Belize - Day 2 - I Did It My Way

1/18/15

Belize City, Belize

The Caribbean is, without a doubt, one of my favorite places in the world.  I just hate the beach.  My readers do not understand that.  In order to fully understand the magic of the Caribbean, I encourage my readers to just once travel to the Caribbean the way I do.  Just once avoid the beach.  Just once stay away from the tourist cities.  Get on a plane to St. Lucia or St. Kitts.  Spend a weekend in Soufriere or Basseterre.  Stay off the beach.  Each country has its own flavor, but it’s just variations on a theme.  Even the beers taste alike.  Have a beer with breakfast.  Have the best fried chicken of your life for lunch.  Walk around town with no purpose in mind.  Just stay off the beach.  There are beaches all over the world.  Nothing in the world can compare to the inland parts of the Caribbean.

Belize is not a Caribbean island, but it might as well be.  It is a country the size of New Jersey at the foot of the Yucatan Peninsula.  It barely looks any different than the islands I have visited, but it houses the second largest reef in the world.  The Belize Barrier Reef is the purpose for my visit.  It is the reason I didn’t just stay overnight in Belmopan when I was at Tikal last year.  Yes, I will be going in the water this trip, but that is for fulfillment value, not enjoyment value.  If I thought I could check this WHS off my list without getting in the water, I’d gladly smoke my cigar in the boat and keep dry.  I’m sure it will be beautiful.  I’m sure it will be wondrous.  I just don’t like getting wet.

Sitting outside this morning, smoking my cigar and drinking my beer, the weather is perfect.  The charming vista I found for myself even more so.  In 12 hours, I will be closing out my Belmopan entry.  In 24 hours, I will say, “Belize Complete.”  In 36 hours, I will be back home.  It is a short trip, to be sure, less than 48 hours in Belize, but it will be a relaxing trip.  Finally freed from all of my stresses back home, I am free to just enjoy myself, to do exactly what I want without having to be beholden to anyone else’s wishes, desires, and demands.  I can be true to myself.  If I want to have beer with breakfast, I will.  Having travelled all over the Caribbean, I can say that it is a magical place, but most tourists miss the true magic of it in exchange for a weekend on the beach.  I encourage all of my readers to just once try staying inland.

Alright, enough with that diatribe.  I woke up before 7 AM, of course, worried about suffocating when my sleep machine suddenly stopped working due to the power outage.  I got ready, changing into my bathing suit, and left my stuff at the front desk, only bringing my computer bag.  Without electricity, they had to take an imprint of my credit card to manually charge later.  I walked back into town, but the place where I had been planning to have breakfast wasn’t opened yet.  Hmm, I was pretty hungry, and I figured that they would open at 8 AM, in fifteen minutes.  What about Anna’s Lunch Box?  I had a great lunch there yesterday.  Could I get my traditional Belizean breakfast there?  Yes, I could.  Beans, eggs, bacon, fry jacks, and coffee, along with a Camacho.  Perfect.  It was as good as it sounded, and I ate almost every bite.  I got two beers to go, one for the boat ride, one for now.

After I paid my check, I walked down to the boat place, relieved to see that it was open.  He didn’t complain about my cigar, but he said that I wouldn’t be able to smoke it.  I was the first one from the group, and it was early, 8:15 AM.  He said they would leave around 9 AM to 9:30 AM.  There were some outdoor seats at the restaurant next door, so I went there.  I wondered if they were going to make me buy something, which I would have done, since it was the right thing to do, but no one has come up to me.  I sat down and enjoyed the charming view.  I then proceeded to write this entry, which I will now close so that I can finish my cigar and head next door to the boat place.

