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We walked in one office, whose purpose seems to be only to pick up a form. We were then pointed to another building where we could sit and fill out the forms and then stand in line to present them to the immigration officer. We were beginning to doubt the wisdom of this little excursion into Mexico, and I was remembering all the reasons I like Belize so much more than Mexico. But having already paid our border crossing fees, we pressed on. After leaving the final immigration office we came to an old service station where the required fumigation is performed. Fumigation is required by Mexico supposedly to protect Mexico against bacteria coming into the country (yeah right) and involves 2 Mexicans in gas masks spraying chemicals underneath our car while we are sitting inside the car. Sketchy to say the least. We were definitely having second thoughts now, but being completely in Mexico after more than half an hour of red tape, we decided not to turn back. Riding through the city was interesting. Chetumal is the largest Mexican City I’ve ever seen. Somehow I kept seeing it as a more impoverished, version of Manhattan, although I realize it is not actually THAT big. There were people everywhere and cabs crowding the street. The tallest building we saw was no more than 6 stories, but it had the feel of a bustling metropolis. But where there are many many different ethnicities and languages represented in Manhattan, there seems to be one ethnicity and one language represented here, and it was not ours (or Byron’s for that matter). We wound our way through the crazy streets and finally ended up at the old market. Beside the market was also the Mayan museum, where we went first. Unfortunately, we had chosen to come on the only day the museum was closed. So, on to the market. The first thing we see once inside the market is the meat vendors. To display their meat, they simply hang whatever they have, be it a slab of beef, pork shoulders, or chicken on hooks above their counters. There was also meat sitting on the counters. (Of course none of this is wrapped or on ice). We were a little shocked (Byron was surprised too, who told us later he had never seen a market like this either). The rest of the market was a collection of vendors in the large building making narrow rows in every direction. They were selling clothes of every kind, housewares, linens, food, and just about anything you could need to run your household. Along the back wall of the building there were small restaurants. In front of each, someone would stand with a menu and call out to potential customers. Being hungry, we were quickly persuaded to stop at the first restaurant we came to. We order quesadillas and soft drinks. Burritos, quesadillas, and the like range in price from $1 – $2 USD for a plate. The quesadillas were small and a little bland, but for less than $2, we couldn’t really complain. We did decide after ordering initially that we would like some chips and salsa to go with our meal. We tried to explain this to our waitress and she couldn’t understand what we were saying (we thought tortilla and salsa were actually Spanish words). She seemed to catch the words chips and she said “papas y Fritas?!” To which Kim emphatically replied “si,si”. The waitress turned to Byron, who may be mistaken for being Mexican with his dark complexion, but who actually does not speak Spanish as he grew up in a country who’s official language was English (Belize). I guess when she walked away she assumed she had explained the situation to Byron and we would understand. After she left, Byron said, “I think papas means potatoes”. So we figured out that she believed we wanted potato chips (or possibly French fries). We couldn’t stop laughing at the miscommunication, and we found it even funnier that somehow all we got as a result of that exchange was a bowl of fresh pico de gallo. Although we were feeling better after lunch, we were all in agreement that we preferred Belize over this particular city, and we were ready to return. I can imagine Byron was wondering why in the world we came only to return a couple of hours later. The trip back through the border was easier. Before we crossed back into Belize, Byron took us into the freezone. It is a piece of “neutral” land that is in between Belize and Mexico. It has duty free shops (hence the name free zone). What surprised us was how big the area was. 2 large casino/hotels and several long streets lined with shops were somehow not what we were expecting. We browsed through the shops a little and decided we should have just come here instead of going to Chetumal at all. Oh well, live and learn. We returned home early afternoon and spent the rest of the afternoon relaxing by the waters edge, enjoying the breeze and the view. Byron picked us up for dinner at 7:00 and took us to a local “ex-pat hangout” called Jam Rock. We’ve kept hearing about this place being the gathering place for a lot of Ex-pats (Americans and Canadians who now live here), but we learned that lunch was actually their preferred time to come. We walked in and saw one older couple who we found out was from Canada (on a short-term visit) after they struck up a conversation with us. Besides them, there were several local guys sitting up at the bar. But no matter where we are or what we are doing, we have fun with the Christians. The food was actually great, although there must have been only one cook who fixed our meals one and a time and brought them out, so we ate in shifts. After dinner we asked Byron to take us by a supermarket to pick up a couple things for breakfast. Byron is always a good sport, willing to do whatever we ask. Tomorrow is our last full day here, can’t wait to see what happens.
