While Nemo batters the east coast , we take on Memo (and also lose)


Advertisement
Published: February 17th 2013
Edit Blog Post

Total Distance: 0 miles / 0 kmMouse: 0,0


We last left our heros at Hotel Backpackers in Rio Dulce. Hotel Backpackers is the hotel that is run entirely to profit Casa Guatemala, the never-never-land-esque orphanage/children's home/school/clinic/farm. We actually spend a full week at the hotel, where I spent my last week of work before taking a 'real' vacation. This was an ideal place to work from - their restuarant is on a dock over the river and has really strong WIFI all the way out on the water. If I was bold enough to risk it, I bet I could have paddled out on a kayak and still gotten WIFI a few meters into the river. I didn't do that, however I did hold multiple meetings with the river shimmering in front of me - on the phone with my colleagues trudging through snow to get to work. I tried not to brag about it, but it wasn't easy. It was tough living that week - we woke up, sat on that dock, ordered breakfast, lunch and dinner most days - I worked while Sara read, napped, or worked on translating a book she found in spanish word for word with a dictionary she bought. The book was (probably) about the murder of a person from the netherlands and the book takes place in copenhagen and for some reason it was all in spanish. Either that, or Sara should not try to work in the field of english-spanish translation.

At the end of the day on Thursday, I took the epic step of setting a vacation response on my work email and closing my computer (the latter being for dramatic effect mostly - we still use my laptop to check personal email, facebook, and update this here blog of course). For a recovering workaholic, this is a big step. Since that day it has been 3 days and I still have not checked my work email.

Friday morning we set out for Livingston by lancha (motor boat) - our plan being to catch another boat same day from Livingston to Punta Gorda, Belize. The ride to Livingston was really beautiful - we got to see many large birds and the even stopped at a couple tourist attractions on the way. A famous spanish fort which personally didn't hold much attraction and a locally-operated 'hot springs', which was a bit cooler. The hot water flowed straight from under rocks that also formed the shore of ther river (which was filled with colder water). Sara and I put our feet in the water, although some people did have bathing suits on and get all the way in.

Our arrival into Livingston was pretty intense and any potential visitors to Livingston should be forewarned: you are the tourist-flavered meat and there are vultures on those docks. They swarm when a boat full of tourists come in, squaking 'hotel, I have a nice hotel for you - good price, good price' and they dive in: they'll aggresively 'offer' to carry your bags and ask you questions to reel you in. I don't personally think anyone there is dangerous in a physical way, only overbearing, overwhelming and definitely looking to make a quick buck where they can. Getting beyond them without collecting a new 'friend' is tough - it might be easier for someone not worried about being a jerk, but Im too nice for that. During our stay in Livingston I had to be stern with a couple guys that we didn't help and we didn't want to walk with them, but that was as mean as I could muster.
Another bird photoAnother bird photoAnother bird photo

We had plenty of extra time on the dock for bird photos


We found our way into a hotel to ask about the next boat to Punta Gorda (called 'PG' here) and got some disappointing news: this woman, who seemed very trustworthy and knowledgeable, said no boats went directly from Livingston to PG. She said we would have to go from Livingston to Puerto Barrios and from there to PG. This was not what we wanted to hear. We inquired further and Sara mentioned 'Memos' - the person/company mentioned in the book specifically who ran a boat from Livingston to PG. The woman at the hotel said that Memo started in in Puero Barrios and sometimes stopped in Livingston on the way to PG. She said she found his schedule to be unpredictable and that she did not personally sell tickets to his boat because she could not promise her customers that he would actually arrive. She said we could ask at the immigration office (where we would need to get an exit stamp anyway) about our options to PG.

At the immigration office, he seemed quite sure that we could a ride to PG at 4pm and he said to return at 2pm to get the exit stamp. After grabbing lunch nearby, we found a place where I could get a hair cut - the caribean heat had gotten to me and the mop on my head was not helping. I got a real nice haircut, although immediately regretted not having a room to go shower in afterwards.

