Well, my short stint as an independent traveler has just about come to an end. This morning I crossed the border of Guatemala and Honduras and was soon whisked to the recognizable, if not entirely familiar, cobblestone streets of Copan Ruinas. I spent a week here in this laid back little city a year ago prior to the same project I'm about to get started on again. Within an hour of being here, I bumped into the UVM contingent and am once again part of a group of travelers. And so, the next two nights will bring on the quick transition from itinerant, lone wanderer to major cog in the academic apparatus of Dan Baker's Honduras course.
The next two weeks will consist of field work amongst sugar cane workers in Western Honduras. We are instigating changes to the small scale production process to create a cleaner, more economically efficient way of producing sugar for small farmers. This will be the eighth year of the project, started by Dan Baker. He originally came down here through an NGO to see what could be done about the problem of rubber tire burning, which was at the time the primary fuel for the sugaring process. In the past years, Dan has worked with various organizations and classes to implement simple, appropriate technology changes to the sugaring process to make it more efficient. A new system has been developed that is efficient enough to allow sugar producers to use the waste product from the process as a fuel. This means no need for purchased fuel and no effects of unsafe tire burning.
Last year the project expanded to include several more farms and this year we are bringing down engineers to survey the setups so that we can make scale models with which to test oven and evaporator efficiency in VT.
It's going to be a whirlwind of field work and data collection for the final two weeks of my five months abroad. And before I know it I'll be back on a plane to the States.
Saturday, May 17, 2008
Thursday, May 15, 2008
Honduras or Bust
Well, yesterday was the last day of my week-long Spanish course in San Pedro la Laguna. I´ve enjoyed this bustling little city where Tzu´tihil Maya language, dress, and food mingles with Guatemalan lifestyles and adapts to the influences of tourism. The one-on-one Spanish lessons four hours a day and a homestay with a local family has helped my Spanish probably as much as a one semester class with 20 students if not more.
I got the cance to climb Volcan San Pedro today as my last day in San Pedro. Having not hiked in a while the unceasingly steep slope proved a strenuous climb, and the guide was cruising. My legs now feel like jelly and feet are covered in blisters, but the view was pretty spectacular, encompassing the lake, surrounding mountains right to the tops of clouds. The pictures do no justice.
Tomorrow morning I´m traveling back through Guatemala City and staying in a little transit town of Chiquimul for the night before heading towards Copan Ruinas, Honduras on Saturday. Then begins the next project of this journey, two weeks of field work and data collectiuon for the Ecological Sugar Project 2008! The time´s flown by.
I got the cance to climb Volcan San Pedro today as my last day in San Pedro. Having not hiked in a while the unceasingly steep slope proved a strenuous climb, and the guide was cruising. My legs now feel like jelly and feet are covered in blisters, but the view was pretty spectacular, encompassing the lake, surrounding mountains right to the tops of clouds. The pictures do no justice.
Tomorrow morning I´m traveling back through Guatemala City and staying in a little transit town of Chiquimul for the night before heading towards Copan Ruinas, Honduras on Saturday. Then begins the next project of this journey, two weeks of field work and data collectiuon for the Ecological Sugar Project 2008! The time´s flown by.
Wednesday, May 7, 2008
Itinerant Wanderings...
Not all who wander are lost... but those looking at a map on the corner probably are.
I left Belize this past Sunday for the glory, suspense and action of Guatemala. Entering into the Northern part of the country, I first headed to El Remate, a tiny little town on the side of Peten Itza lake. The closest settlement to Tikal, El Remate is a one road town that is known for beautiful wood carvings, of which I saw many. I figured it would be an easy place to reach for my first night traveling alone, which turned out to be true, and I stayed in a little thatched attic over some very hippy folk for about 3$US. After checking the guidbook and talking to some locals, I decided to head south on the 5am bus the next morning towards Coban with a stop in Sayaxche to take a trip to the ruins of Dos Pilas.
Standing under a street light on a lonely dark street Monday morning was when it truly began to sink in that I was traveling alone. Fortunately I didn´t wait long before headlights came around the corner and I hailed a bus heading towards Santa Elena, where I knew I could catch another to Sayaxche. The long ride worked out as planned and I arrived at my jumping point for Dos Pilas around 7h30am. After asking around though, I found out it was much too late to get to Dos Pilas and still be back to the bus stop in time for the last bus to Coban at 3pm. Apparently it´s a hour and a half boat ride to a trailhead for a three hour hike in to Dos Pilas. Needless to say it has yet to become a tourist hot spot. I was rather dissapointed since I was excited to see an example of ruins from the Terminal Classic period but ended up being convinced by a local boatsman that he could take me to Aguateca, a smaller nearby ruin with impressive crevasse, that was used as a natural defense system. In my haste to make this stop worthwhile and do something outside of the suggestions in the guidebook, I took him up on the offer without much negotiation and payed more than I would have liked. The fellow at least turned out to be a decent guide and during the ride out there was able to point out considerable wildlife as we passed many locals fishing in traditional style boats, it was really a beautiful site, all the more since I was the only tourist on the river. I ended up hiring his services as a guide to the ruins as well, which turned out to be a good chance to practice Spanish and see some ruins. This site in particular fell after a war with neighboring Maya while they were still constructing a major temple; the unfinished bohemoth still stands in front of a massive pile of cut stone ready to be used for construction. On the way back out, nearly back at Sayaxche, we passed a boat of tourists going the other way, cameras poised and bow-riding guide pointing out sights. The look of interest, awe and a little envy from most of the tourists crammed into their boat at me riding with not but my backpack and a local guide made me smile a bit..."Yea, that´s right" I thought "You´ve got your slick brochures and tour packages and I´m riding it solo."
Back on the bus towards Coban, it started to rain. The trip was a long one and I arrived in the little city in the darkness and pouring rain. Pulling my raincoat and packcover out of the pack I desperately studied my map to try to get my bearings, to little avail. I wandered arounf for a while asking directions from locals who always made it seem as though what I was looking for was just around the corner. I finally found a gentleman who was able to suggest another hostel that he knew and I checked into a dorm room there. After a phonecall home, a stink at an internet cafe and a tour of the city without my backpack, I hit the guidebook again to figure out what was the next step.
Since there isn´t much activity right in Coban, and I had a few friends in San Pedro la Laguna, a town on Lake Atitlan with several good language schools, I decided to leave Coban that morning to get to Atitlan and hopefully enroll in a language school for a week to improve my Spanish more quickly. I had to go through Guatemala City, a rather infamous spot, in order to get another bus towards Panajachel, on the shores of the lake. Looking at the map of "Guate" as it´s called locally, I realized that I was going to have to cross several miles of this city of 15million people in order to get from one bus station to another where the buses run towards the highlands. It seemed a lot easier on the map than it turned out to be and once again directions from locals made it seem as though none of them knew how to get around the city either. After a few unsuccessful attempts at following instructions from very confident individuals and even being lead around by a Belizean fellow living in the city for 8 years, I ended up hiring one of the notoriously expensive taxis in hopes of getting out of this chaotic, ant hill of a city. It´s a good thing I did since it felt like we were driving forever before we finally made it to the station just too late to get a bus to Panajachel in time to catch a boat across the lake to San Pedro.
In some stroke of luck though, I was called over to another bus that looked unreal for all the colorful decorations inside and out and was told they were going to Panajachel. the price was right and I hopped on to later find out that they were in fact driving all the way around the lake to San Pedro, so I was going to get to my destination after all. A jaw rattling, nerve shattering bus ride that involved a stint on a not-yet-constructed road, a stop to trade one bald tire for another and some cutbacks over the mountains that make U turns look wide and I finally arrived in San Pedro just before nightfall. A kind fellow from the bus offered to guide me towards the hotel I was looking for and eventually advised that I hire a Tuk Tuk, on of the three-wheeled taxi vehicles to take me through the winding streets. Not wanting to wander any more streets, I followed his advice. The ride was quick and with the hotel in sight the driver stopped for a woman on the side of the road. She turned out to be the proprietor of the hotel she was sitting in front of and when she heard I was going to stay down the street she started negotiating. Normally I would have turned her down and suck to the guidebook, but for some reason I decided to at least check out the room with a private bath that she was offering for 2$US per night. I ended up taking the room and when she found I was from the States she excitedly told me that they had two French folks and two girls from the US staying upstairs. I nodded politely and followed her to the roof to see the hammocks that view the lake. The view was great and I paid for the room. On the way downstairs she again pointed out the room where the US girls were staying and I acknowledged with a smile that I would meet them tomorrow. But, to my horror, she knocked on the door to introduce us then. A white girl came to the door looking rather confused, when the woman said she was from the States she responded that, no, she ws actually Canadian. Feeling rather foolish I said Hello and tried to explain what was going on when from the back of the room I hear a quisical voice say "Shaun?!"
