The Ring Incident

Despite this being the rainy hurricane season, it still gets quite hot here during the day, compounded by the humidity that accompanies all the rainfall.  A typical day here reaches the mid 90’s, and that hot, sticky air clings to your clothes (and to your back) and never lets go. 
During the rainy season, because of the rain (duh), our village river (the quaintly and inaccurately named Blue Creek), can be challenging to use as a utility.  The river serves as the town washing machine for clothes, the main water source, a fishing hole, and a playground to all the people of our village, us included.  When the rain falls on the mountains that tower over our small mountain village, the Hokeb Ha’ Cave floods, sending seasons’ worth of rainwater gushing down the stream.  This can create a rushing, rising river that quickly overtakes the bridge (which is conveniently enough the only way out of town) that is usually full of debris, negating its use as a cleansing source, and the current is too fast for fishing or swimming. 
I am telling you this because on the fateful day in question, none of these things happened.  For the first time in weeks, we had two solid days with zero rainfall, calming the river and clearing its water of debris.  The current was firm but pleasant, and most of all safe, for cleaning clothing, fishing, and swimming in the river.  On this particularly hot day, we decided to use our lunch hour to go to the river and, as the Mayans say, “take a drop” into the cool, clear water.  Among the lush hills and rainforest that surround our rural village, with the calling of exotic birds and friendly villagers splashing in the cleanest water on the planet, it is impossible to decline the opportunity.  This was a perfect day for swimming; very hot, but a (rare) dry heat that lacked almost any humidity.  It was to be a refreshing dip in cold, fast water that would mimic any nice summer day back home. 
Within minutes of submerging ourselves in the cool, rushing waters, a moment of panic struck me; I could not feel my wedding ring on my left hand.  I had stumbled slightly, and upon catching myself on a sturdy rock in the river, I realized that the current had slipped the band off my ring finger.
Four months ago, this would have been impossible.  Having lost as much weight as I have here (ahem, over forty pounds thanks to the equatorial heat, increased physical activity and Shaun T’s INSANITY Workout Plan ®), my fingers are no longer portly enough to keep my ring on my finger as securely as it once did.  Normally, this isn’t an issue, but if I am cleaning dishes or laundry, or apparently in the river, my ring slips off with ease and I need to remove it before any water-based activity).
So there I was, panicking in the most serene environment I’ll ever live in.  My lovely wife immediately reassured me that it was just an accident, and it was only a ring, and that we would find it.  However, we both knew that the rushing river around us belied the panacea of these thoughts.  We searched for nearly an hour, with the aid of one of the villager’s snorkeling mask, and found nothing.  I was crestfallen.  Although she was putting on a brave face to make me feel better, I knew that my wife was, too.  Our two year wedding anniversary is in six weeks, and this incident really put a damper on the anniversary plans we had been discussing earlier. 
After giving up hope and realizing how impossible it would be to find a small, gold ring in a rushing river that regularly isolates half of southern Belize, we left the river and began the long walk back home.  We sat around and quietly had lunch as we lamented the loss of a symbol of our love and wedding day, and altough the ring itself was unimportant, no replacement ring would ever be the one that she gave me on our wedding day.
It was still hot after work that day, so I suggested we go back to the river and at least enjoy the cool water that was lost on us as we searched the river that morning.  As we walked towards the river, we told every villager that passed that there was a $50 reward for anyone who found the ring and brought it back to us.  While the villagers were enthusiastic about both helping us and the reward, they looked at me with the sad bracing reality that with the river being as fast as it was, there was no way that my ring would ever be found. 
As we waded into the water, its pleasantly cold current washing over our mosquito bite-ridden legs, a glint of silver caught Breezie’s eye below the surface of the water.  She excitedly grabbed the villager’s diving mask and pointed down in the stream.  The metal she saw reflecting in the sunlight wasn’t silver at all; it was the white gold that made my wedding ring two years ago. 
We could not believe our luck.  Not wanting to jinx it, Breezie refused to reach into the current after it, for fear she might knock it loose from the mud and rocks that miraculously caught it from passing into the culverts under the bridge and sending it downstream.  Holding my breath, knowing full well that the only thing separating me from getting my ring back and losing it forever was the clumsy fingers that had lost it in the first place, I slowly reached into the water and pinned the ring against a stone with my index finger.  Slowly but surely securing it around my finger and thumb, I triumphantly lifted my ring out of the water with a Gollum-like enthusiasm to the cheers of local villagers washing in the stream nearby.  Knowing how damn lucky I was to have left the river for two hours after having searched for an hour with a diving mask, I didn’t press my luck.  I bounded out of the water to put my ring inside my Boston Red Sox hat next to my keys, securely on the shore.  It was time to enjoy our find and to cool off on such a hot day.
Walking home in the dusk of that evening, I realized the importance of the metaphor I had been given that day.  Although the things we search for can be right in front of our faces the entire time, sometimes we have to take a breather, put fresh eyes on an old process, and from that get something wonderful.  What an apt metaphor for our challenges as Peace Corps Volunteers; although a process may be heartbreaking and difficult, great things can happen by having persistence, hope, and a genuine belief that what you are supposed to find in life will find you when you least expect it, no matter how fast the world is moving around you.  And to have an awesome wife who is better at spotting shiny things than you are.

