Day 8 - 19/07/13

Today is a story of endurance followed by blissful reward.

A hangover is never an easy thing but in this heat it makes for a particularly tough ride. I have fry jacks for breakfast (very nice), bumping briefly into Taylor and Shelby long enough to say our goodbyes.

I have chosen to use local transport to get to Flores, which is definitely the cheaper and wiser option but is quite fiddly, with various different connecting waits, connections and walking to bus stops hounded by taxi drivers. By far the most gruelling leg of the journey, however, is the ollectivo I catch from the border to Flores. A steal, you might think, at but 30Q (3 pounds) for a two hour journey but such economy comes at a different cost; the minibus in question is, I imagione, designed to seat 8. I think for the majority of the journey, it houses about 20, all piled on and with no hint of air-conditioning. Truly sweltering conditions and en route I feel the tug of nausea more than once.

What prize, then, for such bravery? What illustrious reward for such a stoical feat of perseverance? Well, imagine the most idyllic scene you can. Take your time: make sure you´ve reached out with your imagination for all those niche luxuries one might not initially consider. Got it?

Compare it with mine: a town barely four-hundred yards across, set in the middle of a lake; cobbled streets, clear waters stretching as far as the eye can see. I´m swimming in this lake´s 25 degree water; the next minute I´m sipping a pina colada (my fourth) that is by far the nicest I have ever had, lying in a hammock in the leafy shaded garden of our hostel as they play golden oldies all day long.

Welcome to Flores, my favourite place so far.

2nd Photos

Day 7 - 18/07/13

Today´s tour does not quite posses the magic of yesterday´s but is an enjoyable compendium of activities, nonetheless.

The driving parts are a bit of a slog: 3 hours each way on very bumpy terrain! First port of call (and the main feature of the tour) is the Mayan city of Caracol, translating as ´snail´, so named because on its discovery in 1937 it was inhabited by a huge colony of the creatures. Conditions are very hot and stickybut it is very atmospheric sitting on top of temples looking out onto mountainous jungle as far as the eye can see, the scene alive with noise from birds, howler monkeys and a host of other jungle life.

I am also pleased with my group! There are only 5 of us today and I particularly enjoy the company of a pair of Texan honeymooners: Taylor and Shelby. It is hard not to fall in love with these guys! Shelby in particular is so beautifully innocent, one of those people who has seen very little of the world but loves all of it and I doubt whether anything could have dampened her spirits or made her any less grateful to be seeing all things that she is. She has only left the USA once before, to Mexico, and - in her own words - it blows her mind to discover how Europeans and Australians travel: moving from hostel to hostel, sometimes journeying for months at a time. It seems as if this honeymoon has opened up a whole new world for her and it is lovely to see!

In terms of activities, the highlight of the day is one of the return journey stops. After visiting a cave, we go for a swim in the Rio-On rockpools and the smooth granite slabs between each pool function as a very effective water slide, making the entire system like one great water ride!

The evening is spent in the company of the aforementioned Texans plus a Chicago girl who is pleasant enough but VERY American, in a coffee-drinking, histrionic, morally uncompromising sort of way, which is not always easy to stomach. I end up getting pretty drunk in the end; all good fun.

Day 6 - 17/07/13

Cor, I see some special things today..

An early rise is needed to be ready for the ATM (Achtun Tunichel Muktal) cave tour and after a short wait at the tour branch I am on a minibus with some fellow cavers, travelling an hour into the Tapir Mountain Reserve, the most verdant part of the country I have seen so far.

When we disembark, we have an enjoyable but for me very itchy trek through the jungle/forest until reachingthe mouth of the cave.

Having donned helmet with torch, and spearheaded by our guide Emil, we enter the cave. I decide that I LOVE caving. Swimming through the water, wondering at the amazing stalactite and stalacmite formations, having to climb through outrageously tricksy rock formations - I love all of it. Add to this the fact that the Mayans regarded this place as sacred and thatthe whole cave is awash with Mayan artefacts and you have the ingredients for a truly memorable experience.

The Mayans were largely agricultural and so their world was all about the earth, the sun and the water. They perceived the world to be flat and regarded the sun as a god that came from the underworld beneath each day. It stands to reason, therefore, that they would see these vast labyrinths of caves as portals into the world of the gods, whence water came and where they should make their offerings in order to appease these gods.

Only high priests were allowed into the caves, always elaborately dressed, painted and disguised to trick the gods into believing they were one of them. The deeper into the cave and the more treacherous the journey, the closer they believed they were to the gods and, along the single route we take, are littered scores of Mayan pots, each of which would have been brought in as an offering centuries ago and broken in half to release the pot´s soul, which would have been initially crafted into it by a shaman.

The deeper into the cave we go, the more elaborate the offerings become: as the Mayan civilisation began to crumble its citizens came deeper and deeper into the cave out of desperation. For this reason, the pots farther in are of the later eras and at the very farthest reaches of the caves one sees more hardcore types of sacrifice - animal and then human skulls - culminating in the perfectly preserved skeleton of a girl with a broken knee, fractured jaw and missing vertebrae (they believed the more pain the closer connection with the gods) at one uppermost zenith of the caves.

