Music, Tin Roofs and Yellow Coconuts

The best part of traveling alone in Belize is taking the country buses anywhere they go. If you are out among the islands on the reef, see the main ones of course, but head for the smaller ones, such as Tobacco Cay or Laughing Bird Cay.

Quick Tips:

Be very careful in Belize City. It is something of a pit with hucksters all over the place trying to part suckers and their money, and often picking their pockets. The area where the major hotels are, and some consulates, is the safest. Belmopan, the capital about 40 miles into the jungle, is worth a visit but not much else.

Best Way To Get Around:

As noted above, the buses that travel along all roads in Belize are inexpensive, often fun if a bit rough-riding. People are easy to meet on the buses. There is no railroad, and rental cars are an option but not one of my favorites because of the always present danger of theft, the poor roads and almost inevitable dings and scratches you will put on the vehicle. Besides, buses go just about everywhere there is a road.

The Bellevue was an experience. It is a very dark place, with bare 40-watt bulbs hanging in the hallways and the same wattage and fixtures in the rooms. The sheets felt like tired Velcro; there were no hangars in the closets and my room had no window because it was an interior room. It was a full board hotel, meaning breakfast and dinner were included. Breakfast was okay; coffee, toast, dry cereal and scrambled eggs and sausage. The dinners weren't so predictable. The dining room was so dark that I had to light matches to read the menu and all meat was boiled; none was fried or baked or grilled. Boiled.

The crew and passengers are the most friendly of any ship I have been on. The bridge is open to passengers, and there is no bartender in the lounge. The ship goes where few other ships its size can; it is a little over 100 feet long but only 30 feet wide so it can navigate canal locks in New England and Canada when it isn't in the Caribbean. It is an excellent way to see out-of-the-way islands and villages in the Caribbean.

One of the most beautiful rivers in Central America is the Rio Dulce that separates Belize and Guatemala. The river is slow and deep as it comes down from the highlands and flattens out before reaching the sea at Livingston, the ramshackle port town on the Caribbean. The boat trip up the river is very pretty as it goes through the steep gorge, and in the morning and evening nearly every day birds, especially pelicans and tucans, migrate up and down the river. Several Mayan families live along the river, and the waterlogged villages, many on stilts over the river, welcome visitors. They often sell gift items, such as tiny hand-carved canoes, jewelry and fabrics.

It isn't far up the river to Lake Izabal with a resort on Catamaran Island, and just beyond that is a Spanish fortress, Castello San Felipe, gone to ruin.

How to get there? If you are packing a kayak--a lot of people going to Belize do--you can easily paddle up with an overnight stop in a village, and there are occasional trading boats that will take on passengers.

Early one morning I left my hotel in Chetumal, Mexico, and walked over to the international bus station, bought a ticket for about eight dollars, and went aboard the bus headed south to Belize City. The driver was standing off to one side caressing a lovely young woman, and he motioned me onto the bus without removing his hands from her bottom.

The bus left just as the sun was coming up and we crossed the Rio Hondo River into Belize in daylight. The driver was the first into the customs shed at the border, and when the last of the passengers was off, a comely young woman who had been standing by the customs shed got aboard the bus. Since I was the first in the shed behind the driver, and I fit none of the profiles customs agents watch for, I was quickly through, and back outside. The driver gave me a murderous look because he had his hand down the front of the young woman's dress and did not remove it while glaring at me. I decided I needed a short stroll, so I walked around the area until some other passengers were aboard. The young woman left the bus and disappeared. The driver had a toothpick stuck between his two front teeth and was whistling a lilting tune, which I didn't think was possible. He probably practiced it in front of a mirror.

Soon after crossing the border we began picking up school children, many emerging from thatched huts with dirt floors, and every child that came aboard looked immaculate with their blue and white uniforms, or their freshly washed dresses and pants and shirts. They sat quietly, little ladies and gentlemen, until they left the bus in Belize City. I was told that education is mandatory in Belize but since the government can't afford schools throughout the country, many churches have established schools there.

When we reached Belize City I walked over to the tourist office, a walk of about six blocks, to get information on the country and to see if they could help me find a hotel. They had a very limited number of brochures and the only help they could offer with a hotel was to give me the name of some. No, I couldn't call from their office. Pay phones only. So I went out, found a pay phone and was in the process of finding where I was on the map when a young man came down the street, carrying an ice chest on one shoulder, wearing a shirt with no sleeves and a pair of shorts. He was barefooted and he was singing and dancing.

'Excuse me, sir,' he said, emphasizing the sir the way British soldiers do. 'You think you are on Albert Street, don't you?' I said I did because that is what the map said.
'You are not, sir. You are on Queen Street. The map is in error.'
I thanked him and suddenly all was clear again.
'Where are you going?' he asked. I told him the Bellevue Hotel. 'Ah yes, much too far to walk with that suitcase.' Then he resumed his singing and dancing and left. But immediately he came back. 'Sir, do you see those yellow coconuts? Their milk is best of all with rum. Please remember that.' Then he was gone for good.

That is the way my week went in Belize. I found lots of people to talk to, lots of things to drink with rum, and many reasons to avoid Belize City in the future. Given my choices, I would not stop there at all. The hassle factor is just too much to contend with, although some people enjoy fending off hustlers and dodging pickpockets. I am not among them.

Belize, for the uninitiated, was British Honduras for many,many years until the British Empire faded and its colonies given independence. Like so many of them, British Honduras decided to take the freedom, change its name but to keep an alliance with the United Kingdom. So now it is a member of the British Commonwealth, and Beliezans credit that alliance with saving them from being invaded by Guatemala, which has always insisted Belize is part of their country. That kind of talk stopped when England attacked Argentina in the Falkland Islands. Not long after that episode, Guatemala dropped their claims on Belize, and for the first time ever, showed Belize on its maps.