We had scheduled an early pickup with Byron for this morning. We got into the car excited about what adventures crossing the Mexican border would bring. Chetumal, Mexico is a very large city just 15 miles from Corozal. We headed for the Mexican border and were soon there. We stopped and Byron pointed out the building in which we would go through immigration. We stood in line and presented our passports. There is a fee for foreigners to cross the border, which we were not expecting, but we paid it and went on. Just about 100 feet further along, Byron stopped the car and went into a small building to purchase Mexican car insurance and fumigation. Both of these are required to go through the border and added another expense for us. It took him at lest 15 to complete the paperwork and return. He returned to the car and about 5 minutes later we came to yet another building to pass through immigration, Mexican this time. 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.