Mexico, Belize, Guatemala part three; Guatamala

PICTURES! Finally. I'll download these and get them put in soon, but for now if you want to take a peak at some pictures Steve took durring this trip go HERE! The guy with the longer hair is Steve, the other is me.

Read part one here
Read part two here

After refusing to seperate from our luggage, Steve and I found ourselves riding into Guatamala on top of a large bus as it bounced down a tore up, mostly dirt highway.

"Tree" Steve would shout and we'd duck behind some luggage to keep from getting beaten up by low hanging branches. The kid who'd sent us up to the roof to begin with would crawl though the bus windows and up to where we were to fetch luggage. He'd then swing back through the window. He risked his life to keep the passengers moving on and off efficiently at each stop. He was beautiful to watch as he climbed and swung about with the kind of grace that only comes from doing something over and over again. I wondered how long he'd been at it. In America kids could do dangerous things, like skateboarding in pools or playing football, but they weren't allowed to be paid for it.

We were at a stop in front of a little store when three kids who must've been about eight or nine years old climbed up to sell us some Cokes. After riding on top of a bus, down a dusty road, with trees theatening my life every few minutes a nice cold Coke sounded great, and they were in glass bottles. There are few things in life that could hit the spot like a Coke in a glass bottle. So we paid for our two bottles, which the kids dumped into baggies, with a straw. I tried to stop them. I tried to tell them I'd pay them the extra, whatever they were going to get for recycling, but my Spanish was limited to finding beer and bathrooms. Steve's Spanish, limited but better than mine was increasingly useless the further south we got and so we drank our baggies of Coke.

As we got closer to the border there was room for our bags to hang out with us inside the bus so we road with people the rest of the way, and chickens, and maybe some rabbits, I think there may have even been some goats.

We got to the border and were processed. It was exciting to be getting more stamps in my passport. I'd been warned that this was a dangerous border and not to cross it at night, hence our getting up early to catch the bus. Once through the border we went to check out a market that Steve had heard about. It was none too impressive. Tables sitting in the hot sun selling yard sale type items and wilted food. A drunk attached himself to me. What do I do to attract these people? I didn't have pancakes with him or buy him a beer? I was just minding my own business. He spoke no english and I couldn't understand his Spanish at all. A German again came to my rescue. The drunk and the German both spoke French. Even the street people in Guatamala are bilingual. Which reminds me of a joke. What do you call people who speak two languages? Bilingual, and what do you call people who speak three languages? Trilingual, and what do you call people who speak one language? ...American!

So we got away from the drunk and we were HOT, and hungry, and thirsty. I couldn't believe how hot it was. We found a hotel that was pretty swanky looking and totally lifeless. But the restaraunt was open and it was air conditioned so we had two ice teas and one bowl of bean soup which we savored so that we could stay in the Air Conditioning as long as possible. It wasn't as pleasurable as we'd hoped as we were distracted by thoughts of finding a place to stay and getting to somewhere that felt a little less crazy.

I think we found some kind of free shuttle to Tikal, a 2,000 year old Mayan city. Tikal had a nice visitors center with a beatiful grass lawn surround on three sides by rain forest and where you were welcome to camp. We picthed our hammocks and had a strange night. The noises were incredible, like nothing I'd ever heard. Screaming somethings, I assumed birds, were all around us, from every side they'd scream and respond with different voices and songs. It was like falling asleep at a werehouse party. Of course, I'd plenty of experience with that, and eventually I drifted off. At sunrise new noises began and Steve and I excitedly hopped out of our hammocks and headed to ward the trail that would take us through the rainforest to the pyramids.

I was again reminded of Disney Land as I we started walking into the lush heavy growth. Ha ha, Walt you sure made an impression on me. We were wide eyed spotting lizards and birds and yes, even monkeys. We heard a roar, like a lions. "Holy Crap, what the hell was that?" one of us asked. We kept walking, hearing the roar again until finally we came to fork in the road and spotted a little black monkey. When that monkey opened his mouth, it seemed bigger than the rest of his body combined and MAN WAS HE LOUD! His roar would put a lion to shame. Steve and I laughed, but I was also scared, not that I'd be bitten, but the poo would be flung. You see, I'd heard form friends of monkey's flinging poo at them. I'd boasted that in such a situation I would take a dump and fling back and now, I knew I might have my bluff called, only I also knew that if it came down to it, I might not let if be a bluff. We continued walking and then I noticed we were being followed. Four or five monkeys were swinging along next to us, howling, and I was sure, getting ready to fling. But then they reached some sort of line in the sand and they let us bee. I was not forced to poop in my hand, and that is always a good thing.

