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!! 

Goodbye Mexico, hello Belize!

Dinner with the newbies seemed to go pretty well and they all seemed to recover quickly from the knowledge that we have two super heroes in our group - also known as Vicki and Jo!

Neil took us to the same restaurant that we had been to the night before; it was nearby and the food was very good. Which really was quite lucky considering the other restaurant close by was the one where TC had politely told the waiter what she thought of him and his service.

Then everyone went off to bed in preparation for Playa Del Carmen the following day; another beach resort, but one that was supposed to be much nicer than Cancun. At least I was hoping that the rumours were true as I will be returning to 'Playa' at the end of the trip for a few days of recouperation before returning to the wet and cold and life back in London Town.

The one and a half hour coach journey wizzed by, despite TC already stressing herself over the 'Chicken Bus' ride that we would be taking in Belize the following day. Actually she had been stressing about it all week. Ok, ok you lot probably know her too well by now, so yes, she had in fact been stressing about it as soon as Neil had mentioned the bus journeys to us on the first day of our tour, two weeks ago! (And she wonders why she has had a permanent stomach problem since then?)

We arrived at our hotel and looked around at the wonderous surroundings that were to be our home for that night. The rooms were bright and cheery with not even a wiff of damp; things were definitely improving.

And so with a skip in our step we launched ourselves down to the beach for a touch of welcomed sunshine. TC, myself and Electra (the Spanish lady that we had already met the night of 'Coco Bongos' and who Anne for some reason kept calling 'Carmen'?!) got settled on the sunbeds. I laid back in mine, stuck in my headphones and tried to listen to some music on my iPod, which ended up interspersed with bits of TC and Electras conversation on either side of me, about life in Spain, life in London, TC's sore belly and her fear of the 'Chicken Bus' journey we were going on the following day.

Within the hour the skies clouded over and so we reluctantly got up and made our way down the main strip for lunch. The various restaurants and shops looked very inviting and I started to work out in my head where I was going to go when I returned next week; generally feeling much better about my decision.

G joined us for lunch at '100% Organic' where the food was absolutely bloody brilliant and free from tacos and refried beans! We sat and chatted for a bit about our thoughts on how Belize would compare with Mexico and TC expressed her concerns about the 'Chicken Bus' ride the following day.

I think at this point I should explain to you, dear reader, that the buses are not literally running chickens in them, far from it. What they actually are, are the old American school buses that have been reconditioned and repainted in all sorts of colourful styles. They are called "Camionetas" or "Collectivos" and run as a normal bus service. The fares are cheap and so you will generally find them crammed tightly with passengers and maybe on the odd occasion a chicken or two - not that we ever saw any!!

But TC for some reason had it in her head that we were going to be hanging off all sides of the crammed bus, with our luggage precariously tied to the roof whilst a whole array of livestock ran loose on board. (And she thinks I have a wild imagination?).

By the time we returned to the hotel later on that afternoon, she had a really bad headache and put herself to bed for the rest of the eve.

The following day was going to be a long one; with 12 hours of travelling, starting at 5:50am and entailing a couple of coach rides, a border crossing, the infamous chicken bus and a speed boat over to Caye Calker.

And so the group (bar TC) met for an early dinner then it was early to bed. I crept back into our hotel room, trying not to disturb TC who was lying in the dark with her head under the covers and I carefully got into my bed and quietly settled under my covers and as I slowly drifted off into sleep I heard a feebled whisper from the other bed, 'I'm still feeling a bit nervous about the chicken run bus tomorrow'.

Cancun - Cannot!

Today is the last day that the group are together, as of tomorrow morning the 'Magical Mexico' tour ends and the 'Quetzal Highway' tour begins ... With a bit of free time in between.

Cancun is a beach resort that's only been in existence since the 1970s, it's a town completely geared up for tourists. The beach stretches for miles with all the beach front hotels claiming their own sections and trying to charge extortionate rates for the use of a sun bed, brolley AND toilet! - though in actual fact this is not completely legal. The main strip where the night clubs are - and The Hard Rock Cafe - looks tired and empty by day but neon lit and packed by night.

Our hotel was a twenty minute bus journey away, closer to the city centre and not a particularly attractive city centre at that ... Though a couple of us now tired of tacos and refried beans were delighted to find Kentucky and The Big Whopper! (Apologies to all you Gastro-snobs, but sometimes only a cheap bag of chips and a chicken burger will do!)

TC and I walked into our hotel room and were immediately hit by the thick smell of damp! Instantly we were both transported back to memories of our second hotel in Kerala (see India blog), wherein order to have a break from the scorching humid heat outside, we sat in our damp room and watched some TV, only to find that after an hour, both of us were looking like throw backs from the 70's because the damp had frizzed our curly hair to maximum intensity!

