No Heels Allowed, Right....?

Yesterday, I reached out by email to my new friend....one of the ladies I met at Rolson's last week. Mary...affectionately referred to as Ms. Mary or her official title, Reverend Mary is a sweet, eccentric and lively 61-year-old Belizean newbie from Michigan (among other places). She responded to the email I sent and invited me to her initiation into the San Ignacio Chapter of the Rotary Club. I enthusiastically accepted the invitation.

Downtown San Ignacio

Social life here I come! I am determined to have a slew of events and functions to attend while I am here. San Ignacio isn't exactly the touristy, beachy and party place that folks in the US think of when they think of Belize. It is on the more Fresno end of the California stick (for my DMV folks...the parallel would be Annapolis). It is beautiful in its own right, though. I went to market yesterday and was enthralled with the sights, smells and sounds of a vibrant downtown. BBQ chicken, tortillas, and salbutas all being cooked by street vendors. Fanta soda poured in plastic bags with straws to drink. Dance hall and reggae coming from some unseen DJ...the music just poured into the streets.

The invitation to the Rotary Club initiation was my opportunity to meet people and perhaps work on a date or two while I'm here. Oh, and also to WEAR HEELS! My host parent told me he would drop me off, and my plan was to take a cab home so walking on the rocky roads was a non-issue. I got dressed up in a nice professional outfit (knowing who and what Rotarians are) and put a pair of strappy Aldo wedges. CUTE!!

The party was held at Aquada Hotel in Santa Elena, a quaint "resort" run by the outgoing president of the chapter. I walked into a party with an open bar, seafood appetizers, full buffet dinner and nothing but old(er) and married couples. The closest I got to a date was Frank, a 60-something man who used to live near damn near everywhere I have (Gaithersburg, MD and Alameda, CA). Ms. Mary described him as "not dashing but single, solid, compassionate and honest." My daddy would have a heart attack. The night ended with 12 women and one gay man dancing to seventies funk and disco music. 

I'm finding that being a single woman in this town is tough. Maybe a young single Black American woman. Or maybe I'm just in a funk about my perpetual "single" relationship status. I don't know why but it seems like there are only a few boxes to check here--married, in a relationship, under 25 or retired.  I'm not really into the white backpackers who sleep on the streets either.

Ms. Mary's friend agreed to take me home...a very curt British woman who, I believe was actually drunk. Though she agreed, she didn't seem like she wanted to take me all the way home. I told her she could drop me off at Rolson's and I'd walk down the hill to my house. 

I got three paces out the car and she was gone. I had to walk down a steeply graded unpaved hill, with  no street lights and a barking dog that seemed to be getting closer....I have on my strappy Aldo three inch wedges. I am taking slanted one inch steps down this hill in order to prevent myself from slipping on a big ass rock and busting my head open. The dog is also moving through the grass to my left, but I can barely see him. I pick up a rock to throw just in case he lunges at me. 

After almost slipping a couple of times, I decided to take my shoes off and brave the pain of the rocks in my feet. I figured, if these damn kids can walk up and down this street barefoot, I can endure it for just a moment. Panic kicked in only after I reached the bottom of the grade and had to run up the stairs past the geckos, lizards and whatever else was in the bushes making those awful sounds. 

No Heels Allowed, Right? Right....