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This is a tricky question. 

Paul and I never felt threatened during our stay in Belize.  We were cautious against petty theft in our hotel rooms and while we were out but we felt very very safe everywhere we went. 

Some of the adventures we participated in had elements of danger.   The threat of being stung by the sting rays, falling during the ATM tour and getting held up at gun point on the way to Caracol.    

A man recently fell at ATM and dislocated his shoulder.  He had to lifted up to the trail, make his way back the two miles (and four river crossings), down the bumpy gravel road to the Western Highway and then go to the hospital in St. Ignacio.  Orlando, our guide, said the man was screaming in pain the whole time.

And a woman drowned cave tubing the week before we were there.  The river was higher and the tour operators advised people NOT to go cave tubing.  One of the cruise ships didn’t want to cancel the tour so they went ahead, with too few guides for the hundreds of people. 

Kim, at the Almond Beach Resort said Belize is the most dangerous country in the Caribbean.  I did not feel that.  However, while we were there the assistant manager, Luis, lost a close cousin in a shooting in St. Ignacio.  In a strange twist of fate, Paul and I met Luis sister, Kara (and her daughter), on the flight to Belize.  Kara told me about her brother working at Jaguar Reef and about her cousins and their store.  Four men came in and threatened Kara’s uncle.  Her cousin stepped in to protect him and was shot, point blank through the heart.  All four men were caught.

It is not without its hazards, mostly due to its remoteness.   So you find yourself being a little more cautious, slowing down, which in the long run is a good thing.  You enjoy the scenery more, pay more attention to the details.  The potential for harm (or death) makes the joys of life sweeter.

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I had breakfast with a friend (Snappy is his name) who went to Belize last year and did the ATM tour.  It was nice to discuss it with somebody who had experienced it but not experienced it with me.   As we were discussing the various parts of the tour, the hike, the rocks, the cave itself I couldn’t help but ask, “Do you think it was dangerous?”
“Yes”, he replied immediately.  “There was peril involved. They would never let us do something like that here in the States.”

A few of my friends have made comments about the “type of vacation” it seems I like, full of adventure and danger.  I am not an adrenal junkie.  I do not seek out danger.   I did not know what difficulties were ahead of me when I entered the cave.  If you remember my previous blog about it, I was concerned with the hike.  The cave was not an issue.

I even chided Karen when I returned to the Jungle Dome.  “Why didn’t you tell me about the cave being so hard?”
“You asked about the hike, which isn’t hard.  I knew you could do the cave but I knew if I told you, you wouldn’t do it.”

Snappy says he got the same type of answers when he asked about the ATM Tour.  And he admitted that if somebody had told him what the cave entailed he wouldn’t have done it either.

We are both very happy that nobody told us.  We would not have wanted to miss that experience and challenge.  It was a once in a lifetime adventure.  When you are in those moments, you just do what it takes.  You swim into the mouth of the unknown, you climb a slippery rock formation, you plunge down a water shoot and you are better person to have done it.

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I decided a few years ago that I want my home to reflect my travels. 

While on Caye Cauker, I came across the Cooper's Art Gallery , home to Debbie Cooper's works of art.  They are colorful Caribbean prints depicting local women, birds and plants.  I fell in love.  And, much to my delight, her husband had just put out a small original for sale.  I thought about it overnight and then bought it.  It had been in the gallery less than 24 hours. 

Its my little piece of Belize sunshine!

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No.

I don’t think Belize is done with me yet.    The next visit will focus on southern Belize, down near Porta Gorda.   I want to spend time at the Cotten Tree Lodge and explore that part of Belize.  

In addition, I’d like to visit  Honduras. Luis II says the Mayan ruins of Copan are worth the trip.   In addition, I heard nothing but wonderful things about Flores in Guatemala.  

This is the itinerary I envision:

Fly:       LA/Houston/Belize City
Fly:       Belize City/Porta Gorda
Boat:     Cotton Tree Lodge (7 days)
Boat:     Porta Gorda to Honduras
Drive:    Copan (1-2 days)
Bus:      Copan to Flores (they say the bus ride is beautiful!)
            Flores (3-5 days)
Fly:      Flores/Belize City (on Tropic Air)
Car:     Jungle Dome (as long as Karen is at the Jungle Dome I will go visit)
Fly:      Belize City/Houston/LA

Next year for New Year’s, Paul and I are thinking about the Galapagos Islands and Ecuador.  So, I think I will return to Belize in two years.

