One of the few things keeping me on keel at the moment is the knowledge that “we will go back.” In fact, plans have been drawn up in our minds already as to where we are staying next time. But, but, but…there were times over the last two weeks when I said, “we’re going to come back right?” and he’d reply in a noncommittal way, which would lead my paranoid mind to think, “he’s coming back alright - just not with me.”
Although things have been good lately, I’m still completely confused as to what the hell is going on with us. I suppose there are No Guarantees When It Comes To Marriage, yet that seems to counter what I’ve always thought marriage was, i.e. a sense of stability.
There’s been more affection and the occasional “I love you” so I’m trying to believe things are on track. No mention has been made by him of The Issues. And while on vacay I was quite the Outgoing Friendly Girl, which I hope he took notice of, even if I did take a pass yesterday on hanging out with “our friends” C&R. I blamed it on the weather and lack of sleep from the flight Saturday, while in truth I frankly couldn’t stomach dealing with her.
But back to happy things, the trip was amazing. The flight there was hell however, even in Business Class (free upgrade!) it was still HELL. I can’t sleep on planes so it was awful. Our flight out of LAX was to leave at 1 a.m. Thinking that we were smart and pragmatic travelers we got to LAX at 9:30 p.m. – along with roughly the entire El Salvadorian population of Los Angeles, the line wrapped nearly from Bradley International Terminal to the 405. We waited. Waited. And. Waited.
Then the plane was late. And the flight seemed about 7 hours (normally it should have been 5, it’s like they stayed in third gear the whole way down.) Arrived in El Salvador with 15 minutes to get to our connector, but we made it. The flight was just under an hour from El Salvador to Belize and all stress evaporated from my body instantly upon landing. I felt like I was home. Customs was a breeze and we made it to the other gate (sounds fancy, but by “gate” they mean “other area” because all departures leave the one gate) for Maya Air in minutes. Our little island hopper flight was on time so we only had a few minutes to grab our first Rum Punch at Jet’s Bar (i.e. four chairs lined in front of a bar “thus Bar.”)
The Maya Air hopper was awesome. I reallyreallyreally want to learn to fly a little plane (just what I need another expensive hobby.) There’s nothing quite like looking out your window 2000 feet above water the color of aquamarines, peridots, and sapphires dotted with mangroves and sandy deserted islands.
We landed in San Pedro, Ambergris Caye about 15 minutes later, the air hot and humid, the roads sand and gravel, the “airport” nothing more than an airstrip with two shacks. There is no denying the fact that Belize is a developing country and still very third world in many ways. I can see how some travelers are at first put off by how poor things appear, by American standards, but frankly that is what makes it such a special place.
The total lack of pretension is like a cold pool on a hot day, this coming from someone who spends a lot of time in the World of Pretension. Not just in LA, but in the way I live my life – I’m impressed by “stuff” and frankly it’s good to be reminded that Life is not about the damn stuff. Life in San Pedro is about community, spirit, friendship, giving, loving, and just being. No one cares if your lipstick is Dior or Cover Girl, in fact, there is no point in even wearing lipstick because it melts right off.
From our little plane we grabbed our bags and met up with the manager of the Villas we were staying at, she drove us in her golf cart to our place while our bags followed behind in one of the few gas powered vehicles on the island. Our place was lovely; terra cotta tiles on the floor, rattan furniture, a comfortable little bedroom with A/C, well stocked kitchen, and a huge patio. We were too excited to relax, even though I hadn’t slept for 24 hours, so we changed into cooler clothes and headed off towards the beach to find a bar (not hard, there’s one about every 10 feet.)
San Pedro has 3 primary streets, but taking the beach is the best way to get places. So we wondered over to Fido’s (pronounced fee-dohs) for some Belikin and conch fritters. Then some lobster. And then some shots. Eating, drinking, and chatting up everyone around us with the Caribbean sparkling in the background. Then wandered home and napped. Woke up later, sat on the patio watching the palm trees sway and the ocean break on the reef, tired from travel and a little looney. I think we went to dinner and then passed the hell out early.
Monday we had breakfast at little hotel with a huge colonial style veranda and tables on the beach. I ate a lobster omelet while I sifted sand through my toes. We talked a little to the guy at the next table and found out he was from Santa Monica too, ended up that he was in Rob’s scuba group that afternoon along with his girlfriend, we ended up hanging out with them pretty much each night they were there (until the end of the week) and had Thanksgiving dinner with them. A great couple I’d love to see again, but unfortunately he’s currently working in NY and she’s in Houston (both doctors.)
I spent some days while Rob was getting scuba certified wandering the town, reading, and drinking rum punch at on of the many beach bars. It was nice and relaxing in “GAT Tropical” style.
