They knew we were tourists.
Trip Start
Dec 31, 2007
1
3
12
Trip End
Jan 15, 2008
San Pedro,
Belize
Thursday, January 3, 2008
"It's obvious they know we're tourists," I thought resentfully to myself, "No one else got instructed where to sit except the children along the back, and they get a view."
The boat pulled away on time, after at least a dozen more people piled on, in addition to one more bike, and the first twenty or thirty minutes of the trip were pretty rough, with water spraying the kids in the stern every time we ran up and down a wave. Everyone at the stern was shouting and laughing with the motion of the waves, as if we were on Splash Mountain. One of the ship's crew came back and said someone had offered to come stand under the overhang so two more kids could fit up front, inside. All of the children except one little girl insisted they were having fun and that they wanted to stay. One boy blustered about how he was having such a good time no one could make him leave. About ten minutes after that, the real ride started. Bucketfuls of water were coming over the sides, rain was stinging down from the sky, and the up and down motion of riding the waves turned into a slide-forward then slam violently back onto the bench motion.
During a break in the rough water, I glanced back at the kids. Everyone on the back bench was soaked, and the boy who had been blustering so ardently was curled up in the fetal position, trying to use a life jacket to protect himself from the waves. In contrast, Sarah and I were merely damp, and I was wearing my raincoat.
"Oh," I thought sheepishly, "They knew we were tourists." After what seemed like an endless ride, but in reality was only about two hours, we arrived at San Pedro on Ambergris Caye. We stumbled grouchily in to the Coral Beach Hotel where we found that they'd given us the wrong sort of room, but if we were "careful not to make a mess," we could set our stuff down in it to wait for our real room to be cleaned. It was, after all, just 9 am.
We gingerly set our bags down and went back out to find breakfast on "La Isla Bonita." We ended up with rolls and juice from Celi's Deli, and eventually figured out we were allowed to sit at or outisde of the accompanying Celi's Restaurant across the street. Actually, we were told by a maid, when she saw us huddled on one corner of the porch after being chased off a set of stairs. It was still raining, and the wind was strong enough to blow full cups over. After breakfast, we went to the internet cafe across the street from our hotel, where I was able to get a latte made with Lavazza espresso and spend an hour taking care of email. The coffee was excellent (though pricey), but I do not recommend butterscotch syrup. There is a reason that one is not popular in the States.
At this point, we were able to move our bags to our room, so we unpacked a bit and headed out to explore San Pedro. We walked from one end to nearly the other, taking pictures during breaks in the rain. Needless to say, no Caribbean island during a storm will hold a fraction of its supposed charm, and Ambergris was no exception. Every street or lane was covered with mud or wet sand, the water was a sickly, churning greenish-brown, and the golf-carts and occasional minivan would speed past, splashing through the puddles of the narrow street. It was obvious we were not going to get to do any snorkeling or diving while on Ambergris.
We stopped for lunch at the Patio, where we had an excellent fried fish appetizer, and bizarre seafood burgers, piled with beef, lobster, conch, and whatever else would fit on the bun. Sarah's had chicken, too.
After an afternoon rest, we went back out to walk around, drink Cuban coffee, and have dinner at Caramba's. I shouldn't have. I managed the coffee at the Cuban coffee house, which had an extremely suspicious-acting owner. (He would not talk to his "friends" while we were in the room, so after we didn't want to sit outside in the cold, he took his "friends" outside. After glancing suspiciously at us several times through the door, he came back in to turn the television up VERY LOUD so we couldn't hear him. Couldn't hear him speaking extremely fast Spanish that we could not translate.) I was so tired by the time we got to Caramba's I was nearly sick and just picked at my jerk chicken before rushing back to the room to sleep. The chicken didn't deserve that treatment. Caramba's was also a very loud, happy place, with frat-boys and drunk vacationers everywhere, with free rum for every party, totally unsuited to my mood, well, ever, but particularly then. The food was uniformly good and prompt, though. Thankfully, San Pedro does quiet down at night, so I was able to sleep properly before getting up for another 7 am ferry.