We decided to rent a car for the day and take a look around the area. We picked up our Hyundai Elantra at 9:00 and we set off. We are in Placencia Village, which is at the bottom of Placencia peninsula. Further up the peninsula there are a few other villages. About 20 miles up we connected to mainland and went north on the Southern Highway. Belize only has a few major highway (major here means it’s a paved 2 lane road). We passed miles and miles of banana plantations, and orange grove and had stunning views of the Maya Mountain the entire time. They resemble the Smokies with the obvious exception of the monstrous Palms you can see bursting from the rest of the forest canopy all along the side of the mountains. We took a turn to Hopkins Village and after maybe 10 miles the road ended at the sea and Hopkins Village. This does not seem to be a place touched by tourism much, although we see several signs for hostels. The few Americans we do see here look to be backpackers (to whom the hostels cater). The roads were terribly bumpy. We wanted to walk out to the beach so we stopped in front of the town’s clinic. The beach and view of the Caribbean were beautiful but somehow I don’t think the beauty is really appreciated here among the small, simple, often run down homes. The towns police station is being repainted a bright yellow. We joked that we hoped their were no crimes today because the policemen were busy painting. We found one supermarket calls ‘Happy Shopping Center’. Is that true here? It’s hard to tell though on our drive through. We stop at a food stand near the beach and ask the owner, who is busy writing her lunch menu on a board which includes grilled lobster for only a few dollars, if there is a restroom somewhere we could use. She points us to a little outhouse that seems to be used by many surrounding houses because they have no plumbing. It has an old tile shower, a toilet, and a sink. Almost without fail we notice that the people we meet are friendly and willing to help in whatever way they can. They are often interested to know if this is our first time to Belize and if we like it. They are proud of their country, there’s no doubt about that. We made our way back to the Southern Highway and continued north to Dangriga. Dangriga is the biggest city in the district of Stann Creek and so is similar to what we would think of as the Capitol of a state. We were surprised by the conditions in Dangriga as well. But the houses appeared more solidly built than in Hopkins, and clearly with its roughly 10,000 inhabitants, it’s much larger. We were there around lunch time when the schools let the children out for the lunch break. And like in other towns we had seen, young children (some not more than 5 or 6) roam the streets of the town. Each group of children had on different colored uniforms supposedly to designate the school which they attend. It is somehow comforting to see a town where the children run aroun without adult supervision, it makes me think the people here must be good, no matter what my spoiled American perspective tells me when I see the living conditions. We found a small local restaurant for lunch. Most of the restaurants here consist of a very small building where the cooking is done and either a front porch or covered area with picnic tables or tables and chairs. The menu did not offer a lot of selection, we got the traditional stewed chicken with rice and beans and bottled water. The treat at this stand was that she had fresh baked desert, which most do not. We met a friendly man who works with the traffic dept. English being the national language here is invaluable. After we left Dangriga we decided on a whim to turn off the highway at the sign for the Cockscomb Basin Jaguar preserve. We bought our $5 tickets at the Mayan Women’s Center on the highway and asked if the 6 mile road back to the preserve would be too rough for our car. We were assured it would be fine. (That’s what they all say). To say the 6 mile dirt road was rough would be an absolute understatement! It literally took us more than 30 minutes to travel 6 miles on the most isolated road I’ve ever seen. (I’m pretty sure the car rental place would not approve) There were many times we really wondered if we would come out on the other side of a puddle. Once we made it to the visitors center and walked inside, we began to realize even more we were very unprepared for this. But after a 30 minute drive on a horrible road we were not ready to give up. We had long pants and decent shoes on, but no bug spray at all. In spite of this we decided to hike the trail to the waterfall. Well over an hour round trip through thick jungle (but a well marked trail). Much of the terrain was rocky and steep, but somehow we made it. We stepped into the clearing and saw this gorgeous waterfall. We were the only people around and it felt like we had just made our own private little discovery. (Of course I had the trail map in my pocket). We took pictures and waded in the water. If I should return here I will bring more clothes so I can swim in the lovely little spring below the waterfall. It was getting late, so we couldn’t stay a long time. We headed back the way we came. On our way out of Cockscomb, we saw a sign for a plane wreck that we had to check out. It was a tiny plane that had crashed here years before by a scientist who was studying the Jaguars in the area. He crashed just after taking off and was not injured seriously. We had to wade through a little mountain stream to get back to our car, and then we were off down the bumpy road again. After we finally made it back to Placencia Village, it was getting late and we were ready for dinner. We found a charming local place to eat. We had “crack conch” for appetizers (fried conch strips so good they’re addictive) and fried lobster and grilled fish for dinner. The sea food here is wonderful. It has usually been caught the very same day at these restaurants, we finished off with Baileys infused cheesecake. A perfect ending to a long but exciting day