Day 6. Going home.

So our little adventure comes to an end. So we pack up, say goodbye to our little resort and head to the cab. In true Belizian fashion, we have to wait so the cabbie can troll the streets and pick up a few more passengers. Eventually, we all load up into the van and head towards town. All-in-all the resort was good to us. The people were nice, the food was great, we met some nice tourists, and swam in the pool everyday. But mostly I remember lying in bed at night and laughing. It’s a great time when a little boy becomes genuinely funny on his own. Some of the things he said had me laughing so hard my stomach hurt. We also started doing yoga at night (“relaxing yoga”) and yoga in the morning (“wake-up yoga”). He made up wake-up yoga and it works (OK, truth be told, I was making up relaxing yoga too. But it seemed to work. Maybe we’ll hit the late-night infomercial circuit.). Anyway, for all that we saw and did in Placencia, I think what I’ll remember most is talking. Talking on the way into town, talking in our beds at night, talking over breakfast, just conversing. He’s just so enjoyable to talk with. It’s not one-way either, with me dispensing fatherly advice (mostly stuff I pulled off of fortune cookies. Looking back, “You will meet a tall stranger” was a perplexing answer to “Daddy, why do countries go to war?”), but back and forth conversations, with serious moments, clever moments, creative moments, and funny moments. It makes me smile.

Anyway, we check-in for our flight, that’s Sander holding the boarding ticket (yup), board and head for Belize City. Again, I love Third-World Travel. No boarding passes, no identification checks, no security. You show up, pay your money, say “hi” to the lady at the desk and get on the plane for the flight to Belize City. Man was that was a hot flight. I guess the plane is designed to pull air in from the outside, but it doesn’t really fly high enough to get to the cool air. So you wind up sitting in a big cigar tube packed with passengers and cooking in hot, humid, choppy air. Finally, we make it to the big airport…and wait…and wait. I guess there were storms in Chicago or something so our flight was delayed six short hours. It was a real Third World Airport experience too. Hot, muggy, and hot and muggy. I kept waiting for a heavy set guy in a sweat stained white suit and hat to come in asking if we’ve seen Indiana Jones. Eventually, after we talked about everything we could think of, played “eye spy,” and walked around and looked all through both shops, I punted and gave Sander his iPod Touch so he could watch air combat shows.




At long last we board our plane, and settle into our chairs for the long flight to Dallas (that’s Sander, full of vim and vigor-one of many, “Seriously, now you’re taking a picture?” moments on the trip), when the pilot comes on and says, “Due to the fuel shortage Belize is experiencing, we only have enough fuel to get to Cozumel, Mexico. We’ll get more fuel there, and head to Dallas.”

And with that, we left Belize.