"BELIZE - PIRATE'S COVE and ..." a Belize City Travel Page by daBertl

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I was looking forward to visiting Belize for a long time. For some reason I always had an interest on small countries and places that sound exotic and Belize has both of these features. Less than 200,000 inhabitants of any ethnic background live in Belize and speak mainly Creole besides English - the official language, Spanish, Chinese and many others. Everything that I have heard about Belize sounded very interesting; whether it was its location; the fact that the Belizean coast and its off-shore island have been one of the main territories of Scottish and English pirate activities back in the 1600's; or simply because it seemed to be so different to all its surrounding countries.

I jumped onto a small Minibus in Chetumal, Mexico with four other travelers early in the morning soon after I had arrived from my 12 hour trip from San Christobal, and we reached the Mexican-Belizean border shortly after. It seemed to be basic routine for the customs officer to deal with travelers from all over the world since he had the right greetings available for everybody no matter whether German, Dutch, or Jewish. An hour later and with a new stamp in my passport we started our journey towards Belize City. It is pretty easy to find the correct road to the city since there is only one paved highway in Belize. It runs from the border town of Santa Elena to Belize City and from there west to Benque Viejo del Carmen at the Belizean-Guatemalan border. We passed tiny villages and after a few miles I could see the Caribbean Sea for the first time on this trip. It was beautiful and I could not wait to explore Belize City, its sights and people. I was amazed by the difference in architectural style and landscaping that I saw as soon as we crossed the border. Moreover, all signs and ads were in English and I could immediately recognize the ethnic variety of this former British colony.

We arrived in the city at around noon and the first Belizean guy I saw was a Bob Marley look-alike that stuck his head through the open bus window and said with a heavy Caribbean reggae accent, yet in a very melodic manner while pointing with his finger at me in some kind of rhythm "Yo man, taxi, man, taxi!" The other fellow travelers stayed behind in the bus while I replied to the Rastaman and told him that I also needed a cheap hotel room. For some reason he gave me this extremely surprised look and asked me whether I wanted a cheap or a safe place. I chose the safer option and Marley offered to giving me a ride for "only" five Belize Dollars (1 US$ = 2 B$). Now I was the one being surprised and asked him where the place exactly was located. "Here on Queen Street, 3 blocks this way" was his respond, which made me even more surprised and I said if it was that close I rather walked. Now Marley was really flabbergasted and his eyes almost popped out of his head while he brushed some of his threads off his face. I was just too tired after this long trip from San Christobal and did not get any of his signs straight, strapped by backpack on and started walking along Queen Street. After 30 meters I realized what was going on here and I saw many unpleasant characters, which I would certainly not invite to my birthday party. Along my stroll to the guesthouse I had been offered any kind of drugs, asked for money and cigarettes three or four times, and was starred at as I was the first backpacker ever. I made these 200 meters without major loss, yet was happy when I checked in at the "Downtown Guesthouse" only a block away from the American Embassy and the Belize National Bank. Everything in the neighborhood was very unkempt though, all buildings seemed to collapse soon, many of them where even abandoned and grown over by bushes and other plants. The neighborhood was yet considered as downtown and as the nicer part of Belize City. Many consulates and foreign embassies were located there, yet it did not really make a difference and some consulates where just as untidy looking as the rest of the town. However, I walked upstairs to inspect my room and what I saw then would not be considered a room in many other places. A plywood box filled with a bunk bed and a tiny table that let just enough space to fit my backpack on the floor between the bed and the wall. It had a fan tough, mounted to the ceiling and a tiny window. Since I did not want to walk any further to hunt for another accommodation I rented the box for two nights and squeezed myself between bed, backpack and wall.

I left all my stuff behind and walked back to the bus station which happened to be located on the main intersection of Belize City, right on Haulover Creek and the Swing Bridge. I even crossed the bridge and searched for a supermarket somewhere on Albert Street - the main street of the city. I did find one and decided to get myself a delicious lunch/dinner after the long trip. After three days of ham sandwiches back in Mexico, I decided to spoil my stomach a bit, chose bologna sandwiches and rushed back to my room, which was another adventure itself. I initially thought that after living in New York City, and there in my early days far above Harlem where I went to school ­ no city could make me feel unsafe. Belize City succeeded and I stayed locked in my room for most of the next two days. When I checked out I heard many stories from the hotel owner and he told me that just this very morning a young guy with a gun mugged a man right here in front of the guesthouse. I took off and an hour later I sat in a water taxi to Caye Caulker, one of the many Belizean islands off the coast in the Caribbean Sea.