Day 1. Back…to Belize

So here’s the background. When Sander and I were in Florida enjoying the last bit of decent weather the sunshine state offers before the roads melt, we were offered a chance to go to Iceland with my friend Bobby (now that he’s a big time professional, he goes by “Robert,” or if pressed, “Rob.” But since I’ve known him for over 20 years, I get to call him “Bobby.” Which really isn’t bad by kid nicknames, it’s not like “Booger” or “Stinky” or “Pee Wee.” (True story and unimportant side note. We had a friend in High School who had the unfortunate genes to look like Pee Wee Herman. So, naturally, we all called him Pee Wee. And, naturally, we all still do. Nothing quite like childhood friends.)) Anyway, Bobby said he was going to Iceland, and Sander and I thought that’s a cool (boooooo) trip. But he had to back out, and at first we thought we’d go ahead and go anyway. Then I researched it (shocker) and saw that, besides swimming in the Hot Springs, there’s not really much for an eight year old with a broken arm (did I mention he had a broken arm?) to do there, and since we have Hot Springs in beautiful Glenwood Springs, we decided that maybe we should go somewhere else. So where to go, where to go?

Well, Sander and I were talking and we remembered that the last time we were in Belize, we saw an article about swimming with whale sharks. We thought we should look into when they’re around and maybe head that away. For those of you wondering how I get through life, this turns out to be a prime example. The question, “Hey, I wonder if now, the exact same week we have a break in our schedule to go to Iceland, only now it looks like that trip will bust, is also, randomly, a good time to swim with whale sharks in Belize?” The answer, “Holy smokes! That very week is the last time of the year when whale shark viewing is good in Belize.” Apparently, Whale Sharks migrate off the Belzian reef near Placencia over a period of only three months during the summer, and within those months, only during the three days before and after the full moon. Guess when the full moon…fulls in June? If you said “Right in the middle of the week you have allotted for vacation,” you are correct. Pretty cool right? So we loaded up our truck and moved to Belizery.

A quick note about loading up our truck. Apparently I lack whatever evolutionary trait that signals your brain that when doing something for someone, you should maybe do the same for yourself. You will notice from the pictures herewith enclosed in this paper that Sander has his famous blue “Snorkel Bob” shirt (which, by the way, draws the same “Are you Snorkel Bob?” and “Hey look, its Snorkel Bob!” comments in Placencia that it did in San Pedro Island. It’s like all the people who come to Belize read the same “Witty Comments for Tourists” book). So I packed the proper sun protection for Sander, but when packing for myself at no time did I think, “Hey, Sander has an spf shirt to protect him from the blazing Belizian sun, maybe I should grab mine.” Not once, not ever. In fact, so extreme was my blockage on this particular issue that when we were getting ready for our first day on the water, I put Sander’s shirt on, said, “OK, now you’re ready to go” and even then it didn’t dawn on me to grab mine. It was only over breakfast that, staring at Sander in his bright blue long sleeve shirt, did I slowly stop chewing and begin to ponder what was wrong. “Something’s wrong” thinks my brain, “But what.” “OK, don’t panic. Lets run the checklist. Sunblock? Check. Bug Spray? Check. Sander’s sun hat? Check. Snacks? Check. Oh wait, mask and snorkel? Nope, put those in the bag. What…is…wrong…here? Boy that is oooooooone blue shirt he’s wearing. Blue like the ocean, can’t miss that. Oh well, at least it protects him from the blistering equatorial sun. I mean this sun will cook a steak. Man, I bet there are going to be some beet red tourists. Suckers. Bet they’ll wish they had me as a daddy. Boy these are good eggs. Nope, something still doesn’t feel right. I wonder if Sander will be able to put sunblock on my back. Hmmmm, wait, I don’t need it, I have my sun shirt. Sunshirt…sunshirt…sunshirt. (Here, I’m looking back and forth from my fork (don’t know why) to Sander, to my fork, to Sander, to my daybag, to Sander) Aaaaaah wait, no I don’t! I didn’t bring my sunshirt! Wait; do I even own a sun shirt? Let’s see, in all those pictures from the last trip I was wearing one…I think. But if I own one, why aren’t I wearing it right now? What kind of an idiot comes to Belize without a sun shirt? Why didn’t I pack it? Oh man, I hope Sander can put sunblock on my back. I’m gonna fry. I guess this shirt is black, but even a black shirt is only like sunblock 8. I’m an idiot! Maybe I can buy one (Editors note: You can’t. Nowhere in Placencia do they sell sun shirts-thus proving I’m the only idiot to come to Belize without one. If there were other idiots like me, there’d be a market for them right? Thank you.).” So this is why I wore my black cotton Team Tralex shirt the whoooooole trip. Awesome.