From behind the Canadian pops the familiar face of Emily Falta, a UVMer who had left Belize a few days before. With a smile and a hug we greeted and the proprietor smiled and walked away, further convinced that everyone in the States knows each other.
We went out to dinner and on the way home ran into two other UVM students here for language school for the next few days. It was great to sit down and have someone to talk to and show me a few streets of the maze that is San Pedro. I was able to enroll in Spanish school this morning and start classes tomorrow and my home-stay tonight. 20 hours of 1 on 1 instruction and 6 nights homestay with three meals a day for 138$US! Pretty sweet and the school is beautiful. I´m loving this little town in the mountains on the edge of the lake and will be here for at least a week.
So began my solo travels and I suspect that after this week I will be much better prepared to get the most of the rest of my time down here. I´d love to write in more detail, but Internet is a bit expensive in this place, so perhaps some more refined stories of adventure and misadventure will come over the Summer when I am again Stateside.
More adventures to come!
I left Belize this past Sunday for the glory, suspense and action of Guatemala. Entering into the Northern part of the country, I first headed to El Remate, a tiny little town on the side of Peten Itza lake. The closest settlement to Tikal, El Remate is a one road town that is known for beautiful wood carvings, of which I saw many. I figured it would be an easy place to reach for my first night traveling alone, which turned out to be true, and I stayed in a little thatched attic over some very hippy folk for about 3$US. After checking the guidbook and talking to some locals, I decided to head south on the 5am bus the next morning towards Coban with a stop in Sayaxche to take a trip to the ruins of Dos Pilas.
Standing under a street light on a lonely dark street Monday morning was when it truly began to sink in that I was traveling alone. Fortunately I didn´t wait long before headlights came around the corner and I hailed a bus heading towards Santa Elena, where I knew I could catch another to Sayaxche. The long ride worked out as planned and I arrived at my jumping point for Dos Pilas around 7h30am. After asking around though, I found out it was much too late to get to Dos Pilas and still be back to the bus stop in time for the last bus to Coban at 3pm. Apparently it´s a hour and a half boat ride to a trailhead for a three hour hike in to Dos Pilas. Needless to say it has yet to become a tourist hot spot. I was rather dissapointed since I was excited to see an example of ruins from the Terminal Classic period but ended up being convinced by a local boatsman that he could take me to Aguateca, a smaller nearby ruin with impressive crevasse, that was used as a natural defense system. In my haste to make this stop worthwhile and do something outside of the suggestions in the guidebook, I took him up on the offer without much negotiation and payed more than I would have liked. The fellow at least turned out to be a decent guide and during the ride out there was able to point out considerable wildlife as we passed many locals fishing in traditional style boats, it was really a beautiful site, all the more since I was the only tourist on the river. I ended up hiring his services as a guide to the ruins as well, which turned out to be a good chance to practice Spanish and see some ruins. This site in particular fell after a war with neighboring Maya while they were still constructing a major temple; the unfinished bohemoth still stands in front of a massive pile of cut stone ready to be used for construction. On the way back out, nearly back at Sayaxche, we passed a boat of tourists going the other way, cameras poised and bow-riding guide pointing out sights. The look of interest, awe and a little envy from most of the tourists crammed into their boat at me riding with not but my backpack and a local guide made me smile a bit..."Yea, that´s right" I thought "You´ve got your slick brochures and tour packages and I´m riding it solo."
Back on the bus towards Coban, it started to rain. The trip was a long one and I arrived in the little city in the darkness and pouring rain. Pulling my raincoat and packcover out of the pack I desperately studied my map to try to get my bearings, to little avail. I wandered arounf for a while asking directions from locals who always made it seem as though what I was looking for was just around the corner. I finally found a gentleman who was able to suggest another hostel that he knew and I checked into a dorm room there. After a phonecall home, a stink at an internet cafe and a tour of the city without my backpack, I hit the guidebook again to figure out what was the next step.
Since there isn´t much activity right in Coban, and I had a few friends in San Pedro la Laguna, a town on Lake Atitlan with several good language schools, I decided to leave Coban that morning to get to Atitlan and hopefully enroll in a language school for a week to improve my Spanish more quickly. I had to go through Guatemala City, a rather infamous spot, in order to get another bus towards Panajachel, on the shores of the lake. Looking at the map of "Guate" as it´s called locally, I realized that I was going to have to cross several miles of this city of 15million people in order to get from one bus station to another where the buses run towards the highlands. It seemed a lot easier on the map than it turned out to be and once again directions from locals made it seem as though none of them knew how to get around the city either. After a few unsuccessful attempts at following instructions from very confident individuals and even being lead around by a Belizean fellow living in the city for 8 years, I ended up hiring one of the notoriously expensive taxis in hopes of getting out of this chaotic, ant hill of a city. It´s a good thing I did since it felt like we were driving forever before we finally made it to the station just too late to get a bus to Panajachel in time to catch a boat across the lake to San Pedro.
In some stroke of luck though, I was called over to another bus that looked unreal for all the colorful decorations inside and out and was told they were going to Panajachel. the price was right and I hopped on to later find out that they were in fact driving all the way around the lake to San Pedro, so I was going to get to my destination after all. A jaw rattling, nerve shattering bus ride that involved a stint on a not-yet-constructed road, a stop to trade one bald tire for another and some cutbacks over the mountains that make U turns look wide and I finally arrived in San Pedro just before nightfall. A kind fellow from the bus offered to guide me towards the hotel I was looking for and eventually advised that I hire a Tuk Tuk, on of the three-wheeled taxi vehicles to take me through the winding streets. Not wanting to wander any more streets, I followed his advice. The ride was quick and with the hotel in sight the driver stopped for a woman on the side of the road. She turned out to be the proprietor of the hotel she was sitting in front of and when she heard I was going to stay down the street she started negotiating. Normally I would have turned her down and suck to the guidebook, but for some reason I decided to at least check out the room with a private bath that she was offering for 2$US per night. I ended up taking the room and when she found I was from the States she excitedly told me that they had two French folks and two girls from the US staying upstairs. I nodded politely and followed her to the roof to see the hammocks that view the lake. The view was great and I paid for the room. On the way downstairs she again pointed out the room where the US girls were staying and I acknowledged with a smile that I would meet them tomorrow. But, to my horror, she knocked on the door to introduce us then. A white girl came to the door looking rather confused, when the woman said she was from the States she responded that, no, she ws actually Canadian. Feeling rather foolish I said Hello and tried to explain what was going on when from the back of the room I hear a quisical voice say "Shaun?!"
From behind the Canadian pops the familiar face of Emily Falta, a UVMer who had left Belize a few days before. With a smile and a hug we greeted and the proprietor smiled and walked away, further convinced that everyone in the States knows each other.
We went out to dinner and on the way home ran into two other UVM students here for language school for the next few days. It was great to sit down and have someone to talk to and show me a few streets of the maze that is San Pedro. I was able to enroll in Spanish school this morning and start classes tomorrow and my home-stay tonight. 20 hours of 1 on 1 instruction and 6 nights homestay with three meals a day for 138$US! Pretty sweet and the school is beautiful. I´m loving this little town in the mountains on the edge of the lake and will be here for at least a week.
So began my solo travels and I suspect that after this week I will be much better prepared to get the most of the rest of my time down here. I´d love to write in more detail, but Internet is a bit expensive in this place, so perhaps some more refined stories of adventure and misadventure will come over the Summer when I am again Stateside.
More adventures to come!
Wednesday, April 16, 2008
Caracol
You've got to love a field trip that includes armed guards on the bus!
