At no point has any of us felt like we are being ripped off... No special prices for tourists, no special menus. Belize is just... Easy.
We get to Caye (pronounced "key") Caulker, a small, sleepy island, in 45 minutes time. It's very breezy, and the coast of the island is dense with a carpeting of sea grass that makes the water too murky to swim in. We get to Colina Cabanas, and they give us bicycles to get around the island. There's a private dock with Adirondack chairs and hammocks that look out on the sea. It's lovely,
Almost every bar and restaurant has swings as seats. We sit at a place called "bamboozed" which we wound up calling "bamboozled," for no apparent reason. We had a small lunch and some rum drinks and beer (rum is king in belize) where we met our first local harassing drunk guy. Very aggressive, very bored, and very annoying. The island's drunks are very persistent, very annoying, and very.... Drunk. Makes you worry that the island's favorite drink is called "the panty ripper."
We spent most of the first day biking around, trying to catch some sun from in between the clouds, trying to find some some coffee on the island that had some whole milk or half-and-half in it (skim milk is preferred here) and trying to stay awake long enough to make it to dance at the recommended I&I reggae club when it gets going at 11 pm.
We failed on both fronts.
Next morning, we were ready to go! Found a cafe called "Caribbean colors art cafe." The woman owner, some artist expat who sells her art at the cafe and makes a point to hire single moms in Caye Caulker. Socially responsible choice for not so much $. We are hungry and indecisive. Tiffany wants coffee, but wants something that is made with whole milk... What were her options? The girl suggests going to store across the street to try to get herself some whole milk and Tiffany could just put the milk in herself. This is why I just settled on Nescafé in the cabana. She settles on a mexican spiced coffee situation. Megan solves the problem ordering a baileys with coffee (at 10 am). Tiffany is jealous and toys with changing her order. I order a papaya banana shake. Megan does, too. Nope... She wants papaya pineapple. Tiffany thinks about it. Nope. We are taking forever and changing our minds over and over, and this sweet woman just keeps saying ok and smiling.
We FINALLY decide on what to eat, and THEN the woman tells us that they are out of tortillas and bagels, which was about half the menu. We now need another 10 minutes to decide. You can take the girls out of NYC, but you can't take NYC out of the girls.
She comes back, we order, and realize they have tortilla chips even thought they didn't have tortillas, and now we are reconsidering breakfast nachos. So Megan and Tiffany, still indecisive, each place an order of breakfast nachos and 1/2 stack of banana pancakes (which, by the way, was a ridiculous, laughably enormous amount of food they didn't make a dent in.) I apologize, and say "I am so sorry... Americans are the worst."
Without skipping a beat, she says, "nope. Israelis. Sometimes we don't let them eat here."
Thank god for Israelis.
We go on our first excursion. It's a 3-stop snorkeling trip. It's just us and a couple from Kentucky, who were friendly until the male half of the couple commented on tiffany's tattoos. Then the woman clammed up and sat on the other end of the boat. Our guide, Marph, and his friend take us on a speed boat to some reef I don't remember the name of. He starts the trip by waving some small fish in the air, summoning all of the Pelicans to the boat. Within a couple of minutes, there were Pelicans swooping down, grabbing fish right from his hand. He asks if anyone wants to feed the Pelicans. I offer, and the thought of holding a scaly, slimy, fish is more disgusting to me than the birds, even though it looked like something out of a Hitchcock film. The pelican snatches the fish right out of my hand, and now I'm covered in fish scales.
A little while later, an adorable bird with a white Mohawk sits on the back of the boat and hangs out with us pretty much the whole trip. Marph feeds this bird twice a day on his trip, and she comes to his boat for food all the time. Our little bird mascot. So cute.
We get to the snorkeling spot and I am nervous as hell. I'd only been snorkeling once, and breathing out of the tube freaks me out, because I feel like my air intake is restricted. As someone who suffers from allergies and asthma, it's a really uncomfortable and nerve-wracking feeling. Marph is an excellent guide. We see a lot of bright fish, a grey-striped spiny lion fish which Marph tries unsuccessfully to stab and kill (they ruin the reef and the belizean government encourages people to kill them.) it's lovely and the water is crystal-clear and warm, but I am kinda freaking out breathing out of the tube, which makes my breath short, which makes it harder too breathe out of the tube. I keep telling myself that I am just panicking, but I'm not a good "mind over matter" person. I manage to enjoy it through the panic. Everyone seems to sense me panicking, and Sarah turns around a couple of times to give me the thumbs up, and even the guy who also was on the boat with us asks me if I need help.
