Belize Archives - Laura Zera

Year-end Fun: Updates on Past Posts – Travel & More

I’m going to put a slight twist on the “year in review” concept and instead give some updates and add-ons to previous posts that have appeared on my blog.

First, an update on the Heladería Coromoto ice cream shop in Mérida, Venezuela. I first called out this shop in the post Ten Whackadoo Travel Facts, highlighting its Viagra ice cream. Just a couple of days ago, I read that it has shut down until at least mid-January due to a milk shortage. Now the question is: do we blame the socialists or the cows?

I’ve spent a pretty good amount of time talking about edible things from animals’ bums on this blog – Say, Did That Strawberry Flavor Come From Beaver Butt? and My Cup of Wild Civet Coffee are two such occasions. Now my good pal Jo-Anne Teal (seriously good flash fiction author over at Going For Coffee) has brought it to my attention that elephants are now being touted as the next coffee-bean-pooping rock stars. So basically, any animal who shits out a bean is now a market commodity.

One of my favorite stories on this blog was the post Trinidad and Old Friends, which told of a 74-year-old gentleman that I met on a bus in Port of Spain. There was just something about him and his story that stuck with me, and despite asking the bus driver of that particular route to look out for him, and passing notes through the marketing manager for the bus line, sadly, I was never able to locate the dapper gentleman again. So, the mystery of his friend in New Westminster, B.C. remains unsolved.

I also lost touch with the fellow I wrote about in my post Let Me Give You a Quarter for the Shoes. He no longer occupies the corner by the KFC, nor any other nearby intersection, so has probably moved on to another city. There have been plenty of others filling those spots around town, however, as the number for people living in poverty in Washington state has topped 14 percent. Add a severe mental illness into that equation and the odds are stacked against you.

Now to the friends I can still find! I’ve had a number of great people come and guest blog for me over the last three years. Where are they now? Well, here are some updates on a few of them.

Author and blog coach Molly Greene visited in May 2012. At the time, she’d just released her first book; now Molly has five books out and is about to release the sixth. This woman works hard!

There was also Kendall Hunter, my old chum from when we lived in South Africa, and both author and photographer. Kendall was working on a book about female photojournalists around the world. From what she’s told me, it’s morphing quite a lot – oh, how books change shape, hey? In the meantime, she’s creating a really cool website and mobile app called CultureDock, where young people can find and post information about cross-cultural information and experiences.

Then there was Jeri Walker-Bickett, who contributed a moving essay that continues to be one of the most popular on my site. She was writing her novel then, and still is – oh, how books can take a long time to birth, hey? She’s got a couple of short travel memoirs out, set in Yosemite National Park, and has built a solid freelance editing business. If you have a manuscript (or other) in need of some love, drop Jeri a line.

Next, author Nadine Christian (of the Fletcher Christians) came to hang out, and shared all about life on the remote and remarkable Pitcairn Island. Nadine has since staged her own mutiny – okay, maybe that’s a bit extreme – and moved to New Zealand earlier this year. Her Twitter feed photos of her five kids experiencing life in a big city for the first time is a riot.

Chickybus’s Lisa Egle spun through my site about a year ago to talk about one of our favorite things: female solo travel. In 2014, Lisa spent time in Colombia and has put up some fantastic photos and posts about her visit. If that’s a country that interests you, you’ll find more here.

In the travel post Vacation Clothing Essentials, I shared my love for merino wool in all temperatures, freezing cold and blazing hot. An add-on for any of you who are bothered by the itchy factor (which is usually minimal already in a good merino piece): I/O Merino has gathered a bunch of sheep and conditioned the hell out of their sheepy hair – bottle after bottle of Pantene – and as a result, their clothes are beyond soft. I road-tested a t-shirt that was sent to me right before my recent SE Asia trip, and man, it was like wearing jammies. P.S. They’re having a HUGE end-of-year sale right now. HUGE.

It might be stupid to give away intel on my finds of amazing and relatively deserted spots around the globe, but that’s just what I did with Gilligan’s Island in Belize. I’m sad to report that Tobacco Caye has now been approved for a supermall, and construction is due to start in 2015. Noooooo, that’s not true. Actually, it has been completely submerged by rising water levels, a fatality of global warming. Nooooo, that’s not true either. It’s in fine shape, and I’d still advise that if you’re going to Belize and don’t like the vibe of Ambergris Caye (where most people go), head a little further south and you will be richly rewarded.

