Advertisement
Published: September 7th 2006
Our trip to Belize thus far hasn’t gone quite like I had thought it would go. That being said, it now dawns on me that we really didn’t have any firm plans in Belize other than meeting Matt and Melissa in Caye Caulker and enjoying some island life for a few days. And we did in fact accomplish both of those tasks. I guess I just didn’t reckon we’d have so much island life. But I’m getting ahead of myself. So I’ll take a step back and pick up where we left off way back in Playa del Carmen.
We knew that the trip from Playa del Carmen to Caye Caulker would be a long haul. We even split it into two days, but geesh, did it seem like a lot of work! The first day wasn’t so bad, just another long, icy cold Mexican bus trip down the coast to Chetumal, the last city of any consequence before crossing into Belize. In Chetumal, we found a room, had a stroll and our last yummy Mexican meal, and then tossed and turned all night as flying ants nibbled on our flesh. I woke up a wee bit grumpy.
Then
it was off to find our transport across the border and into Belize City. When I made this trip years ago, I found a comfy little minivan shuttle that made the trip direct. So easy. This time we were told that such a service no longer existed. Instead we loaded onto a hot, rickety ex-school bus from the U.S. (surely not our last as many Central American countries use them as national buses). The guide book said the trip would take two and a half to four hours to arrive in Belize City. Ours took nearly six hours. Worse was seeing a number of comfy little minivan shuttles pass us by.
At least the border was a breeze. It was the stopping every quarter of a mile all down the highway from the border to Belize City that took so damn long. I kid you not, someone would call out for their stop less than a block from where the bus last stopped. Could they really not walk a half a block? I know it’s hot and humid, but give me a break already. We were very happy to arrive at last to Belize City. Paul was especially happy
Belizean bus
An old American school bus--perfect for Africa.to be in a place where he could speak the language.
Once in Belize City we walked the ten or so blocks from the bus station to the water taxi terminal (the local cabbies wanted $5 American for the trip!) admiring all the obvious differences between Belize and Mexico. Here the buildings are built of wood with tin roofs and often on stilts to help protect from flooding from the many tropical storms that pass by the Caribbean Coast. Another major difference is the extraordinary mix of folks: brown folks, black folks, white folks, and lots of folks in between. Belize’s history is pretty interesting in this way. The first known inhabitants were the native Maya. Then came the first settlers, the British and their slaves from Jamaica in 1640. The next two centuries saw lots plundering and colonizing where the two major players, Spain and Britain, had some pretty nasty battles in hopes of being able to lay claim to this prime real estate (Even now, Guatemala and Mexico also occasionally flex their muscles and try to claim parts of the land). In the end, Britain won the fight and declared Belize a colony in 1862.
Now
an independent country (since 1981), the population breakdown reflects this colorful past: 30% Creole (black or mixed ancestry), 44% mestizo (mixed native and/or Spanish ancestry), 11% Maya, 7% Garifuna (descendants of the Black Caribs), and the remainder being a mix of folks of European or Asian descent including a large number of German Mennonites, North American retirees, and Chinese and East Indian immigrants. The language breakdown is just as diverse. While English is the official language, most folks’ native languages are Spanish, Garifuna, German, Mayan languages, and especially Creole which almost sounds like English but with more cuss words and fewer verb conjugations.
Our favorite sight on our walk to the bus station was a skinny Rastafarian walking down the road with the longest, largest dread lock (notice I used the singular here) we’ve ever laid our eyes on. This guy’s hair had encrusted into one solid hair cake that reached all the way down his back and past his butt. Didn’t look very hygienic either.
And then we were off on a water taxi that sped us to the little Caribbean island of Caye Caulker 30 miles northeast of Belize City. Years ago I spent three tranquil
nights on this little piece of paradise and just loved it. With a population of about 800, there are no cars and no paved roads on the island. Most of the shops and restaurants have sand for floors and shoes are regarded as redundant by both locals and tourists alike.
