Our boat journey to Belize city is more comfortable and we have a short minibus ride through the hectic city streets from the port to the bus station where we will take, what for some of us will be, our first ‘chicken’ bus. As it pulls into the station, there’s a mad scramble and we head to the back, where Ernesto has told us we will load our bags into the bus before boarding from the front. It’s a packed bus but we are all lucky enough to find seats for the 3hr journey to San Ignacio. Many others are left to stand in the aisle. Street vendors also board selling drinks and food. Ernie has tipped us off regarding the lemon and coconut tarts and he is not wrong. They are fresh and delicious and fill a little space for the long journey.
The change in scenery as we go is quite stunning as we see lush greenery and orange orchards along the way. Occasionally, a shout rings out and the bus lurches to the side of the road. Eventually, we arrive in San Ignacio, our tour leader’s home town. The bus heaves into the market square and all our backpacks are offloaded. Somehow, we stagger, fully loaded, (except for Caroline, who has already effortlessly acquired her own personal baggage handler) up the hill to our hotel, Hotel Venus, where steep steps to the reception above the shops await. We are allocated the 3rd floor. There is no lift. I drag myself up the stairs and flop onto the bed , still attached to my backpack, stranded like an upturned turtle. Caroline’s personal porter delivers her backpack to the room. The rooms are basic and compact but we have a double aspect, allowing any breath of air to supplement the fan, which actually works. We spot the decrepit aircon unit hiding in the corner behind the ancient tv & turn to each other grinning. Gingerly, we flick the switch. There’s a clunk and I glance out of the window to see if I can spot the helicopter which I’m sure is about to take off. But there is no helicopter, only an aircon unit. And it works!
Hot and sticky (I think there’s a theme for this trip!), it’s time to test the shower. Turning the taps creates a splutter and a trickle of water falls from the shower head. It’s scalding hot. I look for the temperature control and it appears to be on the shower head. Reaching up I try to flick it to cool. A blue spark leaps out and the shock runs from my fingers to my toes. As I jump back, there is a squoooshing noise, like a coffee machine, and the shower head is hissing with billows of steam puffing out. I’m sure it’s about to explode and briefly picture the newspaper headlines back home. “It’s UnBelizeable. Brits get blown up after getting hot and steamy”.
It takes several Cuba Libres to calm me down before dinner.
Next morning, we are up early for the cave tubing and head to the Han-Na’s for breakfast. It has hardly arrived when we notice the time. We are already late!. Stuffing as much as we can into our faces we rush to the meet point..... where we wait 45mins whilst the rest of participants enjoy a leisurely breakfast.
Its an hour and a half to the location from where we have to hike 45 mins through the jungle with our tubes and head torches to the start point. Caroline’s personal porter is on the case again. On the way our guide points out the plants and wildlife. As we move round a bend in the track, we steady ourselves against a tree. Just then there is a movement as something large and furry casually saunters around the trunk at arm height. It’s a large tarantula. Now, I’m not saying that I’m arachnophobic, but I do believe that there should always be a healthy distance between me and spiders, for our mutual protection. And I also believe that the distance should always include a fixed barrier, preferably a wall. But here I am, following the guide’s lead and reaching out to gently encourage the spider to crawl onto my hand, whilst everyone else looks on, aghast. But this one is quite shy and decides discretion is the better part of valour, creeping high up out of reach. A wise decision I think, in retrospect.
Moving on, the guide identifies various plants and fruits and encourages us to try them, which most of us do with some trepidation. He taps on a termite mound attached to a tree and tells us these little ants are 80% protein and taste of mint with an aftertaste of carrots. He pops a few in his mouth and asks if anyone wants to try. Everyone else backs away slowly but in for a penny, I step up and he pushes a few into the palm of my hand. As they scurry around I lick a few up. I can feel them running over my tongue in a panic an try to trap them between my teeth, but they are so tiny they manage to escape. Eventually, I feel the satisfying crunch between my teeth followed by the strong flavour of carrots. Hmmm ‘Termites, the tasty snack between meals that won’t ruin your appetite’. For the next ten minutes I am chasing them around my mouth with my tongue.
