CORRECTION

The information on bus travel to Placencia in Vol. III, No. 1 of BELIZE FIRST was partially inaccurate. According to Peter Eltringham, the bus to Mango Creek is not the way to get to Placencia unless you're coming from PG. From Belize City to Dangriga, take the Z-Line bus (tel. 501-2-73937) to Dangriga via the coastal route, calling at Gales Point village. From Dangriga, the Promise Land bus leaves from south of the bridge, by the Hub Guest House, at 12:30 p.m., and the Z-Line leaves from the new terminal at the south end of St. Vincent Street, next to the Shell gas station. Both run daily, fare US$4 and normally pass through the villages of Hopkins and Sittee River. The journey from Dangriga takes 2 1/2 to 3 hours, depending on road conditions.

ONE WAY TO RETIRE IN PLACENCIA

By PEGGY BOND ARBANAS

Bud Erdick and his wife Barbara have spent the past two years retired and relaxing in Placencia. When I learned they were running a small restaurant I began to wonder what had happened since I saw them last year.

Back in the early 1970s when I lived in Placencia, there was not a restaurant in town, few tourists, fishermen still fished, and you were lucky to have a fresh cabbage every month. Now it takes about three beers just to list the new restaurants, resorts, and night spots.

With a smile in his eye Bud told me, "I realized I had three choices: read every book that has ever been written, become an alcoholic, or do something. A friend kept dropping hints that my veranda would be an ideal spot for a cozy French restaurant. Then my landlord gave me a Christmas present -- he enlarged our kitchen."

Opening La Petite Maison Restaurant over the initial objection from Barbara -- "Not on your life!" -- has turned into a pleasure for them both and for a lot of their nightly guests.

Bud is a graduate of the French Culinary Institute. He spent three years as sous chef of the French/Belgian restaurant, Flamand, in New York City and was for seven years chef/owner of Pasquaney Inn in New Hampshire, rated, Bud says, one of the top restaurants in that state.

Three candle-lit tables on their veranda accommodate eight people. The price fixe dinner, at US$22 per person, includes an appetizer which could range from cheese croquettes served on a bed of tomato coulis to shrimp filled crepes with a sweet red pepper sauce or it could be one of the many French soups in Bud's repertoire. Diners may choose from two entrees, usually one meat and one fish. The meat dish could be a Belgian specialty, carbonades of beef or a tenderloin filet, in a port wine sauce. The fish dish could be a classic Lobster a L'Americaine or wine-poached fillets of red snapper in an Allemande caper sauce. Home-baked French bread, a dessert such as Creme Brulée and freshly brewed coffee or tea complete the meal.

If You Go: La Petit Maison is located in the Acupuncture Center just south of Wallen's Market in Placencia Village. Reservations can be made in person or by calling 501-6-23172.

By VIC MOFFETT

One of the surprises along the reefs off the coast of Belize is that, even while on a rough-and-ready kayak trip, you can find good food.

I didn't expect gourmet dining in Belize. As my two new friends, Caralin and Andy, watched Mark Leslie, our Belizean guide and lifelong resident of Ranguana Caye, load the kayaks with groceries for our six-day trip, the provisions promised meager rations. A couple pounds of rice, a few pounds of beans, a dozen eggs, a head of cabbage, a couple of handfuls of potatoes, onions, tomatoes and limes, a few cans of bacon and tuna, some peanut butter and jelly, flour, cooking oil, coffee and powdered milk, and a single papaya.

I began to wish I had packed a few MRE's -- United States military Meals Ready to Eat -- which I usually carry on my journeys along the Outer Banks of North Carolina.

Our fears grew as high winds and heavy seas prevented our scheduled departure, limiting fishing to the shallow lagoons surrounding the island. Mark seemed unconcerned as the hooks came back empty and twilight approached.