We reached a pyramid that had forset crowing up right to it and we started to climb. The pyramid went up above the canopy of the rainforest and then some. It was breathtaking to sit on top and look out over miles of green. An englishman had a seat by us and we got to talking. We made fun of some tourist upon reaching the top, snapped a pick to prove they'd been there and headed right back down. The Englishman had been all over the world on a special deal allowing for multiple fights to pretty much any destination. I think he paid for a certain number of miles but it was some insanely high amount for and insanely low price. I asked him who were the most obnoxious tourist and knowing what I was thinking he told me that it was not Americans. He told me that from his experience the Japanese were much pushier than us Yanks. And then he told us a great story.

A group of Japanese business men were at a fence, and a group of monkeys were sleeping peacefully on the other side of it. Wanting to be entertained one of the businessmen grabbed a stick an poked the monkey. When the monkey swatted, annoyed, at the stick all the men started laughing. The monkey shifted positions and tried to go back to sleep but he recieved another poke. The monkey climbed up, out of range of the stick, but the businessman then began chucking little pebbles. The monkey sat up, scratched it's head and as another pebble sailed in he shot of his perch bouncing off the Japanese businessman's shoulder and up into a tree taking the business mans thick glasses into the tree with him. The businessman shouted and put his hands out for the glasses. The monkey offered the glasses, only to snap them back again. He then broke off one handle. By now all the monkeys were awake and being greatly entertained by this. The Monkey methodically and with great delight broke the glasses, bit by bit. First the other handle, then one lens, the other lens, final he broke the frames right in half and threw them to the ground. He curled up in the the tree and went back to sleep.

The Englishman was heading out and we had more exploring to do so went our seperate ways. We found the main pyramids in a large clearing and we went exploring. It was strange to see the metal grates and electric lighting everything. I was glad these pyramids were so well preserved but compared to some of the others we'd scene they also seemed somewhate compromised. We found some areas away from the hustle and bustle of tourist and we made noise, listening to the echos. We sat and just quietly thought about where we were.

The pyramids were designed in such a way to work with the solstice, once a year, forming a snake out of shadows down the steps. I was impressed to hear of this and of the disembowling celebrations that went on. It was dissappointing to hear that they were installing electic lights that would simulate this effect every night, though this wouldn't keep it from being extra cool when it happened naturally.

The Mayans are not extinct. They are there, at Kital selling trinkets to tourists. Whoever supplies them with the trinkets also supplies them with some sales pitches. "Something for you girlfriend?" and outheld would be a necklace. "Something for your wife?" and a bit of pottery would be offered. "Something for your mother in law?" and a large machete would be waved about menacingly. It was funny, at first, just because it was cross cultural and strange. But then we heard the same joke at every other table. In fact I'm sure some of the merchants were speaking phoneticly with no idea what they were saying. And every other table would promise that their plated silver was "not plated."

We stopped and talked to one boy who offered us something for our boyfriends. I didn't figure he thought we were gay. That happened at home, but I was looking pretty butch on this trip especially next to all the flowered shirt wearing tourists. I decided to help him out before some redneck took a swing at him. This kid was awesome. He pulled out his little notebook which had three rows. Row one feature drawings, man, woman, etc. and row two had the english word, spanish in row three. Steve and I corrected a few for him and managed to have a bit of a conversation with him. I'm guessing he was young, 16 or 17 maybe and I was amazed that he was out here selling merchandise, teaching himself Spanish and English. He was very charismatic and I have no doubt he'd be doing alright for himself.

We went to an little indoor souvenier and there we found the ugliness. In the tradition of those horrible t-shirts featuring skeletons or puppies or childrens cartoon favorites in various sexual positions, they had little satuettes of Mayan gods, doin' it, doin' it doggy style, doin' it, um, other style. Wow. I wonder how long a city is dead before digging up their dead is archeology and not grave robbing and I wonder how poor and disempowered a civilization has to be before it's acceptable to portray their gods doin' a little 69 action.

We'd had a long day and we were exhausted from walking up and down pyramids. I was amazed to discover that it wasn't late at all. We hit a grocery makert and scored some avacodos for about a quarter a peace. Young kids, like early teens young worked as baggers and the kid that helped us was so nice and polite and friendly and self posessed in a way you just don't see in American Kids. We tipped him a buck and I realized that was a huge tip, but the market was close to a tourist stop and I was guessing these kids could actually make pretty decent tips. It's interesting how in tourist based economies someone making tips can end up makeing more than other people in professional positions. I've heard that in Cuba Doctor's are taking jobs as waiters and waitresses to get the American dollars flowing in.

We decided to take a bus back into Mexico (Guatamala borders Mexico and Belize.) We'd been out almost a week now and it was time to head back home, but we'd take a different route and see some new sites. The bus was promised to be primo deluxe and travelling in comfort with air conditioning actually sounded pretty nice. It wasn't. My seat was broken and leaned forward, the airconditioning didn't actually condition the air in any discernable way and the only available seats were in the back so I was getting ill from the swaying and bouncing. Funny, I felt fine up on top of the first bus going into Guatamala. We reached the border and got across with no problem.