Today I got the chance to take a trip with my Maya Culture and Civilization class to the Maya site known as Caracol. It was made all the better since we were lead there by the Belizean government's Minister of Archeology, Dr. Jaime Awe, who also happens to be our professor. The ride was long and over mostly dirt roads that I am surprised an old school bus could navigate. As we approached the site we passed through a number of security checkpoints filled with Belizean and British Army folk. There are still a lot of British troops in the country, since it only gained its independence about 25 years ago and is still involved in border disputes with Guatemala. The Brits have stationed a lot of troops here to maintain the Belizean borders and the site at Caracol is only three miles or so from the Guat border, although it is one of the undisputed sections. We did pick up a couple of troops on our way in, assault rifles and all, although to be honest I still don't know why since they left the bus at the site and we never saw them again. It was intriguing at the time though.
The site was very impressive and Jaime really knows his stuff so it was a great chance to pick his brain and learn about excavations and Maya sites in general.
Jaime Lecturing --->
We walked across the entire site checking out differing levels of elite buildings. Jaime has been in charge of most of the excavation that happened here about 15 years ago and had plenty of anecdotes to share about it.
<-----An example of a 'Medium' temple at Caracol. We eventually made it around to the main plaza, not-so-creatively named Plaza B. Thanks to Belize's nearly complete lack of regulations, I had the chance to climb the face of a yet-to-be reconstructed temple to get a better view of the real prize of Caracol.
The main temple at Caracol, which also was the site of not one, but two palaces on top, is a building beyond massive. It is still currently the largest building in Belize in both height and footprint area!
Even from the top of the building across the plaza, I still couldn't get the full view of the top of the main temple in the photo!
It took 100 workers an entire year to uncover the whole building.
It was a lot of fun to see a site that isn't quite as touristy as some of the others that I've been to. Definitely topping the charts for best field trip.
Today I got the chance to take a trip with my Maya Culture and Civilization class to the Maya site known as Caracol. It was made all the better since we were lead there by the Belizean government's Minister of Archeology, Dr. Jaime Awe, who also happens to be our professor. The ride was long and over mostly dirt roads that I am surprised an old school bus could navigate. As we approached the site we passed through a number of security checkpoints filled with Belizean and British Army folk. There are still a lot of British troops in the country, since it only gained its independence about 25 years ago and is still involved in border disputes with Guatemala. The Brits have stationed a lot of troops here to maintain the Belizean borders and the site at Caracol is only three miles or so from the Guat border, although it is one of the undisputed sections. We did pick up a couple of troops on our way in, assault rifles and all, although to be honest I still don't know why since they left the bus at the site and we never saw them again. It was intriguing at the time though.
The site was very impressive and Jaime really knows his stuff so it was a great chance to pick his brain and learn about excavations and Maya sites in general.
Jaime Lecturing --->
We walked across the entire site checking out differing levels of elite buildings. Jaime has been in charge of most of the excavation that happened here about 15 years ago and had plenty of anecdotes to share about it.
<-----An example of a 'Medium' temple at Caracol. We eventually made it around to the main plaza, not-so-creatively named Plaza B. Thanks to Belize's nearly complete lack of regulations, I had the chance to climb the face of a yet-to-be reconstructed temple to get a better view of the real prize of Caracol.
The main temple at Caracol, which also was the site of not one, but two palaces on top, is a building beyond massive. It is still currently the largest building in Belize in both height and footprint area!
Even from the top of the building across the plaza, I still couldn't get the full view of the top of the main temple in the photo!
It took 100 workers an entire year to uncover the whole building.
It was a lot of fun to see a site that isn't quite as touristy as some of the others that I've been to. Definitely topping the charts for best field trip.
Sunday, March 30, 2008
Viva Mexico!
March 30, 2008
I was in Mexican prison today... and made it out in time for the 10:45 bus back to Belize City...and that was before we crossed the border with contraband and lacking tourist cards!
read on to find out how.....
So, late Thursday night I was thinking that this weekend was probably going to be another low-key weekend in San Ignacio getting schoolwork done and maybe taking a day-trip to somewhere worthwhile, while really still hoping to do some real traveling and getting a change of scenery. I'd hung out locally for three weekends in a row, including Easter weekend when many went out to Guatemala, and was hoping for a weekend trip and a chance to get away from being in a big group. So, when I was asked, "Hey Shaun, wanna go to Mexico tomorrow?" I didn't think much about it before saying something along the lines of "Hell yea, I'm in....where're we goin'?". And so our Mexican odyssey began.
That night I, and friend Claire, put our faith in our comrade Phil Fandel and my roommate, Josh Stewart, to get the details for our trip to Chetumal, Mexico. The four of us had breakfast Friday morning and headed to the special bus station across the Hawksworthe Bridge to catch a bus that could take us across the border. Since it seemed to be just the four of us at the station when the bus was scheduled to arrive, we figured that it would be quite a spacious ride...and could not have been more mistaken. The bus finally rolled in, fifteen minutes late...and full of people. We were crammed into a relatively small, decidedly uncomfortable bus, and told that the ride would only take about 4 hours to get to Chetumal. Nearly five hours later, we had just reached the border of Belize and Mexico, where we payed our departure tax in Belize, got back into the bus, drove across the Rio Hondo and got out of the bus again in Mexico. With no instruction whatsoever we started walking across the border, were looked up-and-down by the border crossing agent and waved through. For not the first time in our lives we realized just one of the benefits of being white, passed through security without a second glance, and were in Mexico. No passports were shown, no questions asked. After a few minutes of wandering at the Maxican border we got back onto the little bus and again moved towards Chetumal. 20 minutes later we made it to the ADO bus terminal and could not be happier to be on our own feet again.
We figure out when we can get a ride back to Belize and walked out of the terminal into the blaring, 3:00 sun of Mexico.
"So Phil, where're we headed. What's the name of this place" I asked
"Uhm, I don't really remember the name, I think it's just the 'Hostel Chetumal'"
"Alright, what's the address?"
"Well, it didn't really have an address."
"Alright" I said with a smile, "you got a map?"
"Yea, I'm prepared...you know"
I asked, chuckling.."is this one traced out of a book like the one for that Maya Culture exam?!"
"haha, no..... I freehanded this bad boy"
I thought he was joking, so I laughed right up until, out of the fanny pack he was wearing beneath his pants, Phil pulled out a piece of lined, notebook paper labeled 'Secret Map', and unfolded it. He was true to his word, he had indeed freehanded a map of maybe 10 blocks, with about five street names, two landmarks and a star symbol where we were supposed to end up.
He looked at it for a moment, looked up, looked at the map again, look up at the street in front of us.
"So, Phil, there a compass on that thing?" I asked.
"Geez Shaun," he retorts with a smile and semi-shrug "don't you know Secret Maps don't have a compass, or scale, or title?!"
My GIS mapping professors would be mortified.
So we more or less aimlessly walking the streets of Chetumal, asking various people for directions, among other random questions about things to do or see, and about an hour later, after eating fantastic pastries from a local bakery, found where we were supposed to be staying, the whole while cracking jokes and laughing harder than I have perhaps all semester.
Standing in front of the black, metal door, with a dog barking behind, we were about to walk away and try to find another place to stay. With a little, dwindling faith, Phil rang the doorbell and we waited to be let in. What we found on the other side of the entrance to Hostel Chetumal was completely misrepresented by its entrance. The Hostess (who's name we didn't find out the entire time we were there, regretfully) was beyond pleasant, the premises was clean, spacious and well equipped with dishes and appliances, and the dog was a joy. We learned that his name was Kevin Costner, due to being such a handsome fellow and he was more than happy with the attention he received from four kids who hadn't seen a well kept dog in some time.
After settling in, making our beds in the dorm style room we had to ourselves, we chatted a bit with our Hostess and met the other individual staying at the hostel. He was a Japanese man by the name of Toshi, who spoke no Spanish and very little English and was traveling alone. We were told that he was trying to get to Belize within the next few days, but the hostess could not communicate with him whatsoever. So Phil gave it his best shot and introduced Toshi to freetranslation.com, through which they communicated for a while before we decided to explore a bit more of the city and find an ATM to get some pesos.
It didn't take much wandering to realize two things; one, that no one in this town was very good at giving directions, and two, that there wasn't a whole lot going on in this sprawling city. It was
definitely not a tourist center and we elicited honks and even cheers from cars and the back of pickup trucks (When I say 'we' in this instance, I might really be talking about blond-haired Claire). After finding the cajero, and thanks to a delightful exchange rate, we took out a few $500 bills 'like it ain't no thang'.
