I Am Alive!
Trip Start
Feb 10, 2008
1
8
29
Trip End
Aug 06, 2008
Where I stayed
San Ignacio, Belize
Friday, March 21, 2008
First let me apologise for the sudden, complete and lengthy lack of internet-based contact as of late - the last few weeks have flown by, and I didn't realize it had been so long since last I wrote. But fear not, for I am not dead! On the contrary, I have been living and kicking my way through Mexico and Belize towards my current location, San Ignacio, which lies in the West of this former British colony near the Guatemalan border. So what have I been up to exactly? Well....
If I remember correctly, I arrived back in Playa Del Carmen on Monday 3rd March after my brief stint in Cozumel. Despite this being my third stay there, I still couldn't bring myself to leave until Saturday 15th (i.e. last Saturday). I won't go into too much detail about these 12 days, as a) not much of note actually happened and b) I have already written about Playa a few times. However there is one story worth telling from this period, and that is my trip back to Cancun. As some of you may know, on a warm Spring evening in Orlando, Florida, in 2003, I saw a film that would change my life. It has never won any Oscars, it contains no famous actors; in fact it has probably been quoted as one of the worst films of all time by more than one person. It's name? The Real Cancun. Ever since seeing this quasi-documentary about a group of American college students spending their Spring Break in Cancun, it has been my ambition, nay my dream, to experience this phenomenon. But on Tuesday 11th March 2008 dreams were no longer necessary, as I was about to LIVE the Real Cancun.
And boy does it suck.
Now obviously this world of ours throws up disappointments on a regular basis - X-Men 3, Martin Jol's third full season in charge of Tottenham, Paris Hilton's sex tape - but my Cancun Spring Break experience was like all of these things rolled into one and multiplied by twelve. The funny thing is, it was exactly what I had been expecting it to be. It just turns out that slutty American girls with no shame, and a bunch of drunk, posing jocks, are much more appealing on TV than in real life. It was bad enough that there was a male:female ratio of approximately 10:1, and that I had to pay $50 to get in, and that the free bar wasn't actually free due to the obligatory tips, and that I had to wait for 90 minutes in the queue; but the worst thing was the people. I have never been so ashamed to be a human. Thank God I'm not Black or American, otherwise I would have thrown myself into the dark ocean as a gift to our species. Obviously I am neither racist nor sexist, but these guys weren't doing themselves any favours. Pretty much every girl present was slutty to the point of disgusting, and almost every back dude was a pathetic, poser of a gangster wannabee. Honestly, I have never seen so many pairs of sunglasses being worn inside a club. So basically I spent the whole evening sitting on my own in silence, whilst judging every single person I saw. I could go on and on about how much I hated the place, but I digress.
So, back to Playa. As I have said before, the main reason for my lengthy stay in this town was the quantity and quality of people I met along the way, so I will take a little bit of time now to mention a few more of them... Actually, I will start with one I have mentioned before - Eddie. You may remember that I had a feeling that he was a former convict? Well it turns out that this feeling was in fact correct, and that he has only recently finished a 10 year sentence for manslaughter. According to him he was jumped by a guy with a knife, and in the ensuing struggle his assailant received a wound to the leg with his own weapon, which later led to an infection and ultimately his death. Whether or not this story is true, I hung out with "Fast Eddie" a fair bit and he came across as an awesome guy - happy, intelligent, funny and very kind. Now I'm sure that any family members reading this will be none too happy about me rubbing shoulders with a convicted killer, but you will just have to trust the judgment of your Grandson / Son / Brother / Nephew.
Another guy who I hung out with a lot is John - a 35 year old, Mohican-sporting, tattoo-wearing punk rocker from New York. Our friendship was essentially based around the sound foundation that was our shared interest in, and joint appreciation of, genitalalia-based jokes, which formed the bulk of our conversation. Another character, though not necessarily a friend, was Carlos. Although a seemingly nice guy, he was unfortunately a little on the odd side, and used to wake everyone in the dorm up by screaming, and occasionally quietly sobbing, in the middle of the night. He was also not shy of being nude, and whilst in this natural state he seemed to enjoy a good man on man hug, or indeed the feel of my "cold hands" on his chest (I had been swimming, and I assure you I did not offer my hands willingly... nor did I enjoy this bizarre little ritual in any way.) There are many more people that I could describe in detail, but instead here are just a few brief honorable mentions - Canadians Marc and Jason, who insisted that the best cure for sunburn was to pour beer on the afflicted areas (it wasn't); Victor, who started a catchphrase phenomenon by grinning, slowly lifting his index finger, and saying in a Mexican accent "It was boner"; Elsa, a 29 year old Mexican, and Stuart, a 40 year old guitar toting Londoner, who formed the second and third points of my two day love triangle (it wasn't nearly as exciting, or disgusting, as it might sound); Marina, a guitar playing Italian with a beautiful singing voice, who was funding her trip by doing online translations on her laptop; and a bunch more people.
