Basically we decided we needed someplace warm, someplace where we could get by with English, someplace cheapish, and someplace we could fly to LA and Kentucky from that wouldn't take either of us a day and a half. Belize fit that criteria the best and won the honors of a visit from us. Belize is so lucky.
We decided to rent a car and drive inland for the first leg. I'd read about a cave where Mayans used to do human sacrifice and desperately wanted to check it out, and Mack wanted to lay on a beach and pretend he wasn't a med student for a week. I won... at first.
We hopped in our little Suzuki Sidekick and headed to San Ignacio. The highway was great and it was only a couple hours drive from Belize City. As I happen to do, I got hungry and decided we needed to stop and get some local snacks, so about an hour in, we pulled over at a little roadside market. I bought fried plantains and Mack was offered a special green juice from a toothless guy on the steps that guaranteed his penis would be bigger and harder, and probably faster and stronger too.
We got to San Ignacio just as it was getting dark. I always get a little nervous when it gets dark and I don't know where I'm going because, well, I'm blind. Mack started to cross a bridge to head into town AND THEN WE REALIZED IT WAS ONE WAY.
See, how lucky is Belize?
Some locals helped us save a little bit of dignity, and we eventually made our way to the Midas Resort, a little complex of huts in the middle of the jungle along a river. The place was adorable, but the best part of it was the breakfast, which is where we met Marie Sharp and her boyfriend the Fry Jack.
Marie Sharp's habanero hot sauce is HOT, and the Fry Jack is like a puff of unadorned doughnut, but when you put them together and sop up your black beans and eggs with them, commence addiction.
With full bellies we headed out to do some exploring. The side roads were a little rougher than the highway, but we figured we'd be alright with our trusty Sidekick. We took our time heading down Belize's backroads, and that is when we spotted them.
The Amish. On a horse drawn buggy. Just a riding down the road. Like it's Minnesota or something.
Apparently a group of Mennonites from the Netherlands went wandering around in the late 1700s and eventually decided Belize was awesome. It's probably a good thing too, because their little colonies feed a lot of the country with their farms and without them, there'd be no dairy. How anyone lives without cheese is beyond me.
We saw a sign for 1,000 Foot Falls and headed off the main side road like true adventurers. Mack was at the wheel and getting pretty good at dodging the major potholes and navigating through mud, so I just sat in the passenger seat like a happy idiot on vacation.
The thing about Belize and driving is this: everything is 4 times longer than it says it is. The 1,000 Foot Falls were supposed to be 7 miles off the main road, but I swear we drove 15 and... nothing. I knew we must be getting close when we saw another car of tourists on the road. Mack scooted the Suzuki to the far right to dodge the mud, and then this happened.
If you've never had the privilege of getting stuck in the mud with other tourists, let me just tell you about it. It's actually pretty wonderful. You don't have to feel like a total moron all by yourself. You don't lose your shit on your spouse because there's an audience. And there's a real sense of camaraderie that comes from trying to push a car out of the mud and getting splattered in the face.
After about an hour of feeling worthless physically, we started using our brains and paired our cell phone with their fancy resort to call for help.
Once we were rescued, the only thing we wanted to do was drink a beer. We dropped the car at a car wash, popped open a couple of Belikins, made buddies with the car wash owner and his family, and literally washed down the dust.
At the end of that day, Mack was pretty fed up with my inland adventure and wanted to get to a beach. I managed to talk him into one more day to go on the cave hike human sacrifice adventure, and even though he started off mad, I know he absolutely loved it because he smiled ALL DAY LONG. This does not happen. See above.
The hike to Actun Tunuchil Muknal, which they kindly refer to as ATM since no one can say those other words, involved traversing three rivers with water up to your waist, skating down a mud trail, and learning how not to kill a whiny woman named Mary who insisted her husband John hold her hand ALL THE TIME. I'm not gonna lie, I kind of wanted her to drown.
Once we got to the cave, we discovered we'd have to swim in. Like can't touch the ground swim in. It was absolutely one of the most awesome things I've ever done and one of the most mysterious places I've ever been.
We wandered through the cave for about an hour, and I showed off my amazing butt climbing skills. Eventually we came to a "cathedral," a giant dry part of the cave that's like an enormous room just asking for human sacrifice. We looked at some tumped over pots and learned that they were only used once and then even they were "killed"by breaking them or putting holes in them and arranging them a really special way. Then we saw bones. Then we saw skulls. Then we had to climb a ladder, Mary whined about it, I sacrificed her, and we saw an entire skeleton of a teenage girl who was like a princess who was sacrificed because, clearly, the Mayans were getting desperate and the convicts and children they'd been sacrificing were not making the gods very happy.
There are no words decent enough for this experience, no photos that really do it justice, but my god I am glad I got to do this in my life.
Feeling sufficiently satisfied by my inland adventure time, Mack and I headed to the cayes the next day. We hopped a ferry to Caye Caulker, a little strip of land with two dirt roads, no cars, and plenty of restaurants. It was a little touristy, but Mary and John were nowhere to be seen and that's all that mattered. Well, that and access to a hammock.
We managed to snag a room at Da Real Macaw for the night and sat on the porch looking out at the ocean while Mack won some kitty love from a little guy who'd been in so many fights his ears were round. There was a bar right next to our hotel that had swings, and that's when I discovered that the pace of life on Caye Caulker is equal to that of a swing blowing in the wind, preferably a wind scented by mojitos.
Having mastered the art of absolute relaxation, it was time for another adventure. We booked a snorkeling tour to the Hol Chan Marine Reserve. Not only did we get to tickle the belly of nurse sharks, pet green moray eels, snorkel with giant sting rays and sea turtles, and wander around a coral garden, we also ate fresh-from-the-ocean conch ceviche and finished 2 gallons of rum punch before the day was done. It was incredible.
Belize taught me that breakfast really is the most important meal of the day, getting your heart beat paced by the waves is pure therapy, and any time you can get a man in a snorkel to give you the "blue steel" look, do it. But most importantly, it taught me that 30 minutes of planning leaves you plenty of time to find the most extraordinary surprises. Belize Navidad!
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