Most people come here to snorkel or scuba or fish in the nearby reef, but I was mostly looking forward to just kicking back in a hammock and taking it easy for a few days. We were also really looking forward to seeing our friends Matt and Melissa who flew down from the States for a little holiday.
That first night we were all exhausted and took it easy with a couple of Belikin beers and rum punches on one of the islands many jetties watching a thunderstorm slowly roll in from the sea. After a long day of travel we were all ready for a good night’s sleep.
Sadly that wasn’t to be. I was first woken up by the disturbing feeling of something scurrying up my arm. I reached down, grabbed it and made out that it was a massive cockroach wriggling and hissing in
my hand. I hurled onto the floor, switched on the light, and ordered Paul, who was still asleep and really confused as to why I was acting so pissy, to find the wretched thing and kill it dead. But by then it had already darted off to wherever cockroaches go when the lights come on.
After an hour or so of reading, I had calmed myself down enough to sleep (Paul, unfazed, needed nothing to conk out again). And then I was awoken again, this time by an intense burning feeling in my legs. I flipped on the light again to find that my legs and feet which had been sticking out of the bottom of the sheet were covered in dozens of fresh mosquito bites. So much for all the crap the manager of the joint fed us about no mosquitoes on the island thus no need for screens. We can be pretty naïve.
An hour later while I’m still miserable in bed and occasionally waking up Paul just to let him know how miserable I was, our thunderstorm finally arrived. I went out in the rain and cooled off my burning legs and thanked the good
lord for bringing me some relief. I tried taking a shower earlier on in my misery, but the shower pumped out salt water (the pump to treat the water was an extravagance our hotel deemed unnecessary) which left me itching more than before I hopped in. And finally in the early morning I was able to get a couple of hours of restless sleep filled with insect nightmares.
The next day I passed the morning sulking in our hot bug-infested room, feeling sorry for myself and wishing I was home (wherever that is at the moment). Thankfully, Paul and Matt and Melissa came and rescued me from my self-pity, and after moving to a more luxurious, less buggy hotel with a lovely veranda with a hammock and a view of the sea, we spent a happy day swimming at the split (a cool channel that was torn through the island years ago by a fierce hurricane), eating spicy shrimp kebabs, and relaxing on the pier.
That night we stumbled across Roger one of the fattest men I’ve ever seen who talked us into dinner at his roadside barbecue pit and picnic table. (In Caye Caulker, proper restaurants are
kinda like shoes, unnecessary.) Roger served us up freshly barbecued lobster and barracuda steaks with big heaps of mashed potatoes and bread covered in his famous garlic butter. No wonder he’s a big guy, he loves his food. And frankly, so did we. Then it was back to our veranda, where we lounged in the deck chairs with lots of homemade rum punches and another stunning thunderstorm slowly rolling toward us. That night I slept very very well.
The next day the four of us embarked on a sailing/snorkeling adventure. Sounds lovely doesn’t it? And it really was a lot of fun. But for me it was also scary as hell. Since the sting ray incident (Did you hear about Steve Irwin?!?!?), I haven’t had any desire to set off exploring to find all the strange and sometimes deadly animals that lurk deep in the ocean. No actually, I take that back. Not even before said incident, have I ever wanted to don mask and fins in hopes of seeing any of the creepy stuff in the water. Now don’t get me wrong; I love the water. There’s nothing better than to float and swim and play in the
waves. However, feeling anything rub against me in any sort of body of water is unsettling to say the least. The only thing that keeps me from running like hell out of the water whenever I feel something icky is my ability to rationalize that whatever touched me was merely a stick or shell or perhaps even a dreadful bit of seaweed. In fact, in order to talk myself into getting into the water in the first place there are several ‘truths’ that I find the need to reiterate quietly to myself. For instance, I tell myself that there aren’t really that many fish and other creepy things near where most people swim at the beach, and the handful of fish and assorted sea creatures one occasionally sees in the water have ended up near me only by a strange fluke of luck that is upsetting to both the fish and I. They don’t want me to be near them anymore than I want them to be near me. I realized that going snorkeling would put all of my careful rationalizations at severe risk and could possibly destroy the ocean for me forever. It was risky.
