Food and Flora and Fauna

Coming from the Land of Mutant Squirrels (ie. Kingston), spending a week in a place with animals that are more likely to have scales or shells than fur is quite a change. But I'm here to tell you that those animals are not only neat to watch, but delicious as well.

No, I didn't eat any lizard, but I did have enough lobster to ... well... I don't know how to finish that sentance. But it was a lot of lobster. Lobster tails, lobster with Italian sauce, lobster salad, lobster alfredo, even the famed lobster burrito -- I had it all, and it was all delicious. It didn't bother me in the least that the literal translation of the Spanish word for lobster is "locust of the sea". I don't care how funny they look, they're delicious. As were the mussels and the conch and all the other gross-looking sea creatures I ate.

As for the fauna which I didn't eat, we went on a snorkelling expedition to the barrier reef (which you could see from the island -- it was weird to see waves breaking a mile offshore). While the fact that I'm basically blind without my glasses was a bit worrisome, I discovered that water is a wonderful magnifying medium. I couldn't count the scales or anything, but I could certainly see quite a bit of the beautiful reef and it's fishy denizens (including one black fish with electric blue fins that I followed around for 10 minutes).

My favourite experience was, however, the "Shark and Ray Alley", where friendly meat eaters will sidle up the boat looking for the guide's handouts of sardines. Most of the rest of the people on the tour were very frightened by the notion of having sting rays (the nurse sharks were shy and took off pretty quickly) swimming around their legs, but I am one of those freaks who is made braver when other people are scared. I stayed in the water, got ticked by rays, and petted one for a while (they are unimaginably soft). It was great. My only problem with snorkelling was that the rather rough waves kept sending salt water into my air tube, but that minor irritant was worth it for the serene overhead views of a beautiful reef.

Our expedition (later in the week) around the end of the island on rented kayaks was less inspiring in terms of what we saw, but there's something very satisfying about being able to sneak up on a pelican or a heron, or try (fultilely) to balance a large orange starfish on the end of your paddle. We never did see any crocodiles while out in the kayaks though, and I'm still not sure if I'm disappointed or grateful.

It's funny -- writing this all out now makes it sound so exotic, but at the time it seemed pretty commonplace. There were so many neat animals and trips to the reef around that (like beautiful ancient churches in Europe) you get very blase about it pretty quickly. Every so often, though, I would realize how different this place was from my four-season home -- like when I asked the owner of our B&B where she got the beautiful flowers for our rooms. She said she cut them from her garden, and when I asked what she did when they stopped blooming, she gave me a strange look and said "They always bloom."

A land where none of the animals need fur, where the flowers are always in bloom, where the second-longest barrier reef in the world is just in your backyard -- it's a wonder-filled place to visit, but it only reinforces my sense that while other places may be more interesting, Canada is home.

[four down, one more Belize post to go -- I'm almost done! Woo!]