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At in the morning the mist was still thick. It is what I have always liked about Belmopan, the capital of Belize. Even though it seems to be a city built around a shabby bus terminal first, and then the Parliament and ministries of Government like an afterthought, Belmopan has a rustic charm that is unlike any other West Indian or even world capital. In some ways, you think of it as being in the middle of nowhere and because of its height above sea level, the top of nothing, but the city grows on you, espe-cially after a visit to the bustling, cosmopolitan though rural, polyglot market where for one Belize dollar fifty cents US you can get eight bananas or 10 oranges.
They sell everything in the market. The Mennonites fill one corner with finished furniture, and take orders for everything from chairs to houses which they deliver by truck ; next to them is someone from Dangriga with a trailerload of different tools and parts, drills and screwdrivers trying to loosen your pockets; the Taiwanese with the huge guavas they grow out on their highway compounds - some sell birds, dogs and small turtles, others sell orchids and cheap jewellery, although sometimes you can get jade artefacts at a good price; the Mayans with everything else from fresh produce to pepper sauce, slate carvings and big 'horse' plantains, meat and potatoes, tortillas and butter, rice and peas with stewed chicken, first edition books and many stalls selling used clothing which people snatch up, underwear and all.
Luck of the drawers, I suppose. Four years after I left Belize, I returned last week to spend a few days in Belmopan. It was as if time had stood still, especially cocooned in the morning mist that covers the city in late November to early February. My first home in Belmopan was set in the midst of an orange plantation off the aptly named Humming Bird Highway. Early in the morning, the mist swirled around and covered the view in all directions, from the distant hills to a wooden shed only 20 yards away.
It was a benign isolation, a feeling that the world was mine and that time was a foreign magazine with no place or relevance to us. I had some interesting experiences in Belize. First, there was the spider from Placencia.
