The Jaguar, The Eagle, The Snake and the ... Armadillo!

And so I was finally at the end of the tour. TC and I were woken by the alarm clock. She quickly got up and started to get ready for the day ahead, whilst I remained in bed, still slightly intoxicated from the night before!

I waited for the room to stop spinning, then focused on the empty back pack and pile of clothes lying next to it at the end of my bed! Why the hell didn't I pack before going out last night? And how the hell was I going to pack when as far as my brain was concerned I was still dancing on the bar and knocking back Tequilas (it never learns!) and what the hell were those bruises shaped like hand prints on my arms! 

And so, despite a severe lack of co-ordination I managed to ram everything back into the aforementioned back pack, then have a shower, get dressed, squeeze out of the tiny room and hurry off for breakfast with TC. 

We reached the restaurant where I felt queazy just watching TC as she eagerly helped herself to platefuls of food from the buffet. I just about managed to swallow a few mouthfuls of pancakes, purely to absorb the remaining alcohol left in my system. 

A short while later we reluctantly made our way back. Yet again I was feeling sad about leaving the group and saying goodbye to anyone still at the hotel and not up the volcano. TC was going to be catching a later flight to the UK and informed me that she didn't particularly like saying goodbye either, so she was just going to wish me a brief farewell then go off shopping - well actually she was going off to stock up on more food for her journey. Obviously the three and a half platefuls she had had for breakfast weren't quite enough!?

The cab arrived and TC, my friend of 30 years, looked at Neil and said: "She's going to blubber". Then gave me a quick hug, which was closer to a pat on the back and stoically said: "Bye then, see you later!" And hurried away. She was right, I blubbered. 

I joined Craig who was waiting for me by the cab, (His flight to Manchester was the same time as mine), then I turned to Neil and thanked him again for saving my life the night before, we had a hug (I secretly blubbered) and climbed into the taxi and we drove off into the distance - like a typical cheesy farewell scene on Eastenders!

A little over an hour later, Craig and I had checked our luggage on to our respective flights and said our goodbyes. I blubbered something about coming up to visit him on his farm one day and helping him milk the cows, but that could have been the remnants of the tequila talking, then I hurried off to my boarding gate ... 

And I was off, back to Playa Del Carmen where I was to have four days relaxing on the beach. Logistically it should probably take only about 2 to 3 hours maximum, but as there were no direct flights I had to take a 2 hour flight back up to Mexico City, spend six hours at the airport waiting to catch my connecting two hour flight back down to Cancun, where I spent another hour and a half waiting for my transfer to pick me up and take me on a 45 minute drive, before finally arriving at my hotel around 1:30am. All in all a total of 13 hours!!

But it was worth it. The hotel was perfect; I had a huge double room in which I could probably have fitted a whole Mayan Village. I was a five minute walk from the beach and 5th Avenue (the Main Street with all the shops, bars and restaurants). And I only managed to get lost once!!

It's now been a whole week since I got back to the UK and my freckles are rapidly disappearing. My four days spent on the 'The Maya Riviera' were lovely. I did nothing! No ruins, no early starts, no long coach journeys, no Mosquitos!! Just me on a sandy beach, looking out at the Caribbean with a Piña Colada in one hand and a good crime thriller in the other. And as I sit here in my bedroom in North London writing this last part of my blog I can't help but smile as I remember the amazing time I spent in Central America. 

But what's with the title of this post, you may ask? Well ... The Jaguar is an animal deeply revered throughout Mesoamerican history. He was the great god, able to move between the underworld and earth. A symbol of power, strength and survival. 

Then there's the Eagle and The Snake, as found in the Mexican flag. Well the story goes that the Aztecs (a nomadic tribe pre-dating the Mayans), were told by their gods to look out for an Eagle stood upon a cactus eating a Serpent and to build the capital city on that site - they saw it, they built it and hello Mexico City. (Or Tenochtitlan as it was called then).

And why The Armadillo? Apparently that's me! According to Mayan astrology anyway. Supposedly I am tough on the outside and soft on the inside. Well the truth is, I am not. But I am trying to be as my family and I come to terms with the rapid deterioration of my dad's health (as mentioned in my first post). 

This holiday came at a time I most needed it and the people I spent it with were unknowingly the best tonic, for which I will always be grateful. Theres a saying which goes: "People come into your life for a reason, a season or a lifetime". Or as my late nana would say: "It was beschet". (Yiddish for "Meant to be")

And so finally I have reached the end of this years travel blog, but hopefully it won't be my last. A while back, TC and I were out for a drink with a friend of mine who produces documentaries for TV. We were regaling her with our stories of travelling through India, where TC's issues with hygiene were 'surprisingly' highlighted and my understanding of the word 'patience' was truly tested. My friend looked at us and laughed: "How about I try and get a camera crew together and film you both travelling around the most dangerous countries in the world?"

The sweat broke out across TC's face as she feverishly shook her head and said: "I'll only go somewhere that's clean and has decent food".

Me? Well I just smiled with a glint in my eye. 

So dear reader, any suggestions ...

                            

Penultimate posting and how to leave a lasting impression on your new friends ...

This morning I woke up with a swollen eye! A bloody mosquito bite! Nice way to end the tour really, though I guess it didn't look as bad as it felt, but there was certainly some visible 'droopage' going on in my right eyelid.

Breakfast was great! The best so far; a huge buffet with as much as you could eat. Unfortunately, those kind of deals are wasted on me as I generally don't eat loads, but TC was there to make up for it as she piled up her plate and prepared snacks for the onward journey.

We climbed on board the waiting boat and set off for Antigua - no not the Caribbean Island of Antigua, we were off to the city of Antigua, one of the ex-capitals of Guatemala.

It seemed like the longest journey of the tour, maybe because it was my last one with the group but six hours on a coach was quite enough. Luckily I managed to knock myself out with a travel sickness pill and unfortunately missed most of the sights, until finally waking up as we drove through Guatemala City - the present capital (I think there have been about three?!) and the largest city in Central America.