Wow. I´ve never seen anything like this before and am now very interested to see the Mayan ruins at Caracol tomorrow.

After a scrumptious curried lunch, it is simply the return leg and I get back to San Ignacio about 4pm, with time to attend to a few domestic chores before grabbing some dinner. Happily, I bump into Michael from Caye Caulker and we share a few beers, discuss pedagogy, the nature of literature in translation, how perceptive faculties can supercede analytical ones and the problems this can create, before retiring (separately) for the night.

Day 5 - 16/07/13

An early rise this morning for the water taxi to Belize City. This is where we say our goodbyes! We do so at the arrival dock and once again I am on my own.

This is okay, though. I am really enjoying my book - cleverly written and very philosophical - and I am surprised at how easy it is to get a taxi to the bus station and then a bus to San Ignacio, which takes two hours.

In no time, I have checked in at a very laid back guest house and have a single room. I am glad for the chance to relax, particularly because I am really quite burnt on my back - I put sunscreen on for the snorkelling but neglected to factor in (pun intended) the actual time in the water, during which ones back is facing directly up to the sun.

Once done, I head out and book myself two big tours for the next two days. I am really rinsing money! But Guatemala will be cheaper and I can hopefully get back onto budget.

After a spot of lunch I have an afternoon nap, which is much needed. I get up about 6pm and have a couple of beers and a light dinner. I am excited about tomorrow!

Day 4 - 15/07/13

Interesting day. Definitely the strangest so far.

The bad:

(i) seasickness on the snorkelling boat bad enough that I am actually sick quite violently and cannot eat any of the food provided.

(ii) amidst this, as if not embarrassing enough, my body decides to have a panic attack! And probably the worst one I have had since my first big one several years ago. I know what it is now, of course, and it passes and it´s fine but it does leave me looking like a right spacker. Curse my constitution!

The good:

(i) despite all my difficulties at sea, I still manage to participate in all the snorkelling! In many ways I actually feel more gastrically stable in the water and the fish are amazing. There are big grey ones, small blue ones, ones with funny stalk-like protrusions, manta rays, groupers and snappers and sea-turtles (which are the absolute highlight!).

In the first dive, I am actually in the middle of whole shoals at points - truly surreal. Nessa pretends to be a fish and bites my toe.

In the third dive, I accidentally kick a MASSIVE fish! I suddenly feel a big thud as I kick with my left flipper and turn to see a reeling, shellshocked grouper. Our guide is angry and says I must watch my feet; the girls think it is hilarious. 

1st Photos

Day 3 - 14/07/13

The holiday has arrived. But the good weather regrettably hasn't!

After arriving at my lovely beach-side hostel at about 1pm yesterday I immediately befriended a very comely collective of Irish girls: six trainee dentists studying in Dublin who are travelling around before beginning a summer elective in Honduras. They are a great deal of fun, which has proven crucial, since the weather did not really allow for much yesterday.

I enjoyed a rainy session of basketball with Nielle, Nessa and a couple of local kids. We also booked up a full snorkelling trip and had a lovely dinner in the Enjoy restaurant: a whole grilled lobster for 22BZ (about 8 pounds!) It was gorgeous and the half-price cocktails were also a real perk.

Drinking then continued predictably with various amusements - by this point we had been joined by Leah's boyfriend Rory and an Australian chap called Michael. We only continued till about 2am though, wishing to save ourselves for today's snorkelling.

We needn't have bothered! It has truly reached epic monsoon levels of wind and rain here and the trip was quickly cancelled. We are now booked in for tomorrow and hopefully the weather will improve. It is a shame because it is such a lovely island but it's hard to do much in these conditions!

*

I have had a good day! Despite initially being holed up in our hostel, confined to Monopoly and tea, won by Rory (Monopoly, that is; not tea. Everyone's a winner with tea), things did calm down and Leah, Rory and I went out for some lunch at a pizza place, the waiter of which was a salient specimen of the Belizean way: exceptionally slow, cripplingly stoned but eager to treat us as best friends. We saw him again much later on, cycling round in circles and wearing two hats. I love this island.

Lunch quickly became an afternoon of drinking and soon we stumbled upon by far the most chilled and atmospheric bar we have found. I think it is called 'Bamboozle'; it has swings at the bar, is made entirely of bamboo, sells delicious rum cocktails and has a sign that says 'Happy Hour - 4pm 'til everybody happy'. We make three separate visits.

We have Chinese for dinner and then drinking games in our hostel, which serve as an effective tonic for our ensuing trip to the Reggae Bar. Only Mary, Chloe along with Rory, Leah and I make it there, though, from the original group, plus an American guy called JD and a Canadian called Kyle.

The night draws to a close, as did the previous, at the only nightclub on the island.

Almost. Against everyone's best advice I accepted an invitation by a local Belizean man to go back to his for a drink!

