Floyd and Other Stories
Trip Start
Feb 05, 2008
1
7
9
Trip End
Feb 13, 2008
San Pedro, Belize
Tuesday, February 12, 2008
My day started with a walk on the beach while Frank was still in bed. I walked up to "our beach house" and just stood outside and looked for a while. A guy came up next to me and said, "A fixer-upper, huh?" I said, "Yeah, but it's all location, location." I really do like that neighborhood.
Then it was on to the seminar. It was actually very informative. I already knew some of the things they went over, but it's good to hear about it from so-called experts. Like Jim the Sausage King of San Pedro. But really, it was inspiring in a way, hearing how other people have done it. We found out more about the Qualified Retiree Program (QRP) and how we could use it to import household goods duty-free. That would be a huge savings. And, yes, I do qualify since the minimum age is 45. Something to look into more closely. We got some good information about buying property, too. Things we may want to consider more closely also. I hope we keep in touch with the others in the group. It would have been fun to continue on the trip to other spots in Belize, but we wanted to concentrate on San Pedro anyway.
Floyd
On Sunday we decided we should have a beach day. We had spent time in the sun on our balcony, but had yet to actually lay out on the beach or go in the water. We laid in the uncomfortable wooden slat chairs for a while, but got too hot and achy. So we waded into the water and it was so nice. We didn't venture out too far because there's sea grass about 50 feet out and we didn't want to deal with it. Frank found a coconut floating in the water and, doing his best Gilligan imitation, broke it open on the rocks. He finally got to the inner shell and when that cracked open the putrid-smelling coconut water came gushing out. We thought, people drink this? I guess it had turned bad. Who knows? After we washed our hands in the sand to rub the smell off, we noticed the approaching rain clouds. Very quickly, it began to sprinkle, then pour. We ran up to the covered beach-side verandah at Ruby's to wait it out. I had noticed a black man with a rastafarian hat sitting at a table when we first went out. He was still there, but I sat with my back to him across the deck and didn't really notice him. There are lots of Jamaican transplants hanging around. I heard a soft American voice say something about the weather. I was wondering who said it as Frank agreed with him. Surprisingly, it turned out to be his voice. He was sitting with a violin case on the table, writing. Frank and I started a conversation with him. Or rather, we listened as he started telling his story. He had lived in San Pedro about five years, but said he was ready to leave. He had a string of bad luck lately. He moved down here to be dean of the medical school in San Pedro. He told us he had gone to Harvard, Yale and Julliard. In fact, he was sitting there composing a piece for the violin. Several times later in the week we heard him playing downstairs. He said he lost his position as dean without going into details. It didn't bother him, though, as he spent his time starting a music school, writing screenplays and composing songs. When he decided it was time to make money again, he became manager at a French bakery/restaurant. He said it was quite successful. He staged musical events which were well-attended. But then the owner suddenly turned on him and forced him to leave. The worst thing about it, he said, was that his best friend, who had been working at the bakery with him, decided to abandon him and stay on with the owner. He claimed to have no idea why he was let go and was pretty distraught about it. The only thing the owner told him was that he was too happy. He said there had been rumors that he was a drug user, but he insisted he wasn't. At this point the rain had passed and we felt it was time to move on. The next day, talking to Collette about how everyone knows everyone and you can't always believe what you hear, she mentioned a guy who claims he went to Harvard, Yale and Julliard. Floyd. Whatever the truth is, he seemed like a nice guy. I wish him well.
