Mayan Ruins at Lamanai

Terry and I heard that the trip to the Mayan ruins at Lamanai had a two fold benefit. We weren't all that interested in the architecture, but the site was supposed to be great for birding.

A bigger boat than the regular water taxi took us all the way to the mainland, high speed all the way.

It had to skirt the southern end of Ambergris Caye, the island where we are staying off the coast of Belize.  Finally we made our way through an opening in the mangroves which came into sight after an hour or so stretch of sea.

Mangroves grow in part salt, part fresh water

Weaving back and forth through a lagoon like area we arrived at the small village of Bomba, population 70. The inhabitants had connected to power a mere month ago!

The village of Bomba

Breakfast time. We hungrily dove into individually wrapped Johnny cakes, freshly baked fluffy biscuits filled with egg salad spread, that our hostess took out of her bag, and had some orange juice, delicious banana bread, and watermelon. Unfortunately, I was so focused on eating, I forgot to take a picture.

The little toilet shack even had flush toilets! Hopeful vendors had their wares spread out, but no one bought anything.

Carved wood dishes for sale

This bus bumped us along for another hour along the Northern Highway, with a bit of rudimentary pavement, but mostly not. Tolerating the bumps, we kept our eyes peeled for any birds, but none to be seen at that speed.

Choice real estate, anyone?

We transferred to a riverboat for another hour long ride along the Rio Nuevo.

When the driver slowed down we knew there was something to see.

Tiny bats cling to a dead tree

Eat the peel if it's ripe, toss it if not!

Time for lunch: Surprise! The 'typical Belizean lunch' was exactly what we've been eating at the base: rice, beans, chicken, coleslaw, and fried plantains.

The Lamanai [ the name means submerged crocodile] site was a national site, so we had to pay another $5.00 US, and wandered around the small museum. Soon we were drawn outside again by an unearthly noise, sounding as if it came from some futuristic movie.

Black Howler Monkeys! We didn't see more than black blobs moving high in the rain forest canopy as they foraged for fruit, leaves and berries. Their howls, however, were said to be heard from several kilometres away.

Here are a couple of shots of the ruins, but we were not energetic enough to climb them in the heat.

 Instead, we veered off as our guide pointed out various birds he saw and heard.

I got my heart's desire: we saw the Keel-billed Toucan! I giggled as I realized why this bird is on the Kelloggs Froot Loops box. He eats fruit of course! And on the way back, our boat startled a flock of Roseate Spoonbills.

Terry was pleased to add about 50 more birds to his Belize list. That was a trip worth taking.

Playing Hooky

It's 8:30 in the morning, the sun already high in the sky. The sea is a bit choppy. I'm sitting in the rear seat of the yellow kayak with three-year-old Avery tucked in front of me. Her mom is guiding our kayak, following her husband with their two boys in the kayak in front of us.

The dad has a couple hours off before he has to be in the kitchen again, where he is chef for this group of students and staff at YWAM Destination Paradise. I asked to tag along.

I'm kind of playing hooky, if I go by one of the definitions of this word I just looked up:

"Unauthorized absence from work or school”.

I didn't ask anyone, I just checked my schedule last night. I was supposed to launder all the kitchen cloths and towels this morning. Whoops! Forgot to sign up again! Never mind: the load of towels was in the washer at 6:00 am before the official schedule even began.

A minor glitch; the power was off for a short while, a common occurrence apparently. Sometimes the power outage originates on the mainland, I was told.

Oh! On again. The load finished just as Terry and I finish our breakfast porridge. Stuff the towels into the dryer.

The two kayaks are headed for a white buoy on this side of the traffic lane where the water taxis speed by. It is supposed to be shallow there. Dad's goal is to find another conch to cook and eat. Minimum length seven inches, or else it's illegal to harvest. He had found one the other day; I'm not sure how it's going to be cooked.

Here we are at our spot. We lower the cement block anchors, which lie on the ocean floor maybe ten feet down. Adjusting my snorkel, I slip off the kayak into the water. Patches of sea grass covered the bottom. Mostly it grows sparsely in individual blades.  Super salty water stings my eyes and fills my mouth. The water gets into the mask, so the mom tightens it for me. That's better. I swim around, practising my breathing. I scan the sand. Not a thing to see, except a conch, greenish brown and hairy. “It's dead,” says the dad, lifting it up for me to see. Not at all pretty like the one I got off the island of Antigua.