Then at dusk Mark strolled to the end of the island where a conch and lobster fishman had set up camp. One-half hour later we were dining on a sumptuous stew with lavish chunks of lobster swimming in a sauce from coconuts, which doubled as lethal weapons as squalls lashed the island.

Such were our first lessons in the art of Belizean coastal dining: the food is fresh out of the sea, plentiful and easily procured, often at the last minute; cooperation among those who find themselves marooned together when meal time arrives is virtually unspoken and is routinely conducted on a barter system; no one goes hungry, not even the dogs which roam at large and feast on leftovers. The next morning eggs, bacon, potatoes and fried bread fortified us for the six-mile paddle in heavy seas to the next island, Coconut Caye.

On arrival, a new camp was quickly set up. While we tourists eased our aching muscles after a day of snorkeling and paddling, Mark took his spear and home-made sling and headed for the deep waters beyond the reef. We dined on sauteed steaks from a three-foot barracuda Mark had speared. The light flaky fish reappeared mixed with cabbage, tomatoes and onions to make a delightful hash. The island people, Mark said, prefer barracuda even to lobster. The hash and refried beans -- our dry beans had been made inedible when they were soaked with salt water as one of the kayaks took on water -- were made more tasty by a staple of the Belizean diet, Marie Sharp's habaû ero pepper sauce. Ranging in degrees of hotness from Wow! to Suicidal, this Belizean product will light up the taste buds of even the most jaded Texas Pete fan, and several bottles are a must for returning tourists.

Soon we were at sea again, pausing briefly on a very small caye covered with tropical foliage, Round Caye, before deciding to push on to a larger island, Queen's Caye, surrounded by what were said to be some of the best reefs in the area. Coral heads and patches of grass and sand slid by below us, perfectly visible as we paddled, and paddled, and paddled. We staggered ashore in late afternoon and teamed up with another group of kayakers we had met the night before. All were close to exhaustion. Even Mark -- an athlete with massive shoulders and a lifetime of experience on the water -- said he was too tired to fish. Our party understood and were willing to settle for canned tuna.

To snorkel as a tourist is one thing. I barely dove to depths of more than ten feet. And Caralin and Andy -- experienced scuba divers both -- rarely descended to more that 30. But to hunt conch, lobster and the larger fish, the Belizean fishermen routinely dive to depths of 50 to 70 feet, remaining submerged for more than two minutes.

Nevertheless Kevin -- the guide of the other party and Mark's lifelong friend -- seemed eager to find a good meal. He was, he said, a bit discouraged by his group's having brought along a plentiful supply of freeze-dried camp food.

"Let's see what's in the garden today," Kevin said as he picked up his spear and sling and the four- foot steel hook used to gig lobster from their lairs. The garden was bountiful. That night we feasted on raw conch pounded tender and marinated in lime juice, barracuda, snapper and hog fish filets sauteed on a coconut husk fire, and more lobster, lobster, lobster, including one Methuselah measuring more than two feet and weighing more seven pounds. Another lesson of the trip: Many Belizeans do consider the surrounding reefs an Eden, a place to go to pick and choose among abundance. The conch, in fact, were not newly caught but came instead from a natural holding pen constructed on the reef by the island's resident caretaker and fisherman. No money was exchanged. Mark and Kevin would find replacements the next day, and the fisherman and his family found fresh water from our abundant supply a bonus in the deal.

Kevin's goal is to paddle the entire coastline of Belize. What would such a voyage take? A good kayak and a few pounds of rice and beans. He would catch all the fish he needed.

Belizeans usually do not use the fancy rods and reels tourists can be seen carrying through the airports in PVC tubes. A simple spindle of any material, 20 yards of heavy monofilament, an amazingly large hook, and fresh bait are enough.

//Vic Moffett is a free-lance writer who also teaches composition and literature at Coastal Carolina Community College in Jacksonville, North Carolina. The kayaking expedition was set up by Kirk Barrett and Eddie Leslie of Reef-Link.//

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