Woke up at 6:00 this morning. Laid around until 6:30, then got up and showered, finished packing, etc. Walked to the Raddison for breakfast.

Everything, or nearly everything, is closed in Belize on Sunday. So, as I took a walk around the Fort George area and out to the Swing Bridge. It was like a ghost town.

I think I could get used to being an ex-pat for half the year. Spend a few months out of the year in the Caribbean. If you were careful with your money, you could do so at a minimum of cost—probably as little as $1,000 a month if you stayed out of the upscale tourist establishments.

This trip has been the best thing I have done in a long time. I have met a lot of people, learned a lot about Belize, about America, and about myself. I want to hang onto the feeling of Belize when I go home, but I can feel the anxieties and pressures forming already.

I spent the morning relaxing and walking around the Fort George area as far as the Swing Bridge. I didn’t feel comfortable going much further on my own.

Now that I have less than three hours left in this country, I find it’s hard to leave—like parting from a good friend you know you won’t see for some time. You want each moment to last. But, Victor has just pulled up in his van and I’m running out of time.

By 12:10, I’ve checked in with the airline, paid my departure tax ($20) and bought a map of Belize. Victor, in his last gesture as a good tour guide, sold me his copy of the new Punta Rebels CD. It cost me $20, which seems a bit high, but then it’d cost me at least that to track down a copy at home—if I could even find a copy.

The Punta Rebels play a type of music called "punta" which is very popular here in Belize. It has strong African roots with a heavy Caribbean influence. The Punta Rebels display a great range in musical style and talent and I am happy to be able to bring home a CD.

I had a strange coincidence happen last night. Actually, probably not that strange for Belize. I wrote out a postcard to Clifton and addressed it. I wanted to be sure I had the address correct, so I showed it to the woman behind the desk at the Raddison. She said, "It looks fine. You know, I’m from the Toledo District, and actually, from Forest Home, and you know what, now that I look at this, Clifton is my cousin!" When Clifton left us yesterday, he’d spent the night at his aunt’s house with this very woman!

And, with the roar of the jet engines, I am gone. Memories of Belize and Spanish Lookout Caye are already beginning to fade. In the jet flying over the United States, I think about tomorrow morning and the fight to get through the traffic and into Washington, D.C. At that same time, in Belize, a fisherman will be pulling his dory among the mangroves of the Drowned Cayes looking for fish.

I am not sure my grandmother would agree with what I have done with her money. She probably would have wanted me to pay for college classes or invest in my future. But, for me, this trip has been one of the greatest things she could have done. I’ve learned a lot about myself, about Belize, and about the things that are really important in life.

I realize that as time passes I will fall into the same routines and feel the same stresses as before this trip. I hope that I will be able to visit this beautiful and charming country again. Maybe next time, I’ll head south and look up my friend Clifton and see his farm and meet his family. But for now, I’ll have to be content with the realization that anytime I want to, I can look at my pictures, read this story, and remember the two weeks I spent in Belize.