But it was
also really really cool. I know that most of you all who read this have snorkeled a time or two in your life (and likely don’t have my irrational fear of sea creatures) so you will already know how fascinating it is to go exploring in the sea, spotting new and beautiful little reef fish and pretty coral formations. But for me, it was like entering a new and very foreign world for the first time. This was truly traveling and I was in a culture about which I knew nothing and was pretty afraid of. But I was instantly mesmerized and was eager (although warily) to find out more.
Our trip made three snorkeling stops: a coral garden, a place called Shark and Ray Alley (and people pay good money to come here!!), and finally the Hol Chan Marine Reserve. As we set out in the boat, I mentally only committed to trying the first one (and only after I got Paul to swear that he wouldn’t ever be out of arm’s reach). Once in the water, the first thing I had to work out was how to use the damn snorkel. I seemed to be having a
What a find!
A pretty piece of fan coral we found washed up on shore. hard time breathing (probably because I was hyperventilating) and seemed to have a lot of trouble with water getting into my snorkel (likely due to me moving my head around compulsively as I scanned every direction for possible predators). With a little practice and advice from Paul things seemed to get a little easier.
The coral garden was a really great place for me to start because it had lots of bright colorful little fish and pretty coral formations and very few scary nasty-looking things. Granted, I spent more time trying to avoid getting too close to the coral than the typical snorkeler as I cautiously examined it from a distance. But, I knew that’s where any number of scary creatures could pop out at me without warning and I wasn’t ready to take any chances. But I was amazed at what I saw: coral that looked like fans and coral that looked like giant brains, and my favorite, the coral that looked like a gorgeous field of white flowers. I started to find the fish alright too, pretty even, especially the small ones. By the end of the hour in the water, I was beginning to let down
my guard a little and didn’t spend nearly as much time spastically flippering away from the fish, only the ones that looked mean.
But then it was Shark and Ray Alley and a whole new ballgame. When we first pulled up to the buoys that mark this unique little corner of the ocean, one of our guides quickly jumped in and grabbed a hold of one of those great big manta rays that you see in aquariums. I don’t know if he did this so we could get a close-up look of these freaky creatures or so we would think he was brave . . . or stupid . . . or both. But it did nothing to help my confidence. The fact that we could spot a handful of these guys just under the boat didn’t help either. Gulp!
Peer pressure is a really strong force. I didn’t want to look like a scrotey. Period. That’s the only reason I can come up with for trading in the safety and tranquility of our beautiful little sailboat and ludicrously entering waters that are known to be infested with rays (whose second cousins caused me a night in the
hospital and probably the worst pain of my life) and sharks. Sharks!!!
I think I thought that the real Shark and Ray Alley was something we were going to swim to and then I could decide whether I wanted to enter this special place. I must have forgotten that I’d already seen a half a dozen rays from the boat. That and the fact that the ocean is a single body of water. It’s not like there are fences keeping the nasty creatures safely on their side of the block.
That must have been why I was peeing-my-pants-petrified when a massive (at least 7 feet, in my memory anyway) shark snuck up from behind and swam beneath me so close that I could easily have reached down and touched it. I freaked . . . big time. I screamed and kicked and nearly drowned Paul as I tried to yank him between me and the shark. In fact, I was so scared I don’t really remember what happened next. All I know is that the shark was gone, our little tour group was all circled around me, and Paul was frantically trying to get me to pull it
together why I sobbed like a baby. After a few minutes pep-talk from Paul and our guide about how nurse sharks are extremely docile and rarely known to act aggressively, I mustered up the courage to agree to stay in the water and see if I couldn’t try to overcome my fear. Thankfully, the sharks and rays kept a bit more of a distance after my panic fit or I would have been out of there fast. I even began to enjoy spotting these scary guys a little as I swam like hell in the opposite direction.
