safe distance.  It wasn't quite as safe as I suspected.  When the crocodile decided he'd had enough of visitors, he slashed through the air and splashed into the water.  I had no idea such a big creature could move so fast.

It was time to backtrack, safely, through the sludge.

I want to remain shocked.

I don't want to ever see this as normal.

It just gets harder and harder to not see the latest attack on an unsuspecting public as "just another shooting".  After all, they seem to happen all the time these days.  In the short time I have been in Belize, there have been attacks in both Florida and Mexico.

It doesn't matter if it is a lone wolf or a militant group, a home grown threat or international terrorists.  There is nothing normal about this.  Lives are cut short.  Other lives are changed forever.  Families and friends never fully recover.  Loved ones will be missed at every birthday party, holiday celebration and evening meal forever.

None of this stops me from traveling.  None of this will make me change my wandering ways.  I've always told people, I could just as easily get hit by a car crossing the street in Columbus, Ohio.  So, I cross paths, streets, roads, highways, byways and then wander where there aren't even any roads. 

But, this latest attack was in Playa del Carmen!  I know this place.  It's not some unknown statistic in a place I've never heard of.  I painted one of my most recent murals in Playa del Carmen.  I know the street!  The Blue Parrot Bar is on Fifth Avenue.  I have a blog posting about that street.  Every attack is insane.  Every attack is a personal assault on a civilized society.  But, this attack is the most personal one to me.  I haven't even made it home yet  from my stay in Playa del Carmen!  The experience is all so fresh.

I have friends living in Playa del Carmen.  One of them signed in to a Facebook page that assured his friends that he was safe.  What kind of world is it that we need those kind of Facebook pages? 

I'm just so sad today, and I mourn the loss that these families now suffer.  However, I will not let this insanity defeat me.  I'll change some of my ways.  I mean, I didn't used to look for emergency exits in advance or think about where I might need to take shelter.  I do now.  But, I will continue to live my life. 

None of this is normal.  I will remain shocked ... and outraged.

This really isn’t my usual way to travel.  I am not known for spending long periods of time in the number one tourist destination in any country.  For me, it is much more normal to be off the beaten path, in a distant community, working together with volunteers, creating a mural.  That’s my normal. 

But, I’m in Belize, and when life gives you pineapples and coconuts, it’s time to make the best of everything and enjoy a piña colada.  And for now, I’m enjoying sunshine and sand in San Pedro. 

If you’ve ever heard of “Lifestyles of the Rich and Famous”, well, this is one of the locations where an episode could have been filmed.  There are lots of condos and vacation resorts.  If you are super rich like John Travolta and Leonardo di Caprio, you can own your own private island in the area.  If you are normal rich, you might stay at one of the local resorts.  They have their own restaurants, bars, tours and shops so you never need to leave the resort.  I know where Jennifer Lawrence stayed.  And, during this trip I was nine miles from Simone Biles.  She spent one afternoon spinning and diving off a man-made island into the pool at a resort that I couldn’t enter.  I don’t do selfies, normally, but I would have with Simone. 

Back in the 1980’s San Pedro was a sleepy little village in the Caribbean sunshine.  You could buy lots to build your own home in paradise for $20,000.  Now, the price is much closer to ten times that amount.  And, there is nothing sleepy in San Pedro.  It bustles to capacity with golf carts, tourists, souvenir vendors, bicycles and pedestrians, day and night. Those very crowded streets were originally built for bicycles.  Now, it’s hard to find parking or even cross the street in the downtown during peak tourist times like Christmas and Spring Break.

Belize is a tropical mix.  You see it in the pastel colors used to paint their houses.  You smell it in the spices used to prepare jerk chicken and pibil pork.  You touch it in the sand between your toes and the suntan lotion between your fingers.  You taste it in the best pineapple grown anywhere on the planet.  And, you hear it in the English, Spanish and Creole spoken by a very diverse and beautiful population.  It’s why you come to the Caribbean.

Most people who come to Ambergris Caye want to do something outdoors that involves sand and water.  That includes parasailing, jet skiing and fishing, which don’t include me at all.  You can also scuba dive into the Blue Hole, a sink hole that is considered one of the best diving locations in the world.  I don’t dive.  And, you can snorkel along the coral reef.  That, I can tell you first-hand, is amazing. 

I went out on a glass bottom boat trip for my snorkeling adventure.  As soon as we stopped to snorkel, someone said that there were sharks under the boat.  I thought they were joking.  They weren’t.  There were four nurse sharks, each about six feet long, under our glass bottom.  I’m told that nurse sharks don’t normally attack people unless people do things to bother them.  I seriously hoped that jumping in the water for a closer look wasn’t considered “bothering them” because I did just that.  And, it was magnificent.