Finally, it was back in 2011 when I first published a post called Love in the Time of Saran Wrap, all about how the only thing that survived my long-term relationship with a guy named Hank was a 2500-foot roll of plastic wrap. At the time of writing, that roll was 15 years old. A year later, my husband Francis emphatically stated that he wanted to start his own roll of plastic wrap with me, and gifted me with 2000 feet for Christmas. It took until August of 2014 for the christening of that one, meaning that the old Hank roll lived to be nearly 18 years. Respectable for any relationship, I’d say, but my instinct tells me that the new roll will go further.

Stay tuned for another spin of this format in a couple of weeks, where I’ll do updates that are focused on mental health news follow-ups.

Thank you for being here, and I wish you a divine and prosperous 2015, in the way that’s most meaningful to you.

Photo of Asian elephant: By Yathin S Krishnappa (Own work) [CC BY-SA 3.0 (http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0)], via Wikimedia Commons

Travel: Gilligan’s Island in Belize

By Laura Zera 11 Comments

Sometimes it’s easier than you think to get away from the crowds. While most vacationers stick to the islands in Belize’s Ambergris or Central group, head a little further south and an absolute jewel awaits you. Tiny Tobacco Caye is just 30 minutes by boat from the coastal town of Dangriga, and yet to visit it feels like you’ve landed somewhere completely off the charts.

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From Belize to Honduras by Water Taxi

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And a big ol’ taxi it was: there must have been about 20 people onboard! But again, I sat down and found myself facing the ever-present sign, “In God We Trust.” I wanted to say, “Yo Captain, I’m trusting in you, okay, to get this dang boat to the other shore. Show me what you’ve got.”

Argh, it was a long travel day on Feb.4^th. This blog post is full of practical details for other travelers doing the same route, though.

The available verbal, written and online information on the departure time of the Nesymein Neydy varied between 9, 9:30 and 10 a.m. I showed up at 8:30 to get a ticket and hand in my passport for immigration. The boat, however, didn’t leave until 11:30. Apparently, that’s a normal delay.

One passenger attempted to take an eight-week old pit bull puppy with him. “You allowed to do that?” I asked, as his puppy’s head popped out between the top flaps of the cardboard box in which he was being transported. “I think so,” was the answer I got. The pit bull never made it on to the boat. I’m still not sure if that was a good thing or not: stay with clueless owner that keeps you in a box, or stay with unknown person for unknown length of time until clueless owner can retrieve you. If I was the puppy, I would have made a break for it.

We pulled up to Puerto Cortes, Honduras at around 2:45 that afternoon, and a good chunk of the passengers went over the bridge and around the corner to the bus stop. The downer about wanting to travel the northern coastline of Honduras is that you can’t! There is no road. (Same with trying to get from San Pedro Sula straight to the Guatemala border: must go through Puerto Cortes).

And hence the bus portion of the day began. I got a collectivo to San Pedro Sula (SPS), but despite many attempts at asking, it was still unclear to me from which terminal the bus to Tela left – I think there are a couple. Finally, the man sitting next to me jumped up and said, “Here!” He escorted me off the bus and two blocks down the street to the correct bus station. I really don’t know if my stop was his stop, but he sure helped when I needed it!

Unfortunately, at that time of day (about 5 p.m.), there were no more direct buses to Tela, so I had to get one bus to El Progreso, and then another to Tela. Bear in mind that these are the repurposed Blue Bird school buses, packed to the gills, and I had to stand for a long while on the last bus. I also hadn’t eaten since breakfast, so was getting a little bit weary.

Following about 100 paces behind me and my gentleman escort (who eventually went on his way) was another Canadian, a fellow named Curtis that had started out from Dangriga that day as well. Once he caught up to me, we rode the rest of the way to Tela together, arriving at about 7:30 p.m.

Our first two attempts to find a hotel room were a fail. It was Friday night, and Tela is the place where Hondurans from SPS get away for their beach weekends. On our third attempt (at the Hotel Sinai, based on our taxi driver’s suggestion), we got lucky. My room was cramped, mostly clean, and $15 USD. The rooms without private bathrooms were $12.

