Greetings from Belize City, Belize.
The journey from San Pedro to here began on Monday. And what a journey! First to Antigua Guatemala... which really wasn't much of a journey at all. About 4 hours from the shores of Lake Atitlan.
I hung out. Ate. And went to bed early.
On 5 am Tuesday I rolled out of my $8-a-night bed and hopped a shuttle for Guatemala City. There were only three of us on the 2 hour ride to the bus station.
I arrived in plenty of time to grab the 10 am bus to Flores, about 8 hours north of the capital. Armed with a fresh episode of Countdown w/ Keith Olbermann and an unabridged audio book (Wolves Eat Dogs by Martin Cruz Smith -- partially set in Chernobyl) the time flew by and I didn't even need to take my Valium (especially useful on Chicken Bus rides).
I arrived in Flores just after 6 and grabbed a ticket to Belize City for the following day and a cab. Some half-cut wanker hopped in the back seat in the hopes of scoring a few bucks helping me out. Unfortunately for him, I know Flores like the back of my hand AND I knew where I was going. He wasn't dangerous, just annoying.
Luckily there were rooms at Lacandon, a cheap but clean hotel (about $12 night) on shores of Lake Peten Itza. I headed to the tienda to buy some stuff for breakfast and then had dinner at a tiny restaurant I first visited in 1999. Some things never change, like the price of BBQ chicken: $4. And 2 beer for about $2.
The bus was scheduled to depart at 7 am Wednesday, so I hit the sack early. In the morning I hailed a tuktuk to the bus station, arriving far too early. I suppose I could have actually had breakfast instead of warm OJ and some cookies.
The bus left on time and before I knew it we were approaching the border. There was a long line-up of transport trucks on the two lane road to the crossing. Our driver decided to pass the trucks. As he pulled past the final truck, he cut the wheel and -- surprise! -- the rear of the bus collided with the front end of the truck. This was far from dangerous, as it happened at about 2 km an hour. But the force was enough to flip the fiberglass hood of the semi open and crack it in several places.
The bus stopped, we poured out and joined a rather large group of bystanders made up primarily of money changers. The accident was probably the most exciting thing to happen all week.
Thinking the accident would be resolved in short order, we went to Guatemalan immigration to get stamped out of the country. It is normal when crossing the Guatemala-Belize border to get off the bus and walk across with your luggage.
After getting stamped out, we waited around what is essentially a no-mans land between the two immigration offices. After a while it became apparent that the accident was not going to be resolved quickly. A hint to this fact was when the bus took off, back into Guatemala. And, of course, any customer service disappeared with it.
Several people decided to wait, but I decided to cross by foot and find a plan "B" in Belize. A fellow from Edmonton followed.
We crossed into Belize and into another thick crowd of shouting taxi drivers and money changers. We hailed a taxi to take us to the next big town in Belize in order to catch a local bus to Belize City.
We found a cabbie, settled on a price and when we arrived in San Ignacio, we saw a bus for Belize City heading out of town. The cabbie flagged down the bus and said there was enough room for us. Perfect.
We handed the cabbie the agreed on fare in Belize Dollars and suddenly he demanded American Dollars -- exactly double. A shouting match started, but after a few minutes we told the cabbie to call the cops. We jumped on the 1965-vintage school bus and drove past the cursing cabbie.
The ride to Belize City was slow. We stopped in every little town to let people on and off. I realized that I have grown substantially since the last time I rode a 1965 vintage school bus on a regular basis.
Just outside of the city we were detained at a police checkpoint for about half and hour. No reason was given.
Eventually we made it to Belize. I bid the Edmontonian adieu and hailed a taxi for Brent's place. A few minutes later I was banging at the door. No answer. Brent has run out, said a neighbour.
Eventually Brent came home and we fixed a much deserved rum and coke. After discussing the events of the last month since we last saw each other in San Pedro, it was time for a good long sleep.
Today, Thursday, I did little more than surf the internet (with limited results) and sort through my stuff. My summer gear (shorts, sandals, t-shirts) will stay behind. I'll fetch them on the next visit.
On Friday I hop a late afternoon plane to Houston and then Seattle. I arrive around midnight and will overnight in the Emerald City. On Saturday a shuttle bus will drag my sorry ass back to Vancouver.
I can't wait for the cold and rain. Mmm mmm!
Cheers!
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