Its odd.  Being home is strange.

After being driven for the last two weeks, getting behind the wheel of a car seems unusual.  Like I’m in a dream and I known I’ve done this before but this isn’t where I belong.   Maybe it’s the pavement.  The roads are paved, the parking lots, sidewalks,
parks, shops–all paved.  The natural world, although just outside my window, feels so very far away.  Like the asphalt is sucking out all the life from the trees and the flowers.
I miss the dragonflies, hummingbirds, butterflies, even the ants.    The spider problem I claim to have in my condo seems laughable now. 

And as I drive, I look at all the stuff.   Balconies piled high with boxes stuffed with things forgotten by their owners.  Stores selling more stuff we don’t need or want.  Items that won’t bring us joy just separate us from our money.  I look around my condo, at the closet full of clothes, many of them I don’t wear.  The office closet that is so junked up I only open it when absolutely necessary and then snatch and grab before it all falls out.  The accumulation of magazines and books.   I own more right now than many families in Belize will own in a lifetime.  Does that make me better, happier, more of a success? No.  It just means I have more stuff.

My skin is dry again.  My nose bleeds when I blow, my hands feel as if they are on the verge of cracking.  While I don’t miss the humidity, I do miss the moisture in my skin.

The itching bug bites are slowly diminishing, scabs forming and falling off.  They are being replaced by accidental scratches by Bailey, my kitten. 

Slowly, Belize is falling away.

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Belize, which is roughly the size of Massachusetts, appears to be very manageable when traveling.   Somehow the beauty of the vast jungles and marshlands and the calm of the barrier reef swallow up the remoteness.  

There are only three highways in Belize.  The Northern Highway, which stretches from the Mexico border to Belize City, The Western Highway unites Belize City to St. Ignacio (and the Guatemalan Border) and the Hummingbird Highway.  The Hummingbird Highway stretches from Belmopan to Dangriga, where it morphs into the Southern Highway and runs all the way to Porta Gorda.   

Paul and I began our journey back to Los Angeles in Hopkins, about 20-30 miles south of Dangriga.  The road in Hopkins used to be paved but floods have washed away the majority of the pavement and left huge potholes in its wake.  It takes us almost twenty minutes to drive the six miles to the Southern Highway.   Another twenty minutes along the two lane highway (all the highways are two lanes) finds us in Dangriga. 

Oswald, our driver from the Almond Beach/Jaguar Reef, turns off the paved highway into a neighborhood of shacks and dirt roads.   The airport is hidden on the edge of the town. With no clear street signs, you have to know where you are going in order to find it.

The poverty of this neighborhood was heart wrenching.   Stilt raised wooden homes with thin worn white cotton curtains blowing in the breeze.   Holes where the planks have rotted away, offering little protection from the whims of nature.   Some houses so small, they appeared to have only one room, the cooking area and tables gathered close by outside.   Women, listless in the heat, sat heavily on cheap plastic chairs on slanting porches.   Chin in hand, they watch wordless, as we drive by, their eyes following our vehicle.

Our twelve seat Mayan Airplane was full so Paul gets the prized “co-pilot” spot up front.  The runway, barely paved was mostly rock in some places, but we rise with little effort.  The flight is seventeen minutes long and takes us over the reef, following the coastline.  After Dangriga falls from sight, there is nothing but water and marshlands.  Not a person in sight.   It’s a reminder that this little nation has only 300,000 residents (not counting the influx of 4,000-6,000 visitors when the cruise ships are docked at Belize City).   It is just one of the many reasons to love this country.

The rest of our trip home is uneventful.   We are upgraded to First Class from Belize City to Houston but our flight from Houston to Los Angeles is packed.  Fourteen hours after leaving the resort in Hopkins, I am back in my condo in Los Angeles, curled up on my couch with my kitties.

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Bittersweet.   Webster Dictionary defines bittersweet as (1) both bitter and sweet  (2) pleasant and sad.   The Thesaurus offers not alternatives to this word.  It is what it is.