Next goal was to find some food, since we were nearly delirious for having not eaten since breakfast. The closest restaurant happened to be right next door to our home for the weekend. A nice looking sports bar, we thought it would be nice to chill out and sample some Mexican beer after a long day of travel. It turned out that this was a high end, Certified Angus Beef establishment. And thanks to a peso to dollar ratio of just over 10:1, we were able to order, for likely the first and last time, a meal with '$180' next to it on the menu without it being much of a splurge. With a steak and a beer settling nicely into each of our near-empty stomachs, it was off to the supermarket. Our sides were aching at this point thanks to omnipresent laughter, this was certainly a humorous bunch and we were all relieved to escape for a few moments the building pressures that were present back in San Ignacio.
Settled on the decision to have an early night back at the hostel planning for the next day's activities, we made it back to the supermarket to pick up a few items. Along with a few rations and essentials, we also picked up a hole bunch of limes and, since we were in Mexico after all, grabbed a nearly obligatory bottle of Tequila.
Back at the hostel we juiced up some limes and cracked the tequi'.
Since Toshi was still sitting, intriguingly like a Samurai, in front of his computer as he had been when we first arrived, we decided he could probably use a break.
With a raised bottle, a raised eyebrow, and a point in his direction, we asked our Japanese cohabitant if he too would like to enjoy Mexico's finest. There was a moment of calculation followed by a smile and we poured one for Toshi. So began an evening of rather animated card games along with communicatory charades. Before long Toshi was laughing with the rest of us, perhaps all the more so for not understanding at least 2/3 of what was going on. He did seem to grow more and more experimental with his English skills as the bottle grew lighter and we learned about his 'Around the World' ticket and checked out his itinerary that was taking him to nearly every continent. Planning to work his way down into South America before flying to South Africa, traveling northwards and stopping in Europe our friend will return to Japan after a year of travel! Since he seemed intrigued by the tequila we also asked what he usually drank back at home, to which he thoughtfully responded '...No'. By the time we were ready to call it a night, the four of us went back into the kitchen to clean up. After about 5 minutes our now rosy-cheeked friend walked in with a permanent grin from ear to ear and declared "I am sleepy.... Bed for me." before weaving his way up the stairs. It was quite a decidedly humorous evening filled with internationally homegrown entertainment.
After a good night's sleep we rose for a humble breakfast of toast, bananas and corn flakes and grabbed a guidebook from the shelf. After some deliberation we decided to head north to a little town called Calderitas that looked like a nice beach spot. We hailed a taxi and asked in Spanish what it would cost to get there. He said he would charge 30pesos, and we decided it would be worth three bucks a piece to get out there so we piled in. Practicing out Spanish, we chatted with the driver and it was quickly apparent that he was rather proud of his place of residence and made sure to point out things of interest. Our impromptu tour guide took the time to rephrase and explain things we didn't understand and even suggested a few other places to visit nearby. Phil asked him what was the 'mas bonita' or most beautiful place around and was presented with a few brochures and maps from the glove compartment.
Our driver spoke highly of a place a bit farther known as Bacalar, but we were still set on Calderitas at present. Upon our arrival at the 'downtown' strip, we were driven the entire length, shown several good places to swim and eat and then taken all the way back to the first beach site. Very pleased with our cab ride, we each began to pull out three 10peso coins a piece until the driver began shaking his head. "No, no...treinte por todos" thirty for everyone! We were amazed at the low price and the driver's honesty and insisted on a 10peso tip. Everyone happy, he drove off again only to turn around after just getting out of sight and driving back towards us. Rolling down the window he said to us in Spanish "Just to let you know, the prices are always in total for taxis around here. Only at the airport to they tell you the price per person." He probably saved us from being ripped off.
The beachfront at Calderitas was nice. We walked around for a bit and stopped at a restaurant for some lunch and after being there a while were solicited with numerous souvenirs and clothing articles. As Claire was looking at a few nicely stitched blouses, Phil and I caught a glance at some fantastically ridiculous shirts. In a mood for a little humorous embarrassment and with a couple of cracks about needing to fit in with the locals (who would actually never wear anything like these shirts) we decided to go for it. With chuckles coming from the tables nearby, we put on our recent acquisitions in which we stayed for the rest of the day. My new ensemble was especially ludicrous as my sandals had recently disintegrated and I was consequently confined to a pair of workboots worn without socks to go along with my bathing suit. It was quite the sight I am sure, and with dramatic sunglasses, Phil and I milked it for all it was worth!
Once having explored what we deemed the better part of Calderitas we decided to grab another taxi to the rumored beauty of Bacalar. Again we managed to find a rather social cab driver with whom we chatted the entire 30 minute ride. We learned all about his history as an illegal immigrant working in the US and escapades between the Mexican and Belizean borders. We struck a chord with him as well it seems and he eagerly drove us around the area and made several stops at things that he thought we should see. We all got out of the car at Cenote Azul, a beautiful swimming hole overlooking the 'Seven Colors Lagoon' before again heading towards our final destination. It seemed every time Josh or Phil lifted their cameras to get a drive-by shot, the driver would come to a stop, back up and make sure that they got just the shot they were looking for; What Service!
When we finally arrived at Bacalar, it was a bustling scene of Mexican tourists enjoying a Saturday party at the beach. The water was absolutely beautiful! There were bands of differing blues stretching across the fresh water body and enhanced by the intense sunlight. As we gulped it all in we were approached by a fellow with a walkie-talkie radio around his neck who asked if we spoke Spanish. Before I could finish saying that I spoke a little, but slowly, he began spewing out stuccatto Spanish in rapid succession. He was advertising a tour around the lagoon and once he finished his spiel he kindly stepped back to give us a few moments to confer. While we would normally have declined we decided that the 80pesos per person was not a bad deal to be able to see more of this place. So, having just arrived, we quickly piled into a boat and waited a few
minutes while our new Guide gathered rapidly gathered more takers. The fellow turned out to be quite the personality and we quickly became his favorites as Claire and I joked with him in Spanish and laughed at his cracks and mannerisms.
Cruising around the lagoon was spectacular. The pictures hardly do justice to the beauty and colors in the water. The chance to jump in and out of the boat a few times and enjoy a swim were fantastic and totally worth the trip. The area had apparently been a gold hot spot during the Spanish conquest and was the victim of numerous pirates. So a fort was constructed just up the hill that overlooked the lagoon. Oddly enough there wasn't a sand bottom but more of a fine, light colored silt that your feet just barely sunk into. With the sun shining and our spirits high we all agreed that the trip was entirely worthwhile!
Once the tour was over we wanted to get away from the hubbub going on at the beachfront and noticed a particularly long and particularly empty pier that was just on the other side of a downed barbwire fence. We crossed the obsolete barrier and traveled to the end of the pier to soak up some afternoon sun...and take a 'family picture' (Josh loves the group shot)
Our Vitamin D levels up, and our presence gaining attention from the nearby, crowded beach we decided to try to make our way back home.We headed up the hill towards what our cab driver had said was the town center, where we could catch a bus. Since we didn't know where exactly we were going we wandered around in the usual manner, getting eyed by all the locals and proving to be a scene not usually seen. Some sweet murals provided an opportunity for some posed photos...
and once we got near the fort, Phil decided he just needed to check out inside of it. We had heard it was a museum, and as Claire, Josh and I examined the situation to figure out if we needed tickets Phil walked right through the stone threshold. As the recently noticed ticket booth began to bustle like an anthill and uniformed people quickly pursued we warned Phil about the coming onslaught. "Phil! get outta there. authorities!"
He stuck his head out a turret and yelled "I made it! I was in the fort!" before rushing out and probably avoiding a severe, Spanish tongue lashing. After that we determined that the delirium had set in and we should probably get back to Chetumal and get some food. Finally finding another taxi we made the trip back and nearly got lost. The driver had no idea where we were going or exactly where the streets we named were, so we had to drive around the city for a bit before we recognized where we were (again, 'we' means Claire).
Back in our neighborhood we engaged in a vain search for another restaurant before settling on a small pizza joint. It was far better pizza then we had found anywhere in Belize, a pleasant surprise in fact.
Just before we had left for our adventures Toshi had left the hostel on his way towards Belize. We had done the best we could to instruct him on places to visit and said that if he was ever in San Ignacio he should seek us out. While we were adventuring during the day an English girl named Yvonne had checked in. She too was heading towards Belize the next day. After dinner and Claire's rant about there not being any good beer in Belize she was up for a Mexican beer run and a last hurrah before being subjected to Belikin, Belize's beer monopoly.