so far...

Well, we are all settled in to our new house in Blue Creek. Danny joked that we never had a three bedroom house before the Peace Corps. The funny thing about living in a house though is something always seems to go wrong. Our sink is backed up, the shower exploded water everywhere, the electricity regularly goes out, as well as the water.  Not to mention the critters of every size and shape that wonder into our home. However, I did fall in love with the little frog that visits us almost every night. His name is Sir Hops-a-lot. We've also sort of adopted a puppy that comes over regularly.

I'm learning so many things about home maintenance. It will be handy when I go back to the states!

The nice thing about our house is that it is right on campus. My walk to work takes about two minutes. That is certainly an upgrade over merging freeway lanes and fighting traffic. I like being able to walk and ride the bus to get where I need to go. I do miss my car, but I hope to use it less when I go back to the states.

Differences/Similarities

Morning Routine:

Differences: We wake up about 4:30-5 am without an alarm. Probably because we go to bed so early. We have to turn on all the lights and check for scorpions/spiders before we step on the floor. We have a lot of time to sit and enjoy coffee while listening to the jungle sounds or the rain. Our mornings are not rushed and we simply walk down the little path to get to work.

Similarities: Thanks to our amazing friends and family we have coffee from home. We also eat cereal or oatmeal for breakfast like we did in the states. Our host family fed us duck, fish, eggs, or pork with tortilla for breakfast. I think cereal is a little easier to make.

Afternoon:

Differences: We don't pack our lunch or eat fast food anymore. No more Safeway deli Chinese food for lunch. We mosey back to the house and make some beans w/ tortilla or ramen noodles. Maybe we will eat some soup or pasta. It's funny how much soup we eat despite the heat. It's a Maya thing. Lunchtime is peaceful, slow, and quiet.

Similarities: Not too many similarities here. Our daily routine is so much different from the states!

Evening:

Differences: Danny and I work out together every single day. We make dinner rather than ordering out or eating at a restaurant. I'm actually learning how to cook! We don't have cable or Internet at home so we enjoy reading or watching movies on our laptops. Sometimes we meet up with our coworkers and cook dinner together. Cooking is a great way to make friends. Plus, one of my coworkers makes the best curry chicken I've ever had-and I lived in India! She's going to teach me how to make it soon. The biggest difference is that we usually go to bed around 8:30-9pm.

Similarities: We watch a lot of the same movies/tv shows on our laptops that we used to watch on TV. Evening time was always a time to reconnect and talk about our day and we continue to do that. I always worked out after work and I still do that here.

Weekends:

Differences: We take the bus to Punta Gorda town to go shopping and see friends. The bus ride is about 45 minutes long and half the trip is on a dirt road. We have to plan ahead though because the road leading out of our village regularly floods. I used to enjoy hiking on the weekends, going to bookstores, jogging, and going for drives. Now, we must stay in Blue Creek on the weekends because the only bus into town leaves at 5:15am and returns at 11:30am. I spend my weekends relaxing, reading, cooking, working out, swimming in the river, and going on walks around the village.

Similarities: We've made so many great friends here. We usually meet up with people for breakfast on Saturday mornings. Weekends at home were relaxing and the same is true here.

One simple piece of advice a friend gave us before moving to Belize is "Remember that you are moving there, not camping for two years." Before I joined the Peace Corps my mind focused on the adventure an travel side of the experience. You forget that you will be building a normal life and routine. I never thought about the little things like doing dishes in my house, fixing clogged sinks, and sweeping out the spider grave yard that builds up after killing spiders all day. I never really thought about dressing professionally and going to work Monday through Friday. The best part of the two year commitment is the ability to build a life here. I care about this community because it is my home and the people who live here are my friends.