Ruins
Days Nine and Ten in Belize

Day Nine: 12/30/02 [Maya]
6:30 AM Ugh. Too damn early. We have to catch the first ferry to the mainland. The day looks partially clear.
7:15 AM Bagels and cream cheese @ Vespucci's Table. The water is calm and the sun is out. Boat ride to the mainland is full and pleasant. The wind picks up as we get close to the mainland. A bit chilly on the water. Shore reached by 8:45.
8:45 AM We're met by Gustavo, a short Belizian who is our guide. He works with tours through the inn we are staying at. He directs us to a van. First, we pay to use the bathroom at the water taxi station. Granted, it's only a quarter... but what the hell? We're paired with some other tourists who are frankly the most frumpiest couple I�ve ever seen. The woman is pale and waxen, wearing owl-eyed sunglasses and a bucket hat tied over her head with a pink shirt. The man is pinched and small, hunched into a turtleneck like an uptight golfer. They hardly say a word the whole time except occasionally making a nasal sound to imply agreement or disagreement. I immediately dislike them. Looking at them makes me sad for America.
9:30 AM Gustabo drives us through Belize city and out into the marshland beyond. Here, houses sink into the ground if they aren�t built with foundation struts that extend into the bedrock thirty feet below. We pass into the savanna. Gustavo talks about various sociopolitical and cultural aspects of Belize. Due to this morning�s unneeded Drammamine, I feel more than a little stoned and am perfectly happy to gaze out the window in a dopey stupor. We pass a billboard that reads �PUP again�, which I find to be hilarious. (Pup is my nickname for Justin). Eventually, I learn that the currently empowered political party in Belize is the People�s United Party (or PUP). That makes a little more sense. Then again, they have a brand of tires called �kumho� and Nescafe billboards everywhere that have nothing to do with ANYTHING. Strange place. The whole country is like a softdrink ad. Everwhere, people are drinking Pepsi, Coke, or Fanta from glass bottles beneath signs advertising that product. There are men with huge guns guarding the One Barrel Rum factory and several more at a police checkpoint. They wave us through. Belize is a run down country. Poverty stricken but happy. Houses are ramshackle huts adorned in Christmas lights. Some are no more than shacks on sticks. We drive past a Dickies factory where laborers make pants. Gustavo explains that minimum wage here is about $1.50/ HR US for a 48 hour week. No benefits.
10 AM We stop at the New Belize river and get into the river boat. It�s an hour and a half ride to Lamanai ruins, a Mayan city. Our guide�s name is Orlando and he points out crocodiles, turtles, egrets, ibises, herons, lilies, bats, assorted birds, and even an iguana. The river is still and calm and I�m glad I have my binoculars. It�s cool and mostly cloudy.
11:30 AM We arrive at Lamana. A quick look around reveals a gift shop and a museum of some of the larger relics excavated at the site. All seven of us (two more joined at the riverboat station) enter a pavilion for a homecooked lunch of chicken, beans and rice, coleslaw and mashed potatoes. A few resort groups are eating extravagantly presented lunches in the same pavilion. Our food is mouthwateringly good but theirs LOOKS goos. We ogle.
12 PM We hike the ruins. First we stop at the museum for a brief historical overview. A collection of artifacts dating back to 200 BC (!) He explains a curious discovery, three containers with mercury, cinnabar, and iron pyrite beneath a large, circular slab near one of the temples. Another discovery: one piece from the classic period is an urn with the likeness of what appear to be metal screws appliqu�d on the bottom. �Do you think that the ancient Mayans had screws?� asks Orlando. �Nooooo,� we say. �Well, you�re right,� he says, �The mayans didn�t have screws. It was the Spanish who screwed the Mayans.�
12:30 PM There are four temples and a residential with a ball court here. One of the temples (the high temple) is the third largest mayan site in Belize. We can�t climb that one, as it�s closed for excavation, but we do climb the others. Some are decorated with reliefs of Jaguar faces and God heads. It feels really old here. We�re walking on shards of the very pottery that was crafted here over 500 years ago. The rock from which the temples to the dead gods we built is beneath our feet. I pocket a few pieces. I want to be in awe of this place. I want to feel raw, unadulterated wonder. I want to be senseless with the beauty of it. But all I feel is the amusement of a tourist. I don�t belong. It isn�t real. We are in deep jungle. The river winds before us in myriad turns. A hundred species of giant trees (fig, baobob, all spice) line the path. We swing on vines like Tarzan and Jane. We stand atop ancient temples and pretend we are priests and priestesses. From the west, we hear the call of a troop of howler monkeys. From the east, closer, comes an answer. A family of howlers moves into the trees next to us and we sit, perched atop ancient stone, and watch them for twenty minutes.