At anchor, Good Ting, South Gallows (Belize Barrier Reef)

Well, my teleologically inclined readers, my phone’s water resistance was not all it cracked up to be.  What is the reason for that?  Is it anything other the efficient causes that contributed to the adverse reaction between the phone and the salt water?  I do not believe so.  The phone works, but the screen does not.  I even tried retrieving the pictures I did take, but it was to no avail.  I do not know exactly what happened.  I took some selfies in the boat, and then I got in the water.  I was able to take some pictures under water, and once I was through, I locked the screen.  When I tried to unlock it, I could not get the screen to turn on.  Meanwhile, I was having trouble breathing.  I made my way back to the boat, handing the phone to someone still onboard, figuring I would just snorkel a bit and then deal with the phone when I got back to the boat.  Well, for whatever reason, I was short of breath.  Once I took the mask off, I was fine, but I was too panicked to properly enjoy myself.  I had seen the reef, so I was technically set.  There was no need for any more snorkeling.  Besides, we would be stopping again in the afternoon, so I would have another chance.

I keep turning my phone on in the empty hope of seeing the screen turn on.  Each time I hear the startup sound and the screen remains black is a little dagger in me.  Fortunately, I backed up my messages and photos before I got in the water.  My contacts are all saved to my Gmail.  It is just the few photos that I took while I was in gear and underwater that I lost.  I can retake the photos in gear, but I will not be able to get the underwater photos.  I suppose that I know the layout of my phone well enough that I can try to take some photos.  Nope, that doesn’t want to work.  Oh well.  I suppose that I need to invest in a proper waterproof camera.  I will see if they can fix this on Tuesday.  Otherwise, I will get another new phone.  Where is the teleological reason for that?  Maybe it will be working by some miracle later in the day.

If it weren’t for needing to check off this WHS, I would have stayed inland this entire trip, and I would have been much happier for it.  After I finished my cigar, I headed to the boat place, and filled out the necessary paperwork and got fitted for my gear.  We got in the boat and headed towards our destination.  Once we were there, I backed up all of my files, just in case.  The case happened.  I described what happened once I got in the water.  When I got back, I tried everything to get the phone working again.  No luck.  I lit up a Partagas and headed to the back.  I knew this would be my best chance for an Official picture, and the captain said we were in the reef, that we were in the WHS.  That was good enough for me.  I then proceeded to write this entry, which I will now close, as were about get back underway to head to the island for lunch.

Forman’s Key, Belize

Good news and bad news.  Good news is that I was able to retrieve the photos I took.  A bunch of blurry photos of the coral was the price of my phone’s screen, not a good trade.  The bad news is that the screen is still not working.  Hopefully I can get it fixed in New York.  Otherwise, I am in possession of what I will call Schrödinger’s phone.  I can receive text messages, but I cannot view them.  Anyone who wishes to contact me will not be able to reach me, and, if the messages do go through, I may not be able to retrieve them.  I really only care about communicating with three people, and my last communication with each of them was via Facebook Messenger, and they all know I’m in Belize.  Hopefully they took the hint and only responded via Facebook, but otherwise, they’ll think I’m ignoring them until Tuesday, at which point I may not even know if they attempted to contact me.  I suppose I should post to Facebook what happened.  Yeah, two phones lost/broken on consecutive trips, not the best of luck.  What is the teleological cause for that?

Well, here I am on this little secluded island, this piece of paradise, enjoying the cool breeze, the feel of sand underneath my feet, and an OpusX.  I was smart enough to bring my camera, just in case, a camera that I would not have had if I had not lost my phone in the taxi in Buenos Aires.  Was that the reason I lost my phone, so that I would buy the camera, so that I would be able to take pictures after I broke my phone?  Well, reader, recall the broken piece on my phone?  If I had not lost my phone in Buenos Aires, I would have gotten myself a waterproof camera for this trip, and I never would have attempted to bring the phone underwater, so it would not have gotten damaged.

This little island has no beach, and it is shockingly beautiful.  It has some huts, even a restroom, which was basically just a whole with a seat over the water, very Official.  We are no longer in the WHS, so there is no point for an Official picture.  I might go for a swim here, just so I can have a picture of me in the water, but I’m not sure.  I am very tired, and it is very relaxing here.  This is my vision of the Caribbean, not the pristine beaches everyone so loves.  This idyllic spot is something that few will ever experience in their lifetimes, but it is an experience that should not be missed.

