Belize

While lounging around on our secluded Tulum beach day after day, Erin and I had plenty of opportunity to read through our guide book and learn about surrounding areas we might jaunt off to. We both have friends and family that have recently been to Belize. We knew it was another culture entirely from Mexico. English, albeit a Carribbean variety, is the official language, and where else can you see a toucan, the country's official bird?

All signs were pointing us to Caye Caulker, a small island off the coast of Belize City. By all accounts it has a relaxed atmosphere, reasonable prices, and a whole new menu of Carribbean culinary delights. It is about a six hour bus ride from Tulum - three to the border, and three more to Belize city, so we could surely get there in a single day.

Well it turns out getting there in one day isn't such a slam dunk. The main difficulty being the first bus to Chetumal, the Mexican border town, leaving Tulum at 10:30 am and the final ferry to the island departing at 5:30 pm. That doesn't leave a lot of breathing room for immigration, bus changes, and finding the ferry terminal from the bus station. We decided it would be close, but worst case, we could spend the night in either Chetumal or Belize City if need be.

On the bus to Chetumal we met some English and Aussie backpackers who had the same destination in mind. As we arrived at the bus station, we were greeted by a gentleman who recognized us as folks likely headed for Belize City. He asked if that's where we were headed and told us he had a bus leaving in 20 minutes. If we wanted to go we should buy a ticket immediately from the teenager beside him at a small desk. Until now, we had only ridden the first class ADO buses, with proper ticket counters, uniformed staff, and fancy computer screens. Also, a handy rule of thumb we tend to live by is that products and services being touted by folks that approach you are frequently inferior and/or overpriced. We had, however, heard from some other travelers, back in Tulum, that the bus down to Belize was a major step down in comfort level, and when he pointed his bus out, it was certainly consistent with what we'd heard. There was a cardboard sign in the windshield with some crayon writing: "Belize Express". The man told us that he could get us to Belize City before the last ferry departed.

We made a leap of faith, and handed over about $10 USD per person and crossed our fingers. All seven of us hopped aboard the otherwise empty bus and felt some optimism for the first time about making it all the way before nightfall.

Before getting to the nearby border, we stopped at a gas station and I noted that the bus's co-captain put fully half of the ticket money he had just collected from us into the gas tank for the three hour drive ahead, leaving them only a small profit for such a long ride.

After breezing through immigration at the border, we drove the last leg to Belize City where we were dropped at what I would consider a pretty janky bus station, given that this was the country's capital city.

We knew we didn't have much time to make the ferry and also knew the dock was several blocks from the station, somewhere in this shanty town. The taxi touts descended and successfully herded us into a taxi van where we just made the last ferry. The San Pedro ferry left at the same time. Based on the boat size and the crowd size, we could tell they were going to the big place, and we were going to the small place. Fine with us.

Around 6:30 pm with the sun beginning to set, we landed in Caye (pronounced "key") Caulker. From the dock, the town looked cute and colorful. Brightly colored buildings lined the sleepy coast.

The other backpackers hit the hostel two steps from the dock. It seemed pleasant enough, but they were out of private rooms, so we walked around a bit until we found a decent room just before nightfall. While walking around though, we learned (and smelled) that this day was the very first day of lobster season. Everyone in town was out grilling up big fresh whole lobsters, and waving us in to have a taste. Which I did. And it was, well, delicious.. and relatively cheap ($15 US).

The next day we had more time to look for a place to live, and settled on Mara's Place Guesthouse, which was essentially Mara's family's house with some guesthouses sprinkled around the property. We chose the one that was kind of like the basement of the family house, but it was the biggest room and had a couple of hammocks shaded beneath the house above. This turned out to be an excellent decision.

You see, just after we settled in and went out to get some sun, the sun vanished, and more rain than I had ever seen began pouring from the sky. This is the type of rain that will soak your clothes through in about three seconds. I'm almost surprised there is any air at all between the enormous raindrops. It's almost like a waterfall. We ran for our covered hammocks to wait it out. After all, this is the tropics. It's prone to rain from time to time, especially in the summer.

But it didn't stop. Occasionally it would tease you with a let up. But then it would come down again within a minute or two. In fact, it continued so long that we began to plot what we might make a run for during the next pause in rain. We need money. ATM? We're running low on water. Where exactly is the store? We had no time to think. When the rain stopped. Ready, GO!

Over the next couple of days it didn't rain quite as much and we were pleased with what the small island had to offer. Fruit and granola breakfasts (my favorite kind) at Amor y Cafe, informal but extremely delicious backyard BBQ dining at Wish Willy, fresh homemade cookies at Jan's Pastry Shop, and irie cocktails at The Oceanside and Herbal Tribe.

The town seemed like the kind of place that one could settle in for awhile. There is one main road that you have to walk up and down to do anything. And it's the type of place where you will see the same person three times in one day, because you all live and do your business on the same street.

One day I saw an unusual white guy dressed in suspenders and pushing a wheelbarrow. He seemed to be out of a Tom Sawyer novel. I first noticed him because of the usually intense effort he was putting into what seemed to be a failed snot rocket attempt outside of a grocery store. After that, every time I saw him on the road, he just didn't seem entirely normal. But I didn't think much of him. However, later that week, I saw a pair of similar looking fair skinned blond fellows (maybe brothers) dressed almost exactly alike and appeared to be trying out for the same part in the Tom Sawyer play as the first guy. When I heard them speak Creole, I knew they were local, so I flipped through my guidebook to see if there were any clues. The conclusion: Mennonites. Apparently there is a sizable population in Belize. It definitely catches your eye to see poor white people in a mostly black and latino country.

After a few days, the weather wore on us. The Tulum weather had been so much better. Clear and sunny. This rain was no good. Although some folks around town would say "probably sunny tomorrow," a young carpenter we met ducking from the rain for a moment had a more credible non-tourism-boosting statement. "It's like this almost every day here this time of year."

We returned to the janky bus station and with no Belize Express bus to drive us, we took a public bus back up to the border. After four more bus transfers, by nightfall we were back in paradise. Tulum.

I never did see a toucan.