Teaching, Learning and Other Adventures Around the World: Belize, Guatemala, and Mexico

This entry is long overdue. Usually after my travels, I am eager to write my adventure blog. For whatever reason, these last two trips did not elicit that drive, despite how greatly I enjoyed them both. Tonight, however, I am driven to present to you, CENTRAL AMERICA!

Central America: March 22 – Mar 31, 2015

SPRING BREAK! After a very challenging and taxing seven months of teaching, I treated myself to a trip to Central America to experience adventures and environments as far removed from the last seven months as I could afford. I took two red-eye flights to Cancun, Mexico, where I wasted no time immediately getting out of that cesspool of raunchy American undergrads. I took a bus to Tulum, a small touristy town along the Yucatan coastline famous for its Mayan ruins, where I would kill seven hours before boarding an overnight bus to Belize City. Fortunately for me, a young American woman named Parvati took the seat next to me, and we talked the whole way to Tulum. She told me about having a stressful job working as a journalist for CBS in New York City and desperately needed an escape. I related to her with my own situation.

When we arrived in Tulum, she told me to find her at her hostel so we could continue hanging out until my late-night bus. I had booked a room at a cheap hostel where I could shower and leave my bag for the day. So I checked in, dropped off my bag, grabbed a bicycle, and found my way to her much nicer beachside yoga hostel. We took a yoga class outside as the sun set that left me feeling incredibly fresh. Afterward, we found a great open-air taco restaurant. Its floor was white sand, its décor was several palm trees scattered about. Picnic tables fit in the open spaces between the trees, and we shared one with a honeymooning couple from New Zealand. The four of us connected as if we were long-time friends. Parvati and I, with bellies full of top-notch tacos, rode our borrowed bicycles back down the sandy road under the stars feeling the warm Caribbean air caress our skin and it was perfection. We made our goodbyes and I made my way to the bus station to continue on to Belize.

(Later, upon trying to find Parvati on facebook so we could keep in touch, I discovered that she is not just a “journalist” for CBS. She is a three-time contestant on Survivor, including the million-dollar winner of one season. She has since gone on to host a travel show for CBS. She has yet to accept my friend request.)

My overnight bus to Belize City was uneventful, and I immediately found a very crowded “chicken bus” to take me west across the country to the Guatemala border (it only took three hours to drive the entire width of Belize). The bus appeared to be a school bus from the 1960s. Many people had to stand in the aisle, the speakers were playing Reggae music, and a sign above the driver said,

“Your money is good, but good conduct pays the highest dividend.”

The border crossing was a little shady, as certain officials were telling me I had to pay a fee of varying prices. I joined forces with five other American backpackers as we were very stern about not paying any fees that were clearly bribes. Eventually, they begrudgingly stamped our passports and sent us on our way.

The six of us backpackers shared a private van an hour into Guatemala to the nearest town outside of Tikal, Guatemala’s famous Mayan temples. My new and very brief friends stayed in town for the night and I found my way to Tikal. For a very nominal fee, I was able to set up a tent at a designated camp site at the park. With a nice grassy field and bathroom facilities, it was all I needed. The added bonus was being surrounded by the Guatemalan rainforest where I was constantly serenaded by tropical birds, bugs, and howler monkeys. (The novelty wore off when I was awoken at midnight by the growling and roaring of howler monkeys, seemingly coming from all angles, seemingly coming to destroy me. Terrified, I pulled my sleeping bag over my head and prayed that this would not be the end of me: death by howler monkeys.)

I was informed that for $50, I could take a sunrise tour of the park, where we could climb to the top of the highest temple and watch the sun rise over the jungle. That sounded great, but what sounded even greater was doing that for free! So I set my alarm for 4:00am, walked the trail to the temples (which, I must say, is a frightening experience walking through a jungle in the dark of night, knowing that jaguars are waking up around that time). I decided to avoid the temple where the tour would be. Instead, I climbed one of the other tall temples, which were shaped like skinny pyramids, and in complete solitude, perched atop a temple that was 1300 years old, watched the sun rise over the jungle to the tunes of birds and monkeys waking up. That experience would have been worth $50.

I spent most of the day wandering the grounds, where thousands of temples and ruins lie at the site of the former epicenter of Mayan civilization. I didn’t take a tour, nor did I have a guide book. But I had solitude and the ability to go at my own pace, to enjoy it exactly as I wanted to enjoy it. And on occasion, I would eavesdrop on other tours to pick up tidbits of information.