My entries in Antarctica primarily focused on the people on the ship, and my interactions with them.  I will not write about that for this boat, but I will be remiss if I do not mention a fun fact.  I am wearing my Scarsdale Baseball t-shirt, one of my favorite shirts, and the oldest shirt I have that I still wear.  The lady sitting across from me asked if I was from Scarsdale.  She was from Mount Vernon.  The lady sitting next to her was from Scarsdale.  Someone else was from Edgemont.  Of the seven passengers on the boat, four were from Westchester, quite the coincidence, given only two of them previously knew each other, I think.  After the snorkeling, we headed to this island, a private island owned by our guide’s family.  What was most shocking was all the dogs on the island.  We had lunch here, sandwiches and chips, and I had my beer.  Afterwards, I headed to the gazebo, where I lit up my OpusX and proceeded to write this entry, which I will now close so that I can enjoy the rest of our time on the island.

Belmopan, Belize

Twilight sets in on this beautiful country’s capital.  My screen is split between this Travelogue and a Facebook conversation with one of my favorite people from the Antarctica trip, the person whom I said I had come to see as the big sister I always wanted.  The weather is perfect for me to sit out and enjoy my pipe in my shorts, barefoot.  I am very happy.  I have said, “Belize Complete,” and I did it my way, not how L--- or a tour guide or some travel company told me I should do it.  I did it my way, and I loved it.

After I closed on the island, everyone asked me what I was writing, so I told them that it was a Travelogue.  I wanted to take a picture of me in the water, with my cigar and water bottle, just to post to John Maire to eff with him.  That was exactly what I did.  I didn’t have time to finish my cigar, so I used the water to put it out and brought it on the boat with me, intending to smoke the rest of it at the next stop.  Something was missing.  Yes, I had the picture on the boat with the cigar and water bottle in front of the barrier reef, but a boat is a Category III unofficial location.  I had set the precedent in Glacier Bay for the Official picture, but I still wanted a better one.  I was just not sure how to do it.  Would I give my camera to the captain, light up my last Cuban, drop into the water with my cigar and water bottle, have him take the picture, and then climb back up?  That seemed a recipe for disaster.

Fortunately, I was presented a much better option.  There was a small sandbar near where the snorkelers would be going, and the captain said that he could drop off anyone who didn’t want to snorkel.  Yes, that would be perfect.  The sandbar was right on the reef, and I could take my picture with the cigar and water bottle on the sandbar.  It just meant that I would have to use my last Cuban, and I had doubts about finding real Cubans here.  They let us off at the sandbar, and I brought just my lighter, my Montecristo, my camera, and my water bottle.  I wasted no time in lighting up the cigar, but how would I do this?  The distinctive breaking waves of the barrier reef were clearly visible and in the opposite direction of the sun, perfect.  I first took a few selfies on the beach, but it didn’t feel right.

The WHS was not “The Breaking Waves of the Belize Barrier Reef.”  I needed to get in the water, to have coral underneath my feet.  I took off my shirt, wrapped it around my lighter, and put it on some coral on the beach to avoid getting it sandy.  There were two women with me, I believe the two women from Westchester.  I asked one of them to take my picture, and I walked out a bit.  This was going to be good.  The only problem was the rocks and coral were cutting into my feet.  That’s okay.  A little pain was a small price to pay for an Official picture.  They had trouble with the camera but managed a couple of snaps.  Well, I figured I might as well take a selfie, so I asked for the camera back and did so.  That was perfect.  I got the exact picture I needed.

I headed back onto the sandbar, and I had plenty of time to finish my cigar, the snorkelers still way off.  I saw a little something that looked like a fun spot to sit just a few feet off the coast.  I tried to make my way out there, but the concrete, or whatever it was, was very slippery, and I lost my balance.  I had my water bottle in one hand and my camera in the other.  The water bottle could tolerate salt water.  The camera could not.  In the split second that it took me to fall, I raised my hand with the camera to the sky.  It worked.  My camera was saved, and my water bottle just got a little salty.  That plan out the window, I carefully made my way back to shore and used the water in the water bottle to rinse it off.