We completed our mission and made it back to the hostel. Chatting with Yvonne over a few cold ones, we learned that she was quite the intrepid traveler. Having just graduated 'Uni' and getting her teaching certificate, Yvonne had already traveled for six months in India and another trip of four months in southeast Asia. She was going from LA to Costa Rica in four months...for a change of scenery. I was eager to inquire about all the particulars of her various trips and when I asked about what she spent was very encouraged...
"Well, I was in India for six months and spent about $3,000. But that was because we stayed in nicer places, and I don't really like Indian food so I spent a lot more to get Western food there. Southeast Asia cost between three and four thousand with a lot of travel, and this trip is running a bit over budget at four thousand for what's going to be about five months." Good things to know, and very promising :)
Before going to bed that night, Josh finally mustered the courage to ask our Hostess where we could buy one of the beautiful hammocks she had on the patio. They were made of thousands of tiny, woven threads of various colors, very comfortable and enormous! We had seen a lot of hammocks by this point and the ones hanging on the patio in this hostel topped them all. She told Josh, and Phil, in Spanish that she was often asked about them and that it would be her pleasure to take us to where she bought them after breakfast tomorrow and that we would be back in time to catch the 10:45 bus back to Belize City. Very pleased and looking forward to tomorrow's acquisition, we called it a night and got some rest before our day of travel home.
The next morning came and after breakfast the four of us piled into the white Peugeot and were off to buy hammocks. Since we were planning on heading out after the hammock purchase, Phil and I thought it would be rather funny to cross the border and eventually arrive back in San Ignacio in our ridiculous outfits, so we had put our new shirts back on and were looking the part of excessive tourists. We drove quite a ways, chatting with the hostel owner and soaking in the sites of Chetumal, each expecting a market to be our final destination. After about 15 minutes, our Hostess randomly points through the windshield at a large building along the 'highway' and says "That's the jail". It seemed odd that this would be the first thing along the journey that she thought worthy of mention and Phil even cracked a mumbled joke about hoping this isn't where she was taking us. She slowed the car and tugged the wheel right, parking along the side of the rode across the street from the prison. The four students were looking around for some sort of market and there was nothing but trees. We all got out of the car, put our bags in the trunk and locked it up. Across the street was a line of people waiting outside the barbwire fence.
"It's visiting day" our Hostess told us just before chatting with one of the guards through the fence and before we knew it we were pushing passed and walking around a crowd of people waiting to be screened before seeing their incarcerated loved ones. All the while, Phil and I are wearing these ludicrous shirts, needless to say, there were more than a few stares. Once inside the barbwire fence and passed the razor wire secondary barrier, we were lead into the actual prison building. Passing armed guards single file, we walked into a smaller room near what appeared to be the prison showers, all the while still trying to comprehend how this happened without our knowing ahead of time. Two men came out of nowhere with a slew of flamboyantly colored hammocks and laid them out on the table. Stretching one out to full size I guessed the area covered by the woven portion alone was about 4'x7', double stranded. I can hardly fathom how long it would take to make such a thing, but I'm guessing about 25 to life as we were assured they were all hand woven. The haggling began between our Hostess and the vendors in Spanish so fast I could hardly catch more than a word of phrase here and there. In the end she talked them down from 1,000pesos to 600, Phil and Josh picked their hammocks and we walked back out through the line of expressionless faces and penetrating eyes. The whole experience was a bit unreal.
We collected ourselves on the ride back to the hostel and bid our farewells with many thanks. A final pet for Kevin Costner and we were whisked away by taxi to the bus station. We figured out the ticket situation and had a moment to take a final group shot while waiting for the bus with Yvonne.
While sitting at the ADO bus company station, we were looking forward to riding back in a nicer bus than what was usually found in Belize. The large, tinted windows and air conditioning would have been a nice change of pace from the US school buses which were the common mode of public transport across the border. After we had been waiting about ten minutes, a revamped, Blue Bird school bus pulls into the station as if it's a Sesame Street segment of 'One of these things is not like the other'.
"That's the one, that's our bus" Josh and I both seem to say in unison. Sure enough, the 2x4 wood placard propped between the dashboard and windshield has BELIZE painted across its face. We all climb in and begin our journey home. After explaining the border officer at the Mexican border that no, we weren't given tourist cards at the border and that we just needed to get back home for class in Belize we were finally told to just pay the exit fee and get back on the bus. Then it was a flash of the student visa in Belize and we each easily walked by the customs agents, bottles of tequila (hard to come by in Belize and heavily taxed), undeclared in our backpacks. Five hours of bus riding later, we were back in good ol' San Ignacio, smiles beaming from a great trip.
I was in Mexican prison today... and made it out in time for the 10:45 bus back to Belize City...and that was before we crossed the border with contraband and lacking tourist cards!
read on to find out how.....
So, late Thursday night I was thinking that this weekend was probably going to be another low-key weekend in San Ignacio getting schoolwork done and maybe taking a day-trip to somewhere worthwhile, while really still hoping to do some real traveling and getting a change of scenery. I'd hung out locally for three weekends in a row, including Easter weekend when many went out to Guatemala, and was hoping for a weekend trip and a chance to get away from being in a big group. So, when I was asked, "Hey Shaun, wanna go to Mexico tomorrow?" I didn't think much about it before saying something along the lines of "Hell yea, I'm in....where're we goin'?". And so our Mexican odyssey began.
That night I, and friend Claire, put our faith in our comrade Phil Fandel and my roommate, Josh Stewart, to get the details for our trip to Chetumal, Mexico. The four of us had breakfast Friday morning and headed to the special bus station across the Hawksworthe Bridge to catch a bus that could take us across the border. Since it seemed to be just the four of us at the station when the bus was scheduled to arrive, we figured that it would be quite a spacious ride...and could not have been more mistaken. The bus finally rolled in, fifteen minutes late...and full of people. We were crammed into a relatively small, decidedly uncomfortable bus, and told that the ride would only take about 4 hours to get to Chetumal. Nearly five hours later, we had just reached the border of Belize and Mexico, where we payed our departure tax in Belize, got back into the bus, drove across the Rio Hondo and got out of the bus again in Mexico. With no instruction whatsoever we started walking across the border, were looked up-and-down by the border crossing agent and waved through. For not the first time in our lives we realized just one of the benefits of being white, passed through security without a second glance, and were in Mexico. No passports were shown, no questions asked. After a few minutes of wandering at the Maxican border we got back onto the little bus and again moved towards Chetumal. 20 minutes later we made it to the ADO bus terminal and could not be happier to be on our own feet again.
We figure out when we can get a ride back to Belize and walked out of the terminal into the blaring, 3:00 sun of Mexico.
"So Phil, where're we headed. What's the name of this place" I asked
"Uhm, I don't really remember the name, I think it's just the 'Hostel Chetumal'"
"Alright, what's the address?"
"Well, it didn't really have an address."
"Alright" I said with a smile, "you got a map?"
"Yea, I'm prepared...you know"
I asked, chuckling.."is this one traced out of a book like the one for that Maya Culture exam?!"
"haha, no..... I freehanded this bad boy"
I thought he was joking, so I laughed right up until, out of the fanny pack he was wearing beneath his pants, Phil pulled out a piece of lined, notebook paper labeled 'Secret Map', and unfolded it. He was true to his word, he had indeed freehanded a map of maybe 10 blocks, with about five street names, two landmarks and a star symbol where we were supposed to end up.
He looked at it for a moment, looked up, looked at the map again, look up at the street in front of us.
"So, Phil, there a compass on that thing?" I asked.
"Geez Shaun," he retorts with a smile and semi-shrug "don't you know Secret Maps don't have a compass, or scale, or title?!"
My GIS mapping professors would be mortified.
So we more or less aimlessly walking the streets of Chetumal, asking various people for directions, among other random questions about things to do or see, and about an hour later, after eating fantastic pastries from a local bakery, found where we were supposed to be staying, the whole while cracking jokes and laughing harder than I have perhaps all semester.
