Corn flakes once again for breakfast, then we checked out + strolled in to Mom’s restaurant, an American eatery in town, + generally the rendezvous for catching boats out to the cayes, Belize’s islands. We’d decided to go out to Caye Caulker, on the recommendation of David, the American we’d met yesterday. In there we met again 2 of the people with whom we’d celebrated the arrival of the new year: Shane, a Kiwi, + another Chris, another German. (I don’t mean to sound disparaging – he seems quite nice, rather better than a number of his contemporaries that we’ve met.) The four of us sat together pleasantly – they too were bound for Caye Caulker. And I was able to drink tea, quite a reasonable cup… now there’s the British influence at work. While the other 3 went out shopping, buying provisions, I made the acquaintance of an English lady who lived out on Caulker – she’d been born in Plaistow, her husband in Enfield. Mundo pequeno, eh? But then the others returned, we engaged a boatman (not quite what it sounds – he as good as engaged us.)
The journey was unremarkable – pleasant, but rather wet. I’ll confess my major recollection is of a young + very sexy American blonde sitting opposite me, posing model-like as the water splashed her. Ho hum. We stopped off briefly at Pyramid Island, a luxurious-looking resort, but then, finally, arrived at our destination – a really beautiful little island. We quickly found the camp-site, pitched tent, +, for good measure, threw up the hammock as well. We then went to meet the English people we’d met (mainly, I’ll confess, because they offered us tea.) It was nice, friendly, + English, but eventually we had to go, since it was getting dark, + we wanted to cook our dinner. After that, we sat around talking for a while, then went back to our English friends at 9, to listen to the BBC news. Unfortunately, they weren’t in, but we were able to console ourselves with cake, coffee, + ice-cream in a splendid little ice-cream shop there.
More home comforts, even though we are a long way from home. But English tea! Both Plaistow and Enfield held memories for us; we had lived in the former, and I’d been born in the latter. Apologies, all the same, for “mundo pequeno”.
And so, back to beach living, despite my professed antipathy to same. It does, however, make for cheap living.