Still Not Retired

From file written March 21, 1993

Backtracking to the disastrous weather of a week ago, the storm that bred the blizzard of the century began life off the coast of South America.

We first learned about it when increasing winds made the captain of the cruise ship Caribbean Prince question the safety of sailing to the Bay Islands of Honduras on their final cruise of the season. On Friday (March 12th), Alex and the captain called a company in the East that custom-designs weather reports for clients. They predicted winds up to 50 miles-per-hour and 10- to 14-foot seas in the passage the cruise ship would have to make. That would be deadly for a boat with six-foot draft and a load of geriatric passengers. The cruise ship’s captain used an alternative plan that kept the ship safely behind the reef in Belizean waters.

Heavy winds hit Belize City the morning of the 13th. The temperature dropped about twenty degrees to our coldest of the year.

The Esso tanker arrived at dawn on Sunday, March 14th, severely buffeted by strong winds and heavy seas between Puerto Limón, Costa Rica, and Belize. The captain was in our office Monday morning (15th) and said that, whereas his tanker can roll up to 20 degrees in bad weather, she went over 35 degrees on this trip. He was not sure she would come back upright. The vessel was well battened down for the trip, but even so, bookcases tore lose under the rolling; heavy, “immovable” things sailed across cabins; and he lost all of his documents that were needed to enter Belize under the welter of debris in his cabin. He said wryly that at 4:00 am he was sitting in the middle of the mess making up a new set of documents.

While he was here, the captain telephoned his office in Panama. Apparently the storm caused chaos there. Ships were tossed into each other; the canal was jammed so that nothing could move; and it was a near disaster.

 

It was an hellacious week. The good thing was that we had much more export cargo than usual for the European container ship that loaded today. The bad thing was that shippers didn’t tell us what their plans were until the last moment so that there was a madhouse of booking changes to be telephoned to the controlling office in Miami, refrigerated containers to be checked and sent thither and yon, and last-minute issuing of (or changes in) bills of lading and manifests (18 copies of each per set).

Things still were a madhouse when we closed for the weekend. Alex was out at the port, and I fielded telephone calls from the house. It all worked out. I finally settled down to my standard TGIF beer.

 

The weekend has seemed shorter than usual. I got a few things done, but seem to have a pile of stuff I never got to. Think I’ll take tomorrow afternoon off if things are going smoothly in the office, and tackle all the things I should have done yesterday and today.

I dedicated Saturday to finishing up tax returns. I had held off because I heard a rumor that medical expenses now are deductible. No publicity about it. Verified the matter, and photocopied reams of stuff from last year’s sessions in Atlanta. We can deduct the 20% not covered by insurance, to a limit of bz$1,000 (us$500). It’s not much, but everything helps. Our deadline is March 31st, so I really needed to wrap everything up. I rather enjoy doing them. Our Belize returns are a straightforward one-page deal. Nothing like the wilderness you have to wade through in the U.S.

For some reason I don’t really understand, I do Alex’s tax return as well as my own. It’s probably fear of his ending up in jail because he would forget to file.

 

In May, Alex and María will meet Carli and Tom on the Caribbean Prince for the cruise from Fort Lauderdale up the intacoastal waterway to Rhode Island. I’ll have my annual stint of managing the office alone.

My break comes in August when Carli has invited me to visit them. I’ll go out late in the month and be back before the September national holidays when Alex and María might want to take a long weekend. I have forgotten the dates, but I’m going to get to Palo Alto on a Friday and leave on a Monday, giving us a week with two weekends. I would happily stay two weeks, but think this is long enough for two people who both work full time. Besides, I want to be invited back some day.

 

From file written March 28, 1993

I’m off mid-week for a three-day Air France conference in Salvador. Fortunately, it occurred to me (late and casually) that I should think about whether I needed a visa. I have a book giving all the requirements for every country, so I glanced in it for reassurance. I did not get any. Salvador has a list of a couple of dozen countries whose nationals do not require visas; the U.S. is not among them.

I finally tracked down the Consulate of Salvador in our capital, Belmopan, by telephone, and asked them about a visa. I was assured that 1) I needed one, and 2) the only place I could get it was Belmopan.

“Do you mean that I have to drive over a hundred miles and miss a half day at the office to get a visa?” I exploded. I was aware of raising my voice, which probably was received on the other end as a screech.

Friday morning I was at the entrance to the Western Highway at 7:30. I was back at 10:00. The drive was pleasant enough. At about the halfway mark I ran into fog, which lasted all the way to Belmopan, but it was hazy rather than dense. Traffic was light. The young Salvadoranean woman in the Consulate could not have been more charming or helpful. I apologized for my spontaneous reaction of the day before. She insisted on giving me a three-year multiple-entry visa, which will carry through the life of my passport.

I have no plans to return to Salvador, but who knows? I had two delightful visits to Salvador years ago. Now, although the war is over, there are rumblings about the Human Rights Commission report on atrocities. I do not intend to set foot out of the unexciting but probably pleasant Camino Real, where the conference is being held. I have been reminding myself that if I hear gun fire or bombs, I am not to rush to the window to see what’s happening, but should dive under the bed instantly, dignity be damned.