Somehow, I even got up the nerve to jump back in one last time at the final snorkel stop, the Hol Chan Marine Reserve. I’m so happy I did. This place was awesome . . . especially since there were no sharks or rays to be seen. What it is, is this deep crystal clear channel with a beautiful coral ledge running down about 20 meters. I stayed near the surface, but it was fun to watch Paul and others dive deep down to check out some of the morays and octopuses and groovy fish further below. I could even watch scuba
divers exploring the tunnels and formations along the bottom. I was so mesmerized by how cool it was to float around in this strange and wonderful place that there were brief moments that I stopped freaking out about the fishy creatures wishing to do me harm. While it might not be my shtick, I could finally understand the appeal of scuba diving and snorkeling. It was a special place.
Before going on the snorkel trip, Paul and I found out about a three day sailing/snorkeling/fishing/camping adventure that the same company was going to be doing the next day. Paul was really keen to go. As for me, I thought I should probably test out the snorkeling thing and work out whether riding around on a sailboat for three days wouldn’t leave me tossing my guts up overboard the whole time (I’d never spent anytime on a boat at sea really). Still riding high from the wonders of Hol Chan and not feeling the slightest twangs of sea sickness, I decided I was up for the challenge of three days on the high seas. Come to think of it, maybe the decision to join the trip was rum punch induced.
The crew kept it pouring during the entire sail back.
Sadly, taking part in the sailing adventure also meant having to say good-bye to Matt and Melissa a little early and bagging our plans of joining them down on a jungle river cruise to the Mayan ruins of Lamanai. (Hope the bus ride wasn’t hell and the boat/ruins excursion was a blast. We loved hanging out with you on our little island.)
Instead, Paul and I joined ten perfect strangers on board the Ragga Gal and set sail for Placencia, a small village on a peninsula some 100 kilometers south of Caye Caulker. For three days, we sailed and relaxed on the deck as we read and spotted birds, dolphins, turtles and these crazy little fish that looked like they skipped across the top of the water on their tail fins. There was also loads more rum punch.
Each day we made several snorkeling stops where we explored the reef and looked for conch and lobster for dinner. The guides also had a spear gun which I was dying to try out on a sting ray or shark. Once I got my hands on it, however I
realized that things could end up rather tragically, and probably more for myself or fellow snorkellers than any sea creature. So I left it up to the experts and they nabbed us some beautiful snapper, barracuda, and lobsters. We also did some fishing from the boat and Paul hooked a massive and tasty barracuda that he was quite proud of. With all the conch he found and his stellar fishing performance, I reckon he’d fare pretty well on Survivor.
The first night, we camped on the tiniest desert island with exactly 12 lovely palm trees, Rendezvous Caye. We set up our tents and laid out a giant tarp to sit on and had the best fish feast of my life with lobster ceviche and gorgeous snapper filets and buckets and buckets of rum punch. That night as the sun went down over the Caribbean Sea was one of those pinch me moments where I just couldn’t believe I could be so lucky as to really be doing all the amazing things we’ve been doing. I used to dream of little desert islands like this, and now here I was really sitting on such an unbelievable little piece of paradise.
Later that night, we tossed and turned as a massive Caribbean storm drenched our little haven, and the next morning, I woke up covered in sand fly bites, and I came to two important realizations. One, nothing is ever quite as good as one’s imagination. And two, some things are so good that even with a bad night’s sleep and dozens of itch insect bites you can still feel damn lucky to be there.
The next day, after a couple more snorkeling stops, we sailed to the slightly more populated island of Tobacco Caye. While no Rendezvous Caye, this place had a couple of important luxuries: showers and TOILETS!!!! After two solid days on a tiny boat, where one’s only options for a place to relieve oneself are the all-too-public and malodorous latrine on the boat or the great blue ocean while on a snorkeling stop (hey, there’s a first time for everything!), I could have kissed that glorious toilet.
