Hello Joe,
I have a few questions about your current home in Belize. What does it take to set up shop there? To buy property, build, live for a time while I/We figure out some way to feed ourselves in the long term. I have some friends and we can collectively come up with some cash. I am a fit 40 year old, and my friends are younger. I have a degree, tools and trade skills, but no nest egg that will carry me for thirty years. But I like to work anyway. Could the local economy feed me and perhaps buy a few beers? And I do not mean the current "economy" which may not last too long, I mean the one that remains amid prolonged economic depression. I'm just trying to feel out options and would appreciate any help you can offer.
Sincerely,
Tom
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Well, Tom, I hate like hell to give advice about settling in Belize. After all, though I've been there several times and now have settled there, I am a newcomer and like all writers, I am prone to run my mouth because because we like to hear ourselves talk. Lately though, I've come to know a lot of expats in my area, which is the poorer Garifuna villages along the coast.
Belize has many different cultures and types of terrain, ranging from mountain jungle, savannah, beach etc. Most Americans are set on buying and owning property because of their cultural economic indoctrination. But land can also be leased for very long periods of time there.
I should say in all honesty that, though it appears cheap to an American at first, Belize is the most expensive country in all of Central America. This becomes quite apparent after a while as you try to stretch your money and function economically for the long haul, especially for Americans who attempt to recreate the American lifestyle there. Plenty do it but that sort of life costs the same as in America.
Work: Under most conditions foreigners are not allowed to work in Belize. But many do, they just keep extending their visas for years, getting paid under the table. It's better to get residency. The easiest way seems to be just stay there for 12 months, get your passport stamped every 30 days as proof and you're in -- a resident. At least that's the way the law is now and has been for a long time. But things can change, as you know.
Many gringos who simply work under the table seem to do fine, though it is of course a risk. I met redneck construction workers in Caye Caulker last week, an absolitely gorgeous Caye by the way, who've been there decades and are involved in the current building boom in Belize. Remember that a boom there is nowhere near as big as one in the US, and the bucks are ridiculously small by American standards, though new home prices on the Cayes are rather high.
I can only tell you what I've observed personally, but the best expert by far on settling in Belize is Lan Suder. He says, "There is certainly demand for qualified builders in Belize. There is a lot of demand for new construction, rebuilding and repair of local homes and businesses. That said, whether you can successfully enter the market or not is another matter. As in many places, well-established local firms dominate the market. Mennonite builders in particular are well established and in demand. You may also face a number of obstacles in terms of getting residency and work permits.
Working, and specifically building, in Belize is quite different from the U.S. The materials are different, the way people do things are different, there are shortages of many materials and of skilled or semi-skilled workers in some cases. Theft and shrinkage is a problem, and many expat business people have problems dealing with the local politicians and the ways of doing things.
That's the law. Yet, enforcement of just about any laws is pretty lax here. However, when it comes to buying land, I must warn you the government is rather corrupt and you never know what complications can arise when you seek title to land. Often it goes well, but it can take years in some instances. Land titles can be a cloudy issue unless you are buying into one of those slick extravagant gringo developments. And even then I've heard of real troubles happening because the developers were crooks. Belize is trying to move to a better, more secure systems of dealing with land titles. But it can still be a mess in some cases. Everything takes forever. Even the smallest things. I know a guy who waited six weeks just to get a post office box because they had lost the key. Finally it turned up and he got his box.
The coast is a land rush right now being sold almost entirely to gringos, and in general I would not even bother to try to buy beachfront, though it can be done if you have the money.
That said, I still like Belize because I like the Garifuna village and culture I live in, though every American who has visited me has been disappointed in its somewhat slummy appearance, general poverty and the perceived inefficiency and laziness of the people. I do not find them to be lazy at all, but merely people with different priorities and a different pace of life. For example, I can see why many of them don't want to work their guts out at the local gringo resort for US$1.50 an hour.