So it was characters such as these which kept me from leaving Playa Del Carmen for so long. But I finally managed to tear myself away last Saturday, after hatching the genius plan of staying up all of Friday night and then getting the 6:15 bus to Belize the following morning. As I sat on the beach, with nothing but my own company to join me in watching the sunrise, I was pretty shocked at how sad I felt to be leaving the place. But leave I did, and after sleeping most of the 9 hour journey, my mood improved significantly upon meeting a hot Swede named Petra at the bus station in Belize City. She asked if I wanted to share a private room with her as she too was heading to Caye Caulker, and when she told our driver that either 2 singles or 1 double would do fine, my mood reached downright ecstatic heights. By the time she had stripped off within seconds of entering our little cabin, I had completely forgotten about Playa Del Carmen.
Okay, so the last sentence never happened. In fact, just in case you are reading this Petra, I should confirm that nothing at all happened between us! Anyway, I guess I should actually describe Caye Caulker in some sort of detail. It is basically a tiny little island, just a few square kilometers in area, that can be reached via an hour long boat trip from Belize City. It has a very Carribean vibe, and the majority of the people are descendents from slaves and or Mestizo / locals. Okay, I made that up, but if you are really interested about the island then look at it on Wikipedia.
So, we arrived on the island fairly late in the evening and decided to head straight out for some dinner. At the "Happy Lobster" we met Sam, who I found to be quite interesting in a really boring kind of way. He lived in the States, where he gets paid $250,000 a year (I think) to grow medical marijuana for the state of California. This involves him living up in the mountains, where there is no electricity, on his own. When I asked him what he does up there in his spare time (he doesn't read), he said he plays guitar, hikes, thinks about his life, and gets closer to God. His plan is to do this until he is 30, at which point he wants to start a family. I have never met anyone who seems simultaneously so full of contentment and yet so devoid of happiness, and I don't think I ever will again. I have no idea if this somewhat strange soul is of any interest to anyone, but I guess that what I am currently writing is as much for me as it is other people, as I haven't really been writing in my journal at all.
The next day Petra and I decided to move out of our cabin and instead to a hostel, and we chose "Tina's". This was one of my favourite places to stay so far - it was right on the waterfront, and it had a cool little garden with loads of hammocks. We spent most of the day relaxing in said hammocks, as relaxing is basically the only thing to do on the island. However we did partake in a little bit of exercise, when we (along with a Canadian named Kohl, who would go on to form a trio of sorts with us, and another French Canadian) spotted some locals playing beach volleyball and asked if we could join in. I soon regretted this request, as for 15 minutes or so we were downright embarrassed by our Caribbean foes. Flailing limbs, poor hand to eye coordination, and perhaps most essentially a complete lack of points were just some of the factors in our shame, but the worst was yet to come. On one of the rare occasions that we managed to get the ball legally back to their side, they expertly set up their star player with the perfect opportunity to spike the ball back at us, or more specifically, me. Before I knew what I was doing I had crouched down, turned my back, put my arms in front of my face, and inexplicably stuck out my left leg at a right angle. The ball then proceeded to gently float over the net, and softly strike my right arm. Needlessly to say everyone began to piss themselves with laughter, and I most probably turned very red. At this point I decided to prolong my agony no longer, and retired to my hammock. Unfortunately my shame was destined to continue for the duration of that day, as after playing two games of Ring of Fire / Kings (a card-based drinking game) I once again had to retire, at the embarrassing hour of 21:20, despite the fact that Petra had got the 4th King in both games (had to drink more than me basically).
The next morning was Sunday 16th March, but at this point I am going to have to stop typing because I am bored of it and starving. I will try and finish this off in the next few days. My god the ratio between time taken to type : time taken to read is annoying.
Hope everyone is well
x