Click Here for part 4: The Journey Home, featuring crazy teacher with drunk kids, booze cruise madness and more.

Mexico, Belize, Guatamala part two; Belize

PICTURES! Finally. I'll download these and get them put in soon, but for now if you want to take a peak at some pictures Steve took durring this trip go HERE! The guy with the longer hair is Steve, the other is me.

Read part one: Mexico by clicking here.

We got our bus tickets to Belize City and climbed aboard. I ended up sitting next to the beautiful young black girl who talked my ear off. She was so charming and told me that she wanted me to see how beautiful her country was. I assured her that I was impressed so far and after getting her mothers permission I took a picture of her with the ocean showing behind her through the bus window.

Steve told me he was inspired by my making friends everywhere and he wanted a shot at it. He moved to the back of the bus and he succeeded. He met a guy named Tony who was heading to Caye Caulker, a small island of the coast of Belize City. We should come out to the key with him he said, warning that Belize City was a cess pool and dangerous for foreigners. Steve asked him what brought him up to Mexico and Tony unzipped his duffel bag showing Steve that it was packed full with green bud.

Steve rules. He decides to make a friend and he finds us a marijuna farmer! Tony explained that he grew the weed out in the rainforest, up in the trees and had come out to harvest. I knew guys that guys that grew weed in the trees in Yosemite. Amazing to me was that he crossed the border with the weed but apparently Belizians cross that border pretty easily. Steve and I passed through that border check easily as well.

The family I'd been visiting with got off the bus and I went to the back and sat with Steve and Tony. A couple of millitary guys got on and checked passports. They looked like teenagers and the each had Uzis. I was pretty upset to have the business end of one of these weapons pointed at my head as the soldier it was attached to, paying no attention to his gun, checked the passport of the guy across from me.

Tony explained that guns were smuggled through Belize from Mexico to Guatemala and that the government was trying to crack down. He didn't seem at all worried about his giant bag of weed, but I must admit to feeling relieved to be sitting in front of him rather than actually sharing a bench.

The bus reached Belize City, which did seem to match Tony's description. Filthy little canals of stinky water flowed through the city and into the ocean. We followed Tony to a water taxi speedboat which wisked us off to the keys. The boat was filled to maximum occupancy and man could it move. It was exhilerating.

Caye Caulker was gorgeous. All the houses sat on stilts, and under the houses were a great place to pitch a hammock. When it wasn't storming, this is where Tony lived, under the houses of various friends and family members. He'd rent a room for a couple of months a year, when the weather got nasty.

We gave Tony about ten bucks and he gave us a huge sack of weed. Neither Steve or I were big pot heads and we'd be hard pressed to go through it all. Tony showed us to a hostel which was really a small house with the garage made into a couple of rooms. You could stay in the rooms for two Belizian (about one American dollar) or you could throw up your hammock in the yard and use the lockers in the rooms to store your stuff for one Belizian. Hell, we'd pitch our hammocks.

The hostel seemed to be the cool hangout spot for the locals and they all gathered around to bbq, smoke weed and drink beer that night. Most of the Belizians we met were black or at least part black. They speak English with a heavy carbbean accent. Everyone was real friendly, well almost everyone. A tall thin black man, Michael, apparently didn' t like Babylon and stayed outside the gate so as not to mix with Steve and I, Babylonians such as we were. I don't know where all the woman were, the hostel's yard and bbq seemed to be a real boys club save one razy eyed woman who would rant and rave about how evil everyone else was getting everybody laughing though she was as serious as could be.

We found a small grocery store and Tony went in with us. He explained that there was one price for Belizians, one price for visiting friends, and another price for tourists. He made sure we got the visiting friends price. We got some bread and peanut butter and jelly. Then we found ourselves in a yard surrounded by kids playing marbles. They taught us how to play their version of marbles and they laughed at our miserable shooting skills. The kids loved posing for the camera, they all begged to photographed and hammed it up something wild.

When we got back to the hostel we found that two guys from Mexico city were staying there as well, though they were sleeping inside. They were nice guys but seemed pretty intent on just hanging around the hostel for the most part. Steve and I got some sleep, in the morning we'd be snorkeling the famous Belize reefs.

Tony led us to our snorkeling guide and explained to him that we were friends. The guy assured Tony he'd take care of us and after saying so long to his millions of children he led us to his boat. We were joined by an American family consisting of mom, dad, son and daughter and an old couple that may have been American, they spoke english but with strong accents, maybe German. Germans love to travel. The guide stood in the back of the boat with the steering rod from the outboard motor between his legs. He wore tight red speedos which sat at about face level to us and he gyrated his pelis about to steer the boat. Obscene and hillarious, Steve and resisted snickering, barely.

