Following my little side trip to Guatemala, I hurried back to Belize City to pack up my belongings and vacate my apartment.
What a job! I carted most of my clothes to the Red Cross, sold some of my household chattels and gave the rest to my regular taxi driver, and still found I couldn't get everything into my case and two rucksacks. Oh dear.
I moved with my luggage into a hotel in the tourist area of the city, and went to collect Brian from the airport. Luckily, he had brought a spare suitcase full of children's clothing to donate, so off to the Red Cross again and I had room for the rest of my stuff.
After spending a night in the city, and the next morning doing a whistlestop tour to meet some of my new friends and colleagues, we whizzed down to Placencia for nine nights of blissful vegging by the sea.
Our apartment was right on the beach, and I could watch the sun rise without getting out of the kingsize bed.
It was so hot, every day, that we spent most of our time swimming in the sea or lying in hammocks on our verandah.
One day we dragged ourselves to the harbour and took a sailing trip so we could swim and snorkel out at sea. Needless to say, Brian got sunburnt despite 60SPF cream and sitting in the shade.
A couple of days later, we took a trip on a speed boat up the Monkey River where we saw lots of impressive birds, crocodiles, manatees, and, as you might expect, monkeys.
Our only other outing was to visit Francis Ford Coppola's resort, Turtle Inn, which was fabulous without making us wish we were staying there.
Our holiday was over all too soon, and we were soon heading home via Atlanta. The journey was remarkably pain free, with no hold-ups, and we even had time to visit the Aquarium before catching our flight home.
It seems like this will be the last post from vivinbelize, so thank you for reading my blog; I've enjoyed telling you about my adventures.
Love
Viv x
Tuesday, 11 March 2008
Monday, 18 February 2008
You Tarzan, me not exactly Jane
How to follow Tikal?
The day after my wander round the Mundo Perdido I decided to be adventurous and set off to explore the private jungle reserve of Ixpanpajul. I caught the chicken bus to a crossroads, then walked the three kilometers to Ixpanpajul.
No-one else was there, so I had the jungle to myself. I took a three kilometer self-guided trail that led ever upwards to a mirador which looked out across Lago Peten Itza, and, it seemed, most of Guatemala.
The walk was criss-crossed by a (for me) fearsome network of six suspension bridges which wobbled precariously as I tiptoed over them. Another personal challenge confronted and overcome!
I was exhausted and breathing heavily by the time I got to the mirador. By some miracle, there was a palapa at the top complete with a row of hammocks. An obliging young man (a warden with not much to do) rocked my hammock while I lay with my eyes closed, getting my breath back.
After walking back down to the visitor centre, I negotiated a lift to Flores with a van driver - it's amazing how I'm managing to communicate without a common language!
Following lunch in Flores by the captivating lake (a lovely green today), I decided to take a tuk-tuk across the causeway to noisy, dirty, chaotic Santa Elena, Flores' rowdy neighbouring town.
Santa Elena was interesting in a rough and ready sort of way, but not really a shoppers' paradise. I went to the bus terminal to see if I could make my way back to El Remate and La Casa de Don David.
The way public transport in Guatemala works is this: you walk up and down the row of empty mini-buses (called collectivos) and ask each driver if he is going to El Remate. When you say to them "El Remate?" they shake their head and point their finger down the line. You eventually find a driver who nods "yes" to your question, and get on his bus. You sit there for fifteen minutes, then he jumps on and speeds you to the local market, which is totally crowded, crazy, and teeming with people, animals, stalls, and noise. A bit like a Central American Marrakesh.
The driver pulls up in an incredibly small space, gets out,and starts to shout "El Remate, El Remate!" , trying to implore people to get on his bus. In the meantime, a host of traders selling everything from doughnuts, drinks, tacos, fruit, vegetables, you name it, they've got it, board the bus.
To my delight a woman sat next to me with a live chicken. Remembering she had forgotten to buy something, she asked me to mind it while she popped out. No trouble! Eventually, when the bus is crammed to the hilt, we set off on our journey back to El Remate. The whole process has taken an hour and a half. Free entertainment, the real Guatemala, fascinating.
