I spent the night in Tulum and loved it. I did not really interact with anyone until I was leaving and sitting at the bus stop. I noticed that most backpackers had covers over their packs. I asked a wise ass girl from Ireland “why”, and she condescendingly responded, “Because we are close to the RAIN forest.” I smiled and thought, “Does she shave her armpits?”
When you meet fellow travelers out here the first question is always, “Where are you from?” The second question is, “How long have you been out?” And the third question is, “Where are you going?” So, in the interest of time, people will greet by answering the questions without being asked. My response is, “Utah, four days, and La Moskitia”. This trip really seems like much longer than four days. When I tell people I am going to Moskita, their responses are concerning: "wild", "brave", "jungle", "rough", etc.
The weather has been about 75 degrees. Actually, that is unseasonably cold, but I think I have followed a cold front through (puddles everywhere).
Backpackers are very cool people. They are much different than tourists. Weathered, a bit dirty, and always quick to strike up a conversation for any insight about where to go and where not to go.
I was very relaxed in Tulum and loved walking the city streets at night: no fear at all. I realize that sounds stupid for a gringo with $300 bucks in his pocket. This country has many similarities to my time spent in Uruguay: smells of fruit, tortillas, and burning garbage.
Since I had an hour to kill in the morning, I offered to help a young man make tortillas. I don't think that I helped much, but he was amused.
To be down here is like walking into Disneyland....sensory overload.
On the bus from Tulum I met two guys who became running buddies for the next two days: Jimmy and Martin from Denmark. Traveling in groups is much safer and cheaper.
I spent 8 hours on a bus Tuesday. The first bus I took at the airport had air, TV, and total luxury. The second bus didn’t have TV, but it still had air. Then, the third bus....literally an old school bus from the seventies. I think it was the bus from the Partridge family.
I have been thinking that I wish my girls were here to experience this. Chloe would love it, and Aubin would bitch the entire time but secretly enjoy herself.
I watched a young family on the bus traveling with a 3 year old. The child was so content just playing with his mother for three hours. He was quite a contrast to the family on the bus at the airport from Illinois whose child squealed like a pig every three and a half minutes for attention. The Nintendo DS and DVD player were not enough to keep him amused. I wanted to stuff him into my backpack.
Helmets are required here on motorcycles, but apparently riding a family of 5 on a 1980 Honda Passport 70cc scooter is legal. Hmm Maybe that is why helmets are required.
I have been stressed about money and time. I am totally blowing my budget. Yes, it is possible to live here for $20 per day, but not with busses, taxis, internet, etc. My more realistic new budget is about $40 a day. So, I set a new goal as well: no more than 5 hours a day on a bus!
The nights have been a bit chilly. I did not expect that.
I need to lose some gear. My bag is so heavy.
We missed the bus at the border of Chetsumal. Our new friend from Ireland showed us where the other bus terminal was. It was a hot day now, and I was carrying a heavy bag 20 blocks in a border town.
I really don't mind when the kids beg for money. It just really bothers me when they touch and hang on.
I had my morning coffee and was thinking...should I really be drinking something that acts like a laxative? Especially if I am getting on a bus for 4 hours, I considered.
Long ride into Belize City. It is a scary place, and we arrived late. Three white guys with backpacks on the worst side of town. Horrible situation to be in; I was terrified. People offered us weed, coke, girls, and even little boys (okay, maybe better my girls are not here).
We finally found a cheap hotel: about $35 for the three of us. We had a private room with private bath and hot water (you need to ask about the hot water). Isabella’s Guest House. The three of us did the math by first converting to our own currency then dividing by three. The lady from the hotel highly suggested we NOT go out at night, but we had to get something to eat.
We took a cab and found a good restaurant. We had a few beers and local food. In the cab the driver once again offered us any and everything. I was going to ask for a monkey, but I was afraid he might have one. We were all exhausted from the day’s travel and crashed by ten.
Amazing how the world watched Obama take office. I had no idea. Jimmy, my running buddy, said that when the US sneezes, the world gets sick: sad.
Amazing how the world watched Obama take office. I had no idea. Jimmy, my running buddy, said that when the US sneezes, the world gets sick: sad.
I need to exchange money.
It is a simple life here. Many houses do not have front doors. There are homes made of cardboard, scraps of sheet metal, and even some shacks on stilts over swamp land. I know is sounds cliché after that description, but they are happy people.
I am now in an area not without any Americans: feels kinda good.
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