Pixie in Paradise

Some of you know the prequel to how I came to live in Belize and some of you don’t, but that’s alright. The origin story will be posted at a later date but so much has happened in the three and a half days that I’ve been living here that we have to just dive right in. You probably won’t regret that – and so far neither do I.

One of my dear friends in Arizona will randomly text the most insulting – but all meant in fun and jest – messages to me out of the blue, and they always make me laugh out loud. Hard. His text on Tuesday was, “Has the tiny ho landed yet?” The answer is, yes Nick, the tiny ho has landed.

Whether we’re strangers or loved ones, maybe this will inspire you to begin or continue that spiritual journey for yourselves that seemed out of reach. I’m American and not financially wealthy by any means or definition but I have so many important things in abundance – security, support, endless resources for wisdom and advice and more amazing people in my life than should be allowed to one small, feisty human. And now, I live on an extremely small island in Central America. HOW does that even happen? I’m going to try and break it down for you but first some of the stories of these first few days have got to come out, because if I continue to have so many adventures and observations at such a rapid rate, I will need to stay at home writing constantly, instead of having said adventures.

First off, I’d like to thank Customs for not charging me for all the luggage I brought into Belize. However, next time maybe stick a camera in my ass because it will feel less invasive than what you did to my suitcases. I had no idea I looked that suspicious. Although in their defense, the four suitcases and one backpack I brought weighed two or three times my body weight, so I understand why they were suspicious. As per usual, I was getting feisty every time he opened a suitcase and started pulling contents out. The agent even went so far as to open zipped bags of items. For example, one of my toiletry bags which had not only a supply of my daily medications, but some prophylactic travel medications that my family doctor prescribed in case I had to go all “Google MD” and treat myself. I brought two survival knives, an old school stovetop coffee maker (because it’s my favorite), a hidden camera detector and any number of other truly suspicious items. I mean the big black vibrator and endless supply of high-end condoms just screamed “sex worker,” by themselves! Safe sex worker, but sex worker nonetheless. I even brought a tattoo machine battery charger – or whatever it’s called – for a friend here on the island who I met during the first trip in March. And that thing looks like a tiny grenade (or something related to the items I just described).

And for those of you who haven’t heard the story yet, here’s a very brief (let’s hope) high-level overview of the situation here to keep you clued in until the full details are revealed:

I was in Belize five months ago. I loved it. I loved the ocean and seafood and the slow pace. I unexpectedly got an extra bonus day – a sixth day – at the end of my five-day trip. I met someone for five minutes on my the fifth day. I ran into him again on the sixth day for five minutes. Fast forward to five months later (this past Monday, three days ago), we moved into a tiny apartment I found online and rented, while 2,000 miles away.

There are so many gaps that need to be filled in, the why’s, what’s, who’s, ‘da fucks’ and all questions in between them. The goal and huge part of this journey was just in the planning and getting here for such an extended stay, back to the tiny island in Belize I only spent a few days on once.