The start pool is 5m below us and somewhere between the termites, tarantula and the start point my courage has deserted me. I’m no Tom Daley. I peer over the edge. Everyone else has jumped and is staring up, offering encouragement and advice. It’s not helping. With an enormous effort I grit my teeth and plunge into the crystal waters, my feet and bum gently touch the bottom and a I bounce up to the surface again. Clambering onto the tube proves an even greater challenge but it’s not long before we’re gently bobbing along and entering the dark caves, where we switch on our head torches. The current is quite gentle so we supplement it by paddling along as best we can using our feet and arms. All of us that is, except Caroline, who has somehow acquired her own guide who gently pushes her along the river into the caves. I had expected the water in the caves to be cooler, but it is warm and soothing until we reach some mini waterfalls which bring cool water in to meet us. The time in the caves passes quickly as we move from cavern to cavern, negotiating shallow rapids in the dark as we go and all to soon we are at the finish point. As I struggle to get out of my tube the current picks up and I find myself entering another rapid, being carried away from the rest of the group. Frantically, I scramble out of my tube and stumble clumsily to the water’s edge, failing to notice that my camera has continued its journey. Fortunately for me the guide has spotted it and chases it downstream, retrieving it before it is carried away completely.
This year, San Ignacio will host its first ever ‘Block Party’ as part of their Independence celebrations. The DJ is revved up and the street bar is ready to rave. We are all dressed up in our party clothes and head down to the square where it’s all happening. There is supposed to be a Dance off competition but everyone stands around whilst one man and his dog (literally) cut some shapes on the street. Two local girls join them. They’ve been practising their Shakira moves and do some impressive contortions in the street that should really be reserved for the bedroom. Jonathan and Sarah step up for Team Intrepid and the game is on. Jonathan’s eclectic style is impressive and the dog decides to change partners, but eventually they are both eliminated leaving Sarah and a local girl in the final. The local girl looks Sarah up and down and obviously decides she offers little competition. She then tells the DJ to crank up the tunes and looks scornfully over at Sarah. They both start to move to the music. A minute in, Sarah’s proved her point and the girl stops in disgust and horror. She takes a deep breath and pulls out all the stops but the crowd is going wild for the Intrepid Ozzie who takes the crown. Sarah steps up to take her cash prize.. 7USD and free beers for the night. Some of the locals are not too impressed and we decide to make an early exit to the karaoke bar. When that closes, the staff tell us they are heading to a local club for the after party so we decide to join them.
Next morning I am woken by the banging in my head. Oh no. My first hangover, I think glumly, but as I come round, I realise that the banging is very real and belongs to the construction site outside our double aspect windows. Today, we head for Flores and taking us to the border will be the Jungle Bus, an open sided truck, so we can enjoy the views on the way. At least we will get some air.
The change in scenery as we go is quite stunning as we see lush greenery and orange orchards along the way. Occasionally, a shout rings out and the bus lurches to the side of the road. Eventually, we arrive in San Ignacio, our tour leader’s home town. The bus heaves into the market square and all our backpacks are offloaded. Somehow, we stagger, fully loaded, (except for Caroline, who has already effortlessly acquired her own personal baggage handler) up the hill to our hotel, Hotel Venus, where steep steps to the reception above the shops await. We are allocated the 3rd floor. There is no lift. I drag myself up the stairs and flop onto the bed , still attached to my backpack, stranded like an upturned turtle. Caroline’s personal porter delivers her backpack to the room. The rooms are basic and compact but we have a double aspect, allowing any breath of air to supplement the fan, which actually works. We spot the decrepit aircon unit hiding in the corner behind the ancient tv & turn to each other grinning. Gingerly, we flick the switch. There’s a clunk and I glance out of the window to see if I can spot the helicopter which I’m sure is about to take off. But there is no helicopter, only an aircon unit. And it works!
Hot and sticky (I think there’s a theme for this trip!), it’s time to test the shower. Turning the taps creates a splutter and a trickle of water falls from the shower head. It’s scalding hot. I look for the temperature control and it appears to be on the shower head. Reaching up I try to flick it to cool. A blue spark leaps out and the shock runs from my fingers to my toes. As I jump back, there is a squoooshing noise, like a coffee machine, and the shower head is hissing with billows of steam puffing out. I’m sure it’s about to explode and briefly picture the newspaper headlines back home. “It’s UnBelizeable. Brits get blown up after getting hot and steamy”.
It takes several Cuba Libres to calm me down before dinner.
Next morning, we are up early for the cave tubing and head to the Han-Na’s for breakfast. It has hardly arrived when we notice the time. We are already late!. Stuffing as much as we can into our faces we rush to the meet point..... where we wait 45mins whilst the rest of participants enjoy a leisurely breakfast.