Speedo cut the engine as we drifed toward our first destination. He explained that the nurse sharks and rays we were about to see knew that we'd feed them so the might rush up to the boat and get cut by the propeller if he left the engine on. We hopped in the water which only came up to our chests, but it was best no to stand on the ground as you'd kick up the substrate and make it hard to see. I with my face mask in place I put my head under the water, and holy crap, we were surrounded by sharks and rays. The guide showed us how to lure them with the small fish he gave us and then pet them. The sharks could even be hefted up out of the water. I lifted a shark and then set him back and gave him some fish. The 12 year old boy from the family was trying to lift up a shark but was going about it all wrong, grabbing at it's fin and yanking. I was sure he was moments away from being the guest of honor at a feeding frenzy so I helped him figure out how to do it. Of course once the shark was out of the water I had a helluva time getting him to put the poor thing back. He begged me to help him get another one but I was done.

I climbed in the boat with the guide who shared a joint with Steve and I. The family climed back in, and I honestly believe it's because they were afraid they were missing something. The something they were missing didn't appeal to them and the boy said something to dad along the lines of "Dad! Them guys are smoking marijana!"

The father explained that local customs were different than in the states. We our guide put the joint away and we headed toward some reef. We were speeding along when the guide noticed two other boats stopped a few yards away he shut off his engine and there was much excited shouting in spanglish. The guide pulled on his own mask and readied to jump in the water. Steve and I decided we had to see what this was all about and we got our masks on and we warned not to get to close to the giant ray we werea bout to see.

We dropped lowered ouselves into the ocean, my excitement overcoming my fear of deep water. This ray was huge and alien. He was black and white, where the others were great and his mouth seemed to hang down below the rest of his body. His shape reminded me the Enterprise from Star Trek. I'd say he was easily 12 feet across. This kind of ray must have been rare because even the locals were very excited about it. We all climbed back in the boat and continued to the reef.

Twenty five foot walls of reef, teeming with colorfull life. Corals, eels, stars, fish, schools of fish, crabs, anemones. I was amazed with how HUGE everything was. I had seen most of these animals in aquariums, I had no idea that a wrasse could be almost my size. My fear of the depth was overcome with a ten foot length of canvas tied to my wrist and attached at the other end to a life jacket. If I panicked and forgot how to swim I could always climb. I practiced holding real still so that the fish would come close. I followed a school of tangs until the relaxed about me being there and settled down to graze. I was in heaven. The other folks would take breaks back in the boat but I just wanted to stay, staring, I think I even shed a tear or two in my mask. Steve wanted me to go further than ten feet but my ears were killing me already and I was finding plenty to look at. Our guide would dive down, flying past us to the bottom and come back up with conch. Finally it was time to go, I climbed back in the boat and Steve and I excitedly pointed out all the animals we'd seen on a chart that someone had brought on the boat. Our next stop would be a tiny little island for dinner.

The island was so small we could walk across it and it seemed uninhabited. We were the only people there. Speedo asked us to collect coconuts which we happily did, scraping ourselves up a bit as we turned into a couple of twelve year old figuring out how to climb a coconut tree. That's when someone ran a sewing machin across my face. I felt the sewing machine needle jab into me again and again from my ear down my jaw and across my neck. I was running and batting at my face yelling. Finally the damn thing, whatever the hell it was flew off. My face stung like bloody hell. Steve grabbed the coconuts we'd gotten and we headed back to the beach where Speedo told me I'd met a coco-wasp. The mom offered me some sting treatment and the daughter said "No mom! That's mine!" What a ball of sweetness. Luckily mom ignored her and I treated my stinging face. It helped a little. Speedo and Steve had gone off so that Speedo could see for himself what got me. He came running back to the beach just minutes later screaming bloody murder. Yep, he'd found it. He rinsed his face with salt water, shunned the sting treatment and invited me and Steve to have some "Natures pain relief." He handed us a joint and sent us away from the tourists.

When we returned, my face feeling much better, kinda tingly actually, Speedo macheted open a coconut, and letting me machette one as well. He laughed at my first few failed attempts. Eventually I got the damn thing to crack. I drank the juice and had some of the meat. Speedo chopped the rest of the meat up with the conch, which spilled out of it's shell if you bore a hole in just the right spot, some tomatoes, lime juice and pepper. Theh conch ceviche was then served up in the halved coconut shells. Steve said it was delicious and offered me some, but I was feeling content and it just didn't appeal to me.

I walked down to the water and notice a little dog face puffer fish, behaving very much like a dog, begging for food and seeming to wag his tail. I called speedo and Steve over and they gave him a bit of conch. The kid came over and tried to catch it. Bye little puffer fish. I was ready to feed this kid to the coco-wasp.