About an hour later we reached the city of Antigua and it was certainly a sight for sore (and mosquito bitten) eyes. Founded in 1541 and surrounded by the Acetanango, Fuego and Agua volcanoes, the view from the coach was pretty breathtaking.

After checking into the hotel, Neil took us on the final orientation walk, then was free time to wander around.

The streets are old and cobbled, the buildings stunning Colonnial style and of course there was the main square; The Parque Central, where locals and visitors can often be found sitting on the park benches around the Fuente de Las Sirenas fountain.

With only about an hour to spare before everyone met for our farewell dinner, TC and I tried to take a brief stroll around and get a slight insight into this lovely little city. However, there wasn't enough time in between finding an Internet cafe to check in for our respective flights the following day and getting lost trying to find our way back to the hotel - Antigua is laid out on a grid system, pretty simple and therefore supposedly easy to navigate ... in theory.  

It was a great shame that we weren't there for an extra day, with so much more to see including climbing one of the volcanoes! Oh well, I guess next time round?

I decided to make an effort that night, being our last one and actually put on a dress, then plastered on some make up to try and cover up 'the drooping eye'.

TC had asked to fit in one more round of salsa so Neil took us to a lovely restaurant where there was a live band and dancing afterwards. 

Two glasses of red wine (remember I am a light weight drinker) and a delicious meal, then I was ready to swing my hips on the dance floor, Latin style. The band started up and I dragged Craig - the farmer from 'up North' (said in Northern accent), into the heaving throng of dancers . I took the lead and showed him a few moves, while he attempted to keep up. Then I figured if one was performing salsa, it would be wrong for one not to have a Mojito! Well one would wouldn't one? 

One Mojito later and then Damian was trying to keep up with me on the dance floor, followed by Nick who was actually managing to keep the lead. Then TC?!

It was group photo time then Neil suddenly announced that we should all follow him to a local bar where the dancing was even better and we were off! I stumbled up the cobbled streets trying to keep up with everyone, but by this point the alcohol had approached my knees and they were going numb! 

We entered the bar and the room was heaving with people. "Everyone up on the roof terrace!" Neil shouted at us above the noise of the people and loud music blaring out of speakers on either side of the bar.

We trundled (I stumbled) up the winding staircase onto the largish roof terrace where tables where scattered all around near heaters and the bar itself wasn't too busy. I offered Neil a drink as a thank you for the 'burrito moment' a few nights before (still sounds like a euphemism?!) and also offered to get Vicki what she would like. They both opted for a Long Island Ice Tea, I had never had one of those before so thought it was the perfect time to give it a go. 

Now when I say these drinks were massive I mean massive - the cup was probably the size of my cereal bowl. Vikki and Neil, obviously hard-core drinkers, had no problem knocking theirs back reasonably fast. I on the other hand was desperate to keep up and managed half way before I started to feel that maybe I should pace myself? Especially when Neil announced that we should all go downstairs for a dance!

At this point TC decided it was time to leave.

I followed the others downstairs - making sure I held tightly onto the banisters as I went on my way. 

Jo, my 'up on the bar' dance partner from back at Coco Bongos in Cancun, was just in front of me. I turned round to her and mumbled: "I'm not dancing on the floor with everybody else. I want to get up there on the bar". As I petulantly threw my handbag at Ella sat at the end of the bar.

I didn't have to say it twice; Jo was up there like a flash leaning down and pulling me up next to her. Within seconds the tequila lady was over by which point I had forgotten that I was pacing my alcohol intake as she poured a mouthful of tequila down my throat. 

And there we were, Jo and I up on that bar, moving and grooving, twisting and twirling, strutting our stuff for all to see. 

Rihanna was blaring out of the speakers and for some reason unknown to myself I thought it was the perfect time to start headbanging?! 

So there I was. Shaking my head backwards and forwards up and down left and right as though I was listening to some heavy rock band until after about a minute I realised I was feeling a tad light headed. 

I stopped and looked over at Jo who seemed to be staring back at me with a look of horror on her face. The room wasn't just spinning it was going at warp speed around my head and then, everything seemed to move in slow motion ... I saw Jo trying to reach out to me as I tried to reach back to her, but it was too late my balance had gone and I flipped backwards spreadeagled (I have always been elegant) and 'crowd surfed' the people below me!! Good job I was slightly inebriated or I probably would have felt the pain as I heard the cracking sound of my head bouncing off a few heads in the crowd!

Luckily it was my group that I fell back on. Neil and Damian caught me on either side and in one fell swoop lifted me back onto the bar where I immediately carried on dancing with Jo as though nothing had happened!! Personally I thought it looked very professional and well choreographed. 

Within seconds an overexcited Neil jumped up on the bar next to me and with a huge grin on his face and his fists scrunched up to his mouth like an excited kid (an endearing Neil mannerism), he said: "I just saved your life!!"

"I know" I replied with an embarrassed smile "Yet again!" It was at that point I decided that I had had enough alcohol for the night. 

About an hour or so later, apparently after a few dances with some random guys - I say apparently because I didn't realise that I had until Jo sent me the photos ...

... Vicki, Jo, Damian and myself decided it was time to leave and find pizza! (See I must have been drunk as I've told you before I actually hate pizza!) Unfortunately, (or not) there were no pizza places to be found and after getting lost (so much for the simple grid system!!) we found our way back to the hotel. 

I said goodnight and goodbye to my new friends, (trying to hold back my tears as I hugged them), they were going to be off early in the morning for the volcano climb so I wouldn't get to see them before I left for the airport. Then I managed to find my way back to my room where I woke TC up knocking on the door before realising the hotel staff had a spare key. 

I stumbled over to my bed - waking TC up again as I knocked into her bed (well the room was the size of a shoe box!!!) I crawled under my covers and as I drifted off to sleep I suddenly remembered the mosquito bite on my droopy eyelid and thought: "How embarassing!"

"Thunder bolts and lightening, very, very frightening, me ..."

Today is Friday 24th of January 2014 and I can't stop feeling sad that my trip is almost over. In two days time I say Adios to my fellow travellers and head back up to Mexico to spend a few more days on the beach in Playa Del Carmen, before returning back home to London.

