At least the Cafe Cayo cyber cafe is open today so the preceding page can be posted. The owner is from St. Andrews (used to caddy the Old Course), then became an MCI exec never seeing his wife from Salisbury (a Worldcom exec). They came to visit for their cousin's wedding, loved the place, sold their home and horses and now are Belizean entrepreneurs: cafe, nightclub, etc. We hang out and show the 3D movie to Toni, Kareena (his young sister) and Jose (BC real estate boy). Then wander around town, looking at old schools and the graveyard. Kareena tells of the duende monster (a little mischievous guy, female is Ixtabai) who has only four fingers: keep your thumbs because he wants them for himself. Go visit auntie who is here from Grimsby and Hull, then get some Jamaican nosh, shrimp cream pasta, at Aye Karamba. Back at the Aguada Tom comes for some musical feedback on his Nashville demo CD: decent songs, great session musicians, horrible singing from the composer.
TUESDAY
Time to bite the $65US bullet and go to Tikal with the Mayawalk Tour. Definetely worth it. Early start, strange border rituals crossing into Guatemala and walking across No Man's Land, then paying again for the vehicle to cross the bridge. 2 hours of bumpy clay roads later, we wander into the site with our guide Billy. Even Toni learned something from him.
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There is a chirped echo from the first courtyard staircase and they found some ocarinas and pictures but no more sound stuff. There are howler and spider monkeys, oropendula birds, fox, coatimundi packs, and a whole lot more. The climbs go from taxing to very scary and there's nothing to eat from 7 am to 2 pm, so legs get shaky by the end. A good salad at Hanna's rounds off a terrific day of ancient adventures. The bull frogs are delirious tonight; turns out they knew rain was coming all night, and in the dry season.
Tom comes round to collect $200 to fix up his 600 cc Honda bike for me to borrow when I get back.
WEDNESDAY
I'd rather go to the jungle than pay taxes so 6:30 am the cab comes to take me to find bushman Winston Harris, his son George (pron. Jaridj) and son-in-law Albert. Machetes and GPS in hand we get dropped off ($65BZ later) and slash our way to the putative Home point. we see an old logging road then Preston's trails, then find the intended spot. That area however is pock marked with potato holes, not good for building on because the rain soaks straight down and it will be swampy. Nearby though is a better area so they guys start to gather materials for a lean-to to keep dry. We all plan to come back and stay there together when I get back to continue the trails.
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The frame is made of various exotic but straight poles, wrapped with string (runners from the ground), and thatched with bay palm fronds that smell so good. It is an ingenious if humble beginning. We have some valuable greenery: many mahogany trees ($9 per foot in the USA), xate plants that Guatemalans hanker after for ink and flower arrangements, red china vine, antine snake vine, water vine, chicle (sapodilla) trees, cohunes... The landmark tree we called an ironwood is just a fancy male strangler fig, but still pretty. Looks like the grand driveway entrance will be just before the ironwood/strangler fig and head straight for the mean-to. The road should not be dug by bulldozer (that cuts too deep and will gather mud in the first rains). Rather by using a chain saw to get flush to the ground and grading a little while keeping the roots beneath we will have a flat and more solid trail. Any road beyond the fig will get muddy from the swamp. We'll have more time to look around next time.
Winston offers overnight jungle survival tours of his farm. He needs some advertising help. Next visit I should bring the video camera and make a documentary about him for the Belize Film festival. He used to be a chiclero, hunted jaguar and other things for money; can skin a gibnut and wrest food, drink and medicine from the jungle and river. He's now more pro-environment but considers hunting for food OK if you need it (some of the Ruta Maya canoe racers skinned some iguanas and didn't eat them which horrified him). He thinks the Chalillo Dam controversy is no big deal; the dam will have little impact on the animals. The macaws may move temporarily but they'll be back. He spent time in Button Bank where the tapirs were everywhere.
He advises us to dig a lake and make a shrimp farm; lots of money in that. There's no staellite reception under the canopy; might be a problem for internet. Also no phone network available. The quiet buzzing you hear all day sounds like killer bees swarming; they are but they are more interested in flowers than people today. Different leaves have different timbres when chopped; the light ones with big fans have deep hollow sounds. This is a huge forest of office plants.
Winston tells of seing duende. On his farm he saw an arch of chipped rock in the hillside, probably the cave entrance to a Maya ruin. He kept hearing the sound of super loud whistling when no-one was around. Even his deaf father heard it. Spooked, he never went there again. One time he went fishing, had a boat full of fish. Went to one area to catch more and heard a woman laughing. Paddled home as fast as he could and had his wife empty the boat. A girl he knew liked to play with her imaginary friend. One night she appeared in the house where they slept, though her house was nearby. The men watched her play with the little invisible guy. It was late and they asked her how she got into their house when the door was locked. She said her friend showed her the way through a tiny hole, much smaller thasn her head. Then they freaked. The family took her to a priest; she is so pretty with her long hair and innocent ways she is easy meat for the duende, he said. She is likely to be abducted any moment. So they cut her hair and she was left alone. She still remembers the incident recently in San Ignacio, much to the surprise of her husband.
Kriol for Lawyer sounds the same as Liar. Too Much Taxis doesn't refer to cabs.
Our first dwelling in Belize cost $60US, including labor.
George tells me the neighbor of the Aguada, Wilson, has a trail bike for sale. Yamaha 175cc. Stiff to move but runs fine, good enough for my purposes and more disposable than Tom's nice one. And all for $550US. 1/3 of what it should be. I'll pick it up when I get back. Tom can keep the $50 of mine he has already spent on fixing his up and it will still be a bargain. Wilson is from Alabama and asks if I do overseas trading. "No, I said Arts Administration not Outsourcing."
Time to pack for leaving things at Toni's and for the next phase of the trip. This retirement business is exhausting and I hope the mozzies let me sleep tonight. Belize is certainly working its charm and becoming a lovable adventure every day. I've met so may people and made good progress and this is still the first week. If I get an early start tomorrow I'll stop off in Belmopan to pay taxis and beg for a dozer.