Part IV: Pain and Suffering

Cay Caulker proved to be a great, relaxing place. Like Jamaica without being offered drugs every 5 seconds. We found a good place for dinner, I ordered a bacon cheeseburger. It was delightful. Lacking cash once again, we asked if the restaurant took credit. They did! So, I went to whip out my ATM card. D'oh! I realized what had happened the moment I saw the empty slot in my wallet.


All of a sudden I was in a MasterCard commercial. Desperately worried because Belize City is not a place you want to lose your ATM card, I called the bank. The card was cancelled, everything was fine. Priceless. I sat back, finished my burger, drank a couple of beers and watched the waves massage the beach. Exhausted, full, and a bit delirious, we headed back to the hotel room and passed out.


The next day we decided to do some snorkeling. After all, we had dragged our snorkeling gear across Latin America. The boat left at 10 and we were going to be out there until 1. Being quite pasty, we bought some sunscreen. All lubed up and ready to go, we headed out to the reef with our guide and a family of Spanish (as in the country) tourists. They were unremarkable except for the fat-ass guy with the long red hair down to the middle of his back and the matching nasty beard. He was quite pushy and ate a lot more than his fair share of the provided lunch, which was mostly fruit.

Overall, the trip was just o.k. I saw a puffer fish, that was the highlight, but I couldn't get it to puff up. No sharks. We did go to an area where stingrays fly (swim) about, that was cool. When we got back to shore around 1 p.m., we were tired and salty and headed to the room to rest. That's when we realized the extent of our sunburn. Red doesn't begin to describe the color my back had turned. Fuscia, maybe. Devil is more appropriate. But the pain was only beginning.

After a nap and some serious application of aloe we took a walk and grabbed some dinner. Too tired and sunburned to participate in the techno club scene, we headed to bed early. Besides, we had a plane to catch early the next morning to get to Puerto Barrios. Changing our plans from taking an 8 hour bus ride through Belize to a 40 min. prop plane ride was genius. I was just glad we weren't on a college budget and could afford the extra $100 per person.

The flight was very cool - my first time in such a small plane (turbo prop that seats 12). Belize is pretty from 10,000 feet. We landed, called a cab, and headed for the port. I use the word port quite generously, though. It was basically a wood shack with a concrete walkway that also served as a pier. Prior to arrival, our cabbie informed us that there were just two ferries between Belize and Puerto Barrios, Guatemala. The first left at 9:30 and the second left at 2:30. It was 9:25. Our cabbie also informed us of a new rule that required everyone be on board 15 mins. ahead of departure. It was 9:25.

Fortunately, the port was about a 2 min. cab ride from the airport (again, using the term loosely - it was a 400 yard asphalt strip with a gas station and a tin shelter). We sprinted into the port and asked for two tickets to Puerto Barrios. Of course, they only accepted cash and we had none. So, I asked where the nearest ATM was. "Oh, its very far. You'll never make it." "Just tell me where." "Go up to that street, take a left and go until you see the bank." I thanked her and sprinted. The term very far in Belize is much different from what Americans think of as very far. The bank was about a 30 second sprint away, and I'm no Michael Johnson. Since it was early on Saturday morning, I figured there'd be no one at the bank, I was just praying it was open.

The ATM was available, but, of course, there was a line three people deep - and there are maybe 5 people in the whole town. Time is a funny thing. When you don't need it, you have it. When you need it, you don't. When you want time to fly, it doesn't. When you need it to, it don't. When you want time to creep, it doesn't. When don't want it to, it does.

I grabbed the money from the ATM and, this time, my card (not mine, my wife's), sprinted back to the port, paid, and got my ticket to another country. Fortunately, the boat company held the boat for us. I had imagined it would be a large ship like those used to ferry folks in New York, or between England and France. Nope, this was basically a large fiberglass canoe that sat four across. It had a canopy and an outboard motor. It was going to be an hour long ride.

About half way through the trip, the two deckhands seated on the bow began to signal thumbs down and pointing in front of the boat. Turns out there's basically a garbage dump in the middle of the Gulf of Honduras between Belize and Guatemala. Nice. Reason enough to recycle your plastic bottles, people.

After slaloming trash for 10 minutes, the boat gathered speed again and we were soon in Guatemala. But we needed money, again. We grabbed a cab and in broken Spanish I told the guy we needed money. He drove us to an ATM that worked and we got enough for the cab ride plus some extra.

A short drive later, we arrived at our hotel/resort, checked in and sat in the lobby for 2 hours while we waited for our room to be prepared. Awesome. What you want to do after literally being on a boat, a plane, and in a car for the past 6 hours is sit in a hotel lobby. At least it had a/c, but that benefit was offset equally by the bevy of mosquitoes that loved every inch of my pasty white legs.