The day after my wander round the Mundo Perdido I decided to be adventurous and set off to explore the private jungle reserve of Ixpanpajul. I caught the chicken bus to a crossroads, then walked the three kilometers to Ixpanpajul.
No-one else was there, so I had the jungle to myself. I took a three kilometer self-guided trail that led ever upwards to a mirador which looked out across Lago Peten Itza, and, it seemed, most of Guatemala.
The walk was criss-crossed by a (for me) fearsome network of six suspension bridges which wobbled precariously as I tiptoed over them. Another personal challenge confronted and overcome!
I was exhausted and breathing heavily by the time I got to the mirador. By some miracle, there was a palapa at the top complete with a row of hammocks. An obliging young man (a warden with not much to do) rocked my hammock while I lay with my eyes closed, getting my breath back.
After walking back down to the visitor centre, I negotiated a lift to Flores with a van driver - it's amazing how I'm managing to communicate without a common language!
Following lunch in Flores by the captivating lake (a lovely green today), I decided to take a tuk-tuk across the causeway to noisy, dirty, chaotic Santa Elena, Flores' rowdy neighbouring town.
Santa Elena was interesting in a rough and ready sort of way, but not really a shoppers' paradise. I went to the bus terminal to see if I could make my way back to El Remate and La Casa de Don David.
The way public transport in Guatemala works is this: you walk up and down the row of empty mini-buses (called collectivos) and ask each driver if he is going to El Remate. When you say to them "El Remate?" they shake their head and point their finger down the line. You eventually find a driver who nods "yes" to your question, and get on his bus. You sit there for fifteen minutes, then he jumps on and speeds you to the local market, which is totally crowded, crazy, and teeming with people, animals, stalls, and noise. A bit like a Central American Marrakesh.
The driver pulls up in an incredibly small space, gets out,and starts to shout "El Remate, El Remate!" , trying to implore people to get on his bus. In the meantime, a host of traders selling everything from doughnuts, drinks, tacos, fruit, vegetables, you name it, they've got it, board the bus.
To my delight a woman sat next to me with a live chicken. Remembering she had forgotten to buy something, she asked me to mind it while she popped out. No trouble! Eventually, when the bus is crammed to the hilt, we set off on our journey back to El Remate. The whole process has taken an hour and a half. Free entertainment, the real Guatemala, fascinating.
Mundo Perdido (The Lost World)
The main purpose of my trip to Guatemala was to visit the ruins of the ancient city of Tikal. Somewhere between 5ooAD and 900BC Tikal was a thriving city of, if I remember the facts correctly, 150,000 inhabitants.
Mystery surrounds the collapse of the Mayan civilization, and after its demise the jungle swallowed up the abandoned city of Tikal and concealed it for centuries.
Through the eyes of our wonderful guide, Juan, we saw the daily life of these cultured and scientifically advanced people, and in the five hours we spent with him I was in turn amazed and astonished by the facts and figures and most of all the stunning temples that have been excavated. Juan was like a walking encyclopaedia, and kept us spellbound with tales of the Mayan knowledge of the stars, the seasons, and their understanding of the universe.
The temples rise from the jungle, some of them only partly excavated, with just their top layer visible above the trees. At Juan's insistence I climbed the highest, which is 65 metres, although we could only climb to a level of 40 metres. The view from the top was awesome, and it was intriguing to wonder how many more of the peaks concealed long lost temples.
The jungle setting was a bonus; we saw howler and spider monkeys, turtles, and keel billed toucans amongst other creatures, and Juan was a mine of information when it came to information about wildlife and nature.
As I recall I've now visited five Mayan sites on this trip to Central America, all of them very different and with its own charm, but Tikal was the hands down winner.
Mystery surrounds the collapse of the Mayan civilization, and after its demise the jungle swallowed up the abandoned city of Tikal and concealed it for centuries.
Through the eyes of our wonderful guide, Juan, we saw the daily life of these cultured and scientifically advanced people, and in the five hours we spent with him I was in turn amazed and astonished by the facts and figures and most of all the stunning temples that have been excavated. Juan was like a walking encyclopaedia, and kept us spellbound with tales of the Mayan knowledge of the stars, the seasons, and their understanding of the universe.
The temples rise from the jungle, some of them only partly excavated, with just their top layer visible above the trees. At Juan's insistence I climbed the highest, which is 65 metres, although we could only climb to a level of 40 metres. The view from the top was awesome, and it was intriguing to wonder how many more of the peaks concealed long lost temples.
The jungle setting was a bonus; we saw howler and spider monkeys, turtles, and keel billed toucans amongst other creatures, and Juan was a mine of information when it came to information about wildlife and nature.
As I recall I've now visited five Mayan sites on this trip to Central America, all of them very different and with its own charm, but Tikal was the hands down winner.
Thursday, 14 February 2008
vivinguatemala
It felt quite strange not going to work at CARE-Belize on Monday morning. Instead I caught the Mundo Maya express bus to Guatemala and checked into La Casa de Don David at El Remate five hours later. It felt good to leave the grime and crime of mad bad Belize City behind and exchange it for the open countryside.
La Casa de Don David is right on the Lago de Peten Itza, and my little cabana is very comfortable with hot water in the bathroom (bliss), a hammock on the verandah (very civilized), good food (always welcome), and decent affordable wine (hurrah!)
I spent the first afternoon wandering along the lake shore, watching the local children swimming while their mothers waded out waste deep to do the weekly wash on the nearest rocks.
The next day I flagged down a minibus and got a ride to Flores, the capital of the El Peten region, which is situated about 30 kilometers from El Remate, and actually on the lake (you reach it via a causeway).
Flores is a pretty and sedate town, full of interesting souvenir shops and little bars and restaurants tucked on to narrow cobbled streets.
The lake surrounding the town is truly blue and I sat happily just gazing at its beauty for quite a long time.
The Guatemalan people in this area are mostly of Mayan descent, with not much evidence of Spanish blood. English isn´t widely spoken amongst the people I come into contact with, though their broken English is invariably better than my broken Spanish.
Interestingly (to me, anyway), I´m taller than most Guatemalans, men as well as women. I feels quite strange to look down at someone for a change.
La Casa de Don David is right on the Lago de Peten Itza, and my little cabana is very comfortable with hot water in the bathroom (bliss), a hammock on the verandah (very civilized), good food (always welcome), and decent affordable wine (hurrah!)
I spent the first afternoon wandering along the lake shore, watching the local children swimming while their mothers waded out waste deep to do the weekly wash on the nearest rocks.
The next day I flagged down a minibus and got a ride to Flores, the capital of the El Peten region, which is situated about 30 kilometers from El Remate, and actually on the lake (you reach it via a causeway).
Flores is a pretty and sedate town, full of interesting souvenir shops and little bars and restaurants tucked on to narrow cobbled streets.
The lake surrounding the town is truly blue and I sat happily just gazing at its beauty for quite a long time.
The Guatemalan people in this area are mostly of Mayan descent, with not much evidence of Spanish blood. English isn´t widely spoken amongst the people I come into contact with, though their broken English is invariably better than my broken Spanish.
Interestingly (to me, anyway), I´m taller than most Guatemalans, men as well as women. I feels quite strange to look down at someone for a change.
Tuesday, 12 February 2008
Mission Accomplished
Well, the title sounds a bit pretentious, but I ought to keep you up to date with my work activities, and last Friday, 8 February, was my last day at work.
I did what I set out to do three months ago - I developed a strategic plan for CARE-Belize, together with a detailed action programme so everybody knows what they have to do to achieve the plan's objectives.
I held an implementation workshop for all the staff so that they all feel comfortable with the plan, and CARE now has a new Board with appointed officers and a schedule of meetings for 2008.
I'm optimistic that CARE now has a solid structure with achievable objectives, and a plan that can be used to guide, monitor and evaluate progress. It can also be used as evidence to show potential funders that the organisation is sustainable and worthwhile.
In my last few days, I looked into some fundraising ideas. I spent a day in Tourist Village, where all the cruise ships dock and spill out their passengers for a day's sightseeing in Belize.
My friend and colleague Sister Bev helped, and by selling silicone wristbands and asking for donations of loose change we raised US$337. It may not sound much by English standards, but to put it into perspective, it's enough to buy a pair of leg braces for Doris, a child with spina bifida who can't walk until money to pay for the braces can be found; it's enough to pay CARE's fuel bill for a month; and it's almost a month's wages for a CARE Rehabilitation Field Officer.
The best thing is, cruise ships come in at least twice a week, always with a new set of passengers. Sister Bev is now busy recruiting volunteers to make this a regular fundraising event.
My reward for finishing my project on time is a few days 'r and r' in Guatemala, so my next post will be sent from Lago El Peten.
I did what I set out to do three months ago - I developed a strategic plan for CARE-Belize, together with a detailed action programme so everybody knows what they have to do to achieve the plan's objectives.
I held an implementation workshop for all the staff so that they all feel comfortable with the plan, and CARE now has a new Board with appointed officers and a schedule of meetings for 2008.
I'm optimistic that CARE now has a solid structure with achievable objectives, and a plan that can be used to guide, monitor and evaluate progress. It can also be used as evidence to show potential funders that the organisation is sustainable and worthwhile.
In my last few days, I looked into some fundraising ideas. I spent a day in Tourist Village, where all the cruise ships dock and spill out their passengers for a day's sightseeing in Belize.
My friend and colleague Sister Bev helped, and by selling silicone wristbands and asking for donations of loose change we raised US$337. It may not sound much by English standards, but to put it into perspective, it's enough to buy a pair of leg braces for Doris, a child with spina bifida who can't walk until money to pay for the braces can be found; it's enough to pay CARE's fuel bill for a month; and it's almost a month's wages for a CARE Rehabilitation Field Officer.
The best thing is, cruise ships come in at least twice a week, always with a new set of passengers. Sister Bev is now busy recruiting volunteers to make this a regular fundraising event.
My reward for finishing my project on time is a few days 'r and r' in Guatemala, so my next post will be sent from Lago El Peten.
Saturday, 9 February 2008
Take me Home!
Just a quick post though I'm almost too shocked to write.
Last night, to celebrate my last day at work, I went out with friends and some of us ended up at the Putt Putt Club. The music was loud and local, the dancing was outrageous, and everybody was having a great time, all Belizeans except for three of us English.
There was a great atmosphere, and the place was still rocking when we left at 2am.
Now I've just heard this morning that at 2.30am several masked gunmen burst into the club and started shooting. 16 people were injured and two girls were killed. Bloody hell!
It's like the Wild West here - I'm not going out again till I get back to Kneesall.
Last night, to celebrate my last day at work, I went out with friends and some of us ended up at the Putt Putt Club. The music was loud and local, the dancing was outrageous, and everybody was having a great time, all Belizeans except for three of us English.
There was a great atmosphere, and the place was still rocking when we left at 2am.
Now I've just heard this morning that at 2.30am several masked gunmen burst into the club and started shooting. 16 people were injured and two girls were killed. Bloody hell!
It's like the Wild West here - I'm not going out again till I get back to Kneesall.
Saturday, 2 February 2008
Extreme Sports
My Danish friend, Kristina, arranged last weekend's visit to Caves Branch Jungle Lodge, and all I had to do was turn up at the bus station by 5.50am on Saturday morning. As someone who is safety conscious and never goes out on foot after dark, it seemed ironic that I was happily walking to the bus station in the pitch dark first thing in the morning. A few voices murmured from the shadows to ask if I needed escorting to the bus stop, but I declined and arrived safely on my own.
Five of us had decided to make a weekend of it. The Rough Guide glows with praise for the adventure activities available at Caves Branch, also mentioning that the food is good and the showers have hot water. This all sounded promising, and we left Kristina to choose which of the extreme sports on offer we would try. I secretly hoped it wouldn't be rapelling (like abseiling, but without a solid wall), or horseriding through the jungle, or spelunking (I don't even know what that is but it sounds painful). Other activities on offer included climbing up waterfalls then leaping 15 feet from the top into a pool below, or abseiling 80 feet down a black hole into a river cave.
Anyway, at 8.30am we were introduced to our guide, Pablo, who told us what fun we were going to have cave tubing. Pablo led us to the Caves Branch River, and gave us all a lifejacket and a large inner tube and told us to get in the water. I was first in, and foolishly got inside the tube like a lifebelt. Pablo patiently explained that I should recline on the tube, as I was going to paddle, not walk or swim, in the river.
When we were all set, Pablo showed us how to guide the tube with our arms, and told us at all costs to steer clear of the banks, especially where the bamboo was growing, and off we went.
Immediately Kristina and her tube were drawn like a magnet to the bamboo on the nearest bank, and she promptly capsized. Kristina can't swim, but amazingly she didn't panic. I was closest to her, and Pablo called out to me to grab her arm while he rescued the tube. We soon had her back on board her vessel, and off we went again, this time sticking like glue to Pablo.
The rapids were fun, and OK they weren't big deal white water rapids like in the Rocky Mountains, but they were fast enough and swirly enough for beginners like us.
After a couple of miles, we came to a pebbly beach and Pablo instructed us to leave the water. We then carried our tubes through the jungle for about half an hour before re-entering the water at the mouth of the first cave.
This was the first time on the trip I felt a little apprehensive. Did I really want to lie on an inner tube and let the fast flowing water take me into the pitch black darkness, where, according to Pablo, we would see not only stalactites, stalagmites, and crystal formations, but vampire bats and large spiders?
Before I got in the water at the start of the journey I had extracted a guarantee from Pablo that there would be no snakes or crocodiles, so I decided not to mention now my reservations about the dark, the bats and the spiders, and just get on with it.
We all put on our headlamps, and ventured into the cave. Kristina and I never strayed from the ever patient Pablo, who looked after us like we were babies. Nikki , Mark's Belizean girlfriend, mostly stuck with our little nursery group, though occasionally she was brave enough to go it alone with Mark and Antro, who of course showed how macho they were by forging ahead.
Unfortunately Mark was far enough ahead not to hear Pablo's instructions of 'stay away from the rocks on the left' - we realised this when we heard the splash and the cursing. Another man overboard!
We spent the next couple of hours gliding or hurtling - depending on whether or not there were rapids - through a spectacular system of caves. Some were so low we had to lay flat to avoid scraping our heads on the ceilings; some opened out into huge cathedral-like caverns with wonderful formations of stalactites and stalagmites and glittering crystal walls. At times in the rapids the water was so shallow we were touching the pebbly river bed, and desperately tried to arch our backs as we painfully bumped along.
My favourite part was the 'windows'; the breaks in the cave walls that exposed the jungle foliage and the steep river banks, letting in the bright sunshine and creating wonderful dramatic scenery.
Eventually, we emerged from our final cave on to a wide pebbly beach, and like a magician Pablo was suddenly laying a white linen tablecloth on the ground, and piling it with a delicious picnic of floury tortillas, fresh salads, cheeses and cooked meats.
We tucked into the food as if we hadn't eaten for days, then laid on the warm stones, replete, to rest our weary bones.
Pablo then explained that we had to climb a little way up the cliff on the opposite river bank, and trek through the jungle for the final leg of our journey. From nowhere, without warning, a tropical downpour began, and although we were wet from tubing, we were suddenly totally drenched, discovering that we could get even wetter.
All this rain made the jungle paths treacherously slippery, and I was the one who fell flat on my back in the mud. I was now soaking wet and coated in mud from head to toe. Not to worry, a good deal of the mud was washed off on our last dash by tube down the river.
After getting out of the water for the last time, we had a short walk to where the Caves Branch Lodge bus was waiting for us, complete with piles of fluffy dry towels.
We were all grateful to get back to the Lodge, shower, and re-group for Happy Hour in the bar. Dinner was good, and our jungle bungalow was simple luxury, with comfy beds and huge uncurtained windows which meant we could see and hear the sights and sounds of the jungle without getting up and going outside. Hammocks on our verandah completed this idyll.
After dinner, a member of staff came to ask what activity we'd like to do on Sunday. Without hesitation, I put my name down for the aromatherapy massage, and Kristina and Nikki followed suit.
Five of us had decided to make a weekend of it. The Rough Guide glows with praise for the adventure activities available at Caves Branch, also mentioning that the food is good and the showers have hot water. This all sounded promising, and we left Kristina to choose which of the extreme sports on offer we would try. I secretly hoped it wouldn't be rapelling (like abseiling, but without a solid wall), or horseriding through the jungle, or spelunking (I don't even know what that is but it sounds painful). Other activities on offer included climbing up waterfalls then leaping 15 feet from the top into a pool below, or abseiling 80 feet down a black hole into a river cave.
