The Islands

The cayes (pronounced “keys”) are where Belizeans go to vacation. It was pure Caribbean: turquoise water and coconut palms. I live about as far as you can get from an ocean and soon learned what I’d been missing. Everything is better on the beach: making music on the beach, doing yoga on the beach, talking on the beach, eating seafood on the beach, sipping rum on the beach. Try not to be jealous.

An Exhausted Dan is Ripped off by Street Vendors

Everything is better on the beach

We borrowed snorkel masks to look at the colorful fish hiding under the pier.
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We spent two days on Ambergris Caye and three days on Caye Caulker. San Pedro, on Ambergris Caye, is more expensive, has more clubs, and has more persistent street vendors. I was easy prey for them the first night, having had little more than a catnap in 48 hours, and a beer to put me over the edge.  “Come sit wit us, mon, meet some real people.” “Sure, dude.” “I give you dis shell necklace and bead bracelet for 100 Belize, and you buy us beers.” “Sure, let me break this traveler’s check. How much was the change on those beers? How much do I still owe you.” “Pppt. It not about the money, mon, it about de respect!”  I was too tired to do math, he was too high to do math, and everyone went away angry, including Ian, who calls people on their bulls**t for a living and was irritated at my naiveté. I learned my lesson, but this kind of friction continued. Matt would talk to all the locals and fall for some sob story; Ian would try to haggle with everyone and come across as an Ugly American. “Five dollars Belize or I walk!” became a running gag. Adding to the tension was the increasingly complicated tab of who had paid for what. We might have been at each others’ throats in a few days had it not been for Lexi and Mary, whose influence helped keep things civil.

Travelling Companions

We met these ladies on the patio of our hotel on the second evening: Lexi, a fifth grade teacher and Mary, a cosmetologist, both with boyfriends at home, both from northern California. Matt made the introductions with the foolproof ice-breaker, “ever tried drinking rum out of a coconut,” and after that, we couldn’t get rid of them. They turned out to be good friends and great travelling companions—game for beaches and clubs, zoos and caves. It was a mutually beneficial arrangement. We scared away the sleazy guys that would otherwise hassle them at bars; they scared away the single girls that would otherwise flock to Ian’s tanned muscles and Matt’s beautiful braids, a service which I, at least, appreciated.

Nightlife in San Pedro

On Friday, we sampled San Pedro’s nightlife. At Fido’s, the band was playing a bunch of our favorite songs: Weezer’s “Say it Ain’t So,” the Ramones’ “I want to be Sedated,” and Stevie Ray Vaughn’s “Pride and Joy,” for example. Matt and I started a ska dance craze on Sublime’s “Same in the End.” Later, the bouncer at the discoteque (Jaguar’s Temple) let me in for free, we all got up on stage and danced silly.  On other nights, we made our own nightlife, playing guitar and singing on the beach under the palm trees and full moon.

A Local Festival: Dia de San Pedro

Sing-along on the beach at Caye Caulker
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The timing of our trip allowed us to attend two local festivals. June 28 was the opening ceremonies for Dia de San Pedro on Ambergris Caye. There was a carnival with unsafe-looking rides, a mariachi band, a beer tent, and speeches by local luminaries including the newly crowned Miss San Pedro. We were the only tourists in a crowd of Spanish-speaking Belizeans. A drunken fisherman greeted us with broken English, introduced us to the Deputy Mayor, and attempted to explain the merits of San Pedro over Caye Caulker. We were not entirely convinced, and so headed to Caye Caulker for LobsterFest on June 30. I’ll describe it in the next entry, but as you might guess, there’s lobster.