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Published: October 23rd 2005
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Four weeks in Mexico and our Spanish was, shall we say, muy poco, so it was with some relief that we approached our second border and the English speaking Belize. The border crossing was straight forward enough with charges for liability insurance and fumigation, then a signed declaration promising to not sell the car and after only half an hour and a quick chat with the immigration official, about how great his country is, we were on our way to the notorious Belize City.
There are immediate and obvious differences between Belize and Mexico, but the most striking is the people, the majority now of Caribbean descent. Superpop's, a roadside barbecue and our first stop, gave us our first taste of both Belizean cuisine - rice, beans and meat - and Belizean people - big, loud and happy. The owner, Pop, was unwilling to give up the recipe for his barbecue marinade and sauce, quite possibly the best we've ever had. We left after a fantastic lunch and a short debate on whether women are louder than men, waved off with most of the staff and customers claiming they were still British (Belize was British Honduras until not so long
ago).
We'd read about a baboon sanctuary that was just a short diversion from the route to Belize City. The village that hosts the world famous sanctuary is Bermuda Landing, there are no fences and the local people agree to preserve and respect the jungle surrounding the village which, consequently, has become a successful habitat for several howler monkey families. For a small fee, visitors are accompanied into the jungle by a guide, ours was Camil, who expertly describes the names and traditional uses of the trees and plants before calling a family of monkeys down from the trees. It was an amazing experience, watching a wild family of seven monkeys responding to the calls and nervously descending from the trees to be fed on wild-lime leaves, by us. Camil ended the tour by encouraging the monkeys to howl back at him with their defensive calls.
Then Belize City; we've learnt to not get too sucked into the reputations of places before getting to know them ourselves - but when your guesthouse owner insists on escorting you to your chosen restaurant, and when there assigns a bodyguard to "look after" you, you do begin to believe there might
be something to the rumours.
Our "bodyguard" sat with us for the duration of our meal, holding our attention with a one-way, 90% expletive conversation about how bad he was and how it was his block and no-one would mess with him. He always had one eye on the ever-present and extremely dangerous kids, playing out front. Not satisfied with the time he'd spent with us he insisted on delivering us safely back to our guesthouse and suggested that some money for a chicken would be much appreciated, I protested that in England we buy people beers not chickens...in the end he settled for a burger.
So we're now safe in the guesthouse but we don't have any water. I wander into town late evening to the local shop and guess what, it seems everyone's intimidated by everyone else around here and the only people who approach me are begging. Overall the place isn't as dangerous as people make out, it seems to have a reputation from over ten years ago that still casts a shadow, but it's no more of a risk than anywhere else we've been.
Our main interest in the country was Placencia, a
very small town on a peninsula about 3 hours South of Belize City. The country has many beautiful cayes and a barrier reef but since they're only accessible by boat or plane and we have a car to worry about we needed an alternative - Placencia was perfect.
Nothing moves here, it's the most relaxing place. We found a small guesthouse set back slightly from the palm-fringed beach and kicked back for five days of perfect weather (hurricane Katrina was forcing blue skies over this part of the world). The first day we seemed to have the whole town to ourselves, the second day, and for the rest of our stay, we had neighbours - Christa and Laut, on their honeymoon from Holland, and Chris travelling down from Mexico. There seems to be a pattern emerging here...meet people we get on with...add alcohol...have a thoroughly good time. We had a week of lazy days on the beach, wandering up and down the world's narrowest high street (3 1/2 feet) and eating and drinking with our new acquaintances in the evenings.
We could have stayed for so much longer but had a deadline to meet some friends in Guatemala.
On the way to the border we decided to stop at the Cockscomb Basin Wildlife Sanctuary for a few hours of jungle trekking, waterfall bathing and wildlife spotting. The park is at the end of a seven mile dirt track, a couple of Belizean soldiers who were heading the same way asked for a lift from the main road but with no room inside I suggested they stand on the rear bumper. I kept asking if they were ok, what with the potholes, overhanging vines and mud spraying everywhere - no answer, just huge grins.
Visiting during the day we were unlikely to see much of the wildlife, least of all any Jaguars for which the sanctuary is famous, but the refreshing waterfalls and views of the park and Victoria peak were reward enough.
Another two and a half hours drive up through the more mountainous western half of the country and we were at the Guatemalan border. After just a week in Belize our main thoughts were...we want to go back.
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