Later that afternoon, I departed the park. As I was walking the quarter-mile trail back to the visitors center, through the jungle, I spotted a pair of spider monkeys swinging back and forth from the tree limbs above me. I stopped, snapped a few photos, and just watched in absolute enjoyment for a good ten minutes. Monkeys have always been one of my favorite animals, and a rare thing to witness in the wild. I literally found myself laughing with excitement watching those two chase each other.

I made my way back to the border of Belize, had another shady experience crossing the border, this time teamed up with a French couple, and the three of us shared a cab to San Ignacio, Belize. I had booked a hostel outside of town in the jungle, which was run by a family of ex-pats from Chicago. I was greeted by many large, friendly dogs, who later showed me the way to a large, calm river where I would take a swim with my canine friends. I was warned about three species of poisonous snakes that I might encounter while walking to the river, and told that if I am bitten by a snake, I must cut off its head and bring the body to the health clinic so they know what anti-venom to give me. Oh great. (I did see a snake on the path, but the dogs scared it away instantly.) The hostel was a group of scattered dorms and private rooms and a dining room where they serve breakfast and dinner to the guests. Palm trees dotted the grounds and many tropical birds flew from tree to tree that would excite the most enthusiastic bird lovers.

I shared a room that night with a Londoner named Jack. We spent the evening shooting pool and talking like old friends. The next morning, one of the hostel owners gave a group of us a tour of the grounds, pointing out toucans in the trees, and showing us around the Mayan ruins that have yet to be excavated.

Later that morning, I took a tour of the ATM cave, which was rated by National Geographic as the #1 cave adventure in the world! In a tour group of approximately a dozen of us, we were lead on a 20 minute hike through the jungle where we reached a small river that flows out of a cave. With waterproof headlamps, helmets, and our swimsuits, we jumped in the river and swam into the opening of the cave. After 100 feet, the river was shallow enough to wade, and we ended up spending most of the excursion in knee-to-waste-deep water as we explored far into the cave. The Mayans believed this cave was a portal to the underworld and was a site of many ritual sacrifices. We eventually reached a wide, open room in the cave where the sacrifices took place. The archeologists who originally found this room in the 1980s decided not to excavate any of it so that all visitors would see it exactly as it was left. Throughout the room were many broken clay pots, encrusted in lime, that had been purposely smashed as part of the sacrifice. Also among the shards of pots were human skeletons, remains of the human sacrifices. Our guides pointed out that each skull had a large puncture where the person would have been bludgeoned (to render them unconscious) before slitting their throats. It was an honor to be sacrificed to the gods, and it is believed that the victims were probably volunteers. It was, hands down, the most unique cave experience of my life. At times, I was expecting to see darts shot out of holes in the walls and a giant stone boulder chase me through the cave.

The next day, I made my way back to the eastern side of Belize to its largest city, Belize City. Calling it the largest city does not actually say much about its size, since it has only 40,000 people. It really is the only urban center in the country, and definitely not anything to write home about. My hostel was one of the more unpleasant hostels I’ve experienced, and even the “tourist” part of the city is pretty run-down with no real attractions except for a small marketplace to buy handmade crafts and jewelry. That afternoon, I wrote the following in my journal:

“Belize City… get me outta here! I see run-down shops, beggars, and aggressive vendors. Though it’s on the coast, there are no scenic ocean views, except from the balcony of my hostel where I can see a lighthouse and a palm tree to compliment the water, which is murky and trashed… My hostel is in an old house with slanted floors, chipping paint, rusted bars on the windows, a hammock with the bottom worn through, and cushioned chairs and beds so used up that they have become saggy, floppy messes.”

I tried to reassure myself that I would only be spending one night there before boarding an early morning ferry to the island of Caye Caulker. Then, as often happens to me on my travels, a gracious soul swooped in, livening up my experience. The manager of the hostel, a black Creole woman who goes by the name “A”, told me she was going to walk down the street for some pupusas and invited me to come along. I desperately wanted to escape the terribly awkward and creepy Canadian man who would not leave me alone, so I tagged along with her. As we walked down the busy street, I took the opportunity to pick her brain about life in Belize, and particularly Belize City. To my surprise, she raved about life there, saying that some of her family members have moved to the States, but she would never want to leave Belize City. I struggled to understand what she saw in it at first, but as we walked, I noticed she was saying hello to passersby every five or ten seconds, asking how they’re doing, each greeting us with smiling faces. We reached the pupusa food cart, and she ordered our food in Spanish, making pleasantries with the chef. There was a very communal feeling among the customers standing around waiting for their food. One man was a couple bucks short, so “A” stepped in and paid the remainder of what he owed. It was nothing to her. And I started seeing a glimmer of what she saw in this city. It wasn’t the run-down buildings or the trashy water, but the strong community that kept her there. It’s a community of black Creole, Hispanic, and Mayan, and according to her, they all co-habitate very harmoniously, most speaking both English and Spanish, rarely a racist slur muttered. Later that night, I wrote the following in my journal:

“Funny how things can change. Not only did I avoid getting dinner with the creepy Canadian, but the hostel manager “A” took me out to get pupusas, which is the best food I’ve eaten on the trip thus far, and I really enjoyed talking to her, hearing her perspective on Belize, and hearing about her life… It went from being a run-down city of beggars and aggressive vendors to a city with a healthy sense of community and people who, though they don’t have much, are happy with what they have.”

The next morning, I boarded my ferry to the island of Caye (pronounced “key”) Caulker, which is almost purely a tourist destination, full of cheap beachy hotels and hostels, scuba and snorkel tours, paddle board rental shops, and bars and restaurants. I stayed in a dorm room with four bunk beds which were, luckily, occupied by some really cool and friendly travelers around my age. I took a half-day snorkel trip where a boat dropped us off at various locations in the sea, including “Shark Ray Cove”, where we were surrounded by nurse sharks and sting rays. I was hesitant for a second to jump into that water, but very quickly saw how docile the animals were. Our guide even grabbed a nurse shark and said “Anyone want to pet a shark??” I did. I also let the sting rays graze my hand as they swam right past me, reminding me of my field trips to the Monterey Bay Aquarium as a kid where I would pet the rays in the pools. I was also reminded of the time the Crocodile Hunter was killed by a sting ray…

My couple of nights spent on Caye Caulker were pretty mellow and relaxing, but it was also the first time I felt lonely. This was my first big trip done solo, but I had made so many friends in each destination on the trip leading up to this point, but was not finding friends so easily on this island. But it was a good time for reflection and for finding happiness within myself. And eventually, I joined up with one of my roommates and her friends for a dinner and had a very enjoyable time with them.

From Caye Caulker, I returned to the mainland and took a bus back to Cancun. I had one full day in Cancun, but rather than share a beach with thousands of drunk Americans, I instead signed up for an all-day excursion to Chichen Itza, the Mayan pyramid that is one of the new Seven Wonders of the World. What should have been just a two hour bus ride to the site ended up being several hours as we made repeated stops at tourist traps where we were encouraged to buy useless trinkets and crafts. It felt like we were cattle, being herded off the bus through craft stalls, back onto the bus, back off the bus to more stalls and buffet lines, back onto the bus, and off, and on. Furthermore, our guide would not stop talking on the bus microphone and would get mad if any passengers appeared to not be paying attention to what he was saying. The experience would have made me completely mad if not for the Iranian-German girl named Samara sitting across the aisle from me who I shared a mutual misery with. We ended up supporting each other through the experience, which made it bearable. When we arrived to Chichen Itza, our bus parked among a sea of buses, and we walked to a lined-up crowd that rivaled Disneyland. As soon as we could, Samara and I escaped our tour guide, running ahead of the group. We even managed to find a way to bypass much of the line and enter within a few minutes. Almost immediately, we were presented with the giant pyramid that we had seen in photos countless times in our lives. It looked just as it did in the photos, except for the thousands of tourists wandering around, and the lines of vendors selling the same overpriced trinkets and crafts. As we walked, we would be yelled at by vendors who aggressively tried to sell us on their products, sometimes angrily if we showed any resistance. Again, thank God I had Samara to keep my sanity. We wandered casually through the grounds, visiting other sites, eavesdropping on other tours, and just talking about her upbringing in Iran, her life now in Germany, the challenges and joys of my teaching job. For an hour and a half, we were able to blissfully escape our tour guide, find some quiet corners of the park, take some artsy fartsy photographs, and talk about pleasant things. The bus ride back seemed more tolerable.

The next morning, I flew back home, reflecting on the whole trip. During my layover, I wrote the following in my journal:

“So what has this trip done for me? Made me tired, for sure! And a little diarrheal. But spiritually and mentally rejuvenated. I learned quite a bit about Mayan and Belizean culture. I saw wildlife in the jungle. I felt a sense of adventure I had yearned for for over a year. I saw Central America for the first time. I learned that I can travel solo and have a great time. I learned that I don’t want to take another trip like this, where I bounce around from place to place, spending no more than two nights in any one location. I removed myself from the stresses of my life long enough to feel like I’ve been gone for a while and miss my students. I feel very excited to have a weekend home with nothing on the agenda.”