Don't get me wrong, I appreciate I am very lucky to have the time to chill out; TC is having to go straight back to work. It's just that firstly I am not looking forward to saying goodbye (not really good with them) and secondly I am 'quite upset' (again censorship prevents me from expressing myself properly) that when I originally booked this trip, I wasn't made aware of the fact that I could have tacked on another 4 weeks and travelled through the rest of Central America all the way down to Panama! I didn't find out until we were already in Mexico City and by that time it was too late for me to change my arrangements. 

I sat up in bed, feeling like a petulant teenager and quite prepared to throw a strop over 'How unfair it was that I was missing out on what my friends were doing!'  But the adult in me realised it was in fact pointless ruining the last few days of my holiday and I should just make the most of my time. And with that I got out of bed, (we managed to get a lie in til 7am!) and finished re packing my ruck sack (this had become a daily ritual), then discussed with TC as to whether or not she should take an immodium that day (another daily ritual), followed by her showing me all the mosquito bites she had received the night before and telling me how itchy they all were (yet another daily ritual). After which I popped over the road to pick up my bag of clean laundry for the last time on the trip, hurried down to the local shop to buy the highly recommended slice of home made banana cake to take as a breakfast snack, then joined the others on board the private mini bus (in Guatemala we travelled in style, no more Chicken buses!) and headed off to catch a boat to take us up the Rio Dulce to the Catamaran Island Hotel, where we were going to be staying for the night.

The Rio Dulce is a river that runs from the Lago de Izabal - the biggest lake in Guatemala - into the Caribbean Sea. And as we climbed onto our boat, as tended to be the case on this trip, the heavens opened up and it started to 'cheep cheep!'

So there we sat, speeding along this beautiful body of water; fleeces on, windbreakers done up to the max, hoods up, caps pulled down and thick black tarpaulins sheets wrapped round us to protect us from the wind and rain and river water attacking us from all sides. (TC announced she had an umbrella!)

We passed by the Castillo de San Felipe, the Spanish Colonnial fort built at the head of the Lake, to keep away the Caribbean pirates (think Johnny Depp) that used to sail up the Rio Dulce, basically causing mayhem and distress with the traders. It was eventually destroyed and rebuilt and has now been classed as a UNESCO World Heritage site.

We reached the hotel, clambered off the boat, dropped off our luggage, took a swift turn around, clambered back onto the boat, wrapped up again and set off on a two hour scenic route to Livingston. 

Gradually the rain started to ease and the sun began to burn through the clouds, as Heraldo our boat driver sailed us through the mangroves and Neil pointed out the wildlife living there. We saw Herons, Cormorants, Pelicans and Iguanas drying off on the branches. Some had even made a home in a battered boat destroyed by a hurricane many moons ago. Lily pads floated on the water, locals fished for crabs and shrimp ... All was peaceful.

Named after the American politician Edward Livingston, the tiny town of Livingston is found at the mouth of the Rio Dulce and unlike the rest of Guatemala, it's main population are The Garifuna (descendants of West Africa, Carib and Arawak people). 

We stepped off our boat into this tiny town and took in the laid back atmosphere as we climbed the steep streets to the restaurant booked for luncheon - we were all starving!

Neil had recommended the local spicy fish soup (Tapado), which was made from prawns, crab and ... a fish?! My religious background dictates that we are only allowed to eat fish that have fins and scales, basically nothing shell like! But this was a holiday of 'firsts' for me, plus my feelings about religion, over this last year in particular, are generally quite negative. You could kinda say that me and 'him upstairs',  if there is a 'Him upstairs', are no longer on speaking terms and so kind of as an act of defiance I decided to give it a go. 

We sat down for our meal and I nervously mumbled 'Er, I have never eaten crab before can someone show me what to do?' A couple of people looked at me with surprise and I started to think that this may be a slightly more embarassing experience than the whole 'first time snorkelling' one. Plus there was a slim possibility that I may get struck down by lightening for breaking one of the sacred laws of the religion I had been born into. And that could be slightly awkward. (Jewish guilt and Catholic guilt; "pretty much on par with each other", according to my half Italian, Lapsed-Catholic housemate. She says it never goes away, it stays with you for life no matter what! - holy shit!) 

The bowl of soup was placed in front of me. 

Suddenly I could hear 'Oh Fortuna' from Carmina Burana  http://youtu.be/EJC-_j3SnXk  playing all around me (or maybe that was just the side effects of the anti malaria tablets I was taking?) Either way I nervously looked down at the soup and started to shake ... It wasn't the half a crab staring up at me from the coconut based potion, nor was it the smattering of pink prawns floating around in the Bouillon, it was the, the, the ... My stomach started to churn, the wretching was on its way and I turned to our ever helpful tour leader sat next to me: "Neil, please may I ask you a favour? Please could you possibly get rid of the ..." TC glanced over at me and saw the pleading look in my eyes, she knew what was causing me such distress; she had been through this with me before, in India and it was not a pretty sight. She lept to my rescue. "Neil!" She quickly called out. "Neil, you have to remove the head and tail from the fish! Quickly! She can't look at it! It makes her go funny".

Neil quickly pulled my bowl away and cut off the offending body parts. I smiled and thanked him profusely as the bowl was returned to me, then suddenly took a sharp intake of breath. "No!" TC added as she saw me staring at the spare plate in the centre of the table with everyone's discarded bits of food on. "It needs to be out of her line of vision! Quick move it out of the way!" I raised my hand to cover my eyes as the plate was quickly removed from the table and I was able to relax and attempt to enjoy my lunch.

I tried the crab and to be honest, I wasn't that impressed, seemed like a lot of mess for a small amount of meat, that didn't have much flavour anyway. As for the rest of it, well the 'undressed' fish was succulent, the prawns tasty and the soup delicious, especially with the local coconut bread dipped in it. And to my relief, I didn't get struck by lightening!

The boat ride back to the hotel was a dry one and once there, we relaxed by the pool bar catching up on Face Book and the like before dinner, after which a few of us returned to the bar where Damien shared his bottled of rum, smuggled in from town and we all got involved in an intellectual discussion about the music of Robbie Williams and Ollie Murs!