Curtis decided to shower and hit the sack, so I went out for a little wander to find some food. Tela has a reputation for being a little dodgy at night, so I only took a couple of dollars in my pocket and my room key, and off I went. The streets were so empty that it was a bit unnerving, and almost no businesses were open. I felt better when I reached the Central Square area and saw a group of people practicing Honduran folk dancing in the lobby of the City Hall building.

After going a couple of blocks further I found three or four basic restaurants. I bought a deep-fried thingy (have yet to find a name or description for it online) from the front counter of one and ate it as I walked back to watch more folk dancing. I was thus far underwhelmed with Tela, though, and hoped that it would look a lot more inviting during the day.

Tobacco Caye, Belize

By Laura Zera 1 Comment

Still in Dangriga, down to the Riverside Café I went, in search of breakfast, Wi-Fi, and Captain Doggy. I found him in the Café’s kitchen, making his own breakfast. We ate, waited for a bit to see if any other people would turn up for a lift to the Caye, then left mid-morning.

As soon as we cleared the shallow waters around the mouth of the river and were into the sea, Doggy asked me if I wanted to drive the boat. “Here, you go like dis, and then to speed up you go like dat, and to turn it’s like dis and like dat.” I took over control of the outboard motor and did a fairly fine job for the next twenty minutes or so until my hand started to cramp. Dats when the Captain took the boat back.

The closer we got to Tobacco Caye, the bluer the water. I got the same perma-grin on my face that I had both times that Francis and I went to Fiji; to be surrounded by blue sky and turquoise blue water makes me feel absolutely giddy. Doggy zigged and zagged through the mangroves very Miami Vice-style, which made me giggle even more. When we finally pulled up to Tobacco Caye, it was exactly what I’d hoped for: a round lump of sand and palm trees totaling 80,000 square feet. It didn’t matter where I was standing, I could see water on both sides.

I stayed at Gaviota, and scored what I considered the best cabana of all. It was built on stilts over the water and had a little porch with a couple of Adirondack chairs, and an unobstructed view. I had to use the shared bathroom, but that was okay, because for $25 USD a night, the deal included all of my meals. There were hammocks, lots of birds and palm trees, and a couple of really nice folks running the place. Happy, happy, happy.

Doggy Dog gave me two options: come out with him and another family of six to do some snorkeling off the boat that afternoon for $12.50 USD, or wait until the next day and he’d come back to the island at around 2 pm and take me out alone for free. I said, “Let’s do both!” As it turned out, Doggy ended up taking us all out again the next day for free. This was perfectly fine with me because the family (American-Belizean husband Miles and Belizean wife Susie) had two completely adorable kids that even warmed the cockles of my black and childless heart. The kids’ granddad and his buddy were down visiting from California, and they added some interesting stories to the whole mix.

The snorkeling was great: schools of gigantic fish, lots of colorful coral, and calm and clear water.

Susie did a fine job at her first attempt at fishing, and reeled in three or four barracudas and a snapper or two on the first afternoon, all of which she cooked on a borrowed grill later that night.

When I wasn’t in the water, I spent the rest of my time either in a hammock, or on my little deck, listening to the water and to my favorite new bird, the boat-tailed grackle, master of mimicry. Meals were served at picnic tables, so all the guests (just me and the other family) ate together. I slept very soundly in my little cabana, with the breeze coming through my open windows and the Caribbean sounding just like the ocean setting on my Homedics Sound Spa machine at home.

If it weren’t for the fact that the boat from Dangriga to Puerto Cortes, Honduras only runs once a week, on Fridays, I would have stayed longer. By 4 p.m., we’d shoved off for our run back over to the mainland.

Dangriga, Belize

By Laura Zera 2 Comments

A lot of people come to San Ignacio, Belize to go on outdoor excursions, e.g. cave trips, rafting, etc. I used it only as a stopover on my way to Dangriga, on the coast. I might have stayed longer had I jived with the vibe of the place, but I didn’t, so I kept on going.

To get to Dangriga, I had to first get a bus to Belmopan, Belize’s capital city. That was a pretty short trip, maybe an hour or so. I can’t remember exactly, because I was fixated on the John Oates lookalike (circa 1984) that was on the bus. We must have had some kind of karmic attraction because we cracked heads as we were walking into the terminal in Belmopan. After that, I could suddenly remember all the words to all the Hall and Oates songs that ever got air play. It was a dream come true.