After chilling on the beach for a bit we headed back to Caye Caulker. As we all climbed off the boat I notice Speedo collecting huge sums of money. Like fifty bucks per person, maybe more. I started to worry as we climbed off but Speedo asked us to wait around. Once the rest of tourist were gone he charged us ten belizian each. About five Amercian dollars.

"Did you guys have a good day?"

"Oh my god yes. It was amazing."

"Yes. For me to. Beautiful every time, and this is how I make my living. You guys should stay in Belize, you could be tour guides too." It was certainly tempting. I liked that that Belizians differinciated between travellers like Steve and I and Tourists, like the obnoxious folks we'd just shared a boat with.

We offered to buy speedo a beer but he had kids to get back to. We returned to the hostel and got a nap and some penut butter and jelly sandwiches. That night we decided to venture out and check out the bars we'd heard tell of.

The first bar we found was three stories tall and built around a tree, I think, it was very dark. We headed to the top floor which was open and airy like everyplace else in Caye Caulker. No matter where we went we never really felt indoors. The bar was full of college students talking with locals. I actually overheard an American girl pulling out her text book to correct a man who was giving a first hand account of Caye Caulker's history. The vibe in the place was probably just typical bar vibe, but here in paradise it felt so wrong. We sat and thought about having a beer, but finally just decided to split. On our way back to our hammocks we passed a man whose head was shaped like an octopus. He was bent over real crazy like and swaying back and fourth, big white eyes shining at us.

"Hey boys! You like some candy for your nose?" he asked as we went by. While neither of us would be completely against doing some coke this guy just reaked of really bad news. We declined and scurried on our way. Once back in our hammocks, thoroughly stoned and shaken, we decided we needed to reclaim the idealic feeling life had before the tree house bar. We walked down to the ocean and sat on the dock. We notice a squid in the water and so we lay on our stomachs and wathed it swim around. People must feed the squid for it seemed aware of us and it kept swimming back to us, staying right below our heads. That the moon was bright enough and the water clear enough was amazing. We'd found whah we were looking for as we sat there in silence watched the squid. By the time we got back to our hammocks, not passing any octopi men on the way, we felt good again.

The next day we explored the island and saw some iguanas. I told Tony that my girlfriend had a green iguana at home.

"Why would you want a green iguana? They make terrible eating." I laughed, but Tony wasn't joking. Aparently the brown iguanas often found themselves over some hot bbq coals, but they tasted only a bit better than the green ones we were told and fish was still prefered.

That night we prepared to take off early the next morning for San Ignacio, a town that bordered Guatamala. We packed up our things and the usual crowd came around to smoke out and bbq. Again Michael stood outside the gate. Shit, if he didn't want to hang with Babylonians fine, but why stand around and watch everyone else hang with the Babyonians? I took a big fat joint, (my god we had a-lot of weed) and headed out the gate.

"Hey Michael, you want a hit man?"

He accepted the joint. "So, man, you ever been to America?"

"I don't need to go to Babylon man."

"Yeah. I guess not. You know, I'm not sure I want to go back myself."

He gave me a funny look, not the smile I'd hope for, but when I went back through the gate he came with me. The rest of the gang didn't care for American's either, but since we came in with Tony we were okay. I guess Michael just took a bit more to be persuaded.

I spotted John coming toward us in a golf cart and the joint being passed around was dropped on the ground, stomped out and pocketed. Someone nudged me and told me to be cool. John was there the night before smoking out and talking shit so this reaction confused me.

"What's up?" John asked as he hopped out his silly little car.

"Nothing." somebody answered as everyone else stared at their feet. What the hell had this guy done to fall out of favor so quickly?

"So, who has some kind?" he asked. Hell, I had plenty, but I caught that I should keep my mouth shut. John looked a bit dejected and took off.

"What was that about?" I asked as John dissappeared and the joint came out of hiding.

"He's the cop tonight. When he's on duty he will arrest you for having pot."

"What? But he was smoking with us."

"He wasn't on duty. Sometimes I'm the cop too, but not too often, I'm not so good at it."

Tony filled in the details. "He has a jail cell in his garage. If he catches you smoking pot you have to go there for a day or two. It sucks. If you guys got caught it could be worse, he might try to get some money out of you before letting you go."

I found this absolutely hillarious. Tony continued. "Belize adopted American drug policy when we accepted American foreign aid. So now, every night, someone is the cop. John does it the most, I think he likes it."

Wow. This was amazing. After dinner everybody went to the reef bar. Steve and I had seen enough of the local bar scene and decided to get some sleep as we'd be heading out early the next morning.