Mom and Avery sunbathe on the kayak. Eventually they come into the water, Avery in her life vest clinging to mom's neck and riding on her back.

Dad's search for another meal proves fruitless, so we head back.

Mom warns me, “Last time it took me a long time to get to shore; I kept going around in circles.” Dad gives the rear paddler [that's me!] some basic instructions, and soon we are headed in a fairly straight line towards the beach.

Back in the laundry room the load of towels is bone dry, and I calmly fold them and put them back into the kitchen.

There! Half my day's work is done in short order, with a very pleasant interlude, the totally unexpected gift of 'playing hooky.' I like the other definition much better: 'Absence from work or school'. No worries—it was fun.

Replacing the Dining Palapa

On August 4 of this year, Hurricane Earl battered the coast of Ambergris Caye, causing much damage. One of the structures at YWAM Destination Paradise the dining palapa, [palm shelter] had half its roof blown away.

This week, about a month later, work continued on replacing the thatch, enabling us to see this process in operation. This is my 'lay person's' description:

The skeleton of the structure was partially replaced with new skinny poles, curved to fit the original oval shape.

Three Hispanic workers arrived on the job with a load of palm fronds.

These were hoisted up onto the cross-pieces. The worker had climbed up via this rickety version of scaffolding. I noticed that he did wear steel toed workboots!

His helper, sometimes a woman, piled the fronds onto a rope which was hoisted up with a bunch of fronds.

The fronds were arranged neatly in a row by lifting up a couple of the leaves, and lining the whole frond along the crosspiece, beginning at the bottom.

Each successive layer overlapped the previous one.

You could tell where the new row began, as it was a greener colour, as opposed to the weathered, pale thatch.

When the whole roof is complete, the electric lamps will be replaced, enabling us to be able to see what we are eating for dinner!  
We are a work in progress just like this shelter.  Sometimes the winds of adversity blow us apart, but God in His mercy lovingly rebuilds us, until we are a structure fit once again for His use.

Culture Shock

My head is swirling with various impressions of these last two days of travel. We are seasoned travellers, but I'm culture shocked once again. After months in the comfort of our own home, we are serving once more. Not On Wheels this time, but at the YWAM base in Belize, on the Yucatan peninsula. The base itself is on the Ambergris Caye (read 'key') in the middle of nowhere. Our trip entailed two flights, punctuated by an overnight stay in Houston, TX, then a twenty minute flight in a 14 seater Cessna to get to the island.

Aerial view of Ambergris Caye

My pillow and I

Our wheeled suitcases bumped along rough cobbled streets to get to the water taxi dock. It must have been at least 30° C in the midday heat; “feels like 35°”. Why did we not get a taxi to this spot? Walking “across town” had been recommended to us. Four blocks, or half a mile, didn't seem like too far. I thought my head would split with the heat and exertion.

So far we've been mostly left alone to get settled in our little casita with a view of the beach.

Our Casita

We haven't had The Tour yet, so all we've seen are clusters of these little cabins, a swimming pool, a rustic kitchen, the outside eating area, and the small beach. We don't yet know what we'll be doing, although it looks as though the physical needs are great at this ancient, peeling, rusting resort. Getting settled involves trying to decide where to put stuff with no hooks, hangers (there were only five) or towel bars. We were instructed to bring sheets, pillows and sleeping bags. One of us brought a pillow. It seemed inconvenient to lug it on and off all those flights, when you're supposed to have only one personal item along with your carry-on. I'm glad to have mine, though. Our 'sleeping bags' are actually mere fleece liners we had bought to use in Slovakia one summer, where the nights were also hot and humid. I wish we had brought a top sheet, but the thin blanket felt good, while Terry used no blanket. It was more useful to him under his head.

The bed is comfortable and the bathroom, rustic. The toilet goes through its burbling cycle eventually, however, as long as you are “gentle and kind” to it, as the sign says. There is water that comes from our very own shower. How it heats up has yet to be determined.

“The quicker you embrace your new situation, the easier it will be,” said one wise staff member.

“Excellent advice,” I think to myself as I try to find my way in this new space.