I waited for my next bus for about an hour, and it was prime people-watching time. A stout little boy of about nine or ten was circling the terminal, selecting victims to hit up for a dollar. He passed by three times before he finally asked me. I looked at him and said, “Why are you going around asking everyone for money? You don’t need the cookies anyway. They’re not good for you.” He paused for a moment, and then sidled away and on to the next person. There’s a sucker born every minute, as they say, and over the next little while I saw him stop by the concession counter three times to purchase mini Snickers bars.

Meanwhile, a Mennonite family had come in to the terminal. Talk about sticking out! Father in his round-brimmed straw hat, mother in her kerchief, and three blond tow-headed boys with their matching green shirts buttoned up to the top underneath their navy coveralls. I later learned that there’s a Mennonite community settled along the Hummingbird Highway (and probably in other places, too). They farm, and run a dairy, a bakery, and other small businesses.

My admiration for photojournalists has been steadily growing on this trip. There have been so many times when I missed a great shot – either didn’t have my camera out, or took a picture but failed to capture the moment — or haven’t wanted to try to sneak a picture out of fear of upsetting the subject or showing disrespect. But man, so many of life’s little moments are picture-worthy.

Dangriga was hot, and I had a hard time finding a room in my desired price range. Everything was either too rustic (I’m past the dorm stage of my life) or way overpriced. I stumped around to five different places before collapsing in a puddle of sweat at Pal’s Guesthouse. My $32-a-night room wasn’t all that great inside, but it was right on the beach and had a lovely little veranda from which I could take in the sunset.

The town itself was what I would call ‘authentic.’ There wasn’t much in place just for the sake of tourism, and the main street was made up mainly of grocery stores, medical clinics, hardware stores, banks, and a few basic restaurants. The grocery stores were all run by Chinese immigrants. I always find it interesting how pockets of immigrants settle in random places. I guess there are business opportunities everywhere.

When I asked around for wireless, I was told that the only option was an internet café (which I later learned was false – Riverside Café has it!), so I stopped in there at about 5 p.m., and was amazed at the length of the queue. As it turns out, it’s the place where the kids come to do their school assignments. The school teachers give the café manager a list of the current assignments, so when the kids come in, they just say, “Ms. Smith’s class, the assignment on the history of Belize,” or whatever. (Not that I could understand the Creole/Garifuna-speaking kids!). The café manager finds a file and prints it out for them. They later get it signed off to show that they were there to do the work. I also passed by some kids doing their homework at about 6:30 p.m., sitting out on the front lawn under a street lamp. It reminded me of the lyrics from the Dave Matthews Band song Funny the Way It Is – “Funny the way it is, if you think about it. One kid walks 10 miles to school, another’s dropping out.”

Walking in from the bus station when I first got to Dangriga, a guy in a white pick-up truck with some pretty fancy braids in his hair had pulled over and called out, “Hey, are you going to Tobacco Caye?” “Probably,” I said. He introduced himself as Captain Doggy, boat operator, and gave me the rundown — $35 USD round-trip for the trip out, and a place on the Caye called Gavriota where $25 would get me a cabana on stilts over the water (shared bathroom), and included all my meals. The two backpackers that Doggy was taking to the bus terminal nodded enthusiastically as espoused the awesomeness of it all, and so I said, “sign me up!”

I was to meet him at the Riverside Café later that night to finalize it, but it turned out that I didn’t need to as he passed me on the street again a few hours later and we figured out the rest of the details. The Lonely Planet described Tobacco Caye as a Gilligan’s Island, and Lord knows I sure do loves me a good hammock.

Tikal at Dawn

By Laura Zera Leave a Comment

I’m actually in Tela, Honduras today, but here’s my post from my second day at Tikal.

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The gates at Tikal officially open at 6 a.m., however if you book a tour with a guide, or pay 50 quetzals to a guard, you can get through the gates early enough (e.g. 4:45 or 5 a.m.) to do the pitch-black walk to Temple IV, the sunrise temple. On the day that I did this excursion, Jan.31^st, there was a heavy cover of jungle mist. I walked in with my guide, Jairo, and two other backpackers, the lovely Heidi from England and the equally lovely Adrianna from Brazil.