At 2pm we got the exit stamp and he informed us we needed to pay 80Quetzal each, an exit fee. We looked at other, communicating our suspicion and asked him to confirm, to promise, to swear an oath - and he said that was the fee everyone paid. Not being sure what our options were, we paid it. After some research later I can safely say we were absolutely scammed by this immigration officer. What a jerk.

We headed down to the dock, obtained a new 'friend' against our will who promised to help us get our boat to PG. We got to the dock, confirmed with some folks there that Memo would come at 4pm to go to PG and sat to wait. We sat a waited - 2 hours passed - and then, more time passed. 4pm had come and gone, people continued to confirm that Memo would be coming but their voices sounded less assured. We were waiting at the end of the dock, assuming that he must be coming any minute. Finally a boat appeared on the horizon, our 'friend' said - this is Memo, he's here. They he said 'my friend, I have not had anything to eat today, can you spare some money for me?'. Regardless of the fact that I had not asked for his help, had actually told him I did not want or need his help and did not beleive that he had not eaten today - I gave a few Quetzals from my pocket because I am a sucker. As the boat neared the dock, we were told 'sorry, this is actually not Memos'. More time passed, a few more false alarms and we eventually admitted that Memo was not coming. Our 'friend' did not skip a beat and immediately offered to help us find a hotel - this time, my new jersey attitude helped me muster enough meanness to make it clear that we did not need help and did not even want him to walk with us. He got the message. Thank you, new jersey.

We found an okay hotel for the night, feeling dejected about our failed plans. Before leaving we has spoken to the woman who works at the dock and she said our best bet was take a boat to to Puerto Barrios (south) and then another to Punta Gorda (back north again). It was not our favorite plan, would take more time and cost extra but we didn't want to bet another minute on Memo.

Nemo & Memo: 2

NJ & NYers: 0

The next morning, we have a great breakfast at a hotel by the name of Rosados (or something similar). This wonderful breakfast (and the fact that I left my guidebook and notebook at the restuarant and had to run back) caused us to be exactly five minutes late to the 9am boat to Puerto Barrios, which would mean that we would also miss the 10:30am boat from PB (which, to my knowledge, is not a nickname for Puerto Barrios) to PG. This was also disappointing. After a couple more people-watching-filled hours at the dock, we were finally on a boat. This boat was not to our destination and in fact it was in the opposite direction - but at least we were leaving Livingston. Even if our boat ran out of gas in the middle of the sea, it was better than being stuck at Livingston for another day. Livingston is not all that bad really, but our experience there was frustrating.

Puerto Barrios was nothing exciting - we had 2 hours to kill before our next boat and got a great smoothie on the side of the road. Our boat to PG left more or less on time, the unexpected part was how choppy the water was, how high out of the water our tiny lancha would be tossed and how unbelievably hard the bottom of the boat smacked against the top of the water, reverberating that impact up into our spines. A long hour later, we arrived in PG. Although I didn't see any fireworks, it felt victorious.

PG holds a few distinctions so far for us, but the first was that it has the most jovial immigration official I've ever had the pleasure of having stamp my passport. He lightly mocked the other tourist in line in front of us who had been in such a hurry that he almost left his girlfriend behind. The immigracion official asked how good our spanish was, assured us that in Belize people speak english and promised (jokingly!) to deport anyone found to be speaking spanish. Its worth mentioning here that in Belize, people don't speak spanish - they speak english, because they were previously colonized by England, not Spain. All our hard work learning spanish was out the window but, in the end, its for the better - its actually a lot easier traveling in a country where we speak the language fluently, it turns out.

A bit more has happened between that last point and where we are now, but that was a lot to write and will be more or less the same amount to read so I'll stop here - just short of a description of our wonderful homestay in the Maya village of Blue Creek. Now that your interested is piqued, I'll sign off.

Thanks for reading,

Mark & Sara

Advertisement



18th February 2013

excellent
Mark and Sara, Keep your spirits up! Don't let the scoundrels get to you! Continue having a wonderful time and keep on writing because it's amazing to read!

Tot: 0.152s; Tpl: 0.011s; cc: 12; qc: 55; dbt: 0.0655s; 1; m:domysql w:travelblog (10.17.0.13); sld: 1; ; mem: 1.2mb