Meanwhile I continued to ignore the sinking feeling in my stomach; tomorrow was going to be my last full day with the group. We were going to be going to Antigua, once the capital of Guatemala until it was moved to Guatemala City in 1776. And little did I know my last night was going to result in another 'first' for me. One that would involve a few too many drinks, a crowded pub, a bar top, Rhianna and a little bit of head banging ....

Ruined again ...

At present I am sat in Cancun airport awaiting my flight back home to London! My opinion of Cancun airport is pretty much the same as the one I have of Cancun, but due to censorship reasons I can only describe it as 'unimpressive'. 

I can't believe how fast the last four weeks have wizzed by and what a great trip I have had, feeling really low about getting on that plane now, but I've gotta go earn some more money for my next adventure. Meantime I am still a few days behind on this here blog, so I need to cast you back to my last posting ...

You may remember I had just recovered from the 'Burrito' fiasco - now that definitely does sound like a euphuism!? And I skipped back to my hotel room with a relieved looking TC in tow; who (or is it 'whom' I never am sure) I think was more stressed out than me (no surprises there). 

We were leaving at 6am the following morning but I was still on an adrenalin buzz from the evenings events and couldn't sleep. However, TC brought me back down to earth soon enough, after I commented on a couple of photos I'd noticed Heather had posted on Face Book: "Oh my god!" (Sorry, there I go blaspheming again), "I look like a beached whale". To which TC replied and I quote: "Don't be so silly, you've got lovely hair and a pretty face."

She smiled at me innocently as I glared back. "You do realise that doesn't actually make me feel any better, don't you? That's not really a compliment!" Another bemused look from my tiny, petite, skinny, slim friend. "I just told you I look like a beached whale and rather than saying I don't, you comment on my ...", "But you do have lovely hair and a pretty face". She interrupted, still clueless. I sighed. "I suggest you shut up now." She still look confused. "Ok but you don't look like a ... " I threw her another look and we curled up in our respective beds, in silence and went to sleep. 

And so morning eventually broke and we were all up bright and early to set off for the border crossing into Guatemala. Loaded up with peanut butter and jam sandwiches, which were kindly made for us by the hotel staff, we climbed on board the coach and set off for country number three. 

This particular border crossing was quite a simple one. There was no interrogation, no pretences, we just had to show our passports, pay our departure tax and entrance fee then off into Guatemala. Which was quite lucky cause I don't think I could have gone through all that again - even if I do have lovely hair and a pretty face!!!

Guatemala is considered the most mountainous country in Central America - mainly due to its many volcanos, of which some are still smoking! From black sandy beaches and mangroves found along the Pacific Coastline to tropical forests and coconut trees over on the Caribbean side. Yet another country rich in Mayan culture, with one of the largest indigenous populations pro rata.  

Once through, our first stop was Tikal - one of the oldest Mayan ruins it is found in the heart of the Parque Nacional Tikal. 

It is a massive site with five huge temples at its epicentre (the largest rising up to 64m) and plazas leading out to more - even a Colossium. Generally you will find the usual Mayan layout: East, North, South and West. Sun and Moon temples and many more still hidden under the jungle. 

I doubt very much that most people would have the energy to go round the whole site in one fell swoop, let alone us lot, who were all still completely shattered from the cave climbing the day before, which was unfortunate for our local guide Miguel, he was extremely knowledgable and enthusiastic not just about the ruins but also all the assortment of wild life living there.  And the thought of climbing up yet another temple was starting to bring on palpitations, so I made my excuse for not being able to climb the first one; someone had to take the picture!!

Miguel was a really friendly guide who obviously wanted us to know as much as possible, but for the most part, our main responses were just tired grunts, the odd question and a few "Ahas". Though there was a bit if enthusiasm when we spotted a couple of spider monkeys in the trees. I turned to look at TC, check she was ok. You see she never really got over 'the monkey incident' in India. (See the posting 'Too Much Monkey Business' in the India blog). Apart from the slight cowering movement and quivering lip, I think she was ok.

And by the time we came across the big hairy tarantula sat watching us from the trunk of a tree, I was too tired to even be scared of it - usually a tiny British house spider would make me break out in a cold sweat and start wretching!

Actually looking at that picture now has made me break out in a cold sweat and start wretching!

But I did manage to force myself up the final temple we were visiting, slowly but surely in the blistering heat, pausing every few steps to get my breath and watching as Nick (tall lanky Aussie in our group who likes to refer to himself as 'A Geek' which apparently is better than being 'a nerd'!?) ran past me up the steps, three at a time! Well he has got longer legs than me and he's about twenty years younger than me and he's probably used to more outdoor pursuits than me and ... I gotta get back to going to the gym when I get home!

Lunch that day was at a lovely little restaurant by a lake in El Remate, where we soaked up the sunshine and some went swimming before leaving for our hotel on the tiny island of Flores.

In the evening, after our orientation walk round the quaint little town, a few of us sat drinking beers and piña coladas watching the sun setting over the water. It was a perfect evening, so serene and I was feeling sad that I had only two days left before saying 'Adios' to my new friends and this lovely country.

A day at the ATM otherwise known as Achtum Tunichil Muknal! More like ARSE over TIT in the MUD!

The previous evening ended with a great meal at La Cubana Restaurant where the speciality was Spit Roast Pig!! I took the vegetarian option and I was still chuffed about the the days snorkeling achievement, so treated myself to a strawberry Daquiri.

Then it was off to a bar called 'Ai & Ai' for a couple of drinks; actually I stopped after two because the pole in the middle of the room was starting to look inviting and I was on the verge of giving some of the Israeli tourists a run for their money!!

Neil took us over to another bar that was empty one minute then suddenly packed as Ai & Ai emptied out, by which time I had had another drink - some kind of dodgy vodka - and even the weird guy traipsing round the dance floor sucking on his knitted cap was starting to look interesting.

A group of us girlies decided it was time to call it a night; we weren't too impressed with the music and even lesser impressed with the man walking up to one woman/girl at a time and gyrating up her back. A simple "Would you care to dance?" would have been enough. 