Shortly after we started in, Jairo stopped, listened, and moved us to the side. Fo’ shizzle, those dang monkeys were trying to pee on our heads. Good thing that he was alert to it, as I later met an Israeli couple who had thought maybe it was raining a little bit in the morning… I had to break the news to them that they’d had a golden shower. It took us about 30 minutes to walk to Temple IV, I think. Sunrise was at 5:45 a.m. and we got there in plenty of time to climb the 200 steps and then sit in quiet awe at the top.

It was eerie and spooky and really, really cool. The silence was punctuated by the primal screams of the howler monkeys, and the odd bit of conversation (Adrianna remarked about the people next to us, “they must be Argentinian. They never stop talking.” It made me wonder if there are any two bordering countries that don’t think uncomplimentary thoughts about their next-door neighbor!).

Dawn came and went, but we didn’t see any sun. The jungle mist lifted enough to give us momentary glimpses of the other pyramids rising up out of the trees, and then settled back in around them. It was still a magical experience, although my photos don’t do the scene any justice (those that aren’t a foggy blur). Francis asked me if I’d brought my tripod in with me, to which I replied, “oh yeaaaaaah, triiiiipod.”

Jairo took us around to several other sites, showing us Mayan refrigerators, drawing in the dirt the way that temples were built to align with the solstice sun, and explaining which elements of the Mayan civilization downfall theory that he most supported. One part of his explanation that I found interesting was regarding deforestation. He said that the Mayans didn’t dig pit toilets; instead, they would mix their waste with limestone and rainwater to fertilize their crops. The population grew, and so they cut down more trees to plant crops. The deforestation led to a decrease in rainfall, which led to a disproportionate amount of human waste in their fertilizer. Disease spread. Wars complicated matters. By the time the Spanish arrived in the 11^th century AD, there were only a few Mayan settlements scattered around Lake Peten Itza.

The next mission of the day was to get to Belize. I found a tourist bus that was heading to Flores and it dropped me at the junction for Melchor, the Guatemalan border town. Once there, I stood on the side of the road and waited for something to come by that was going in my direction. It was then that I realized just how much I love the feeling of being on the road, waiting for unknown transport to arrive at an unknown time, and having that joyful “hurray” moment when something stops for me and I hoist my bags up and jump in.

On this particular occasion, the collectivo (mini-bus) that stopped had a front seat that was empty and waiting for me – a rare occurrence. We bumped along the road to Melchor, of which some stretches were smooth and others were barely paved. At one point, I let out a yelp as a humongous and clearly hard-shelled bug flew in the window and committed suicide on my right arm before rebounding to my left shoulder and then down to the driver’s feet. At one of our stops, I marveled at how a dog checked behind the bus for traffic as he approached the road, and then looked both ways again before crossing in front of us. Smart like street dog, not like pampered pug o’ mine.

The border crossing was smooth – walk walk walk, stamp passport, pay $2.50 USD to leave country, walk walk walk, stamp passport, enter new country. I also changed a few bucks along the way and was surprised to see the Queen on Belize’s money. Girlfriend sure gets around. I knew that the Brits had been there for a spell, but hadn’t realized the long-standing significance of their occupation.

A taxi took me to Benque Viejo (it’s not far, but was too much to handle in the heat with my pack), where I got the (school) bus to San Ignacio. Belize gave me my second surprise as I looked around the bus. The diversity of people was far greater than Guatemala. There were some Garifuna, some Creole, some Latino, and some interesting and beautiful mixes of all of the above.

Once in San Ignacio, I efficiently secured a room one block from the bus stop at the Hi-Et Guesthouse (not sure if it was named after the famous hotel chain), run by Cyril Simmons, his wife Beatrice, his son Winston, and his two Pomeranians, Princess and Duke. Cyril was 65 if he was a day, and he had these super cool glasses with circular magnification in the center of the lenses that made his eyes look about three times bigger than they were. A very sweet man, Cyril was.

I knew that Belize was more expensive than Guatemala and Honduras, and the room set me back $20 USD. It has a private bathroom, but a cold shower. I like to think that all of the cold showers that I’ve been having have at least been preserving the longevity of the dye in my hair.

My final stop of the day was Mr. Greedy’s Bar and Restaurant. I was drawn there by the free wi-fi, but the atmosphere didn’t disappoint, either. I made a few friends, sent a few emails, had a meal, and then headed back to the Hi-Et, where I was able to eavesdrop on the phone conversations of a woman in the building next door. Even though she was speaking in Creole, I could tell that they were full of all the drama of a woman scorned. Indignation translates in any language.