Its an hour and a half to the location from where we have to hike 45 mins through the jungle with our tubes and head torches to the start point. Caroline’s personal porter is on the case again. On the way our guide points out the plants and wildlife. As we move round a bend in the track, we steady ourselves against a tree. Just then there is a movement as something large and furry casually saunters around the trunk at arm height. It’s a large tarantula. Now, I’m not saying that I’m arachnophobic, but I do believe that there should always be a healthy distance between me and spiders, for our mutual protection. And I also believe that the distance should always include a fixed barrier, preferably a wall. But here I am, following the guide’s lead and reaching out to gently encourage the spider to crawl onto my hand, whilst everyone else looks on, aghast. But this one is quite shy and decides discretion is the better part of valour, creeping high up out of reach. A wise decision I think, in retrospect.
Moving on, the guide identifies various plants and fruits and encourages us to try them, which most of us do with some trepidation. He taps on a termite mound attached to a tree and tells us these little ants are 80% protein and taste of mint with an aftertaste of carrots. He pops a few in his mouth and asks if anyone wants to try. Everyone else backs away slowly but in for a penny, I step up and he pushes a few into the palm of my hand. As they scurry around I lick a few up. I can feel them running over my tongue in a panic an try to trap them between my teeth, but they are so tiny they manage to escape. Eventually, I feel the satisfying crunch between my teeth followed by the strong flavour of carrots. Hmmm ‘Termites, the tasty snack between meals that won’t ruin your appetite’. For the next ten minutes I am chasing them around my mouth with my tongue.
The start pool is 5m below us and somewhere between the termites, tarantula and the start point my courage has deserted me. I’m no Tom Daley. I peer over the edge. Everyone else has jumped and is staring up, offering encouragement and advice. It’s not helping. With an enormous effort I grit my teeth and plunge into the crystal waters, my feet and bum gently touch the bottom and a I bounce up to the surface again. Clambering onto the tube proves an even greater challenge but it’s not long before we’re gently bobbing along and entering the dark caves, where we switch on our head torches. The current is quite gentle so we supplement it by paddling along as best we can using our feet and arms. All of us that is, except Caroline, who has somehow acquired her own guide who gently pushes her along the river into the caves. I had expected the water in the caves to be cooler, but it is warm and soothing until we reach some mini waterfalls which bring cool water in to meet us. The time in the caves passes quickly as we move from cavern to cavern, negotiating shallow rapids in the dark as we go and all to soon we are at the finish point. As I struggle to get out of my tube the current picks up and I find myself entering another rapid, being carried away from the rest of the group. Frantically, I scramble out of my tube and stumble clumsily to the water’s edge, failing to notice that my camera has continued its journey. Fortunately for me the guide has spotted it and chases it downstream, retrieving it before it is carried away completely.
This year, San Ignacio will host its first ever ‘Block Party’ as part of their Independence celebrations. The DJ is revved up and the street bar is ready to rave. We are all dressed up in our party clothes and head down to the square where it’s all happening. There is supposed to be a Dance off competition but everyone stands around whilst one man and his dog (literally) cut some shapes on the street. Two local girls join them. They’ve been practising their Shakira moves and do some impressive contortions in the street that should really be reserved for the bedroom. Jonathan and Sarah step up for Team Intrepid and the game is on. Jonathan’s eclectic style is impressive and the dog decides to change partners, but eventually they are both eliminated leaving Sarah and a local girl in the final. The local girl looks Sarah up and down and obviously decides she offers little competition. She then tells the DJ to crank up the tunes and looks scornfully over at Sarah. They both start to move to the music. A minute in, Sarah’s proved her point and the girl stops in disgust and horror. She takes a deep breath and pulls out all the stops but the crowd is going wild for the Intrepid Ozzie who takes the crown. Sarah steps up to take her cash prize.. 7USD and free beers for the night. Some of the locals are not too impressed and we decide to make an early exit to the karaoke bar. When that closes, the staff tell us they are heading to a local club for the after party so we decide to join them.
Next morning I am woken by the banging in my head. Oh no. My first hangover, I think glumly, but as I come round, I realise that the banging is very real and belongs to the construction site outside our double aspect windows. Today, we head for Flores and taking us to the border will be the Jungle Bus, an open sided truck, so we can enjoy the views on the way. At least we will get some air.
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