After having spent a tranquil and starry night in the North Guatemalan lake island of Flores (after deciding to treat myself to a half decent hotel; warm water, towels, flushing toilet, shower anyone?), I got up at some evil hour in the morning and caught the first bus to the Belizean border. Land border crossings are so much less stressful affairs; no baggage checks, no testerone heavy security and no Duty-Free cash cows. Current location: Belize city
Now. many travellers take one look at Belize city, screw their face in disgust and decide that life is indeed too precious to risk it. At first glance you can see why the risk aversion. Belize city hardly looks like your picture postcard holiday destination. More so a rambling, ramshackle town with squat wooden dwellings built on stilts and a population of not very healthy looking people; burdened with all sorts of afflictions. The odorous drains and gutters let of all manner of noxious fumes that attack the senses and no doubt contribute detrimentally to the health of the inhabitants. The streets are aghast with all manner of interesting characters and comedians; Charley Dickens eat your heart out. And you always see the same faces; the regulars.
"You wan a taxee mann?"
"wat ya lookin' for maan"
"Wat can I get ya amigo?"
The streets are littered with people who live on the streets. You can sit on the sidewalk and watch the comedy (and tragedy) of street life unfold itself. This could so easily be the theatre with the best seat in town; but it's real, it's really happening and the characters are real.
There's the dark skinned mango seller screaming his heart out to any big-bossomed lady that walks by and will listen; needless to say his flattery; which borders on obscenity, fails to have the desired affect; the women scarper off as quick as their high heels will carry them. Then there's the dreadlocked old man, always standing on the same spot, at the same time, next to the same convenience store. What does he do? I watched this gem for an hour; he does nothing. Just stands there all day long watching the ladies and licking his lips and no doubt imagining what he would like to do to them, but can't on account of the fact that he is a dirty old man!
Scratch the surface and you'll find a 'real' place. Not a fake place of plastic people, but gritty, grainy; a black and white canvas city of colourful characters.
There's the lady with the hot-dog stand (old enough to be my mother), who'll sell you hot-dogs with a big fat smile. With her grinning teeth she looks like the happiest women alive. Then there's the rude-buoy unlicensed 'taxi driver' with the masshup car, funky fake shades and attitude. He'll take you anywhere. If you're willing to risk it. I did. This gem will give you back the correct change even if you forget yourself.
"make sure you take all ya stuff maan. Don't wanna be leaving any ting in my car yeah? Have a nice day. Wel-carme to Belize" - charming
Judge a book by its cover?
Not this one. I would never have Belized it.