And very glad I am too that I took the gamble. He was a thoroughly hospitable and interesting chap who took a particular shine to me because I was British: an ex-Belizean soldier, he had been trained by the British Army. He loves the British Army. Although Belize has been independent since 1981, apparently Britain has been discreetly helping them in military matters at various times since.

He shows me an old British Army training manual that he has wrapped carefully in brown paper. I have never seen a book like this before and am genuinely impressed. I now know how many sidesteps to the right I must make before releasing a second burst of gunfire at a stationary target.

"But what about the Americans?" I say. "They have a much more powerful army."

"The Americans are good," he says. "I have fought with Americans. But the British - the British are the best."

I nod.

Day 2 - 13/07/13

Right. It is really quite some time since the last entry and, while this does technically situate the current moment in Day 2, in reality I am still in the middle of my very long outward journey.

I say the middle: actually we are only about an hour from landing at Houston, Texas and from there it's straight onto another hour-and-a-half flight to Belize City. By the time I've got my water taxi to Caye Caulker and found my hostel I imagine it'll be around 2pm - still seven hours from now.

Nevertheless, the parts of the voyage already in my wake dwarf these remaining hours - I had a very comatose 8-hour flight from Heathrow to Newark (thanks to the alcohol) and then a somewhat hungover trip through Newark customs and immigration before finding my gate for the next leg with - owing to delays - only 3 hours to kill.

I did my best to lay out a bed on the pretty unwelcoming floor and drifted off in sufficient snatches to leave me feeling discernibly revived upon rousing to board. After another little nap during this flight, we now descend into Houston with me feeling much more equipped to deal with the day ahead. I've never seen Texas before - exciting!

*

I've finally arrived in Belize but to torrential rain! Of the tropical sort that you don't really get in England. And it has only arrived this morning!

Such is my happiness at having finally arrived in the country, however, that the rain has not dampened my spirits though it has certainly dampened everything else. It would be a shame if it were to persist into tomorrow, though: I have been looking forward to a nice, chilled beach-like beginning to my holiday.

Currently, I am awaiting the water taxi, eating some stew chicken!

Day 1 - 12/07/2013

"Which flight are you on, sir?"

"The six o'clock."

"Right. I'm afraid that flight's been cancelled, sir."

"Oh really?" (First surge of adrenalin of the holiday, and it's a big one.)

"Technical difficulties at Newark. Do you have your passport?"

"Yes, here."

Silence of unbearable tension.

"Okay, I'm afraid the next flight's not till the same time tomorrow, sir."

Think. What would Gandhi do if he were in my situation right now? Probably denounce Western civilization, no doubt and not be found in a major European restaurant. No help. Mandela? Right now, he'd probably fall over and die. No, I am going to have to work this one out on my own.

"But I can't miss my connecting flights. I have a wedding." I can never resist cranking up the guilt-trip stakes with such fabrications. If this escalates I'm going to have to move up to 'Dying Mother'...

"I appreciate that, sir. Well, if you'd like to make your way to Desk 3 they will see what they can do."

*

Well! What they could do was very graciously fit me in on the 20:30 Virgin flight, which causes no real aggravation to me since I have an overnight wait at Newark anyway. I feel this very satisfactory solution to the crisis is most richly deserved, given the calm and collected manner with which I conducted myself throughout. I also managed to squeeze every one of my sub-100ml bottles into the provided clear plastic bag, save one mere, paltry tub of Vaseline (filthy anal nights with Nicaraguan hookers will just have to find their own lubricants) and I'm now through all the official bollocks and into the departure lounge.

Things have really picked up since the initial fiasco, thanks to a cracking choice of wine to accompany my somewhat indulgent (but I'm on holiday - fuck it) steak and chips for dinner. I selected an absolutely corking Rioja: Crianza Solemanero (don't know the vintage) that really held its own against the bearnaise sauce in a way that I don't think the Chateau Tour de Barreil I was flirting with quite could have. (I can't believe I just wrote that sentence.)

The Rioja is so good, in fact, that I've ordered another large glass. Probably didn't need that Staropramen as well.

*

Having not even moved from the table I sat down at for dinner, I have already had interesting conversations with a couple of people. One lady is Swedish and works in finance. She is by no means a spare wheel in the discussion but is decidedly less interesting than the other guy, a lecturer in European law in Bristol of all places! He answers my questions about the various conventions of human rights law and the ways in which Britain is and isn't bound to these different conventions. It sounds complicated. I remark on this level of complexity and posit the notion that those members of the public who might take part in a referendum on these issues may not do so fully acquitted with the knowledge necessary to make an informed judgment. My associate replies that this may well be exactly what the Euro-skeptics are banking on.

*

More drinks. Some people going to Helsinki. Their flight has been delayed too. One is them is from York and works in TV. Through to the departure lounge. Drunken crossword. Board plane. Flying.

Hello everybody. Welcome to Jamie and Kieran's blog covering our trip to Central America, which begins tomorrow. Please follow!