Canadians like pets, and in residential neighbourhoods it’s common to see people walking their dogs after an early diner, no matter the weather.
However, unlike French, Canadians are well-behaved and they pick up after their dogs—streets here are not dotted with dog poop.
Take a chicken bus, one of these old U.S. school buses painted blue, purple, red or any bright colour. Listen to reggae music blasting through the loudspeakers—by the end of the trip, you will know the lyrics to every Bob Marley songs, resistance is futile. Observe the people as the hail the bus on the side of the road or as they get off in the middle of nowhere. That’s Belize for you.
Sometimes, going back to places you love isn’t such a good idea. It’s like seeing an old crush again—you know you probably changed, that he probably changed, and that nothing good can come out of it.
Yet I was looking forward to our trip to Caye Calker, one of the small islands off the shore of Belize City.
Belize City, like a lot of cities in Central America, doesn’t have a good reputation. It is much less laid-back than the rest of the country and few find it charming.
Yet it changed.
The ride turned out to be surprisingly pleasant. Sure, my legs are always too long to fit comfortably in buses originally designed to shuttle North American kids to and back from school, but the road was good and the scenery quite relaxing. Reggae music blasted through the loudspeakers for the entire 2.5 hour long trip but this too was relaxing.
Our first stop in Belize is Placencia, a small town somewhat popular with British, Canadian and American tourists. It’s quiet, picturesque and the pace of life is Caribbean-slow. Rows and rows of colourful wooden houses, more or less damaged by the humidity or the rain, kids in oh-so-British school uniforms and cluster of tourists at the bars.
I’m usually very comfortable on boats. I’d take a boat ride over a bus ride anytime and I’m not scared of water. So I was feeling pretty good about our 2.5 hour long trip to Belize.
That said, the boat did look small.
We all climbed aboard and off we went. I quickly felt like we were a cork jerked around in the huge waves. A tiny boat in deep open water.
Puerto Cortes, despite its evocative name, is a fairly uninspiring place for travelers. Not much to do, not much to see. There is less traffic there than in La Ceiba or San Pedro and it has a bit of a small town feel (at least on a Sunday during daytime). But the cranes that are part of the skyline and the number of bars give it away: Puerto Cortes is a port, an industrial one, from where half of the exported Honduran products are shipped.
Taking a shower in Central America is often a small adventure. Some have good water pressure and some don’t, some have hot water and some only have one tap—a sure sign that hot water isn’t on the menu. My favourite are the “widowmaker” showers.
