Editor Pick
Biking in San Pedro
- October 21, 2006
- Rated 4 of 5 by
eviet from Brooklyn, New York
I swung around in a hesitant attempt to regain my balance. Straight ahead, okay; turns and circles, not so much. In addition to feeling like a beach-bum Mary Poppins with my bike’s front basket, I had regressed to the days when I required training wheels. I had to break by pedal, and it was disturbing my delicate equilibrium.
Finally adjusted, I followed the others in a lemming line out of Xanadu. Rocks and sand formed the road, and I imagined a tire faltering, ramming my body into a passing commercial truck. After a few jerks, though, my grasp of the handlebars loosened. I could ride this contraption, rusted by salty sea air, without a steady hazard perusal of the ground below.
As we approached the town’s center, kitschy tourist shops lined the roadside, but locals ambled in front of us. Young girls wore their schoolgirl uniforms, with the universal plaid skirt, and boys swerved between us on their own bikes. Others, mainly men, yelled out greetings and best wishes as our female entourage cruised by. After discovering the obvious bike path by local example, we chose the smoother journey of concrete over rocks.
We hit the end of the main strip and headed for a shop called Ambar, next to beachside bar Fido’s (not pronounced like the dog’s name). Enticed by the glimmer of Belizean jewelry inside, the six of us piled into the tiny store to slide handmade creations onto our fingers and wrists, and wrap silver chains around our necks. Victoria spotted a silver-and-shell ring, the shell part in an oh-so-now leopard-print pattern. But with the US$100 price tag, she reluctantly let it go. When I tried it on, a splurge was imminent, but acid-green and hot-pink bracelets (silver-and-zinc concoctions with dyed animal skin) lured me away. The thinner versions were around the B$30 mark, while the thicker, bolder ones came to B$50 each. I’ve always been one for bright, even gaudy international adornments—and I will wear them together.
Jewelry cravings satisfied, I wandered into nearby Belizean Arts, which left me US$30 poorer and one painting richer. My wallet was emptying rather quickly for one lazy afternoon, so I thought it best to escape temptation by heading back to Xanadu. By then, the sweltering heat had subsided, the sun depleted of glaring intensity. Alone, I guessed at stop signs (right or left?) as I rode back in a general southerly direction. I soon began to question my bearings, passing one empty lot after another, when the Xanadu sign blared on the left. I veered into the entrance, an old bike pro.
From journal South of the (Mexico) Border