Anyway, at 8.30am we were introduced to our guide, Pablo, who told us what fun we were going to have cave tubing. Pablo led us to the Caves Branch River, and gave us all a lifejacket and a large inner tube and told us to get in the water. I was first in, and foolishly got inside the tube like a lifebelt. Pablo patiently explained that I should recline on the tube, as I was going to paddle, not walk or swim, in the river.
When we were all set, Pablo showed us how to guide the tube with our arms, and told us at all costs to steer clear of the banks, especially where the bamboo was growing, and off we went.
Immediately Kristina and her tube were drawn like a magnet to the bamboo on the nearest bank, and she promptly capsized. Kristina can't swim, but amazingly she didn't panic. I was closest to her, and Pablo called out to me to grab her arm while he rescued the tube. We soon had her back on board her vessel, and off we went again, this time sticking like glue to Pablo.
The rapids were fun, and OK they weren't big deal white water rapids like in the Rocky Mountains, but they were fast enough and swirly enough for beginners like us.
After a couple of miles, we came to a pebbly beach and Pablo instructed us to leave the water. We then carried our tubes through the jungle for about half an hour before re-entering the water at the mouth of the first cave.
This was the first time on the trip I felt a little apprehensive. Did I really want to lie on an inner tube and let the fast flowing water take me into the pitch black darkness, where, according to Pablo, we would see not only stalactites, stalagmites, and crystal formations, but vampire bats and large spiders?
Before I got in the water at the start of the journey I had extracted a guarantee from Pablo that there would be no snakes or crocodiles, so I decided not to mention now my reservations about the dark, the bats and the spiders, and just get on with it.
We all put on our headlamps, and ventured into the cave. Kristina and I never strayed from the ever patient Pablo, who looked after us like we were babies. Nikki , Mark's Belizean girlfriend, mostly stuck with our little nursery group, though occasionally she was brave enough to go it alone with Mark and Antro, who of course showed how macho they were by forging ahead.
Unfortunately Mark was far enough ahead not to hear Pablo's instructions of 'stay away from the rocks on the left' - we realised this when we heard the splash and the cursing. Another man overboard!
We spent the next couple of hours gliding or hurtling - depending on whether or not there were rapids - through a spectacular system of caves. Some were so low we had to lay flat to avoid scraping our heads on the ceilings; some opened out into huge cathedral-like caverns with wonderful formations of stalactites and stalagmites and glittering crystal walls. At times in the rapids the water was so shallow we were touching the pebbly river bed, and desperately tried to arch our backs as we painfully bumped along.
My favourite part was the 'windows'; the breaks in the cave walls that exposed the jungle foliage and the steep river banks, letting in the bright sunshine and creating wonderful dramatic scenery.
Eventually, we emerged from our final cave on to a wide pebbly beach, and like a magician Pablo was suddenly laying a white linen tablecloth on the ground, and piling it with a delicious picnic of floury tortillas, fresh salads, cheeses and cooked meats.
We tucked into the food as if we hadn't eaten for days, then laid on the warm stones, replete, to rest our weary bones.
Pablo then explained that we had to climb a little way up the cliff on the opposite river bank, and trek through the jungle for the final leg of our journey. From nowhere, without warning, a tropical downpour began, and although we were wet from tubing, we were suddenly totally drenched, discovering that we could get even wetter.
All this rain made the jungle paths treacherously slippery, and I was the one who fell flat on my back in the mud. I was now soaking wet and coated in mud from head to toe. Not to worry, a good deal of the mud was washed off on our last dash by tube down the river.
After getting out of the water for the last time, we had a short walk to where the Caves Branch Lodge bus was waiting for us, complete with piles of fluffy dry towels.
We were all grateful to get back to the Lodge, shower, and re-group for Happy Hour in the bar. Dinner was good, and our jungle bungalow was simple luxury, with comfy beds and huge uncurtained windows which meant we could see and hear the sights and sounds of the jungle without getting up and going outside. Hammocks on our verandah completed this idyll.
After dinner, a member of staff came to ask what activity we'd like to do on Sunday. Without hesitation, I put my name down for the aromatherapy massage, and Kristina and Nikki followed suit.
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