I hear Megan humming a tune in the water. Turns out she isn't really comfortable with all this either. Someone told her that humming a song helps regulate her breathing. We both decide to sit the next stop out.
The next stop is Shark Ray Alley. It's a shallow reef area where there are 3foot long nurse sharks and stingrays. Marph stops the boat, and a whole bunch of them go up to the boat. He feeds them. The Sharks don't bite; they eat by sucking in the fish. He jumps in with them.
We ask about the crocodile hunter. Isn't that how he died? Marphs friend, who has said nothing up to this point, says, "no disrespect, but that guy didn't respect nature. He was a fucking asshole."
"Anyone want to swim with the Sharks?" Marph asks. He's petting a ray. That was a no for me. Sarah begrudgingly says yes. Take one for the team, girl, good luck. but by the time she musters the courage, the Sharks have realized that there was no more food for them to suck up, and they're off.
We go off to spot #3, and by that point the novelty has worn off, the wind has picked up, and we're just enjoying the view, waiting to get back.
A gorgeous day.
Go to get dinner, and we have no idea where to go. 4 hungry indecisive women, one vegetarian, and quiet, laid back Caye Caulker suddenly is filled with those guys who try to get you into their restaurant. I hate those guys, and even though that's just what they do, my experience is that it just means the restaurant sucks.
One guy, standing a block away from Joe's, is slightly drunk, drink in hand, and tries to show us a menu. I give him the side eye, and tell the girls I'm not into places where there's a guy giving us menus. The guy is persistent, and says he used to live in New York, and that this chef is a great chef on the island. We've dubbed him "Brooklyn." He's annoyed with me, because he sees I'm not pleased with his pitch. He asks me what's wrong. I tell him I don't like the hard sell. Tiffany is hungry as fuck and convinced us to go in. I say I'm not into it, but she can make the executive decision. Brookyn walks us in, because if he doesn't, he says, he doesn't get any credit. I'm now convinced that Brooklyn doesn't even work for the restaurant. Maybe he works for drinks.
We go in, sit down, and suddenly Brooklyn's carribbean accent disappears. Megan and Sarah then decide they actually don't see anything they want on the menu, and we all decide to leave. Brooklyn looks displeased.
We find a little place with a guy standing outside, in front of a steel drum barbecue. He gives us a half-assed sell, as if he didn't want to give it at all.
He says that everyone gets a rum punch free. Tiffany tells him of her conspiracy theory that the rum punches on the island have no rum in therm, because she has barely been drunk at all. The guy says that the rum punch is great, and if she doesn't like it, he will personally come by and put an extra shot of rum in it for her.
Perfect.
Caroline comes out to take our order, and she keeps popping out to take care of us like a mom would. So cute. There's the four of us, an old white couple, and American country music on the radio at the bar. I go into the bar, and ask if the country music situation is for the tourists, and if so, we hate that shit, and would she please put reggae on instead. She was more than happy to oblige.
Brooklyn, from the other restaurant, starts taking to the guy in front of Caroline's place. I think we pissed him off coming here instead.
I step on the plate that is under the plant next to the bar and break it. I own up and apologize, and Caroline's son, who's hanging out at the restaurant, makes fun of me. 5 minutes later, he steps on it and breaks it also. Payback's a bitch. Sarah steps on it before Caroline decides it's better off inside.
Another local drunk from around town is a few feet away from us. He's talking and talking and we're ignoring him. That is, until he calls us "Four the Hard Way." We laugh, and he disappears.
We are really happy with the meal, until sarah and I both meet a very large Waterbug in the bathroom. It is an island, and it rains, but neither of us really enjoys that kind of brush with nature, especially when our pants are down. Between this and the crabs that hang out at night, who stand on two legs with their claws up ready to defend themselves that scare the shit out of us, mostly sarah, I realize that maybe my girls are just as nature-phobic as I am.
We finally make it to the reggae bar, but even at 11 pm there's nothing really going on except those guys who prey on tourists. We wrap it up, another night of little dancing, but it was a great day regardless. Maybe tomorrow, when we hit Ambergris Caye, we'll get lucky.
No comments:
Post a Comment