Crime and punishment in Belize City: the murder capital of the country

Huge abandoned houses. The terrible smell of sewage. A guy sleeps on the pavement in broad sunlight. A rusty iron bridge belongs more in some prison movie than in a tropical holiday destination. Old men shout at us from across the street. Dented, miserable-looking cars, rows and rows of closed shops. A little girl runs on the pavement full of holes. This apocalyptic atmosphere belongs to Belize City. Continue Reading →

Blood, sweat and weeds: a day in the life on the Stardust Sanctuary Farm

I ignore the blisters on my rugged hands as I tear a vine with a seemingly never-ending root from the soil. Yes, those hands that are routinely darting over the keyboard and performing other delicate tasks. After all, we become writers because we’re afraid of hard physical work, the heavy lifting and the spine-breaking labour in construction or on the field. I twist out yet another turf of grass, toss it on the ever-growing pile and decapitate a thorny weed with a hoe. I won’t make the mistake again of pulling it until my hands bleed. The dark clay stains my fingers, stains I’ll not manage to get off of my hands with even the most generous helping of soap. Continue Reading →

Safety in Belize: tied up for two hours and other stories

Entering a new culture, you often wonder: is it safe? In Belize as well, we questioned the safety. If you don’t know what to expect, you expect the worst. The first week in my cute little student town in Tartu I walked around with a pocket knife in my palm. Just because I didn’t know the place and the people. Once it was dark outside, my brain started to emit fear.
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