We were all still high from the days events (and in my case the dodgy vodka) and said goodnight to Neil who chuckled "Goodnight my little chickens". (I think he had been on the dodgy vodka too?)

That night I had had a weird dodgy vodka induced nightmare whereby Neil and I had just been performing in a musical together and I was driving him home in a chicken bus, when I suddenly crashed causing him a serious head injury and then we were held up by a group if Mexican bandits?!  

Back to reality and the sun was shining down as we sped across the water on the Speedboat-taxi. I was sat next to Nicola (one of the English girls) chatting about theatre and acting classes and before long the boat had reached dry land. 

We piled back into taxis to take us back to the bus station and I tried not to panic when it turned out I was to take my taxi ride with Neil. Memories of my dream came flooding back, I had to tell myself it wasn't a premonition, I wasn't driving, nor were there any Mexican bandits around, we were after all still in Belize!

My nerves really weren't calmed much more as I sat inside the said taxi staring at the wind screen that was covered in long cracks, there was no rear view mirror, the wheels made a horrible grinding sound and when the driver went to hoot at another passing vehicle he pulled a wire from the dash board and pressed it against the cigarette lighter!!

Thankfully we made it to the bus station in one piece and before I had time to mutter 'MOT' we had to quickly drop our bags behind the bus and dash on board in order to get any seats. Yes, it was another chicken bus and this one was filling up rapidly. I didn't think it a good idea to mention to TC that Vicki and I had noticed the bus' huge exhaust pipe lying by the side of the road!

We each managed to get seats but we were crammed in like sardines!

We made it through the two and a half hour bus ride, despite TC's constant tuts and groans at the Menonite man stood in the aisle beside her with his groin pressed a little too close to her packet of Ritz crackers which she finally gave up eating and stuffed into a hole in the back of the seat in Front of her. But hey, at least there were no chickens!!

Having settled into the hotel in San Ignacio and after much trepidation, I nervously signed up to go caving at  Achtum Tunichil Muknal (also known as ATM)  the following day. Yet again something I have not experienced before and yet again something that sounded like a fun challenge.

To quote Vicki: "I am not here for a long life, but a good life". 

The following morning I was awake well before the alarm went at 7. My nerves were at full kilter and I was feeling apprehensive.

We had been advised to wear t shirts and shorts over our swimming costumes out of respect for the ancient religious caves and to protect against scrapes from jagged rocks. Decent walking shoes were a must, preferably old ones as we were going to be walking through slimey mud and swimming through water! 

The last time I had been swimming fully clothed was when I was about 13 whilst taking my life savers badge. And even then it was only in a pair of pyjamas WITHOUT slippers!

TC's main concern at the time was that in her strappy walking sandals and socks, she may look German!? I told her not to worry, she looked like a lovely little Frauline, then I forced my breakfast down my throat and off we all went. 

The coach journey took about an hour and a half, followed by what should have been a forty five minute hike through the jungle. However, for myself, TC, G, Lydia and two American couples it took quite a bit longer, as we stumbled through the rain soaked gooey mud and three river crossings (against the tide). Again I have to thank my new pink walking boots for without them I certainly would have ended up on my backside in the mud like a certain German looking travel companion of mine!

The eight of us finally made it to the mouth of the cave, the rest of the group had gone on ahead with their guide and with our safety helmets and torches strapped firmly to our heads Gonzo (stop the sniggering, that's his name), our tour guide took us through. 

This was my biggest challenge so far, more so than the snorkeling as we clambered over rocks, waded through waist high waters and swam through deeper areas, all by torch light. Every now and again I could hear TC calling out: "I can't do it, my legs aren't long enough!!" 

Gonzo helped her along and finally told her that if she couldn't manage it he would take her back. She expressly told him that she would be fine but needed some extra compensation for being a little person. He just looked at her and smiled patronisingly, he wasn't much taller than her and nor were most of the local Guatemalans or probably the ancient Mayans that had lived there. 

It has to be said though, considering he hadn't been very helpful during the hike, Gonzo became overly helpful during the caving. So much so that I noticed he kept holding my hand even when I was managing on my own, often giving it a little extra squeeze or indeed stroking my shoulders as he passed me in the dark. He even glanced at my chest and told me how much he liked my t-shirt!! I was starting to feel uncomfortable but too embarrassed to say anything to the others for fear I was imagining it. However, later on that evening I found out I was not the only female in the group he was coming onto, apparently he had been trying it on with ALL of us. 

Finally we made it to the holiest part of the caves, passing the rest of our group who were already on their way back. Here we were asked to remove our shoes and walk in our socks so as not to disturb the sacred ground we were walking on.

There was so much to see and time was pressing on. Gonzo pointed out the lime covered relics; the pots and urns that had been made from clay and ground bone and used for sacrifices. He pointed out the skeletal remains, again preserved by the lime, showing how the bodies had been used in sacrifice. There was even a little area filled with tiny children's bones. No one knows for sure if the children were used for sacrificing or if indeed they were just sick and taken to the holiest place to die?

It took us about another hour or so to make our way back out the caves with a lot of care and attention. In reality it's not the kind of place to go if you are scared of water, tight spaces, bats and the dark!

But we emerged unscathed and absolutely starving, it was almost three and the only thing we had had to eat since breakfast was a mini snickers that Gonzo had given us! (Good job no one had a peanut allergy!)

And so running on empty we waded back through the jungle, through the thick mud that was now even gooier! (TC took another back flip) and through the three river crossings (and yet another back flip from TC).

Unfortunately we weren't allowed to take any cameras with us, since last year when someone dropped theirs on one of the skulls and damaged it. So I have no pics for evidence but suffice it to say, it really was an Indiana Jones afternoon. The ATM caves were amazing, I'm so glad I did it, but not sure I would rush back again. For once TC and I were in agreement, though she did continue to mention a few times later that night about the lack of health and safety regs!

That evening, after we had all cleaned off the mud and reconvened for dinner at a restaurant in the city centre we grabbed a few cabs and returned to the hotel, all completely exhausted. I reached into my pocket to pull out my purse but it wasn't there, it wasn't in any of my pockets! It must have slipped onto the floor of the cab!

