All good things come to an end.

Thanks to Santa Semana our impression of Belize before Tobacco Caye had not been good. Nothing to do. Nothing to see. And occasionally, nothing to eat. If it weren’t for the tourist hotspots of Caye Calker and Tobacco Caye we would have left Belize after our first 48 hours. We had originally planned to head south through Belize to Guatemala but Craig and Andrew had promised us great things in San Ignacio on the western border with Guatemala. So a detour and reworking of our itinerary was in order. At 9am we left Craig and Barbara on the dock as we took the boat back to Dangriga.

This time the ride was smooth. Supposedly any boat ride is better in the morning – good to know. And even Dangriga was better the second time around. There were people on the street and shops were open – there was life there after all. But not enough to make us stick around. Within 20 minutes we were on a bus to boring Belmopan (still as boring) where we had to transfer to the San Ignacio bus.

We were glad for a little break so we could get the circulation back to our butt cheeks and we deliberately missed the first San Ignacio bus to prolong our break. The second bus was just as full as the first and sped along the Western Highway testing its limits every 10km when someone on the curb waved it down. But that wasn’t the most exciting thing. That would happen just outside of San Ignacio.

There were a few rowdies sitting at the back of the bus – it seemed in keeping with the school bus décor. One guy in particular was hassling the driver and the ticket guy. Now hassling the ticket guy I can understand. They’re usually tiny little guys which is great for squeezing between the packed seats. But hassling the driver is brave. Everyone I’d seen looked like the love child of a drill sergeant and linebacker. Since the conversations were in a mixture of Criol and Garifuni, Adrian and I weren’t sure of the details. But imagined it went something like this.
“You drive like my mother.”
“Watch what you say about my mother.”
“Don’t worry. I won’t say anything worse than what’s written about her in the bathroom stalls.”
Or something like that.

Since no one else on the bus seemed bothered by the exchange we blocked it out. But when the loud mouth got off the bus he must have said something particularly bad because the next thing we knew, the supposed bad boy was running scared through the bushes as the wiry ticket boy waved a machete at him and the hulking driver yelled something at him from the bus. It was a tense moment until the entire bus broke out into laughter at the bad boys expense. Apparently he was all talk and figuratively wet himself when given a bit in return.

Arriving in San Ignacio was a bit anticlimactic after that. Even when we had to hit up 4 places before we found a room, our stress levels barely tweaked. We eventually found a cheap room with a shared bathroom in the Tropicool which sounds much more happening than it was. In reality just 5 rooms and two bathrooms on the bottom floor of the house. But it was clean, quiet and cool. The last point being the most important since we’d traveled inland leaving the cool sea breezes behind.

Don’t pay the ferryman ‘til he gets you to the other side.

I knew little about Tobacco Caye. Our Lonely Planet was woefully out of date (at least 5 years) and had only a passing mention. But thanks to a friend’s reco and some quick internet searching, I’d managed to piece together that it was a tiny key about 30 minutes offshore right on the barrier reef, great for snorkeling and diving and very chill. I expected it to be like Caye Calker but the minute we got to the dock I knew just how off the comparison was. This was no terminal. There was no ticket desk. There was just a guy named Bernard and a boat. A small boat.

We agreed on a price. But before we got onboard, Adrian needed breakfast. Or rather lunch. Because the only thing open was a small shack selling chicken, rice and beans. This time we mixed it up and got the beans and rice. Not quite a full English but after two days of gas station and convenience store cuisine it was delicious and cheap too. With full stomachs it was time to get on the boat. It was just three benches and Bernard soon filled them up. Meaning I ended up sitting in the middle which started out uncomfortable but became excruciating as soon as we pulled out of Dangriga. The boat should have planed smoothly over the water but a combination of a full load and lots of waves had us slamming down as if the water was concrete. Not only was my butt getting bruised but my lower back killing me.

With nothing but sea in sight, I had nothing to distract me from the pain made worse by that stupid song kept playing in my head on repeat. “Don’t pay the ferryman don’t even say the price. Don’t pay the ferryman until he gets you to the other side.” Finally, a strip of land dotted with cabanas and deluxe huts came into view on the horizon. Yay we’re here. But as we got close to it, the boat turned away to a break in the caye and kept going further out towards a tiny spec that didn’t get much bigger as we headed towards it. This was Tobacco Caye, five square acres of land on the edge of the Central American barrier reef.

We pulled up to a dock. We had made it to the other side (barely) so I paid our ferryman. But our journey wasn’t over. We still didn’t have a place to stay. And without a map or roads to follow we just started walking. Tobacco Caye was a bump in the ocean scattered with guest houses and cabanas. We weaved through them getting a little bit lost until I recognized some of the cabanas from the pictures Andrew had sent me.

“Excuse me?” I asked a guy lying in a hammock, “Where’s the office?”
“Don’t know. I was met at the dock,” he replied, “but try over there by the restaurant”
As I rounded the corner, I ran into a woman.
“Are you Elaine?” she asked me.
“No. Elizabeth. Are you Karen?”
“No Barbara.”
Oh maybe this wasn’t the place from the photographs. But it looked nice and I was sick of carrying our backpacks. 
“Oh. Do you have room for two?”