Back in Cancun, TC looked at me and exclaimed "I have to get out of this room, it's dark, it smells and it's depressing me!' And for once, I actually agreed with her.

We joined Neil and the others for our Orientation walk, after which we decided to go for a quick bowl of soup just to settle our grumbling stomachs and not fill us up too much before meeting up with the group again later that eve for dinner.

We found a little restaurant down one of the side roads and sat down. The service was so bad and the waiters so rude, we ended up having an argument with them, left no tip and returned to our damp, dark, smelly, depressing room where we both laid down on our respective beds in silence, feeling disheartened by Cancun and sad about our new friends leaving the following day and to be honest a little bit jealous.

In short - I hated Cancun!

In order to pep myself up, I Facetimed my housemate Sandie back home in London for a catch up and a laugh, only to find that she had been deeply traumatised by a new client I had referred to her (Sandie is a beauty therapist like me). Apparently this client had asked her for a 'Hollywood' (bikini wax that involves removing all the hair and I mean ALL the hair!) This is not something that she would generally offer, but being the true professional that she is, went ahead with the treatment only to find the new client was not such a clean client, (the Star Trek term "Klingons on the starboard bow" come to mind!). Suffice it to say Sandie was not best pleased with me, especially as the client then bartered her down on the price! However - and please forgive me for sounding a little Schadenfreude - but the story did make me laugh - Mission accomplished!!

That eve TC and I joined everyone for the farewell dinner - yes there were Tacos and refried beans involved! It was two for one on all cocktails so I thought it only right to order a Piña Colada and a Strawberry Daquiri - remember I am a light weight drinker. So by the end of the meal, my mood had definitely pepped up some more and I agreed to go off to Club Coco Bongo with some of the others; Neil could get us a discount on the entrance fee, the drinks were bottomless, the music kitch and the dance shows not to be missed!

Already feeling a bit tipsy I bade my farewells to those not joining us and piled into the bus with Neil, Vikki, Jo, G (short for Geraldine), Anne, Heather and Meegan - TC stayed behind; she wasn't feeling well.

First stop was a bar, where we got our discount after spending 100 pesos (about £5) each, so with another drink down my neck and still able to stand we made our way to Coco Bongo, got our VIP tickets and squeezed our way through the crowd, up the escalators and into the main room.

High up on the wall at the far end, was a huge screen on which an assortment of Madonna videos were being shown, in front of the screen and way above us was a stage where dancers were performing behind a Madonna lookie-likie who was miming the song being played!

We helped ourselves to the free fruit shots that were on offer, laden with rum or tequila or something - by this point my taste buds had switched off so I can't be sure - then suddenly Neil grabbed my hand bag, threw it over his shoulder and pushed me towards the large square shaped bar in the centre of the room, where I was hoisted up onto the counter top to join about twenty other girls all dancing in a tequila/rum haze to the music.

Meegan and Jo were already up there and to be honest, if the music is good and there's a stage to perform on, I am quite happy to 'strut my stuff', 'do my thang', 'groove it on down', or 'shake what ma mama gave me'!! Above us the acts changed from Madonna, to Elvis, to Abba, to Lady Gaga etc ... There was even a performance by Spider-Man?!

Unfortunately we had to clear the area for the 'Cirque de Soleil' performance, but once over we were back up there 'movin and a groovin' while a very kind lady in a gold sequence high legged costume poured tequila directly down our throats! 

Thank goodness I know my limits (?) and stopped drinking just before I reached that 'Oh-oh!' stage and we all left just in time before Jo and I found a way to get up on the centre stage and show everyone the salsa moves we learnt the previous week - British Style! (Jo's Scottish so until Devolution happens she's still one of us Brits!!)

The International rule of thumb for returning home after a night of drinking is to always stop off at a fast food restaurant and so after sharing a couple of hot and spicy pizzas (proof that my taste buds had shut down, seeing as I generally don't like pizza and I definately don't like spicy!!!) we grabbed a cab and made it back to the hotel by 3am where Jo, Anne, Heather, G and myself tried not to wake too many people as we set the timer on Jo's camera and tried taking group photographs of us all doing a Mexican wave in the corridor.

The following morning TC and I went for a farewell breakfast with Anne and Heather, all of us feeling slightly under the weather, (including TC as she was still feeling unwell). We were served by an extremely sullen looking waitress who, when TC asked her in Spanish if there was a problem, promptly said no and continued to stand there picking at the lid of a water bottle then slumped away.