The problem was it wasn't just a handful of money I was carrying. That night, for some reason, I had taken out both my credit cards and put my phone inside the purse too!!

I felt sick and calmly turned to Neil to explained the situation, inside I was panicking. Neil reckoned that as it was a quiet evening in town the cab drivers would probably reconvene there for a coffee and chat while waiting. We needed to hurry back there and see if we could find our cabby. I wasn't so sure, I mean what were the chances? But short of calling up my insurance company and cancelling my cards plus not having a phone for the rest of my trip, I decided it was worth a shot. The problem was town was about a fifteen minute drive away, our cabbie had left about ten minutes before and neither of us had a car! This was going to be a mission but one we were prepared to take! 

(Cue music to Mission Impossible).

We headed towards the door, grabbing forty Belizian dollars off an anxious looking TC and ran outside. Neil was concerned that although the drivers were probably trust worthy it was still best not to let them know that there was the possibility of credit cards and a phone lying in the back of one of their cars and suggested we tell them that he had dropped his Burrito! I personally though that sounded a bit euphemistic, but Neil felt sure it sounded perfectly plausible?!

Just outside the hotel was a 4x4 in which a young couple were saying goodbye in English to their friends. Neil called out to them, asking of they were going in to town and explained the real reason why. The husband nodded and encouraged us into the back seat. I apologised to his wife for the inconvenience and she told us it wasn't a problem as they had just got back from church and could go home via the town centre.

It seemed like ages that her husband was taking saying goodbye to their friends and my heart was pounding, time was running out, we had to get there before the cab driver! I tried dropping a hint to get them moving, by being very British and thanking them profusely. Again the wife looked at me and smiled, coincidentally it turned out that she owned a lot of the cabs over there and asked if we remembered the name of the driver - we didn't. She asked if we remembered what he looked like - we didn't. But for some reason I seemed to think he was driving a red car.

Finally the husband got back into the passenger seat and we were off. The young couple kept reassuring me that it would all work out, Neil kept reassuring me that it would all work out and we zoomed along the road, with Neil and I innocently blaspheming in the back with comments like "Oh god, I can't believe I left my purse in the back of the cab" and "My god I'm such an idiot", plus "It will be fine, god it will be fine", "God I am sure it will be there" or just plain "Oh god oh god".

It wasn't til later that evening Neil pointed out that he noticed every time we used the lords name the husband would cross himself at the wheel. Oops! I guess we should have guessed they were religious when we were told they had just been to church and it wasn't even Sunday. But then my mind was on other things ... Like 'Neil's Burrito'!!

We eventually got to the town centre, there was a red car parked up, I lept out of the 4x4 shouting a big thank you to the religious couple and pelted over to the poor unsuspecting cab driver screaming "Did you take us to Hotel Aguada?"  "Yes, yes I can take you there" he nervously said. "No! You don't understand!" Neil then tried to explain the 'Burrito story' as I looked around the back of the car, but to no avail there was nothing there!

I looked over the road, there were two black cars parked up! "Over there Neil" I shouted. Neil sprinted across to,them just as another cab pulled in, it was a red one.

I practically pulled the driver out of his seat as I belted out "Hotel Aguada! Did you just take us there?" The poor cabbie just smiled and nodded. "Yes there were three of us who took you all there". I ran round to the back seat and threw open the door and there on the floor was my 'Little Burrito'!!

"Neil, Neil I've got it, I've got it!" I screamed across the road, then turned round to the bemused cabbie and gave him a huge hug and a big kiss - on the cheek! He offered to take us back, saying he was a very lucky man.

Actually I think I was the one that was lucky!

Caye Caulker for the snorkeler!

Just as we arrived at the speed boat-taxi to take us over to the island, it started to rain; but only slightly. Back home we call it 'spitting', over here it is called 'cheep cheep'. 

We climbed on board whilst it was 'cheeping' down on us and we sped across the water towards Caye Caulker. Within minutes the 'cheeping' had turned to 'chirping' (I may have just made that particular term up) and all eighteen of us plus a few extras tried to huddle under the cabin without capsizing the boat. As we moved at warp speed, bouncing hard off the waves, I glanced over at TC sat opposite me, just to check that she was ok. The colour had drained from her face and her expression was one of someone about to do a bungee jump and realising they were actually attached to a long thread of dental floss! I mouthed 'Are you ok!' But she just looked straight through me. 

Just over forty minutes later we were moored up on the wondrous island of Caye Caulker. 

This little island can be found 35km northeast of Belize City, (21 miles for those of us stuck on the Imperial System). The motto on the island is "Go Slow" and that's certainly what we all needed after the rushing around of the previous two weeks in Mexico. 

The main source of income on the island was Lobster fishing, but that has now been superseded by tourism and I can understand why. With the Barrier Reef only 1.5km offshore (not even a mile) the opportunities for snorkeling and diving are great!

We dropped our bags off in our respective hotel rooms then met up with the rep from Ragamuffin Tours who filled us in on the choices of snorkeling the following day - full or half day. 

It's hard I know, for some to believe that at 47 (and three quarters) years of age, I had never been snorkeling before. I had tried learning to dive a few years back whilst holidaying in Cuba, but I never actually made it past the swimming pool part cause I couldn't get a hang of the breathing - quite a vital component!? 

I could have chickened out. TC wasn't interested in snorkeling, so I could have stuck with her. But this was an opportunity to see some of the wonders of the sea AND at the biggest Barrier Reef in the Western Hemisphere. I felt I needed to challenge myself and grab this opportunity whilst it was there and I was still able. As long as I felt safe and supported I knew I could do it and the group I was travelling with were great; everyone going on the expedition were encouraging me and assured me they would look out for me. So I signed up for the full day! (Admittedly drinking rum cocktails whilst sailing in the Caribbean sun was a bit of a deal breaker).

Later that night after going for a drink in the rather dubious hotel bar, we went for a delicious BBQ dinner whilst it 'cheeped' down around us. 