I felt much safer when I swam by myself, shadowing the path of the ray below me.  It was a magical moment in the water.  I’d seen them before, but never like that. 

My sister, as well as the guides, promised that I’d see a sea turtle on the adventure.  They didn’t lie.  It was at the last possible moment while I was in the water, but I had my moment alone with one graceful creature.  And then, a couple of the turtles swam directly under the glass bottom boat before surfacing next to us.  Yep, I’d have to fully recommend a day of snorkeling to anyone visiting San Pedro. 

Now, if you happen to be a “land lubber” with absolutely no sea legs at all, and the thought of a day on the boat makes you reach for a paper bag, there is one very unusual event every Thursday night in San Pedro, and I’ve never heard of it anywhere else.

Thursday night is Chicken Drop Night.

The Chicken Drop is an event sort of like bingo, without many senior citizens, and with a whole lot more alcohol and rowdy young people.  There is a huge “bingo card” with 100 squares on the floor. Yes, a real chicken is shaken, not stirred, and then dropped by a celebrant (from about waist high).  People place one dollar bets on each of the one hundred squares.  It doesn’t matter where the chicken lands.  But, if you’ve ever spent any time with chickens, you know they only do about four things.  They cluck.  They lay eggs.  They eat.   And, then, they leave their own droppings nearly everywhere they step.  And, that is what puts the “drop” in the Chicken Drop.  If you place your bet on the proper square where the chicken first decides to “drop”, you’re the winner.  You get a cash prize -- after you clean up the mess.  (I’m really not kidding.  There are videos of the event on YouTube.)

Personally, I’ll stick with snorkeling.

My roaming around Mexico and Brasil came to an abrupt end in December.  My brother had a stroke.  The doctors described it as massive.  I didn’t know what kind of recovery, if any, could be expected.

My sister flew to Michigan to be at his side for a week.  And, when he was able to be released from the hospital, she brought him home with her.  It just so happens that for four months every year, “home” for my sister is Ambergris Caye in Belize.  I happened to be in the “neighborhood”, so I grabbed a taxi, a bus, another taxi, a plane and a golf cart to make my way to my sister’s place.  You may not have ever heard of Ambergris Caye, but it is the number one tourist destination in Belize. 

The town of San Pedro was never designed to be the hub of Belize’s number one tourist destination.  It’s three streets wide.  Two of those three streets are one-way and the most common mode of transportation is a golf cart.  There are already too many golf carts on the roads and development continues north and south of town. 

Much of Ambergris Caye is pretty long and skinny.  In the south end of the island, it’s not more than a ten-minute walk from the bay facing the mainland and the coral reef facing the Caribbean Sea.  My sister lives four and a half miles south of San Pedro.  It’s almost at the tip of the island and about a half hour drive from the nearest paved road.  You can’t plan to go anywhere in a hurry, but being in a hurry is kind of contrary to “island time” anyway.

My sister and her husband host fishing trips for sportsmen who want Caribbean sunshine while most of North America is freezing.  So, they have one main house on the Caribbean side of Ambergris as well as a smaller place on the bay.  I know, it’s a rough life.   In between the two homes is a sandy path, that ten-minute walk, and a wetlands area with spoonbills, herons, egrets and the occasional stork.  Word has it, although I’ve never seen proof, that at least one six-foot crocodile also lives in that wetlands area.

Most of my time in Belize has been quiet and uneventful.  There are no complaints about wearing shorts and t-shirts when I know what the weather is like in Ohio.  But, really, there has been nothing to write home – or in a blog – about.  However, last night a storm blew in. 

It was some storm!

We had dinner at the house on the Caribbean side.  I thought it might be best to get my brother home before the rains came and darkness settled.  The drive on the golf cart was fast, but the bay side of the island was flooded.  I never really noticed there was a seawall of stones along the shore.  Well, when the winds blow in from the north, that stone wall doesn’t do its job.  The entire yard was flooded.  Heavy winds blew plastic patio furniture to and fro.  My nephew, niece, and a couple of fishing guides searched the neighboring grounds hunting and gathering canoes, oars and anything else that might have blown away.  Anything that could be brought inside the house was quickly pulled into dry safety.

It quickly got very dark.  At one point, my nephew had to use one of those oars to chase off that six-foot crocodile who was also interested in some hunting and gathering of his own. How do you chase off a crocodile, you might ask?  You hit him in the head with an oar.  Just saying, if you ever need to know, now you do. 

I have yet to see the crocodile who shares my neighborhood.  He would certainly add some adventure to my experience.  And now that I know to travel with a trusty oar in my hand, I have no worries about the encounter.

Yep, simply unBELIZEable!