We got up early and made our way to the docks to catch the water taxi back to Belize City. Once in Belize City we found a cheap bus over to San Ignacio, also known as Cayo. Getting off the bus in Cayo we're met by guides. The guides ask you what your looking for and then help you find it for tips. I'm guessing they also get a kickback from the little hotels as they were aggressively pushing us toward one place or another.

"TV, Air Conditioning, go to Marie's. Marie's is the place you want."

"Hey, we're just looking to pitch our hammocks, we don't need a room."

"Oh, camping. Okay, listen, head down this road and you'll find a place called Cosmos. They have nice cabanas and camping."

We tipped the guy a buck and headed on down the road. We got nervous as the road took us further away from civilization, especially since a total stranger had just sent us down the road. I worried that we might be about to be robbed, but then my faith in humanity was restored as we came across Cosmos, A beautiful old house with a giant yard seeming cut right into the rainforest. In the yard were a couple of cabanas, small one room structures with walls and a roof but no glass in the windows or doors in the doorways. Each cabana had a fire pit and in the middle of the yard was a brick enclosure with a couple of showers.

We knocked on the door and met Bing who lived there with his mother and brother Juni. Bing had big eyes glasses and a mop of black hair. He rented us a cabana and invited us to have some iced tea with him. At first we though he was Cosmo, but as he explained the camp was not Cosmo's camp, but rather Camp Cosmos, like all the cosmos, the universe, the galaxy. Bing asked us if we'd be interested in a tour of the caverns in the morning and we said sure. He hooked us up with William Michael Warrior who would send two of his guides to takes us through the caverns the next day. William was taking an American family, also staying at Cosmos on a bike tour of the rainforest. This family was the opposite of the one in Belize. They were so cool, to each other, to us, to everyone around them. The parents encouraged their kids to interact with people and provided a good example of how this was done. It was inspiring to see someone parenting right and reaping the rewards.

We sat around a fire that night and smoked some more of our endless supply of weed. Amazed to be sitting around a campfire in the middle of a rain forest. It felt now like we'd been away for months instead of days. A VW Camper bus pulled in and parked by us sometime in the night.

In the morning we managed to survive ice cold showers and we met our V.W. driving neighbors. I noticed the accent asked, "So, are you French." Be careful with this question.

"What! No, I am not god damn French. I hate the French, they are so snobby and stinky. They smell like shit. They don't tip. They make fun of my French. I hate them, we both do." The Francophobe was a curly headed man who was travelling with a beautiful young blonde woman.

"So, where are you guys from?"

"We are French Canadian. From Quebec."

We said goodbye to our passionate new pals and headed to the house to meet our tour guides and have some coffee, the best coffee I'd ever had in my life.

"Holy crap, Cosmo, I mean Bing, where do you get this coffee? It's so good." At this Bing proudly pulled out a jar of Nestle Instant Coffee. I almost spit. Ha. It really did taste great. I guess ambiance is a truly powerful force.

A green van came in and we were introduced to Pedro and Felix. There is a bugs bunny episode with two men stranded tiny island. One is fat and short, one is tall with a big nose. These were our tour guides. Felix, the tall thing guy drove and his partner rode shot gun. Already in the van was a couple, probably in their thirties. Apparently we had to stop by Pedro's place to pick up his lunch.

Felix started impersonating Pedro's panic at the thought of starving and he was bouncing up and down in his seat, slapping his thighs, laughing insanely loud as he did it. I didn' t want to laugh at poor Pedro but Felix was killing me with his enthusiasm. I finally lost it when we got to Pedro's house and his son, a CLONE of him in a diaper stood holding Pedro's lunch. Seeing the big sad, silly face and giant belly in miniature form was too much and tear came streaming now as I became as amused as Felix. We now headed for the water and Pedro lit a joint. Felix apparently didn't approve and his insults became less jovial and were mostly uttered in spanglish.

Passing a Menanite farm Felix asked us to keep our camera's down, explaining that the Menanites do not like to be photographed. There they were, farming away with no modern equipment. The farms were gorgeous.

We reached the water and loaded two kayaks in. Steve and I would go with Pedro and Felix would take the couple. We floated through beautiful rainforest. At one point the water became too shallow for all three people to stay in the kayak. Felix got out of the kayak in front of us and pulled the couple along. What did our guide do? He instructed Steve and I to get out and pull him along, explaining that he had to steer. Ha ha, amazed but ready to go with the flow we did as he requested. Felix turned around and saw us pulling Pedro along. His great loud laughter echoed all around us.

At the entrance to the caverns, a tall narrow crack on the side of a mountain, we passed an older man and a young woman swimming. Felix invited them to join us and the girl accepted, climbing into our kayak and saying goodbye to her friend. She was there living with the Menanites and studying their way of life. She was very smart and charming company.

The cavern was amazing. we floated through, each kayak equiped with a spotlight haphazardly wired to a car battery. Felix explained that the Mayans had a bush that would burn bright for hours allowing them to journey into the caverns to bury their dead. We saw remains, skulls mostly embeded in the rock overhead. I couldn't figure out how the hell the skulls would become embedded in the rock. It felt like Disneyland. We went through a narrow passageway, the caven cieling just a foot above our heads. Felix suggested we use ou flash lights and look into the holes in the cieling. Doing so revealed bats looking groggily back at us.

Eventually we came to a spot wher the floor rose up out of the water. We docked our kayaks and sat for a minute to experience the complete darkness in the caverns. It was truly pitch black, a strange sensation in a large space. The next leg of the tour would scare the hell out of me. Felix explained that we would go on foot to a cave entrance that was under water. inside the cave we'd have to tread water for a good five feet to an exit also under water. There would only be a few feet between the surface of the water and the cieling of the cave. I decided to confront my fears and do it. Steve opted to grab the opportunity to spend time with a pretty girl as our new friend decided she'd stay on the rock.

Off we went. The path was just just as Felix had described it. Before I went under water I asked the man ahead of me to alert everyone if I didn't come trough right behind him. I held my breath, I went under, found the cave entrance and passed through, aware that I was under water with something above my head that would prevent me from surfacing I rushed through. I made it. The treading water wasn't bad though I wondered how the oxygen supply in the small pocket I was breathing from got replenished. I ducked back under before I had time to think aobut it and I came out the other side. I'd done it. I don't remember much of what I saw next I was distracted by the knowledge that I'd have to do it again to get back.

We made it back of course and found Steve and the student. Kayaking back out the guides shut off their lights, and we floated in darkness, until Pedro crashed us into a rock and brought Felixes booming laughter out again. Pedro recovered and off again with the lights. Coming slowly around the corner and seeing the daylight again was like watching a sun rise. It was a majestic thing.

We dropped the student off and made our way back to the van. We stopped at a bar to have a beer and watch the ocean and William Michael Warrior came into say hello and ask how our tour was. With him was the dad from the cool family. We all had a beer and Warrior told us he'd gone to the states to study business and then he came back and started his tours. He'd recently bought a hot air balloon and was putting together a crew to do balloon trips. He told us we should stay in Belize and be tour guides. Wow, our second such offer. What a life that would be.

We finished our beers and headed back to our camp. The French Canadians were hanging out and in no time at all my favorite subject came up, much to Steve's chagrin.

"So, how have your shits been in Mexico? I heard it was problems, but I've been fine. I have a huge shit this morning, nice and solid and brown." our curly haired friend shared.

Ha ha. It was like and episode of The Twilight Zone. We'd entered a parallel universe where I was the normal one and Steve was the Freak. But it only got better when the pretty blonde girl, in her ultra feminine, french accented voice added her own scatological ruminations.

"I was come to Mexico and I'm worried because no poo on the first day, no poo on the second day and now poo on the third day. Finally though yesterday, I have a poo at last and it is so happy because it is the biggest poo I have ever make."

Steve was just blown away. He wasn't impressed enough to share any poop stories of his own though so I told of the mighty German turd we'd encountered in Mexico.

We woke the next morning with no solid plans. We wandered into town and stopped at a little bakery run by an American expatriot. He sold us some bread and honey and told us that Belize was going down the toilet due to American influence. According to his version of things gangs calling themselves bloods and crips popped up almost instantly as marijuana became ilegal. He was upset at about it and was looking to move further south. "I just keep running from the U.S.A. but it keeps expanding."

We sat on the curb, in the insane heat and had the most delicious bread and honey we'd ever tasted. There was a cross country bicycle race finishing in town on this day so everyone was excited. There was a fair going and at night there would be dancing. We decided to grab a cold can of Coke and check out the fair.

At the little grocery store we were amazed by Blessed Virgin Dish Detergent, Blood Of Christ Air Sanitizer and other very Catholic products. We grabbed a couple of Cokes out of the cooler and we recieved the warning from the cashier.

"Don't drink those until they warm up a little."

I laughed. He wasn't joking. "We have tourists die every year from drinking Cold cokes in this heat. Their hearts just stop. It's too much of a shock to the system." I noticed a couple of local kids behind us taking their Cokes warm from a shelf next to the refrigerator. We thanked him for advice and then we really savored our ice cold Cokes. Some things were worth dying for.

We made our way up the street toward the fairgrounds and found the most bizarre flea market, county fair environment. A row of booth sat in the hot sun offering a chance to fire a b.b. gun in exchange for some coin. If the b.b. hit one of the intended targets music would play and the unfortunate looking dolls in the booth would dance around, if you can consider being yanked back and forth by fishing line tied around their necks dancing. Most of the dolls were haggard and dirty but none were so pittiful as the Celina dol, a Barbie painted black with a mess of died black Barbie hair. It was a surreal site and I had to see every booth, studying every detail even as the temperature increased, the sun beating down on me.