Heather and Anne were off to spend a couple of days in a five star hotel in the posh area of town before returning to Northern Island and understandably quite happy to get away from the area we were staying in and so, after a tearful farewell (actually I was the only one crying) we went our separate ways. Leaving TC concerned that the only physician in our group (Heather the gastroenterologist) was gone! 

We weren't going to be meeting up with the new group until 7 that night, so TC and I took ourselves off to the beach for a little R & R, where it promptly clouded over once we settled in our sun beds! 

Did I tell you that I hate Cancun?!

Later that day, when the clock struck 7, the five of us remaining from the Mexican group (Jo, Vikki, G, TC and myself) went to meet the 11 newbies who were reaching the end of there induction meeting with Neil. 

We entered the room and they looked up at us with slight trepidation and uncertainty. Did we really look that scary? I mean the hang overs had worn away by this point - though TC was still not feeling great. I turned round to see what the others thought and saw Jo and Vikki stood there wearing super hero masks and looking like caped crusaders! Well they thought it would break the ice?

And so now amongst us group of happy travellers, we have a few more Brits - English, a load of Aussies, a sprinkling of South Africans, a Spaniard and a Swiss German and to TC's delight, one of the South Africans is actually a GP!!!

Just one of those days ...AGAIN!

And so we had the whole day in Merida to do what we wanted. TC and I decided the first thing was to go to the local laundry and drop of our huge piles of washing (I had bought two lovely colourful shoulder bags in the market in San Christobel - of course one was pink - and unfortunately the colour from both of them had come of on my clothes!!). Afterwards a nice breakfast was on the menu to see us through the day. Followed by a visit to the Olympic museum, then catching an open top bus tour of the city and a brief look around the Contemporary Art Museum and perhaps stopping off for a cup of chai tea in the local coffee/tea shop at some point.

We arrived at the launderette just after ten where we were told that it wouldn't be ready til the following day and not before we were due to leave at 6:30am! And so we trudged back to the hotel still laden with our dirty laundry and headed for the recommended breakfast that turned out to be NOT that great AND expensive for what it was.  Next we set off for the Olympic museum only to be told that the exhibits had been taken down due to renovation work, but not to worry as there were a few photos up to take a look at, however that exhibit wasn't due to be opened until 11pm! 

Off we went to the Museum of Contemporary Art where we discovered that yet again most of the rooms were closed and the one that was open was filled with crappy laminated prints of well known paintings by famous artists. We left rather rapidly.

After getting lost walking around the square we finally found the bus stop with minutes to spare and jumped on the open top bus for the Spanish/English tour round the city ... We found seats in the front row on the top deck and waited. The tour bus set off twenty minutes late and it turned out was only in Spanish! Not only that, but the sound system was so muffled that TC could only hear intermittent words and therefore the only translation I got was: "columns ... 17th Century ... Two sisters ... One virtuous, the other a slag ... One nice, the other a bitch ... 19th Century ... Mansions ... Church ... On left ... On right ... I'm hungry ... I may have food poisoning from the chicken I had at dinner last night ... Smelly wind ...". As you can see it was obviously very educational!?

Whilst sitting though this fascinating tour on the city of Merida, we had to brace ourselves from the cold wind and duck out of the way of low hanging branches, whilst trying to wake our arses that were gradually going numb on the hard plastic chairs!!

After approximately an hour, we were back at The Zocola and hurried off for a nice warm chai latte ... The chai was cold and green and tasteless and the service most definitely did not come with a smile, instead 'the baristas' were more intent on leaning over the counter and getting the best signals on their mobile phones!

I'd had enough! And after a quick lunch of chicken crispy tacos (with refried beans) I went back to the hotel room and watched some crappy subtitled American trash on the TV and felt much better.

The following day was going to be our last together as it was nearing the end of the Mexican tour and Rado and Maria (the Bulgarians), Brad and Nicole (the Australians), Anne and Heather (the Northern Irish) and Emily (Chinese) were going off on their respective journeys. And so after watching the final two episodes of Broadchurch (we really, really had to) TC and I joined everyone on the rooftop terrace for pizza and a shot of Mango Mescal. The evening ended with hilarity as we sat around competing over who had the best 'holiday bowel movement story' (there's always one isn't there?) and then we all retired for the night.

Almost ruined by the ruins!

Palenque has to be my favourite ruins of the trip so far! Set within the luscious jungle, these Mayan ruins quite different from the earlier ruins we have seen over the last few weeks.

Found north of Chapatas, within an indigenous population called the Ch'ol, this archeoligical site is the biggest tourist attraction in the state of Chiapas. The ruins date back to 226 BC (fell around 1123 AD) then literally absorbed into the jungle.