On Tobacco Caye, we had all afternoon to relax in hammocks, snorkel the reef, and enjoy the new extravagances while Jerry and Ramsey, our fearless crew, enlisted George, the island’s mayor and town drunk, to help prepare
a feast that put the previous night’s eats to pitiful shame. We had delicious conch ceviche, the tastiest lobster tails of my life, shrimp in tomato sauce, beautiful barracuda steaks that the boys caught, and yummy au gratin potatoes all topped off with yet more rum punch. Pure unadulterated gluttony it was and I loved every swallow of it!
The final day on the boat was a little sadder as we knew our remarkable trip was coming to an end, and frankly because the snorkel stops lacked the magnificence of our previous stops. (I haven’t even mentioned all the cool underwater things we discovered on the previous days, like gorgeous reef fish, trippy coral formations, these little blue and white fish that kept popping up out of these little holes in the sand and then when you came near would quickly throw it in reverse and back in to their little homes again, and best of all this little sea creature (not sure whether it’s a plant or animal) that Paul showed me. It looks like a delicate little sea flower with bursts of finger-like petals, but when you get too near or disturb the water near it, sloop!
all the little flower blooms suck rapidly back into these little gray tubes. The ocean is one groovy place and I’m glad I’m finally starting to appreciate this.
When we arrived in Placencia, it was a quick slap back into the reality of lugging bulging (slightly lighter thanks to Matt and Melissa’s courier service, thanks again!) backpacks around as we hunt for decent, bug-free accommodation that we’d been spared from during the luxurious life on board the Ragga Gal. Having some friends from the boat to commiserate with helped as we weaned ourselves off of the rum punch and discussed onward plans.
The fact that Placencia is so laid-back and on a beautiful little stretch of beach also helped to ease us back into life on land. In fact, it is pretty much a smaller version of Caye Caulker back on the mainland. The main street in Placencia is nothing more than a paved sidewalk (in the Guinness Book for being the world’s narrowest street, so they say) where even riding a bike is illegal. The rest of the town grid is made up of sandy trails that connect the main sidewalk with the municipal dock and road
leading into town (the only two places you’ll find any sort of motorized vehicle). We spent our day there relaxing in hammocks and trying to get motivated to get this blog posted. But, Belize is just not the sort of country a person gets motivated in. . . .
Luckily the prices of things there are pretty motivational, and we felt obliged to hit the road for the more economical (and hopefully less sand fly infested) Guatemala before we went bankrupt. Now after three boat rides and a beautiful bus trip through the jungles of southern Belize, we’re in Livingston, Guatemala, a city with the same mix of folks and laid-back feel of the islands of Belize, only the folks speak Spanish and we can afford to go out to eat.
Tomorrow we head inland on another boat up the River Dulce to a lodge where with any luck we’ll do some jungle horseback riding, swimming in waterfalls, and kayaking with manatees. Then it’s off to school for Paul as he tackles a language course in lovely Antigua.
Advertisement
Tot: 1.366s; Tpl: 0.185s; cc: 14; qc: 99; dbt: 0.3297s; 1; m:domysql w:travelblog (10.17.0.13); sld: 10;
; mem: 1.5mb
Rebeka Thomas
non-member comment
Brave Aunty Casey
Aunty Casey you should go snorkelling at Coral Bay one day when you get to Australia the last time I went there when you get to the waters edge there are lots and lots of Zebra Fish? (black and white striped fish) and they are great fun to chase. There are jelly fish there too but don't worry they only come up when the tide is high. The tide was high when we went there and there where lots of dead ones on the shore, Someone was skipping on them but I was not too sure but i accidently stepped on one and they were awfully gross. there are these big fish that i call Snappers there was one with a hook in his mouth his name is Hook mouth. Oh yea good on ya Aunty Casey i would never be brave enough to hold a crayfish? ( dead or alive) "Hi Uncle Paul!!!!!!!!!" Love from your niece REBEKA !!!!!!!!! P.S Aunty Casey did you say sorry to Uncle Paul for nearly drowning him? :) (: