January 11, 2012 - Day 4, Belize

Drained by the heat and the long bus rides, we called it a night early last night and retreated to our cabins to rest.  I picked up my book but fell asleep before finishing the next page.  At 5 a.m. this morning, I woke up, read a little, fell back to sleep, and woke up again at 6:30, hungry and in serious need of coffee.  I dressed and went upstairs to find coffee and a small bagel, intending to hold off on a full breakfast until my lazybones traveling companions rolled out of bed.  An hour later, Joey joined me as I sat on deck, sipping on my third cup of coffee.   He’d gone in a different door and hadn’t seen me, and he’d already eaten breakfast.  Pennie and Gus were stirring in their cabin, he said, and would be up for breakfast soon.  The three of them had planned a snorkeling excursion which was to last from noon until about 4:30. 

The port at Belize City is evidently not suited for cruise ships.  Looking out the window, we saw three other ships anchored some distance off the coast, with “tenders” ferrying passengers to and from Belize City.  Our ship took its place alongside them.  Since the snorkeling excursion boat would bring Pennie, Gus, and Joey straight back to the ship instead of dropping them off at the pier in Belize City (where they were to board the excursion boat), we decided that the four of us would go into the city early so that we could shop and sight-see before they went snorkeling.  We rode the tender over to the city about 10 a.m.

With four ships in port, the tourist shops, lining a strip about 4 blocks long, were crawling with people.  We dutifully fell in line with the rest of the tourists, moving from store to store, seeing the same cheap crap in every one of them.  When we reached the end of the tourist trap, we turned around and started back, looking for a place to get out of the sun, eat a snack, and drink something cool.  Only a few steps away, we saw a place called “The Wet Lizard” on the second story of a building.  We climbed the steps, ordered chips and salsa and tea.  From that vantage point, I spotted a shopping area that we had not seen from street level.  My eyes lit up at the sight of a sign that read, “Craft Market.”  The snorkelers would not have time to explore it, but I would. 

After we finished resting, I walked the three of them to their excursion gathering point and began trying to figure out how to get to the back-street market I’d seen from above.  A security guard directed me to a back door which opened onto a fenced parking lot.  There was a gate in the fence, and another security guard standing near it.  He pointed to the left when I asked him how to get to the craft market.

The instant I stepped beyond the gate, I was nearly assaulted by the smell of horse poop and people wanting to braid my hair, paint my toenails, massage my feet, or sell me something.  I waved off most of them, but two aggressive women followed me down the street, one on each side of me, telling me how they could fix me up with braids and beads and manicures in as little as 10 minutes.  I finally shook them off about two blocks later, at which point other “sales people” took their places.  The booths in the craft market were disappointing; they sold essentially the same items I could have bought on the main drag.  “How about a necklace [or fresh coconut milk, or a drum], pretty lady?” they shouted, beckoning me toward them with hand gestures.  I sped up and hurried up the street, looking for the nearest gate that would let me back into the “tourist trap.”  A tender back to the ship was just about to depart as I emerged from the back streets.  I hurried toward it and climbed aboard.

At 4:30, I went to a craft demonstration on making travel journals.  The lady sitting next to me was from Germantown, and we had a good time talking about our travels.

When I got back to the cabin after the craft demo, the snorkelers had returned, all three of them as pink as lobsters and grinning from ear to ear.  Apparently, the snorkeling expedition was awesome.  After the snorkeling, they went to an island for a beach party/cookout.   You’ll have to wait for pictures of the snorkeling adventure until the underwater camera film gets developed.