I cannot recall if my cigar was done at that point, but I found a nice place to sit and almost passed out.  I sketched the Olympic rings and few WHS logos into the sand.  There was one thing missing.  This was a Natural WHS, and one more thing must be done to make a Natural WHS Official beyond the Official picture.  The ladies were busy in conversation, so I walked a bit into the water with their backs to me, and I made it Official.  They had no idea what happened.  It was not long before the boat came back for us.

When we got on the boat, Siegfried (the only name I remember) said that I missed something.  No, I told him, he was the one who missed something.  How could I explain to him the importance to me of getting that Official picture?  How I could explain to him that I did it my way?  Someone else joked that I was lucky to be stuck on an island with two women.  One of the women responded that I was probably more interested in someone my own age.  The guy then joked how guys liking older women was the new thing.  I stayed quiet.  They were not bad looking.  They just happened to be twice my age.  If I was indeed stranded on a desert island, I’d rather it be with them than with two guys.

Anyway, we made our way into port, and a few people, including Victoria, our guide, asked me for the link to my blog, which I gladly shared.  Hmm, it was 2 PM, and my driver was not expecting me until 3:30 PM.  Well, I was in the “Tourism Village,” which was as big a tourist trap as I had ever seen.  Yes, I got a few souvenirs, but it was just the shirt that mattered.  Hopefully I will get an Official flag pin tomorrow, but I am pretty much set.  The duty-free shop only had fake cigars, so that was a no go.  Once I walked out of the Tourism Village, I realized that I was lost.  I have an excellent sense of direction, but I found myself on unfamiliar streets.  I had a general idea where I was, so I headed towards where I thought I needed to go.  Two tourists then asked me where the Radisson was.  I told them that I was a little lost myself.  I knew exactly where the Radisson was in relation to where I wanted to go, and I had a feeling that they were coming from my destination.  If we worked together, we would both find our way.

I was right, and we did.  I went back to Anna’s Lunch Box for lunch, but they were sold out of almost everything.  I got stewed beef with French fries, delicious, along with a beer.  I lit up a, what the hell did I smoke?  Ah, a Santana.  I also got out my laptop, my phone being useless.  I looked up what happened to my phone.  It said the best thing to do would be to put it in a bag of rice.  I asked the waitress if I could buy some uncooked rice.  She didn’t even charge me for it, which I reflected in her tip.  I put the phone in, but she said I was doing it wrong and showed me the proper way to dry out my phone.  Hopefully it will be working in the morning.

I then walked towards the boat place, where I had arranged to meet my driver.  He had been waiting for quite some time, having arrived early.  He had found out that my boat had come back early, so he checked my hotel, but they would not give him any information without my name.  Well, he was waiting where we had discussed, and he took my back to my hotel to get my stuff and change out of my bathing suit.  We then got on our way, and I had another beer for the road while I smoked my favorite Ardor.

It was about an hour drive, so I asked if we could do Parliament tonight.  He gladly obliged, and I got my Official picture, announcing, “Belize Complete, and that just leaves Costa Rica.”  If I say Costa Rica complete in October, as is my plan, I will also be able to say, “Central America Complete,” and that will be something special.  We stopped at a supermarket, where I got some snacks and beers.  I really like this beer.  George, my driver, was telling me how he took someone who drank a dozen of the beers on the ride from Belize City to Belmopan and then bought a dozen more for the hotel.  The guy wasn’t even toasted.  Apparently he worked for Budweiser.

He dropped me off at my hotel and will pick me up at 8 AM tomorrow morning.  There was a bit of a process for the Wi-Fi, and I was surprised how technologically advanced this little B&B was.  I went into my room, relaxed for a bit, and then headed out to the patio, where I lit up another Ardor and proceeded to write this entry, which I will now close so that I can get some dinner.

