[TypePad was down for maintenance yesterday, so I had to wait until today to post this.]
I wasn't in Belize for nearly as long as I was in Mexico. Things turned out to be so expensive that I realized I just couldn't afford to stay. As a result of my short time there, nothing truly spectacular happened to me in that country.
I had just crossed over from Mexico on the Batty Brothers Bus service. Instead of going all the way to to Belize City, I decided spend the first day in Corozal, which is right over the border. (This meant that I only got to see the first half hour of Jumanji, which was what was playing on that particular bus ride.)
The contrast between Belize and Mexico was quite striking. It was hard to get used to people, especially those with Mexican features, speaking fluent Caribbean English and saying things like "Hey, Mon!" all the time.
Also, the dogs were very different. In Mexico, all the dogs are scrawny little things that seem to be part Chihuahua and usually limp rather than walk (from being kicked all the time). Sometimes they would yip at me if I got too close, but only because they were afraid. In Belize, the dogs looked a lot healthier and very well fed. Whenever I approached the yard of a house with a dog, it would run to the edge of the property and stop, barking furiously. These were dogs who had specific homes and none of the self-esteem issues of Mexican dogs. It really was interesting to observe how dog culture could differ so much from one country to another.
Anyway, it was my first day in the country, and this fellow sitting on some steps called to me saying, "How's my boy today?" I often meet people like this in my travels. Basically he was another one of those gringo groupies who hang around hoping to befriend American and European tourists and possibly get a bit of money or a present or two out of them. He seemed harmless enough. (He was wearing an American flag bandanna.) And since I had nothing better to do with my time, I didn't try to brush him off, and he talked to me for a few minutes and invited me to meet him again that evening, and he would take me out.
Because of my prosopagnosia, I'm normally a bit leery of meeting people I've just met, since there's a good chance I won't recognize them. But when he told me that he never took off that bandanna, I knew I'd have no trouble spotting him. And I didn't.
He took me to a bar and then through the darkly lit bar to an unmarked rear door at the very back. That was a bit scary. But on the other side of that door was a large room (several times larger than the bar), brightly lit and full of people (all locals). They were seated at several long tables, merrily eating and drinking. The whole setup reminded me of the dining hall where I went to summer camp, with one crucial difference -- there were TVs on the wall at the end of every table playing a movie!
Considering that the only entrance to this place was through the back door of a small bar, the whole thing struck me as very surreal. The only conclusion I could draw was that the hidden entrance served as a way to keep out the riffraff (foreign tourists).
We sat at a table and my friend ordered us drinks. He really wanted me to get a beer, but I wanted a fanta. He ordered us two fantas. (Of course, I was the one who got to pay the check in the end, so that's why he wanted me to get a beer.) We sat there for awhile, and he told me all about Belize and its history. Most of what he said I already knew from reading it in my Lonely Planet, but there were a few tidbits I hadn't heard before. Still, I was more interested in the movie and wished I could have been there by myself to watch it in peace. I still hadn't quite gotten over missing the rest of Jumanji.
I didn't know the title of the film, but it had to do with Meg Ryan in France. Inspired by the writing of this entry, I've tracked it down on Netflix and added it to my queue. It's called French Kiss and looks truly awful.