The wrong trousers

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Where I stayed

Wolfgang's nice little international paradise

(Corozal Town hotels)

Flag of Belize Corozal Town, Corozal, Belize
Saturday, October 9, 2010

I dont know if many of you get wet patches under your arms when you sweat. I was suprised to hear some people are immune from the heat sensitive disease, which is why I left it open. I can openly say that, even if snowing, my good 'ole faithful underarms will find the moisture to perspire.

You can imagine what I am like in a humid/hot climate like Belize and I was more that pleased to get the chance to wash my clothes this morning under the supervision of Wolfgang's, my latest couch host, washing machine. In went everything colours and all. And what colours there are! I made it my mission pretty early on (at a pool party in Portland) that I would swap every item of clothing for something else- clothing or brick-a-brac- along the way. This includes a pirate Tshirt, a pair of lime green trousers, a Mother of Mary candel and even a lip balm- just to name a few. Said trousers are now one of my favourites and would brighten up even the most dull of wardrobes. In they all went into the washing machine and off I went to Corozol town centre.

They centre is quite different to anywhere else I have been (and makes me wonder if my desire to return home was because I thought I had seen, essentially, all that Central America had to offer- because I might have already changed my mind). At the boarder I paid my $25 dollar exit fee to the Mexican Gov. and crossed the 'free zone' into an English speaking oasis. The customs people were in their office when I arrived, obviously having a blast and laughing histerically in their little room. One man was notified of my arrival and as he walked out of his office and up to the counter where they stamp the passport he decided to make a phone call on his mobile. He looked though my passport whilst telling his friend in a Jamican, almost incomprehensable, english accent that he couldnt come to the party that night. It was a friday night after all and he had been forced to come to work. I was buzzing with excitement as I listened to the strange noises coming out of his mouth. They call it Kriol and it is a combination between english and spanish... and something else I cant quite think of. I then hitched a ride on the back of a truck into town (the most thrilling experience EVER!) and made friends with a hotdog seller called Joe, who was also obviously the town drug dealer. We are going to church with each other tomorrow. This morning on my second visit to town I met a few lovely ex-pats and I felt very at home.

Returning from town I went to get my washing. Im sure Wolfgang could hear me giggle all the way from his basement as I pulled out a pair of lime green Tshirts, lime green underwear, lime green socks and obviously my lovely Limegreen pants- which obviously had enough colour in them to keep their own sparkle as well as transfer it on to everything else. Plus I found out another thing. Colour transfers even more stongly (very bad english- excuse me) onto sweat stained areas- which leaves me with a passive green tshirt and huge gaping green underarms. And I swear- IT WAS A COLD WASH! Oh well. Maybe the orange glow on my chest is not the effect of a beautiful tan but the exchange passed on from my resently purchased orange Tshirt.

One just cant prepare for these things.