The second week went WAY to fast. Monday we went fishing which wasn’t that great, Tuesday we did the whole island tour with some other new friends that own El Patio restaurant and are amazing people, Wednesday I can’t even remember what we did – wait it was snorkeling and it also rained a lot-, Thursday we relaxed by the pool, and then Friday we went on The Big Fishing Trip.
I’m not sure that I’ve ever mentioned it but I do really like fishing and the husband positively LOVES it so through word of mouth we found a guy who was going to get us into some Serious Fish. His boat was a Mexican Skiff (i.e. really-really small boat – the dingy for my parents boat is bigger) who took us outside the reef (i.e. into open ocean, rough open ocean.) Small boat + open ocean = interesting experience and probably illegal in the US and maybe one of the best experiences of my life. I had my line in the water not 60 seconds and it was hit…hard. The line spooled so fast I think there was smoke coming off it. We were fishing with 17 pound test and very light tackle (i.e. line and rod meant to catch a fish about 20/30 pounds or so.) That’s when I heard the captain Mario and Rob start yelling something about a Sailfish (http://marinefisheries.org/FishID/billsail.html) and sure enough he sailed straight up out of the water. I kept trying to reel him in but the line was spooling out and he was running fast, the water was so rough I couldn’t stand up for fear of capsizing the boat and my hands were beginning to cramp up. I fought him for about 20 minutes before I handed the pole over to Rob because I was scared I would loose him. It took him 45 minutes to get the fish in, several times I though the tiny pole was going to snap right in half and the line was going to break. The Captain said that I’d set the hook really good, but I think it was just luck. Then I took some pictures of them with the Sailfish and we let him go. He was about 70 lbs. He also dragged us 4 miles out in the process of the fight.
The rest of the day was just catching smaller fish and it was great fun. Also, being on a small boat in those huge rolling waves is a form of meditation after a while. Sitting there silently rolling about on the deep blue water hearing nothing but the ocean and the wind, it’s truly a unique experience. Very “Old Man and The Sea.”
That night our friends at El Patio (I keep mentioning it because if you go – you MUST eat there) cooked up all our fish – we shared it with the whole staff. Then went to the town recreation center to watch the high school basketball championships since our friend’s team from the mainland Belize was playing (an open air “court” – term used loosely – on the beach with the whole village cheering them on while Punta music blared in the background.)
I’ve never felt so much like a part of a community. To go someplace for just two weeks and make more friends there than we have here in LA is stunning and a testament to what a special place it is. The culture, the music, the Spanish/English/Creole language (I miss hearing it around me) and the happy “always something fun going on” feeling.
That said, I feel I should warn anyone thinking to go there of a few things. I don’t mean to sound snobby and the positives far outweigh the bad and I doubt this stuff would bother any one of you guys, but just in case:
1. They say you can drink the water, but don’t. I learned this after our friends that own the restaurant told me I shouldn’t be drinking it, and honestly, this might be part of why I lost some weight while there. Nuf’ said.
2. It’s a Developing Country. No McDonalds, no Starbucks, no ClubMed, no Hilton, no chainsofanykind. Also, no food safety standards. I won’t even discuss the bathrooms at most establishments except to say “master the squat” before booking your airfare.
3. When you order a beer they give it to with a napkin, the napkin is to carefully wipe the opening of the bottle because they generally have rust on them.
4. There are shacks, there is poverty and there are children (and adults) hustling you for money ALL the time. It’s not neat and not pristine and not manicured.
5. The Police will shake you down (according to locals) but we never had a problem. Usually they were in the Police Station (i.e. a little tiny building with wood stairs that were absolutely falling apart) with Bob Marley blaring. We surmised they were just “testing” something recently confiscated. Speaking of, there’s a lot of that for sale and I suppose it’s good but we never tried it since were not big on it. However we heard that occasionally a nice sized Columbian package will wash up on shore and if we’d been that lucky I don’t think you’d have ever heard from me again. We’d be the Gringo Cartel, thankyouverymuch.
6. Speaking of, when you’re there you are a “Gringo.”
7. Bugs. Lots and lots and lots of bugs. If the wind is blowing you’re OK, but when it’s still you will get bit. And not just by mosquitoes. We stayed at a really nice place and yet both of us are convinced we were bitten by things living in the sofa and the bed. I even have a bite on my thigh with two “fang” marks and a large red circle around it just like a spider bite (make that a BIG spider bite.) So just be forewarned. Oh, and one night while walking to dinner a cockroach attacked Robert – no lie. He was so freaked it took about 5 campachanas (rum, club soda, coke, and lime) to calm him down. That was the same night we ended up getting really really wasted with our gang of locals so, eh.
So none of this stuff is a big deal, to me, and I’ll be going back whenever possible for as long as possible. A few bugs ain’t nothin’ when you’re sitting under a Palapa drinking something with rum watching pelicans scoop up their dinner from water.
(Oh, and someone stole my shoes one morning, but this entry is already too damn long and I really need to finish some work.)