Standing in front of the black, metal door, with a dog barking behind, we were about to walk away and try to find another place to stay. With a little, dwindling faith, Phil rang the doorbell and we waited to be let in. What we found on the other side of the entrance to Hostel Chetumal was completely misrepresented by its entrance. The Hostess (who's name we didn't find out the entire time we were there, regretfully) was beyond pleasant, the premises was clean, spacious and well equipped with dishes and appliances, and the dog was a joy. We learned that his name was Kevin Costner, due to being such a handsome fellow and he was more than happy with the attention he received from four kids who hadn't seen a well kept dog in some time.
After settling in, making our beds in the dorm style room we had to ourselves, we chatted a bit with our Hostess and met the other individual staying at the hostel. He was a Japanese man by the name of Toshi, who spoke no Spanish and very little English and was traveling alone. We were told that he was trying to get to Belize within the next few days, but the hostess could not communicate with him whatsoever. So Phil gave it his best shot and introduced Toshi to freetranslation.com, through which they communicated for a while before we decided to explore a bit more of the city and find an ATM to get some pesos.
It didn't take much wandering to realize two things; one, that no one in this town was very good at giving directions, and two, that there wasn't a whole lot going on in this sprawling city. It was
definitely not a tourist center and we elicited honks and even cheers from cars and the back of pickup trucks (When I say 'we' in this instance, I might really be talking about blond-haired Claire). After finding the cajero, and thanks to a delightful exchange rate, we took out a few $500 bills 'like it ain't no thang'.Next goal was to find some food, since we were nearly delirious for having not eaten since breakfast. The closest restaurant happened to be right next door to our home for the weekend. A nice looking sports bar, we thought it would be nice to chill out and sample some Mexican beer after a long day of travel. It turned out that this was a high end, Certified Angus Beef establishment. And thanks to a peso to dollar ratio of just over 10:1, we were able to order, for likely the first and last time, a meal with '$180' next to it on the menu without it being much of a splurge. With a steak and a beer settling nicely into each of our near-empty stomachs, it was off to the supermarket. Our sides were aching at this point thanks to omnipresent laughter, this was certainly a humorous bunch and we were all relieved to escape for a few moments the building pressures that were present back in San Ignacio.
Settled on the decision to have an early night back at the hostel planning for the next day's activities, we made it back to the supermarket to pick up a few items. Along with a few rations and essentials, we also picked up a hole bunch of limes and, since we were in Mexico after all, grabbed a nearly obligatory bottle of Tequila.
Back at the hostel we juiced up some limes and cracked the tequi'.
Since Toshi was still sitting, intriguingly like a Samurai, in front of his computer as he had been when we first arrived, we decided he could probably use a break.
With a raised bottle, a raised eyebrow, and a point in his direction, we asked our Japanese cohabitant if he too would like to enjoy Mexico's finest. There was a moment of calculation followed by a smile and we poured one for Toshi. So began an evening of rather animated card games along with communicatory charades. Before long Toshi was laughing with the rest of us, perhaps all the more so for not understanding at least 2/3 of what was going on. He did seem to grow more and more experimental with his English skills as the bottle grew lighter and we learned about his 'Around the World' ticket and checked out his itinerary that was taking him to nearly every continent. Planning to work his way down into South America before flying to South Africa, traveling northwards and stopping in Europe our friend will return to Japan after a year of travel! Since he seemed intrigued by the tequila we also asked what he usually drank back at home, to which he thoughtfully responded '...No'. By the time we were ready to call it a night, the four of us went back into the kitchen to clean up. After about 5 minutes our now rosy-cheeked friend walked in with a permanent grin from ear to ear and declared "I am sleepy.... Bed for me." before weaving his way up the stairs. It was quite a decidedly humorous evening filled with internationally homegrown entertainment.
After a good night's sleep we rose for a humble breakfast of toast, bananas and corn flakes and grabbed a guidebook from the shelf. After some deliberation we decided to head north to a little town called Calderitas that looked like a nice beach spot. We hailed a taxi and asked in Spanish what it would cost to get there. He said he would charge 30pesos, and we decided it would be worth three bucks a piece to get out there so we piled in. Practicing out Spanish, we chatted with the driver and it was quickly apparent that he was rather proud of his place of residence and made sure to point out things of interest. Our impromptu tour guide took the time to rephrase and explain things we didn't understand and even suggested a few other places to visit nearby. Phil asked him what was the 'mas bonita' or most beautiful place around and was presented with a few brochures and maps from the glove compartment.
Our driver spoke highly of a place a bit farther known as Bacalar, but we were still set on Calderitas at present. Upon our arrival at the 'downtown' strip, we were driven the entire length, shown several good places to swim and eat and then taken all the way back to the first beach site. Very pleased with our cab ride, we each began to pull out three 10peso coins a piece until the driver began shaking his head. "No, no...treinte por todos" thirty for everyone! We were amazed at the low price and the driver's honesty and insisted on a 10peso tip. Everyone happy, he drove off again only to turn around after just getting out of sight and driving back towards us. Rolling down the window he said to us in Spanish "Just to let you know, the prices are always in total for taxis around here. Only at the airport to they tell you the price per person." He probably saved us from being ripped off.The beachfront at Calderitas was nice. We walked around for a bit and stopped at a restaurant for some lunch and after being there a while were solicited with numerous souvenirs and clothing articles. As Claire was looking at a few nicely stitched blouses, Phil and I caught a glance at some fantastically ridiculous shirts. In a mood for a little humorous embarrassment and with a couple of cracks about needing to fit in with the locals (who would actually never wear anything like these shirts) we decided to go for it. With chuckles coming from the tables nearby, we put on our recent acquisitions in which we stayed for the rest of the day. My new ensemble was especially ludicrous as my sandals had recently disintegrated and I was consequently confined to a pair of workboots worn without socks to go along with my bathing suit. It was quite the sight I am sure, and with dramatic sunglasses, Phil and I milked it for all it was worth!
Once having explored what we deemed the better part of Calderitas we decided to grab another taxi to the rumored beauty of Bacalar. Again we managed to find a rather social cab driver with whom we chatted the entire 30 minute ride. We learned all about his history as an illegal immigrant working in the US and escapades between the Mexican and Belizean borders. We struck a chord with him as well it seems and he eagerly drove us around the area and made several stops at things that he thought we should see. We all got out of the car at Cenote Azul, a beautiful swimming hole overlooking the 'Seven Colors Lagoon' before again heading towards our final destination. It seemed every time Josh or Phil lifted their cameras to get a drive-by shot, the driver would come to a stop, back up and make sure that they got just the shot they were looking for; What Service!
When we finally arrived at Bacalar, it was a bustling scene of Mexican tourists enjoying a Saturday party at the beach. The water was absolutely beautiful! There were bands of differing blues stretching across the fresh water body and enhanced by the intense sunlight. As we gulped it all in we were approached by a fellow with a walkie-talkie radio around his neck who asked if we spoke Spanish. Before I could finish saying that I spoke a little, but slowly, he began spewing out stuccatto Spanish in rapid succession. He was advertising a tour around the lagoon and once he finished his spiel he kindly stepped back to give us a few moments to confer. While we would normally have declined we decided that the 80pesos per person was not a bad deal to be able to see more of this place. So, having just arrived, we quickly piled into a boat and waited a few
minutes while our new Guide gathered rapidly gathered more takers. The fellow turned out to be quite the personality and we quickly became his favorites as Claire and I joked with him in Spanish and laughed at his cracks and mannerisms.Cruising around the lagoon was spectacular. The pictures hardly do justice to the beauty and colors in the water. The chance to jump in and out of the boat a few times and enjoy a swim were fantastic and totally worth the trip. The area had apparently been a gold hot spot during the Spanish conquest and was the victim of numerous pirates. So a fort was constructed just up the hill that overlooked the lagoon. Oddly enough there wasn't a sand bottom but more of a fine, light colored silt that your feet just barely sunk into. With the sun shining and our spirits high we all agreed that the trip was entirely worthwhile!
Once the tour was over we wanted to get away from the hubbub going on at the beachfront and noticed a particularly long and particularly empty pier that was just on the other side of a downed barbwire fence. We crossed the obsolete barrier and traveled to the end of the pier to soak up some afternoon sun...and take a 'family picture' (Josh loves the group shot)
Our Vitamin D levels up, and our presence gaining attention from the nearby, crowded beach we decided to try to make our way back home.We headed up the hill towards what our cab driver had said was the town center, where we could catch a bus. Since we didn't know where exactly we were going we wandered around in the usual manner, getting eyed by all the locals and proving to be a scene not usually seen. Some sweet murals provided an opportunity for some posed photos...
and once we got near the fort, Phil decided he just needed to check out inside of it. We had heard it was a museum, and as Claire, Josh and I examined the situation to figure out if we needed tickets Phil walked right through the stone threshold. As the recently noticed ticket booth began to bustle like an anthill and uniformed people quickly pursued we warned Phil about the coming onslaught. "Phil! get outta there. authorities!"