So, we head to Pancencia (which I remember because it sounds like Plancenta-a gross, but effective pneumonic). The first shot is of us in the Customs area. I’ve decided that my goal is to keep taking pictures in Customs areas around the world and make them into a Coffee Table Book. Please start pooling together bail money for my trip to Turkey. The next two shots are of our “airline” and “airplane.” This time we flew “Mayan Air” and about 30 minutes into our flight I understood the origin of the name. Apparently the modern intonation of the Mayan culture is to try force your heart out through your mouth by lurching the plane up and down as much as possible. But don’t worry we were safe. The nice airport man outside the plane asked that I please be sure that the door is latched properly from the inside. There’s said latch in the next picture. I took that shot in case the plane went down. With my picture in hand, authorities could rule out “Idiot tourist sitting next to door didn’t properly latch it shut.” By the way, as a general rule, I don’t think its wise to trust “airplane door latching” to random tourists, and I tried not to dwell on all the times I’ve walked in on someone in the bathroom because they didn’t properly latch the door. Nope, not a good thing to think about while flying on a Third World Airline. But we make it and land at the “Airport.” There will be a whole “Placencia Airport” section later, stay tuned.

After we land, we get into our cab and head to the resort. As the driver is taking us there, she mentions that town is about three miles behind us, and that we have about five miles to go to our hotel. At which point I think, “Hmmmm, I wonder why we’re staying eight miles out-side of town? I mean, how big can town be? Why are we driving through all this nothingness? Maybe this place is some fantastic resort? (Nope, it was distinctly OK, and I mean that by local standards. There was nothing about this place, that I could tell, that other places in town didn’t offer.) Maybe this place has the easiest access to the Whale Shark dive boats? (Nope, you have to go all the way back into town to get the boats.) Maybe this place is where all the divers stay? (Nope, every diver/snorkeler we met besides two, stayed in town.) Turns out the main benefit to us staying there was to the local economy. The food was 3x more expensive at the resort, and since it was a 40-minute drive from town (yup, that’s how long it takes to go eight miles by golf cart on a dirt, rutted out Belizian “highway”) you eat there for breakfast and dinner, and you have to rent the afore mentioned cart. I call it a “Dumb Tourist Tax.” But here’s the thing, I tried a distinctly new travel method this time. I called my travel agent, who called a local travel agent, to set up the trip. Rather than do my usual, “We’ll just show up and see what we see” method, I actually tried to do the right thing and plan ahead. Well at least now I’ve learned the valuable lesson that planning is for suckers. Glad that’s settled.

However, the hotel did have one main plus. It had an actual waterbed. Now I know what happened to all those waterbeds from the 70’s, they migrated to Belize. That’s Sander showing the joy of the waterbed (waterbed, neon green travel neck pillow and a big smile-we Elliott’s roll hard). He informed me that he loves it, and he wants one. I told him he could put it right under his disco ball and next to his lava lamp. He didn’t get it, but I laughed and laughed. Anyway, I let him sleep there until our roof leaked and we had to switch rooms. And seriously, it was like I cancelled Christmas. It nearly ruined the trip having to let go of that waterbed; it also removed the one perk to the resort. But we recovered, and there was much mirth and merriment ahead for all.

So that was our first day. Next…whale sharks! Or not