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A Different World We changed planes in Houston and a few hours later, after crossing over the jungles of the Yucatan, we touched down at Belize International Airport around 3:30 p.m. The first building I saw in Belize was the Belikin Beer Brewery next to the airport which, I decided, was another good omen.
Or maybe not. After clearing immigration, I went to the carousel to pick up my two duffel bags. I found one of them but waited for the other. And waited. And waited. No luck, though, so obviously it had decided to travel somewhere else. I had brought a large stash of health supplies to donate to the villagers, including lots of maxi-pads donated by Amanda, a co-worker with a heart of gold. The duffel bag with the medical donations had arrived safely but the one with my clothes had decided to take a different flight apparently, so although I didn’t have many clothes with me, at least I had plenty of feminine protection handy.
During our final orientation meeting in Portland, the group had agreed to meet at the Belize airport that afternoon at 4:30 p.m. and, sure enough, everyone was there. Folks had arrived from all directions: a few were on my flight, some had arrived in Belize a few days earlier and had spent time on the keys, while others had gone inland for bird-watching. We were all cheerfully greeted by Jonny, ProWorld’s head man in Belize, who directed us to a school bus that had seen better days, and after throwing our gear in the back of the bus, we boarded through the front and spread ourselves out among the empty seats. It was pretty hot and humid, so the windows dropped in quick succession.
Cecelia and Jonny gave us a quick introduction/pep-talk, then our bus pulled out of the parking lot and headed west to San Ignacio, about two hours away on Belize’s best highway, two lanes of blacktop stretching for 80 miles to Guatemala. The bus was soon a cacophony of scattered conversations with new-found friends, though the roaring engine made it hard to hear anyone more than a seat away. I sat in the back of the humid and breezy bus surrounded by several amiable women who introduced themselves as Coleen, Laurie, Kate, Jean, and Tamera. I talked and listened, but mostly listened, and it was a very pleasant and relaxing ride.
An hour into the trip, though, and with the sun skimming the horizon, we heard a very loud “Bang! Whop, whop, whop, whop…” It was definitely a conversation-stopper and everyone looked around in a collective daze. I was sure it was a flat tire, but the bus was still traveling, though the driver had quickly slowed from 40 mph to about 25. I was trying to figure out what had just happened and why we were still moving, and after a few minutes, I realized that one of the two dual-tires on the rear had exploded and we were limping along on the other one. Another tire blowout on the packed bus would’ve been bad news, so I kept my fingers crossed and just enjoyed the ride, figuring that I couldn’t do anything about it. I don’t think the women near me realized what had happened and there was no point in worrying them, so I didn’t say anything about our somewhat-precarious situation.
Other than the flat, the evening bus ride was fascinating and I watched the landscapes slowly flow past. With the field bonfires, adults languishing on their front porches of their shacks, kids playing on the road, barking dogs chasing the bus, and the stifling heat and humidity, I felt like I was on another planet even though I had been in America just a few hours earlier.
Later that evening we approached the lights of civilization and the loud conversations died down as folks peered out the bus windows in fascination. This was, I guessed, the city of San Ignacio, which would be our base for the next week. With the bus still limping along slowly, we drove by several small grocery stores with – oddly enough – Chinese names, then we passed a hard-fought outdoor basketball game under the lights, and then a traffic accident with some bloodied victims staggering about. After a few more turns, the bus struggled up a steep hill and pulled off the road, then stopped. Apparently we were home – and all in one piece thanks to our great bus driver.
Welcome to Belize!
Above left: The airport from the other side... Above right: ... where our bus awaited us.
Above left: Amazingly enough, our entire group of 24 was here. We were all strangers but got to know each other quickly. Above center: Load 'em up! Above right: Time to board the bus. That's Michele, Forrest and Cecelia having a chat.
Above left: Cecelia and Jonny giving us a short briefing as we prepared for take off. "In the event of a water landing, please use your seat cushion as a floatation device..." Above center: On our way to San Ignacio that evening. Above right: Arriving in San Ignacio, we were all excited about our upcoming adventure in Belize.
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