1:45 PM On the way out, I buy a clay replica of a mayan mask. The star god. It starts to rain. Actually, it was raining before but the canopy was too thick to notice it. The boat ride soaks us a bit. Orlando points out a tarp for us to share but the frumpy tourists take it all to themselves and hide shivering beneath it. We secretly laugh at them. On the way back, we pass another boat that has run out of gas.
3 PM Gustavo takes us back to town and has twenty minutes to spare for a ride through the city. The streets are small and the city is dirty. He promises to mail me a �PUP� bumper sticker. We catch the last boat back in perfect weather. Some cute guys like my �Geek� hat and take a picture. At the last moment, I almost get to know them but Tim hurries us off the boat. I regret not taking the chance.
7 PMDinner again at CocoPlum. Busier this time and sand fleas bite me. The hosts are overburdened cooking many dinners on a four burner stove. We wait a while for food. Oh well. A tasty omelet though!
9 PM An early bed time, diving tomorrow. You know what�s fool crazy of me? I�ve actually started missing the Pacific Northwest. Being here has made me realize what a niche I�ve made for myself in Eugene. It�s a balance that I carry with me everywhere. It is a place to call Home. For that I am extremely grateful. It�s been a pretty good year.

Day Ten: 12/31/02 [New Year�s Eve]
7 AM I wake on my own, early. For once I can clearly see that it�s sunny outside. And it�s calm. Today we dive Sergeant�s Caye and Glover�s Reef. I�m under the impression that they�re nearby.
8 AM We go for breakfast at Sandbox. We each order banana pancakes and split a fruit plate. It�s not yet 8:30 but we�re accosted by a drunk Belizian who rants and raves about everything while guzzling beer. We have way too much food and we don�t want to hurry to leave but this guy�s seriously endeared himself to us and it�s annoying. His gaping mouth is half full of gnarly, rotting teeth and he has beady red eyes. He speaks in some mangled pidgin dialect of which I can only decipher half. He says fookin this and fookin that and I�m pretty sure he hated black people. He keeps intending to smoke but doesn�t light up so I don�t have an excuse to tell him to get lost. We eventually make our escape.
10 AM Still sunny. The boat leaves. It is, in fact, 50 minutes to the dive site. I�m exceedingly glad we didn�t pick the other day to go. It�s a long day with a lunch. There are only minor swells and the sun is shining bright. I watch a silver flying fish soar next to the boat, glistening. I take it as a good omen.
11 AM The first dive is disappointing. I don�t know why, but there�s more particulate in the water today than before. It might be the location. I thought it would be prettier with more sun but there�s not much to look at. JeanPaul and Peter have left. I wish I�d said goodbye� but I guess I have their business card. Our new divemaster goes far too slowly for us so I get cold faster. We do see more crabs and lobster this way. (There certainly are a lot of them) My god damn mask is bothering me. It insists on leaking both when it�s too loose and too tight. Either way it�s excruciatingly bothersome. We surface and the water is so calm that I�m just barely nauseated. Watermelon tastes nice after a mouth of nasty, salty seawater.
12:30 PM We move inside the reef for lunch. I can actually eat this time! After lunch we snorkel along the reef for forty minutes. I still haven�t seen a stupid stingray. The reef here is very colorful. I see a lotta little fishies and some impressively large urchins nesting in the coral.