A big part of it seems to be how you are willing to live, which for Americans is symbolized by their house. If that is your thing, you can build one helluva nice "concrete house" there for US$30,000 to $50,000 -- storm proof, spacious, very tropically exotic by American standards. Check this site for prices in general:
http://www.belizefirst.com/cost.html
Regarding these prices, I live far cheaper than this because I live like the locals and seldom buy many of the things on the list. Personally, I happen to like the simple board houses on posts in the sand, houses you can see daylight through the walls, houses with no glass in the windows, just wooden louvers, etc. The local Garifuna village carpentry seems atrocious by US standards, but I've had no problems with it. Hell, I paid US$5,000 to have it built as a tourist rental to raise my adopted Garifuna family's income, which it did for a while, yet everyone else in the village did the same and tourism has begin falling off. So now I've had to rent it myself to insure their income while we look at other ways to make the family more financially stable. But in the long run we will build a couple more houses so their kids will have homes when they marry. We are also looking at a program of getting a trained professional teacher to come to the village to live there very cheaply in the cabana I now occupy, to help improve the school and be a good influence on the neighborhood kids.
Meanwhile, I'm living on the property of a family I trust and share life's responsibilities with. I cook, buy some groceries for all of us, watch the kids, help with homework, chip in on the electric (white men run the electric fan far more than the locals) and bottled gas bills. So even after paying for the construction I am renting it from them. In return I have four wonderful children running in and out of my house. They have become my grandchildren and I am a godfather to one -- and an increasing number of village friends who accept me as one of the locals -- at least as much as the Garifuna ever accept any outsider. Men friends sit on the porch with me, drink bitters and talk of life in ways few American men ever would.
I dunno, really, I just try to go along. There is almost nothing I do in my village that is like we do things in America. I don't have health insurance. I go to the free Cuban doctor and an American named "Dr. Judy" when I need attention and prescription drugs, both of which are far cheaper than in the US. But then too, I have to ride 37 miles on the bus to pick up prescriptions if I need them. I don't want to own a car. I ride my bike around the village and take the bus into the nearest town to renew my visa. I cook pigs' tails and beans and cow's foot soup. I drink instant coffee like everyone else. My biggest bill is US$45 monthly for a wireless connection at the beachside net joint -- the Windschief.
The main thing for me is not to try to change anyone or anything toward what I think things should be, but help when I can. It's not my country, not my culture, so I stay out of their affairs as much as possible, which believe me, is hard as hell to do sometimes except in ways that I can help. I take care of myself on $500 a month. However, the last 60 days cost me US$6,000, which overjoys me because I was able to help a Garifuna woman start her roadside cafe business, buy text books for a lot of school kids, help start a lumberyard and sawmill, buy scads of nutritional supplements for children, tools for a carpenter so he could go into the construction business, buy bicycles for local transportation, bail people out from under usurious debt from a loan shark. That's my lifestyle choice there. Simple cabana, simple days, give away all surplus income. (By the way, this money came from the book advance.)
Still, when you are in America and considering such a move, money dominates the thinking because money dominates everything in the US. By that measure, rural Mexico, even on the coast, is much cheaper than Belize. Also, Panama seems to be what most Americans are looking for in terms of cost of living.
I'd suggest taking a trip down that way and scouting around. And I'd especially look at small Mexican villages. Mexico has far better infrastructure than Belize. So does Panama. Both are cheaper.
Belize has the advantage of being an English speaking country and having many different terrains, empty remote places, crowded towns like Belize City, and just places no one ever goes. Some places I'd consider riding out the coming depression would be, say, a small farm back up in the Cayo of Belize, etc., or maybe in the more remote Toledo district, or in the Maya mountains not far from the Southern coast.
But that's just me rattling. I'm no expert like Lan Suder. Everyone's experience is different and a lot of very wise experienced expats who have had their troubles in Belize would disagree with some things I've said here.
There is virtually nothing I do in my village that is like we do things in America (except drink beer.) I don't want to own a car, not at $12 a gallon for gas. I ride my bike around the village and take the bus into the nearest town, Dangriga, when I need to.
But today I had to come back to the US for a little while to promote my book and help finish selling my US house.
And already I miss the rustling of the leaves in the breadfruit tree and the rattling call of the gecko lizard who lives in the rafters above my bed.
Peace is where you find it.
In art and labor,
Joe