 

From file written April 19, 1993

For weeks everyone asks everyone else where they are going to Easter. I constantly get commiseration when I say that I am staying home. People simply cannot believe what a delight it is to me to have this free time to catch up on all the things I don’t have time to do during my working weeks. I enjoy the company of my dogs, being able to do things when and if I feel like it, the sense of accomplishment, the leisure to stop and read for a while, if I choose. My life has been so full of wonderful family and friends that whether they are with me now or not, I feel surrounded by them.

 

From file written July 3, 1993

One of the nice things to happen recently is our being appointed agents for Laser Lines, a Swedish company. They have joined the consortium called CAROL, which has revised their European/Caribbean service and added two new Partners. We have been CGM (French Line) agents since CAROL began serving Belize. Amusingly, it was CGM’s regional sales director who urged me to approach Laser and ask for consideration as their agents here. Both Alex and I have some reservations about representing two companies in the same service. However, Belize Estate (BEC) already represents three of the CAROL Partners. This will even things up slightly. We know we can be fair in our handling of the two clients. This situation of multiple agencies, and representing competitors is quite usual through this area.

We know literally nothing about Laser. The people we have been dealing with by telephone and fax have impressed us. When we had questions about a couple of points in the Agency Agreement, they compromised graciously. We understand they are aggressive at soliciting freight in Europe. That will be a help.

This new service has been designed to cut transit time between Europe and the Caribbean and to offer fixed-day weekly service. Both will be a big asset here. Instead of the “capital ships” of the CAROL fleet calling at all twenty-odd ports, they will do a shorter circuit. A feeder service will tie some of the northern Caribbean Islands and Central American into the schedule.

Two feeder ships alternating weeks will be attended by the agent of the company that owns the ship. As things stand, BEC will be handling both ships for the first six months. Then when the ships are rotated, one will be CGM’s and one, Laser’s, so we will attend and stevedore a ship every week for the next six months. That means a six-month lean period with no stevedoring income and six months of relentless work but good return. We’ll survive, but I never have considered feast-or-famine the ideal way to live.

Laser has promised to send me some information about the company so that I can do some promotion. Can’t wait to find out something about them.

 

From letter dated November 7, 1993

The sales manager from the CGM regional office in Puerto Rico was here the end of the week. Tim is a delightful young Englishman of 31, about 6′ 5" tall, well built, exceptionally handsome, quiet but relaxed, and with a charming sense of humor. I adore him despite the fact that I feel like a cross between Mutt and Jeff and his grandmother. On the way into town from the airport, something he said made me realize that he considers a trip to Belize in the same category as a trip to Darkest Africa.

Tim came specifically to call on the The Citrus Company of Belize (CCB). This was our second trip down to Stann Creek to see them. CCB is our biggest client. They anticipate an enormous increase in exports to Europe with the introduction of a new product early in 1994. We all have worked our hearts out to get their traffic. CGM offered them an excellent deal. Our only problem is getting a regular and sufficient supply of refrigerated containers. CGM has solved that one and Tim wanted to discuss it with them.

Anyway, Thursday we had torrential rains. I dressed in my newest and smartest tailored outfit, then waded through ankle-deep water in my new shoes to get to my hairdresser. I had no idea whether Tim’s plane could get in – whether the noon Maya flight could take us south – whether the afternoon flight could return us to Belize. I stuffed my briefcase with two umbrellas and bare minimum necessities in case we were stuck at the Pelican Beach Hotel overnight. Fortunately, the rains stopped and the schedule worked.

When we got to the sodden dirt strip at Stan Creek, I announced that we would walk to the hotel. The plan was for us to have lunch there and for the CCB people to pick us up afterwards. I forgot that, on our January trip (where there was a mixup in plans), a car picked us up at the airstrip, drove around a bit, then deposited us back at the hotel temporarily.

Tim was appalled when I blithely announced that we would walk to the hotel from the airstrip.

“It’s miles!” he protested.

“Oh no,” I replied as I started down a rutted and flooded track through high grass, “It’s just over there.”

We criss-crossed the trail, seeking dry spots, as we walked the quarter mile. At one point, I stepped aside onto the grass to avoid a mudhole and found myself ankle deep in hidden watter for the second time that morning.

Tim suddenly remarked, “My parents won’t believe this. Here I am slogging up a muddy trail with nothing but high grass and palm trees in sight, in my shirt and tie, carrying my briefcase.”

Fortunately, the hotel appeared around the next bend. We went into the pleasant little bar for a needed Belikin. I excused myself to go blot my shoe and stockings. When I returned, Tim announced with amazed surprise that the pleasant Englishman behind the bar came from a village not ten miles from where he grew up.

After a quick lunch, we were collected and driven down past Silk Grass to the estate of the CEO. His house is huge but simple in the Belize style. It is on a high hill overlooking miles of orange groves and pineapple plantings. Through a large gap in the surrounding hills one can see the coast and sea. He says that, on a clear day, the cayes twenty miles away show plainly.