She did. And as Adrian painstakingly assessed and compared the two available cabins, she and I continued talking. Soon realized we were indeed the people we had been looking, we were just both bad with names. She was Barbara, friend of Andrew and transplanted Canadian who’d arrived a year ago on the Caye and hadn’t looked back. And this was the Tobacco Caye Lodge I’d seen in the photos.

We settled into our lime green cabana with a big comfy bed, a private bathroom and three square meals a day. This was luxury. Finally we’d discovered what Belize had to offer. Beach. Sun. And chilling.

Next door to us was another Canadian, Craig (Hi Craig). He was traveling from Cancun through Belize but had bypassed the north and Belize City in favour of San Ignacio. He liked it so much that he stayed there for 10 days – a strong second recommendation for a town we originally weren’t going to get to. Then the dinner bell rang and we continued our conversation in the communal dining room. The other guests, two Swiss gentlemen were already there. Blinkie, the lodge’s guide, told us he was doing a snorkeling tour the next day and we all signed.

Night had fallen suddenly while we were eating and when we were done it was pitch black outside except for the bazillions of stars. It didn’t leave much to do so Adrian and I went back to the cabin and watched more episodes of Dexter. Outside we heard drumming and singing so we turned off the computer and headed towards the music. At the tiny beach bar a bunch of Garifuna guys were playing a bunch of unique percussion instruments (marimbas, turtle shells, etc) while a bunch of people from the Raggamuffin tour boat drank and danced around them. The tour group was on Tobacco Caye for the night as they sailed from Caye Calker to Placencia stopping at small islands like this on the way – a much better boat ride to Tobacco Caye than ours.

Decision time in Dangriga

“So where are you going?” Norma asked as she poured out the coffee.
“well, ,were going to head to Dangriga to see if we can catch the Garifuna festival,” I replied.
“Hmph” Norma’s lack of reaction didn’t bode well.
In desperation I added, “Maybe we’ll head to Tobacco Caye.”
“Oh, good. It’s nice there.”

Actually, Adrian and I hadn’t decided. Belize was depressing us only because we couldn’t do anything. We’d already walked around and seen all there was to see. And we’d done the day trip to Caye Calker. But until everything reopened on Tuesday that was all there was. Our decisions were made worse by the lack of internet cafes with their access to bus schedules and accommodations.

However, the tourist brochure in the hotel promised the rich Garifuna culture of Dangriga so we thought we’d head there. The Garifuna are a descendants of African slaves and the Caribe people; they have there own language and music that links then more with the Caribbean than with Latin America. Dangriga was home to the Garifuna museum and a festival. Plus it’s also the place where you can catch a boat to Tobacco Caye or a bus to the beach town of Placencia if we found ourselves still searching for life in Belize.

Loaded up with our big backpacks on our backs, day packs on our front and bags over our shoulders we walked to the bus station which didn’t look any better than the day we arrived. An employee near the entrance, let us know that unfortunately we’d just missed the bus to Dangriga. Our hearts sank.
“When’s the next one?” I crossed my fingers and hoped it was less than four hours.
“18 minutes,” he replied. Yay!
And in exactly 18 minutes a school bus pulled up and we got on. It was full until the police pulled off 3 guys sitting at the back. Don’t know why but they were taken to the police truck and thoroughly searched while the bus pulled out of the station.

The bus drove directly to the capital city of Belmopan. And I’m glad we didn’t go there. There was nothing there. And I mean nothing. So thank you Andrew for warning us. Then it was another hour to Dangriga.

If we thought Corozal had been in a coma, well it looked like they’d pulled the plug on Dangriga. Once again every window and door was shuttered in the rundown little town. We headed towards the shore where there was a group of cabanas, hotels and b&bs and started inquiring. No vacancy. No vacancy. Too expensive. No vacancy. Finally we found a place. At first they offered us a room for $50US but then mentioned that they had basic rooms for $14US including free wifi. Woohoo! We’ll take it. How basic could it be? Very basic. It was a bed and fan and a shared cold water shower that looked like it belonged in a camp ground. So for the first time I pulled out my silk sleep sheet just to make sure that I wasn’t sharing my bed with any 6-legged friends.

I took advantage of the internet access to upload photos and send out some email inquiries (it didn’t look like we’d be staying in Dangriga) while Adrian went out in search of food. He came back with the best in gas station cuisine – chips, ice cream, bread and cheese. Oh well. At least it wasn’t mystery meat again.

As we ate our sandwiches, a French couple arrived and took the room next to ours. They had just returned from Tobacco Caye where they had to spend $75US for one night (the only room available) and then rent a tent for their last night. Not a good sign. But the more I thought about it the more I realized that we were not enjoying Belize and perhaps it was time to just pay the high price. Maybe then we’d start having a good time.

Ronan and Celine assured us we’d have more accommodation choices on Tobacco Caye now that Easter was coming to an end. My friend Andrew had recommended a place where he knew the manager so at the very least we’d be assured of a friendly face. Plus the accommodations there included food which meant we might finally eat real food again. Anything was better than our dingy cabin and gas station menu. I hoped.