The final days of Belize are just that, bittersweet.   Paul and I spend our days alternately between the Butterfly Spa and the sunny beach.   The moon, just missing a tiny sliver, beckons us to stay here in Belize our last night.  

But the strings that tie us to home have already begun to tighten and we spend more time on the Internet, thinking about work and family.    This has been an amazing trip but it must end.

Our last day at Almond Beach/Jaguar Reef I spend working. 
Vicky Cross, the Butterfly Spa manager, has staged the spa with flowers and candles.  I arrive for my last treatment, reflexology, thirty minutes early to take photos.   Vicky is new here to Belize, having just arrived from Minnesota in March.  Her husband oversees maintenance here and they have a little apartment on the property.  After a tough adjustment period, they are settling in and loving Belize more and more each day.

Shortly after my spa visit, I meet up with Kim Leland.  Kim arranges all the weddings and special events here at the resort.  Originally from Hopkins, Kim has the same infectious smile and laugh that is shared by all the local Hopkins women that work here. Ms. Pat, one of the owners, joins us briefly as Kim and I walk through the Vista Suite. This suite would be a very fun bachelorette or girls vacation room.  Three bedrooms plus a media room, library, dinning room and full kitchen, it sleeps ten.  Small wedding receptions are held here as well.  For an extra $200 a night, a personal chef can be brought in to cook.  I’m sold!   This is also where the owners stay when they are in town so it holds many extra amenities, such as its own washer and dryer and Jacuzzi tubs. For the next half hour Kim shows me the variety of rooms that they have.  All the rooms have unique features.  There is something for everybody here at this resort.  Honeymoon rooms with no TVs and private outdoor showers, budget rooms that look out on the garden or pool, family suites that offer tiny kitchenettes.

It’s a nice way to spend my last few hours here at the resort before we begin our long trip back to Los Angeles.

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A lone snorkeler navigates the water, his black fins rhythmically beating against the waves.  A lean brown Shepard mix runs along the shore, passing by a worker from the construction site next door who is asleep in my hammock.  I say my hammock but it’s really the resort’s.  It is where I took my nap yesterday and I have been anticipating becoming intimate with it again today.  
I’m staring holes in the back of his head but I don’t think my laser vision is working today.  Since he seems to be the only worker, and he sleeps away the afternoon, it makes since that he has been hammering away at this building since June.

I am fresh from a shower.  Today has been a day of pampering.  A Cucumber Facial and a Manicure/Pedicure.  I even splurged and had small white flowers painted on the red nail polish on my big toes.   The pedicure was the best I have ever had in my life.  It had the standard nail clipping, filing, painting and soaking.  In addition they sand and polish the bottom of my feet, applying a stimulating scrub and then wrap my feet in hot towels.  That is followed by lotion and massage.  (sigh)

Yes, you are right.  I am no longer at the Jungle Dome.  Yesterday Paul and I said goodbye to our new group of fellow travelers at the Dome (a couple from New Zealand, that live in London; a couple from Tacoma, and two couples from Alberta, Canada).  They are all at the beginning of their adventures and I am jealous of all the new experiences they are about to enjoy.

Roy, from the Almond Beach/Jaguar Reef Resort, picked us up at 11A to begin the two hour journey to Hopkins.  Hopkins is just south of Dangriga, which is located in the southern part of the country (everybody calls this area southern Belize but if you look at the map its central Belize—go figure).  The ride, mostly along the Hummingbird Highway, is beautiful and reminiscent of Kauai.  They even have a Sleeping Giant mountain.  The Hummingbird Highway is relatively new, only paved in the last 12 years.  Roy used to travel this road from Belize City to see his grandmother in Hopkins when he was younger.  He said it took six hours and if the rivers were too high to cross you had to try again later. 

Our room at the resort is a beachfront cabana, big and spacious.  It has a king sized bed and two Murphy beds, plus a little sitting area (couch and two chairs).  The veranda is huge with a four top table and two lounges.  Stairs lead from the porch to my beloved hammock and the ocean just ten feet away.


What a peaceful way to end our vacation.  (The dog mentioned at the beginning of my post just came up on the veranda for some love, laying his head on my lap and looking dolefully at me with his big brown eyes.)