The following morning we were up early for a breakfast of hard boiled or scrambled eggs, dried toast and orange squash?! After which I went for a morning stroll around the island with Jo, Vicki and G whilst I tried to ignore the grey clouds gathering above. I kept telling myself that if the weather was in any way dangerous to sail in, the trip would be cancelled ... But the clouds continued to gather.

We got fitted up with our snorkels and masks and I was kindly given an anti sea sickness tablet just in case! I thought I was covering up my nerves quite well, until Neil walked over and assured me that he would hold my hand in the water if I wanted. 

But I had paid up, been fitted up with mask and snorkel, taken my pill and we were now piling on to the sailing boat, so it was too late to back out now ... The thing is, between you and me, my biggest fear wasn't that I wouldn't be able to snorkel, it was more the fear that I was going to make a fool of myself trying.

We set sail, I looked out to sea and smiled to myself; what a surreal moment, sailing along towards the Caribbean Sea, whilst Sea Gulls, Pelicans and Frigate Birds (another kind of pelican that actually looks like a mini Pterodactyl) flew along side us. 

All the while the crew played reggae music through the boats speakers ... We  certainly were chillin'. And the clouds were finally beginning to disperse!

The first of our three stops was in an area of shallow water (approx 10ft deep) where everyone eagerly jumped in ahead of me. Neil waited as I put on my flippers and adjusted the mask properly, then after a count of three and an overly excited heart beat I jumped in too!

The sea was lovely and warm and already quite clear, so after a couple of 'rehearsed breathings' I stuck my face under and then my mask and nose promptly filled up with water!!

I immediately looked up, choking and still breathing in the water swilling around in my mask, whilst trying to elegantly tread water in a huge pair of flippers and keep the panic at bay!

Thankfully I managed to rip the mask from my face and breath in gulps of air, my throat burning from the salty water. Neil swam over and asked if I was ok? "Yes, yes, I'm fine thank you, just a little water went up my nose, it was nothing". I smiled through my embarrassment then quickly turned away and belched! 

But I was determined to get it right and after a lot of patience from my snorkeling buddy, with many mask adjustments to get it over my hair, I actually started to get the hang of it! The more I tried, the easier it became, it was basically down to confidence and a good fitting mask!

I was stunned by the sights under the water, the Corals and Urchins, Angel Fish and Parrot Fish to name but a few. The forty five minutes wizzed by but I was quite ready to climb back on board, my legs were shaking from the adrenaline rush and possibly the fact that I am so unfit?!

A short while later, having paused briefly to watch groups of Dolphins jumping through the water ahead of us, Rob (our Captain) and his two man crew, dropped anchor and encouraged us to look over the right side of the boat where they promptly started throwing in small fish they had caught earlier on. Within a matter of  seconds the water was teaming with sharks! Don't panic, they were Nurse sharks not the big scary Great Whites! 

It was snorkeling time! And this time I was going in alone! The others jumped in ahead of me and then I joined them. This time around was so much easier, I glided through the water with ease, managing to swim into the others only a couple of times, not that it really mattered as we stared down in amazement at the massive Stingrays (some the size of a coffee table!), sharks and huge Blue Tang (aka surgeon fish) swimming below us. 

I felt quite the professional snorkeler!

And it was back on the boat for lunch and some healthy servings of chicken or fish coconut curry in the now brilliant sunshine! Perfect!

We reached our third and final stop a few metres (I'm trying to be with it and use the metric system now) from the actual Barrier Reef. This area is the Hol Chan Marine Reserve, with strict guidelines; you are only allowed to swim through it if accompanied by a registered guide and it is completely forbidden to touch any of the corals or wildlife living in it.

We all jumped in and followed our leader.

I am not sure how, but it seemed to me that my head may have shrunk in the couple of hours since our last snorkel? This time round my mask refused to stay in place and I was really struggling and falling behind. If I was found 'wandering' alone by the Marine Keepers I would be sent back to my boat and to make it worse, I couldn't work out which boat was ours anyway!

Thank god Neil was still looking out for me, (ever the vigilant tour guide) and he swam over to help  as I struggled with my mask. I am sure he must have been even more frustrated than me, worried he was going to miss this amazing opportunity, (it's his last tour) because of my shrunken head and oversized mask. But he was very patient and finally after a couple of attempts to try and rectify the situation by squeezing the mask onto my face and pulling the straps as tight as they could go - and almost accidentally drowning me - we swapped masks. Obviously he has a small head too, as this one fitted and we quickly joined the others.

"OMG" doesn't even cover it! In fact I can't even express how exciting and emotional an experience this final swim was ... We saw all sorts of fish, all sorts of stunning coral, a Barricuda peeped out to look at us and finally - the piece de resistance - we saw a family of Giant Turtles. All of us stopped still, only slightly treading water so as not to disturb them, our arms crossed and out of the way as we watched these elegant creatures calmly glide past us; one was less than an inch away from Vicki's face. Unfazed, the Giant Turtle just casually glanced our way as if to say "Oh, it's you humans again". He looked so calm and serene, the only thing missing was a Rasta hat, dreadlocks and a huge spliff hanging out of his mouth. He was definitely chillin!

We climbed back on the boat, all moved by the shared experience, Vicki couldn't stop grinning. 

As the ship sailed back to the Island, we sat around eating freshly made Cerviche (my first time), drinking rum punch and listening to reggae whilst laughing and chatting. (It turns out TC has told them all about my blog and recommended they read the one from India first as "It's the best one". Hmm, so much for her wanting to stay anonymous?! And apparently she has informed everyone that the stories about her have been greatly exaggerated! However, I think everyone knows better?!)

And so the day ended with everyone meeting up at The Lazy Lizard for a drink - a popular pub located by 'The Split', which in turn is a narrow channel between the two parts of the island split in two by Hurricane Hattie in 1961. 

What a great atmosphere, people gathered outside drinking, people jumping into the water, people sat around in small fishing boats, all watching the sun setting over the Carribean Sea! I felt like I was on the set of a Malibu advert!