He stuck his head out a turret and yelled "I made it! I was in the fort!" before rushing out and probably avoiding a severe, Spanish tongue lashing. After that we determined that the delirium had set in and we should probably get back to Chetumal and get some food. Finally finding another taxi we made the trip back and nearly got lost. The driver had no idea where we were going or exactly where the streets we named were, so we had to drive around the city for a bit before we recognized where we were (again, 'we' means Claire).
Back in our neighborhood we engaged in a vain search for another restaurant before settling on a small pizza joint. It was far better pizza then we had found anywhere in Belize, a pleasant surprise in fact.
Just before we had left for our adventures Toshi had left the hostel on his way towards Belize. We had done the best we could to instruct him on places to visit and said that if he was ever in San Ignacio he should seek us out. While we were adventuring during the day an English girl named Yvonne had checked in. She too was heading towards Belize the next day. After dinner and Claire's rant about there not being any good beer in Belize she was up for a Mexican beer run and a last hurrah before being subjected to Belikin, Belize's beer monopoly.
We completed our mission and made it back to the hostel. Chatting with Yvonne over a few cold ones, we learned that she was quite the intrepid traveler. Having just graduated 'Uni' and getting her teaching certificate, Yvonne had already traveled for six months in India and another trip of four months in southeast Asia. She was going from LA to Costa Rica in four months...for a change of scenery. I was eager to inquire about all the particulars of her various trips and when I asked about what she spent was very encouraged...
"Well, I was in India for six months and spent about $3,000. But that was because we stayed in nicer places, and I don't really like Indian food so I spent a lot more to get Western food there. Southeast Asia cost between three and four thousand with a lot of travel, and this trip is running a bit over budget at four thousand for what's going to be about five months." Good things to know, and very promising :)
Before going to bed that night, Josh finally mustered the courage to ask our Hostess where we could buy one of the beautiful hammocks she had on the patio. They were made of thousands of tiny, woven threads of various colors, very comfortable and enormous! We had seen a lot of hammocks by this point and the ones hanging on the patio in this hostel topped them all. She told Josh, and Phil, in Spanish that she was often asked about them and that it would be her pleasure to take us to where she bought them after breakfast tomorrow and that we would be back in time to catch the 10:45 bus back to Belize City. Very pleased and looking forward to tomorrow's acquisition, we called it a night and got some rest before our day of travel home.
The next morning came and after breakfast the four of us piled into the white Peugeot and were off to buy hammocks. Since we were planning on heading out after the hammock purchase, Phil and I thought it would be rather funny to cross the border and eventually arrive back in San Ignacio in our ridiculous outfits, so we had put our new shirts back on and were looking the part of excessive tourists. We drove quite a ways, chatting with the hostel owner and soaking in the sites of Chetumal, each expecting a market to be our final destination. After about 15 minutes, our Hostess randomly points through the windshield at a large building along the 'highway' and says "That's the jail". It seemed odd that this would be the first thing along the journey that she thought worthy of mention and Phil even cracked a mumbled joke about hoping this isn't where she was taking us. She slowed the car and tugged the wheel right, parking along the side of the rode across the street from the prison. The four students were looking around for some sort of market and there was nothing but trees. We all got out of the car, put our bags in the trunk and locked it up. Across the street was a line of people waiting outside the barbwire fence.
"It's visiting day" our Hostess told us just before chatting with one of the guards through the fence and before we knew it we were pushing passed and walking around a crowd of people waiting to be screened before seeing their incarcerated loved ones. All the while, Phil and I are wearing these ludicrous shirts, needless to say, there were more than a few stares. Once inside the barbwire fence and passed the razor wire secondary barrier, we were lead into the actual prison building. Passing armed guards single file, we walked into a smaller room near what appeared to be the prison showers, all the while still trying to comprehend how this happened without our knowing ahead of time. Two men came out of nowhere with a slew of flamboyantly colored hammocks and laid them out on the table. Stretching one out to full size I guessed the area covered by the woven portion alone was about 4'x7', double stranded. I can hardly fathom how long it would take to make such a thing, but I'm guessing about 25 to life as we were assured they were all hand woven. The haggling began between our Hostess and the vendors in Spanish so fast I could hardly catch more than a word of phrase here and there. In the end she talked them down from 1,000pesos to 600, Phil and Josh picked their hammocks and we walked back out through the line of expressionless faces and penetrating eyes. The whole experience was a bit unreal.
We collected ourselves on the ride back to the hostel and bid our farewells with many thanks. A final pet for Kevin Costner and we were whisked away by taxi to the bus station. We figured out the ticket situation and had a moment to take a final group shot while waiting for the bus with Yvonne.
While sitting at the ADO bus company station, we were looking forward to riding back in a nicer bus than what was usually found in Belize. The large, tinted windows and air conditioning would have been a nice change of pace from the US school buses which were the common mode of public transport across the border. After we had been waiting about ten minutes, a revamped, Blue Bird school bus pulls into the station as if it's a Sesame Street segment of 'One of these things is not like the other'.
"That's the one, that's our bus" Josh and I both seem to say in unison. Sure enough, the 2x4 wood placard propped between the dashboard and windshield has BELIZE painted across its face. We all climb in and begin our journey home. After explaining the border officer at the Mexican border that no, we weren't given tourist cards at the border and that we just needed to get back home for class in Belize we were finally told to just pay the exit fee and get back on the bus. Then it was a flash of the student visa in Belize and we each easily walked by the customs agents, bottles of tequila (hard to come by in Belize and heavily taxed), undeclared in our backpacks. Five hours of bus riding later, we were back in good ol' San Ignacio, smiles beaming from a great trip.
Saturday, March 22, 2008
Service Learning in Belize Part 1
Hello! Again I apologize for the lapse in blogging, life here has been rather busy as late. A good portion of that busyness has been as a result of the Service Learning Project I am working on down here. As a part of this program, and part of my Community and International Development major, I am in Belize to take a class with an application component for the sustainable development practices I am learning about. Basically I have been working with a group of students designing a sort of community service project in a nearby community.
Towards the beginning of my time here, while determining what type of project I wanted to work on and searching for possible community partners, I met a woman living here, Andrea, who runs an organization known as the STAND Center. Meaning; Sustainable, Tropical Agriculture and Natural Development, the STAND Center runs a number of projects in the area working towards empowering communities by promoting economic and environmental health.
In one of the potential projects STAND was designing and considering involved hopes of establishing a community orchard of various types of fruit trees using a planting method known as 'stacked polyculture' along with a soil preparation technique called 'biochar'. Stacked polyculture is a biomimicry technique that observes and mimics the natural order of a forest and uses that structure in the planting organization. By planting an orchard to be like a forest, the differing needs of diverse types of trees will put less stress on the soil by taking and replenishing
complimentary nutrients, unlike a monoculture orchard where all the plants take the same nutrients and therefore require fertilization.
By using the biochar; a process of smoldering waste plant material over the soil prior to planting, the soil is amended with nutrient rich charcoal that later acts as a nutrient sponge to condition the soil.
The intention was to present these methods to a local community and determine if they were interested in establishing an orchard that would be managed in common by the community members for the benefit of all families involved. The community in mind was known as Arizona, on account of there being low supplies of water, and was relatively recently populated by a neighborhood of El Salvadoran refugees who had been illegally relocated by the government off land to which they had the right to title. Farming corn for market, most families did not make enough in a year for a fully balanced diet, nor education for most of the children. And due to the particular practices used to farm, the fields are being pushed progressively further from the village each few years. Most community members speak only Spanish and a number are illiterate. Fortunately, this was the small town in which Andrea teaches preschool.
This project took my numerous lessons in town planning, community consensus building and meeting facilitation and combined them with the classes in biomimicry and sustainable development and topped it off with some Spanish to make an incredible collaboration
of my recent years of higher education. I was stoked! And a group of capable students also interested made it an even more appealing endeavor.
