Pixie in Paradise

Before moving outside Tucson, Arizona, I could find most everything I needed to cook all my meals for a week at one grocery store. I had the option of going to the store to buy it all myself or, I could place an order through an online app on my phone or laptop. Then I had the option of picking up the groceries myself or having them delivered to my door. There were probably hundreds of stores that sold food items back home, not even including restaurants. 

On this five-mile long, one-mile wide island, there are are approximately 10-12 grocery stores ranging from a tiny spot you’d stop at for a bag of chips, a mango, or a bottle of beer (which you open with the bottle opener at checkout and walk right out with); or, one of the larger main street shops with oat milk, gluten free pasta and a homemade ice cream counter. Sounds idyllic, right? Sit back and chug that beer you just opened at the smaller store… Because the truth is, this island is an absolute nightmare for a germaphobe or anyone with food allergies or a weakened immune system. Food is made out of homes, kitchens without air conditioning and sometimes without refrigeration, I suspect. There aren’t a lot of personal boundaries on this overpopulated island and people are so friendly, preferring to greet each other by shaking hands and hugging. Or handing you food or drinks to try, and in my case feeding me strange plants. Just last week I was even sitting by the ocean and inadvertently babysitting two children! You read that correctly. One I’ve met once before, the other a complete stranger, yet she sat not across from me with her ice cream cone but on the large pink wooden chair with me.

I am a self-professed germaphobe, however, that got cured pretty quickly the minute I landed here. The airport in Belize City was way more crowded than when we were here in March and way less efficient. This was partly due to the flight attendants on the DFW to BZE flight not handing out our customs declaration forms in-flight like they usually do. Instead, we had to all stand in the middle of the airport entrance with our carry ons and fill out these applications up against walls, or thighs or our luggage. I happened to be standing outside the men’s restroom to fill out mine. No comment.

As mentioned before there’s probably not any health inspectors (or building inspectors – remember the water falling through the floor?). There’s a layer of dust over much of what is purchased from the grocery stores which makes me wonder how old the products are, and their meat cases make me just a little nervous as many of the frozen packages have too many ice crystals inside of them. Because of varying inventory, the condition and appearance in and overall availability, grocery shopping feels like a sport out here. 

Foraging for ingredients to make dinner last night went something like this. Rasta had a hamburger the night before and I haven’t gotten acquainted with the seafood market yet, so chicken seemed a likely contender. After seeing frozen chicken legs at a grocery market with enough ice inside its package to double as a decoration snow globe, I headed for the butcher shop. I purchased two pounds of meat like I did the week before when I got some beautiful beef liver for a tasty liver and onion dinner. The butcher looked at me and asked how many people would be eating? When I said the meal was for two people, he said that was too much. To which I replied, he hadn’t seen this guy eat. Constantly. So he let me buy the two pounds I came for. We finished all the leftovers yesterday morning.

Thanking him for the chicken I went to the first grocery store for fresh produce: okra, celery, carrots and red bell pepper. At the next market I picked up onions, garlic, and red curry paste. Excited, realizing I could finally make Rasta a Thai curry meal which he’d seen me make back home when I’d send a photo of my dinners. We communicated for those first five months through video chat and photos of our lives, and many times that included pictures of our meals, completely different fare from what the other one was eating. He always professed his love for all vegetables and used to express his appreciation for the many salad photos I’d send, wishing he could be there to try it. True to his word he does indeed love all veggies, and will eat most anything except pork. He’s also over the moon grateful when I cook a meal or make him sandwiches. I honestly think sandwiches is his love language.

Keeping this in mind I picked up another loaf of bread, chicken bologna (it’s so delicious) and pre-sliced “American”-style cheese for his breakfast sandwiches. Throw a couple of eggs and some veggies inside of it and he is in heaven. We don’t buy regular bologna with all the animal parts in it because Rasta has had an aversion to pork since childhood. And while I’m not a connoisseur on the subject, I don’t seem to recall chicken bologna being sold in the US, so he has really lucked out on the Belizean deli meat front.

I make it home with all of these groceries, dripping with sweat as usual in this humidity, when I realize I failed to retrieve coconut milk for the curry. For those of us that have eaten our fair share of red, green or even yellow curries, you know that using too much of that spicy mix or not mixing it with cooling coconut milk, is asking for a bathroom emergency. Or is that just me?

I then go to the fourth store to get a can of coconut milk, some pasta for another meal, and toilet paper – thinking ahead. Side note: a lot of the toilet paper is scented here and I can’t even deal with this concept. Fake chemicals and fragrances are almost impossible for me to wear, preferring essential oil mixes in moisturizing carrier oils, like coconut, jojoba and grapeseed. Toilet paper made in Guatemala or Mexico with a synthetic fragrance to wipe my “undercarriage” just absolutely gives me nightmares. Therefore, I will be going back to a store soon to sniff an entire shelf of toilet paper to check its smell and purchase a fragrance free product. Seems like a lot of work but the labels are all in Spanish and sometimes there aren’t any keywords on the front to let this gringa know what’s in the product.