Something my readers should know about me, and it is something that I mentioned in my second post, back in April, is that I am a man of my word.  I often say that no man can lay a claim over me, and I talk about how I like to do things my way, but, once I tell someone that I will do something, I have given them a claim over me, and that claim is my word.  I expect the same in return.  If someone tells me that they are going to do something, I expect them to follow through on it, and I get angry when they don’t.  If someone bails on me frequently enough, I perceive of them as flaky and don’t trust them anymore.  Why?  Because the future resembles the past.  If they have constantly bailed on me in the past, I have no reason to think that they won’t bail on me in the future.

Why am I bringing this up now?  Well, it’s a good bit of philosophy, but there were two impetuses for it, one of which I will need to edit out.  The one that I don’t need to edit out was at the souvenir shop back in Belize City.  I was looking for another t-shirt.  I had already bought one, but I didn’t really like it.  They guy found one that I kind of liked.  I wasn’t sure if I was going to buy it.  I made a split decision and told him that I wanted to see what else he had for sale (keychains, etc.) but that I was going to buy that shirt.  My word is my bond.  Once I said those words, there would be no second guessing.  It was as good as if I had already bought the shirt.  That is part of being true to myself, of doing things my way.

If I say I’m going to do something, being true to myself required that I do it.  If I do things my way, once I have said that I will do it, that becomes my way.  That does not mean that I do everything anyone asks from me.  Often times I will just smile and nod, dodge the request, ignore them, give a wishy-washy answer, or flat out refuse.  If I tell a client that they are going to get a proposal by the end of the day, they will, unless there is some compelling reason why it is not possible.  Even if there is that compelling reason, I feel like shit if I can’t follow through on my promise.  If I tell someone that I will meet them at a certain time and place, I will follow through on that.  If I am going to be more than five minutes late, I will let them know.  I hate being kept waiting, so I hate keeping other people waiting even more.

Alright, back to the adventures of today.  After I closed, absolutely starving, joking with Vanessa about using chopsticks to eat my rice and beans, I headed across the way to ask the owners to call me a taxi.  The light was on in the kitchen, and there was some foodstuffs left out on the counter, so I tried knocking.  No answer.  I tried again.  No answer.  I then went inside to look for a phone to call the taxi myself.  No phones.  I went back and tried banging.  No answer.  I started to panic.  I was trapped there.  I had no way to get out, no way to get food.  I started to feel the familiar feeling of hunger-induced depression.  This went on for 30 minutes before someone came out of the bottom rooms saying that they probably weren’t home.  Their car wasn’t in the driveway.  I thought they were the housekeepers, but I was later informed that they were guests.  They certainly knew a lot about the hotel and the city.  I asked if she could call me a taxi.  She gladly did so, having a number on her fridge.

The driver came in about 15 minutes and took me to the restaurant, and I asked him to pick me up at 8:45 PM, it being close to 8 PM, having closed my previous entry an hour earlier.  I sat outside and lit up a Casa Fernando.  I ordered a beer, a mixed ceviche, and fried chicken with onion rings.  They didn’t have any rice and beans, but I was able to get a good photo for Vanessa of me eating the ceviche with the chopsticks.  It was way too spicy, but I picked out the protein until my main course came.  That was delicious.  After my meal, I still had plenty of cigar left, and my driver wasn’t quite due yet.  He came pretty much on time, and I continued to smoke the cigar in the car.  He took me to the hotel, and I went straight to the balcony.  The owner came out and told me that balcony was non-smoking.  Seriously?  He said that I could smoke in the driveway.  I went outside to that part of the house, chose my photos to upload, finished my cigar, and continued my conversation with Vanessa.

After I was done, I went inside, uploaded my photos, and took a nap.  After my nap, seeing the lights off in the kitchen, knowing that the owners were now asleep, to smoke my 2010 Christmas Pipe.  No, Belmopan cannot compare to the Bransfield Strait or Istanbul or Quebec, but it can compete with Antigua and Lake Placid.  Once I lit up my pipe, I proceeded to write this entry, which I will now close so that I can publish.