The prizes you could win were equally creative. As if the factories in China that churn out disposable crap agreed to put together various spare pieces that they'd not managed to move resulting in a little plastic devil, on a stick, with a plastic catshup cup for a hat and a pinwheel stuck in his side. One these would have been odd, but seeing rows of them was just beautiful.
Steve was losing patiences as I begged him to photograph the devils from every possible angel. Neither of us had a digital camera yet.

We'd had enough of the fair and enough of the heat and we decided to go back to cosmos for a nap. On the way we passed a group of young men, one of whome reached out and plucked Steve's bandana from his head. Steve snatched it back.

"What the hell?" he asked.

"No blue here man." the grabby youngster informed us his buddies flased gang signs. "Only red for love."

"It's just a bandana. I'm not in a gang." Steve explained, obviously finding this a bit ridiculous. I was really hoping he'd just tuck that bandana in his pocket and assure the bloods or whatever the hell they wanted to be that we'd be glad to oblige. Steve surprisingly seemed ready to fight them on it. Then a cop car rolled by and the gang continued on it's way.

Steve put his bandana back on.

"Dude, what are you doing?" I was not pleased.

"I'm wearing my bandana. That's bullshit."

"Okay, Steve, I agree, but we're visiting, so let's not try and fight the bullshit okay. That isn't what we're here for."

I'm sure Steve gave a strong argument, he's a bright guy, but I was distracted by thoughts of being shot in Belize. We went and had a nap. Steve and the French Canadians decided to walk down the back path out of Cosmo's yard to the river. I lay down a bit longer and then I got bored and went to join them.

"Keith, Keith come quick! It's a Jesus Lizard." Steve saw me coming and hurried me along.

I'd been hoping to see a Jesus Lizard. These cool little guys can actualy run on the surface of the water. The locals told me that it was unlikely as even they rarely saw these lizards. I ran and arrived to find my three friends in shocked silence. "What happened? Where's the Lizard?"

Steve looked up at me. "It sank."

Wow. After they convinced me that they weren't messing with me, that a Jesus Lizard had run halfway across teh water, sinking upon my arrival I began to convince myself that I was indeed the anti-Christ.

That night we decided to have a drink at one ofthe local bars. The bar was cavernous and mostly empty, though we were told it would get busy and wild later. I ordered a rum, which came in a bottle the size of a beer bottle rather than by the shot, and I was given a glass of milk. I explainned that I didn't drink milk and I tried to take my rum.

"No man. You must drink the milk with the rum, or you will get sick."

Wow. No cold Cokes, no rum without milk. I tried to explain that I'd dranken rum before but it became clear that I was not welcome to drink rum without milk in this bar. I took my rum, and my milk and sat at a table with Steve.

"Um, dude, I need you to drink this milk for me."

Steve was having a beer, which doesn't call for a milk chaser. He agreed to have a few sips and I drank my rum. We didn't wait for the wild times. We decided to get some sleep and make our way into Guatamala come morning.

Waking up we decided we'd give Bing the dollar to use the hot showers in the house. The "hot shower" wat a little heating element that the cold water ran through. you stood below it and you got a hot shower, with no water pressure to speak of. It was glorious after a week of cold showers. The raw wiring left me worrying about being electrocuted but having survived cold Cokes, rum without milk and Belizian Bloods I was pretty sure I was invincible.

"Wow Bing, I've never seen a shower like that."

"You don't have this techonology in America?"

This cracked me up. I wondered if he knew of the wonderous invention that we would call a water heater. We had coffee, stil delicious and instant, with Bing and his brother and mom. She was really sweet but we were not permited to photograph her. She said she was too old for picutres. We said good bye and made our way to the busses. We ran into our guide, the man who had pointed us toward Cosmos to begin with. Wanting to ditch the weed we'd picked up at Caye Caulker we handed him the absurdly large joint that we'd rolled with the last of it. His eyes lit up.

"Oh this is great. Thank you. My mother is coming to visit today and now I will be able to give her some smokes." He helped us find a bus into Guatamala.

A boy who I'd guess was around 16 wanted to put our luggage up on top of the bus but everything we'd read told us not to let go of our luggage. We insisted we keep our luggage. He seemed desperate to sell us a ticket but equally desperate not to have us board the very crowded bus, full of chickens and people, with our bags. Finally he came upon a solutions.

"You will ride on top with bags?"

Steve and I looked at each other and then, "Hell yes."

So we climbed up top, and taking turns warning each other when low branches were coming in to threaten our well being, we rode into Guatamala on top of a fast moving bus navigating a mostly dirt highway.

Read Part Three by clicking HERE.

Read Part One by clicking HERE.