Once the students to be involved in the project were officially committed and we had a meeting with Andrea, a trip out to Arizona was in order. We took a packed, Saturday-morning bus to the town humorously named, Teakettle, to be picked up by Andrea in her pickup truck. After packing 18 people; 8 students, Andrea and her two children, and seven Arizona residents getting off the bus, into the vehicle (UVM Risk Management Department would not be pleased...) we drove the few miles into Arizona. It was a great chance to check out the community, talk with a few residents and get to know Andrea a little better.
Arizona is a small community with fewer than a hundred families. The houses are modest, often being little more than a tin roof and walls on a cinder block foundation, but the dwellings we saw were all well kept, as well as the yards around them, in stark contrast to the similar structures in San Ignacio that clearly portray poverty. The few people we met were very kind and rather reserved. We have come to expect shyness when we show up in town as a big group of white folks.
As Andrea showed us around the town, we learned a bit about her own ambitions here. She is an expatriate from the US and has been living a few miles away from Arizona, essentially in the jungle with her husband and two young children. She teaches preschool and was working at the time on getting the materials and community support to construct a schoolhouse. Her ambitions for various projects to improve the livelihoods within this community were admirable despite seeming a bit overly optimistic about time line and probability of success. To me she seemed a little overly confident that the residents of Arizona would easily establish a consensus on the location and management of such a community resource. She also hoped that the orchard could be located on a particular hillside near the site for the schoolhouse where there is seasonal access to water in the form of a tiny creek.
After our brief visit to the community of Arizona we were each starting to get a better idea of what we were getting ourselves into and how much there was to establish in the short time that we were down here. Then, we piled back into the pickup and it was off to Andrea's frontier, forest farm for a taste of stacked polyculture, biomimicry tropical forest farming...
Towards the beginning of my time here, while determining what type of project I wanted to work on and searching for possible community partners, I met a woman living here, Andrea, who runs an organization known as the STAND Center. Meaning; Sustainable, Tropical Agriculture and Natural Development, the STAND Center runs a number of projects in the area working towards empowering communities by promoting economic and environmental health.
In one of the potential projects STAND was designing and considering involved hopes of establishing a community orchard of various types of fruit trees using a planting method known as 'stacked polyculture' along with a soil preparation technique called 'biochar'. Stacked polyculture is a biomimicry technique that observes and mimics the natural order of a forest and uses that structure in the planting organization. By planting an orchard to be like a forest, the differing needs of diverse types of trees will put less stress on the soil by taking and replenishing
complimentary nutrients, unlike a monoculture orchard where all the plants take the same nutrients and therefore require fertilization.
By using the biochar; a process of smoldering waste plant material over the soil prior to planting, the soil is amended with nutrient rich charcoal that later acts as a nutrient sponge to condition the soil.
The intention was to present these methods to a local community and determine if they were interested in establishing an orchard that would be managed in common by the community members for the benefit of all families involved. The community in mind was known as Arizona, on account of there being low supplies of water, and was relatively recently populated by a neighborhood of El Salvadoran refugees who had been illegally relocated by the government off land to which they had the right to title. Farming corn for market, most families did not make enough in a year for a fully balanced diet, nor education for most of the children. And due to the particular practices used to farm, the fields are being pushed progressively further from the village each few years. Most community members speak only Spanish and a number are illiterate. Fortunately, this was the small town in which Andrea teaches preschool.
This project took my numerous lessons in town planning, community consensus building and meeting facilitation and combined them with the classes in biomimicry and sustainable development and topped it off with some Spanish to make an incredible collaboration
of my recent years of higher education. I was stoked! And a group of capable students also interested made it an even more appealing endeavor.
Once the students to be involved in the project were officially committed and we had a meeting with Andrea, a trip out to Arizona was in order. We took a packed, Saturday-morning bus to the town humorously named, Teakettle, to be picked up by Andrea in her pickup truck. After packing 18 people; 8 students, Andrea and her two children, and seven Arizona residents getting off the bus, into the vehicle (UVM Risk Management Department would not be pleased...) we drove the few miles into Arizona. It was a great chance to check out the community, talk with a few residents and get to know Andrea a little better.
Arizona is a small community with fewer than a hundred families. The houses are modest, often being little more than a tin roof and walls on a cinder block foundation, but the dwellings we saw were all well kept, as well as the yards around them, in stark contrast to the similar structures in San Ignacio that clearly portray poverty. The few people we met were very kind and rather reserved. We have come to expect shyness when we show up in town as a big group of white folks.
As Andrea showed us around the town, we learned a bit about her own ambitions here. She is an expatriate from the US and has been living a few miles away from Arizona, essentially in the jungle with her husband and two young children. She teaches preschool and was working at the time on getting the materials and community support to construct a schoolhouse. Her ambitions for various projects to improve the livelihoods within this community were admirable despite seeming a bit overly optimistic about time line and probability of success. To me she seemed a little overly confident that the residents of Arizona would easily establish a consensus on the location and management of such a community resource. She also hoped that the orchard could be located on a particular hillside near the site for the schoolhouse where there is seasonal access to water in the form of a tiny creek.
After our brief visit to the community of Arizona we were each starting to get a better idea of what we were getting ourselves into and how much there was to establish in the short time that we were down here. Then, we piled back into the pickup and it was off to Andrea's frontier, forest farm for a taste of stacked polyculture, biomimicry tropical forest farming...
Sunday, February 10, 2008
Beach time at Placencia!
Courtesy of the national elections, we got a few days off from school and decided to head south and get to the beach! It was difficult to imagine a Burlington February as we were soaking up tropical sun on the coral sands of Placencia. A peninsula, Placencia is supposed to be the nicest beach spot in all of Belize. It was my first chance to get shoreside since I've arrived, so I don't have anything with which to compare yet, but it will be hard to top it!
While it is definitely a tourist spot, they are almost exclusively small hotels and since owning beach front is illegal in Belize you can walk up and down the peninsula along the beach or along the longest unbroken side walk through the middle of town. The sand is all made of coral fragments, so the grains are small enough to be sandy but big enough to wipe away really easily, a great combination. Unfortunately, there is quite a bit of garbage that floats in or is left on the beach, but almost all of the restaurants and hotels have people rake the beach each morning to mitigate that.
Emily Abbott managed to get us a sweet deal on a house for three nights. Right on the beach, it was an amazing spot and with 10 students in there it was only BZ$10 a night! It was a great chance to relax and pass the time throwing a disc on the beach and swimming in the warm Caribbean water.
We took full advantage of the kitchen and cooked up some tasty meals. The second day a few students went out fishing and snorkelling and the Belizean who took them out cooked up the catch of kingfish and some Conch fritters for us the second night, a delightful local feast!
After a great time spent and only minor sunburn, I headed back to San Ignacio yesterday via water taxi and a long bus ride, unpacked and reluctantly washed the salt and sand out of my hair.
PS. The opposition party, UDP won the election in a landslide victory with nearly 80% of the vote, ending 10 years of reign by the PUP. With no riots or demonstrations, this looks like a successful, democratic turnover...three cheers
While it is definitely a tourist spot, they are almost exclusively small hotels and since owning beach front is illegal in Belize you can walk up and down the peninsula along the beach or along the longest unbroken side walk through the middle of town. The sand is all made of coral fragments, so the grains are small enough to be sandy but big enough to wipe away really easily, a great combination. Unfortunately, there is quite a bit of garbage that floats in or is left on the beach, but almost all of the restaurants and hotels have people rake the beach each morning to mitigate that.
Emily Abbott managed to get us a sweet deal on a house for three nights. Right on the beach, it was an amazing spot and with 10 students in there it was only BZ$10 a night! It was a great chance to relax and pass the time throwing a disc on the beach and swimming in the warm Caribbean water.
We took full advantage of the kitchen and cooked up some tasty meals. The second day a few students went out fishing and snorkelling and the Belizean who took them out cooked up the catch of kingfish and some Conch fritters for us the second night, a delightful local feast!
After a great time spent and only minor sunburn, I headed back to San Ignacio yesterday via water taxi and a long bus ride, unpacked and reluctantly washed the salt and sand out of my hair.PS. The opposition party, UDP won the election in a landslide victory with nearly 80% of the vote, ending 10 years of reign by the PUP. With no riots or demonstrations, this looks like a successful, democratic turnover...three cheers
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