The following morning we were off to San Ignacio, where I had a new challenge ahead of me ... Caving! But until then, I was happy in Caye Caulker, just chillin .....

 

Border crossings and Bus rides ....

And so the big day arrived; the day of the chicken bus! We were all up extremely early, TC still had her headache, but she was holding it all together.

After a ten minute walk to the bus stop, which at that time of the morning seemed like half an hour, we clamboured onto the public bus - seeing as we were still in Mexico at this point it was more of a coach. Five hours later we got off at the border in Chetumal. 

For me, crossing the border to Belize was the most harrowing part. Neil had asked us not to make it obvious that we were with a tour group as we passed through and suggested we make out that we were either solo travellers or in pairs and obviously NOT to all give the same hotel as our destination and above all else, we 'didn't know him!' If they were to find out he was a tour guide, he could get carted off to jail unless he paid a huge fine as had happened to others before him. (Something to do with ONLY wanting locals as tour guides and a form of extortion).

TC and I had our story planned; we were going through as a pair of travelling buddies who were going to stay in a hostel somewhere, unsure where exactly just yet, but we had our guide book to hand. I reminded her not to say that she worked for a charity, as the last time we went travelling together (in India) she had marked that down in her visa application and was turned down due to some strange reason about bad press?!. She reapplied saying that she was in marketing instead and was accepted but that was not before I got the hysterical phone calls of "They are out to ruin my holiday", "Why do they hate me so much" and "My life is ruined".

Now I am not sure about you, but when I am told not to look at something, for some unknown reason my eyes suddenly take on a life of their own and feel the need to look! Then it becomes a battle of wills between them and my neck to look the other way.

And so we waited in line, desperately trying not to acknowledge the rest of our group, when I was suddenly distracted by a Mennonite family just ahead of us. (Mennonites are a group of Christian missionaries from German Dutch descent formed around the 16th Century. They are known for their pacifist and traditionalist beliefs and certain 'dress style' - think Little House on the Prairy. Over the decades, due to certain government restrictions on their lifestyle, they have been forced to move from country to country. One such group settled in Belize in 1958 and have been here since).

I couldn't help staring at the extremely Aryan looking family dressed in their Sunday best - it was close to 30 degrees outside, meanwhile the two women and little girl were all wearing long sleeved, high collared synthetic floral dresses with what looked like tights AND pop socks (I doubt they shaved their legs!!) plus straw bonnets, even the little gurgling baby was wearing the same apart from her little cotton bonnet on her head, the father and son where wearing long dark trousers with braces over long sleeved white shirts and they too were sporting wide brimmed straw hats.

I turned to Electra who was stood in the queue next to me and indicated for her to look, but she quickly mumbled under her breath in an extremely strong Spanish accent: "I don't know you, I have never seen you before in my life".

TC and I casually approached the immigration officer who scrutinised our passports then our faces. We told her we were just passing through for a few days and staying in a youth hostel. Or rather TC told her and I just nervously repeated her like some kind of pathetic echo. For once it was TC who stayed calm and collected and gave her the 'marketing ploy'. She was allowed through - phew. The immigration officer turned to me and said: "So Rosalie, what do you do for a living?", "I am a beauty therapist" I responded. "Really? That must be an interesting line of work for you?" " Er, yes? Yes it is?" She was starting to unnerve me now and I was there alone, TC had gone through and I could hear Neil giving his line about being a teacher at the desk next to us. Then I was asked exactly what kind of things I did as a beauty therapist and immediately I started to panic, I don't know why, I just thought that maybe she suspected that I would start offering massages on the beach in order to earn some extra money and they would arrest me for that! And so my thought process shut down and I couldn't think of anything, which probably made me look more suspicious and that in turn unnerved me even more. I could feel the sweat bubbling on my upper lip as I desperately tried to remember what I did for a living and had been doing for the last twenty seven years of my life! I was going to have a panic attack, it was ridiculous. It was probably the idea of standing in front of an Immigration officer in a Latin American country, whilst Neil's emphasis on being cautious, corruption, bribery, fines and being carted away was going round in my head, combined with me probably having watched too many episodes of CSI, Criminal Minds and Law & Order.

I took a deep breath and it all came back to me: "Oh you know, facials, manicures, pedicures, waxing", ( I purposely left out the massage bit), "Basically making people look and feel beautiful inside and out ..." (I was now over compensating). She looked over my passport at me, "Well, that all sounds very nice, enjoy your stay". And with that she smiled and let me through.

Finally we were in Belize! 

Scattered along the barrier reef is a group,of small islands known as 'Cayes' (pronounced 'Keys') and it was to Caye Caulker that we were heading. And how were we getting there? Well by boat of course, but before getting to the boat, we had to take ... 'A Chicken Bus'!!!

Belize was formerly known as British Honduras until 1973 and yet it wasn't until 1981 that it gained independence from GB. It is found on the East Coast of Central America and the main language still spoken is English with a strong Caribbean accent, (Spanish and Creole are also spoken). 

We were dropped off at the bus station in various knackered out old taxis and waited for our bus to arrive. I had fully recovered from my 'Immigration Incident' and TC was back to her pre-chicken bus ride nerves, I watched the colour drain from her face as the buses pulled in. I thought they looked great and I was particularly excited to see a pink one and told her it was a positive sign - she wasn't convinced.

Our bus arrived, it wasn't pink, we dropped our bags at the back for Neil to pack away then we rushed on in order to get seats together. It really wasn't bad at all. There was no air con, but that was fine with the windows open. The seats were worn brown leather but comfy enough, though with maybe not quite enough leg room and there were NO chickens!

As the journey continued, the bus filled up a little more at each stop, but it really wasn't too cramped and I watched as TC visibly relaxed and looked relieved. Neil came over to check she was ok, she said she was fine, her headache had gone and that she put most of it down to a reaction from the anti malaria pills she was taking. Neil and I exchanged a knowing look and smiled.

We had only been in Belize a couple of minutes but I was already loving it. You could feel the calmer, chilled out manner all around. Even the music on the bus was different; no Latin Salsa, now we were listening to Reggae, Dub Step and Raggaton - ya man we was chillin!!