1:30 PM Dive two is at a site much like the first but with larger canyons. I�m still having trouble with my mask and wish I could get it settled so I can enjoy the dive. I also wish the reef were nicer. Oh well. All discontent is forgotten when we see two MASSIVE spotted eagle rays gliding just over the reef wall. We turn and tail them but they�re faster than us, their huge wings pumping the water with pure muscle. I am in awe. They�re one of the most beautiful things I�ve ever seen. On both these last dives Justin and I consume very little air. Tim surfaces long before us both times and leaves us to putter around sans Divemaster. We can manage our own ascent and take our time. It�s fun, we�re both perfectly matched on air consumption. This is our last dive. Try as I might to find someone to dive with tomorrow (New Year�s Day), no one is going out. I don�t blame them for being closed� who wants to dive after a night of late drinking? Bah. This means no Blue Hole. Goddam. What can you do about it?
3:30 We pay our dues at the dive shop and collect our FREE T-SHIRT. (It�s funny, it says STAFF on the sleve). As usual, we shower and take our time rinsing off our sore bodies. No nap today, I�m getting my hair braided! I amble down the street to the Miramar hotel where a woman (who reminds me of Miss Cleo) sells shells and beads. She�s the smooth-talking extortionist who sold me my dog-smelling shell. Oh well, I want braids! I get half my hair done up in cornrows and leave the back loose. One small braid behind the ear on each side with beads at the end. She tells me that most people find it immensely painful to have small braids put on their scalp and one Finnish girl even fainted on her. Well, whaddaya know, I kind of like it. She calls me Honey and insists on calling Tim my �fader in law� even though she knows Justin and I are just dating.
5:30 PM We go back to the Hotel and eat chips and Salsa at the bar. Justin and I watch the Sun set and talk about how great the salsa is here. (What else is there to talk about? We got the recipe! Ner Ner!) It�s a perfect evening except for the damned sand fleas. Funny enough, we see one lone firefly flitting across the sand. It�s a speedy bugger, too. It blinks under the porch before I can catch it. Our reservations at Habaneros are for 7:30.
7 PM I change into my black strapless gown and put on the black coral (bad ecotourist!) nechlace I got. I�m wearing heels on an island. How tacky. I look good. Fred and Allie (the actor from New York and his fianc�e) are sharing our table at dinner.
7:30 PM Dinner is excellent. Matt is our server again and we delight in ordering drinks from him now that we know he�s a competitive bartender. He makes a mean BAILEYS COLADA. I didn�t even know they HAD those. Dinner for me is stuffed chicken breasts. Justin has tropical snapper and Tim has this lobster with champagne shiitake cream sauce. MMMMMM. Justin and I chat up Fred and Allie for a few hours while Tim just sits and listens. I wonder if he�s amused at the �couplie� things we�re doing. It�s Fred and Allie�s last night.
9:30 PM We wander home. I change clothes (whew). We make the mistake of collapsing on the bed for a moment and realize how dead tired we are after no nap. Fuck. It�s still two hours to midnight on New Year�s eve. What�s wrong with us? Finally we get up and get walking. We wander the island. It�s surprisingly quiet. Some people are at the I & I but most seem to be at a smoky bar called Oceanside or at the seedy Disco. Neither is appealing. We talk to someone down at the far end of the island who tells us that if we come back we should dive the southern reef for HEALTHY reef diving. The reef up here, he says, is damaged beyond repair. Why didn�t anyone tell us?
11:40 PM We find some Belizian drummers but are too tired to boogie. I don�t know where I want to be for the countdown. Some part of me wants to be near the �action� and some part of me wants to be at home. I run back to the hotel for pictures of the dancers and by the time I get back it�s a minute to midnight. It�s simply loud and obnoxious and none of the pictures come out. I want to dance but Justin is grumpy which makes me sullen. Crappy new year�s to you too! NYAAH. Finally we give each other a hug and kiss to ring in the new year. We go back to the hotel (where we probably just should have stayed the whole time) and Adrian serves us glass after glass of champagne. They had sparklers. We should have been here in the hammock with sparklers, I think. I�m mad at myself. I wish I felt more amorous, more friendly. A bad omen for the coming year? I want a picture perfect romantic moment. I fail to capture it. Sigh. We put down our glasses after a toast and head up to bed. The geckos on the porch are making scratchy croaking noises in their throats. Adrian says this means weather is coming in. I go to bed not particularly happy but realizing, with gladness, that I have nothing heavy to resolve this year� emotionally, physically, or spiritually. I�m entering the new year without noticeable burden. This means it has been a good year, no matter what�s happened. I pray the same for the next.

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