Our tour guide took us through the dense forestation 'off piste' so as to avoid the other tourists. Thank goodness for my new pink lined walking shoes, for if it wasn't for them I would have ended up on my backside covered in thick sticky mud and TC would have refused to let me back in the hotel room! 

We climbed up a steep slope, using trees and vines to balance and what little strength I had left in my legs, to stop from slipping and stumbling over the large rocks sticking out of the mud.

When we reached the top our guide (whose name has left me) asked us to look around for a palace, we looked and looked but could see nothing, then he informed us, we were in fact standing on it, on its roof to be precise!! It was a huge Mayan building now completely covered by jungle.

We stumbled back down and out into a large clearing where my breath was taken away by the amazing site of El Palacio and The Temple de Las Inscripciones.

Inside the pyramid is The Tomb of Pakal (remember the play we went to see a few days earlier?) Luckily (for me) climbing the pyramid is prohibited, I could hear my legs heave a sigh of relief.

In the centre of the site is The El Palacio and nearby is The Templo del Sol, the Templo de la Cruz and the Templo de la Cruz Foliada. As we stopped to take in the view of the whole site, we stood in silence as our guide gave us some history, suddenly there was the sound of a loud belch and we all turned to look at Emily (the Chinese nurse in our group), I looked over at TC and raised my eyebrows, who looked back at me in horror, Neil cracked up and had to turn away from the group to stifle his hysterics and our guide just stared at Emily with surprise and said 'salue'. She looked around bemused at what was making us all laugh. It's amazing really how certain cultural behaviours are seen as shocking by one group of people but perfectly normal by another and this sound was one that we were all becoming quite accustomed to!

The next morning we were up early for yet another eight hour bus journey! This time we were travelling first class and although I had managed to secure a front row seat in the hope it would curb my travel sickness, I still thought it best to take a couple of anti sickness pills as a precaution. Heather, like me, is a sufferer so I popped out a few pills for her from my blister pack, then Anne started to look a bit peaky and I passed a couple more to her. I was a bit concerned as it may have looked like I was some kind of hard core drug dealer in the middle of the bus station stood there in my fit flops and pashmina and I certainly didn't want to end up in a Mexican prison singing 'Like a Virgin' to a bunch of butch inmates a la Bridget Jones.

Luckily I made it onto the coach handcuff free and settled down for the long journey ahead, after about half an hour I was just about to drift off to sleep when TC hurried back to her seat beside me, her face was ashen. I looked at her with concern and asked what was wrong. '"I'm traumatised!" She said. "I've just been to the loo at the back of the coach and when I flushed it the water spurted out all over me!" She held her arms wide, shaking as though she had just been sprayed with acid, she quickly pulled out her hand sanitiser and practically emptied the bottle as she feverishly rubbed the gel into her arms, hands, shirt, face and trousers, trying to stifle an anguished scream. I had to distract her before things got completely out of control, so I pulled out my ipad and we watched another episode of Broadchurch and thankfully that seemed to do the trick!

Finally we arrived in Merida, the capital of the state of Yukatan, a city that attracts many tourists and home to some of the wealthier Mexicans.

Our hotel was The Colonial and it was certainly the best one we have stayed in by far - proved by the fact there were sachets of shampoo in the bathroom as opposed to just a tiny bar of soap that could strip out the whole ph balance in your skin in a matter of seconds!

Merida is quite a big town with ... Yes you got it; The Zocola at the centre. The city was founded by Francisco de Montejo the younger in 1542 and is built partly from the ruins of a Mayan city called Tiho.

By the twentieth century the city had become extremely wealthy housing many 'hasciendados' (land owners). On the outskirts of the city are the largest mansions I have seen outside of The Bishops Avenue (a north London joke there for those of you not from there).

After our orientation walk with Neil, TC and I walked to the government building to check out the murals hanging there, all depicting the destruction of the indigenous people. 

TC translated some of the information around the pieces for me, however we were a bit confused when it talked about the 'smelly winds' that blew across the land (obviously to do with the refried beans?!) then I found a translation by another piece, apparently it was 'benevolent winds'. TC assured me her translation was correct and it's just the Mexicans using Spanish incorrectly - I personally think it was a Freudian slip! 

After a lovely dinner with the group (that obviously included more beans and tacos) Neil took a few of us to another smaller square where every Tuesday live music is played and people come to dance salsa etc ...

It was packed! I would say the average age was around 80! But these elderly couples were all moving and a-grooving on the dance floor, or sitting arm in arm watching from the sides.

TC pulled an octogenarian whose speciality was smoking a cigarette then tipping it backwards into his toothless mouth  with his tongue - still lit - and then back out again. He was a real charmer!

And so, after another fun filled eve, it was time for bed.