My Belizean Home

Belize is not my first rodeo when it comes to living abroad.  I first got to try it out when I studied abroad in Spain.  I had a blog then, too, but as I started this one, I didn’t want to do exactly the same thing, simply logging what tourist destinations I’d been to over the weekend.  I wanted this one to delve slightly below the surface.  In my previous blog, I posted pictures of my apartment because it was my first time signing my own lease and my three roommates were all from different countries, and to be quite honest, I felt cool.  I was proud that I was able to navigate the Spanish rental process and use my language skills to negotiate.  

I thought about a similar post for this blog as I got to my site here in Belize, but I decided not to do it.  Something seemed weird about making a big deal on my blog about where I live—mainly because I live here with a family.  Posting pictures with their belongings in every room felt vaguely exploitative.  I didn’t think that people who randomly stumbled upon a post like that would understand the context.  The home does not have a thatched roof: would they think it was too nice for a Peace Corps Volunteer who has agreed to living in hardship?  The paint is peeling from the walls due to extreme humidity: would they think that the home is in disrepair?  I couldn’t rationalize putting that post out there, open to the Internet’s judgement, without informed consent of everyone who lives here.

TLDR; I did not post a “this-is-my-Peace-Corps-house” post because it is not my home alone.  Furthermore, the idea of my Peace Corps home has come to mean so much more than the structure made from cement blocks in which we live.  It is the gloriously cool breeze that you can catch on our front patio around four in the afternoon.  It is the anticipation of a good family dinner when we spend Saturday morning stuffing tamales.  It is the din of chickens, roosters, dogs, cats, and a pig that once was so unfamiliar to me but has now faded into background noise.  It is the slightly burnt marshmallow smell on burning days in the sugar cane fields, 50 yards from our back door.  It is the warmth radiating from a stack of fresh tortillas tightly wrapped in a towel in the middle of the table.  It is the comfort that I feel when I am here in this house: home.  

Love always, 

Jess 

#BloggingAbroad 

Challenge #2 = HOME