Belize

This morning we have an early wake-up call and departure at 8 a.m. for another long day. There is one more Mayan city ruin to see here before we leave Guatemala and enter Belize.

"The Lost Gringo" seemed an apt name for a hotel we passed.  Also, something we saw everywhere in the lowlands, green wood used for fence posts sprouts and grows trees in place in the hot, wet climate.

As we drove toward Yaxha we picked up an escort of Guatemalan Tourist Police who followed us all the way into the national park. As our guide explained, there have been some political protests in this part of the country that have disrupted tourism, and the government is anxious not to let this happen.

Our Tourist Police escort.

Our guide stopped at a house along the way where the family was living in extreme poverty, without electricity, water, or other basics. As we were looking around and taking pictures, the Tourist Police officers came up in the yard and wanted our guide to explain why we were stopping here. Our guide was not concerned, but the police were clearly not happy that this aspect of Guatemalan life was being shown to tourists up close.

Parents and nine children (3 of them above) share this hut.

We had the archaeological site nearly to ourselves, and our own guide was able to take us around it, as there was no requirement here for a local “expert.” It was a nicely preserved site and allowed us to see for ourselves some features of the construction that had only been talked about at Copan and Tikal. The view from the top of the main pyramid was spectacular. But it was definitely hot and humid.

A lesser pyramid at Yaxha

View from top of the pyramid at Yaxha.

After two hours, when we got back to the bus, our driver had a cooler with ice cold, wet wash clothes waiting for us -- a very welcome relief!

Remains of round columns are an unusual feature at Yaxha.  Most Mayan columns are square.

The Yaxha ruins are well-hidden in the jungle.

 We drove a short distance to a restaurant for lunch. More tourist police picked us up on the way out of the park, so we again had an escort. The restaurant was open air, under a thatched roof. We had no sooner sat down to eat but a downpour of rain began. It was great timing that this didn’t catch us still walking among the ruins. Despite having only thatch above us, we were perfectly dry. Lunch was a somewhat thinner version of the same stew we had had on the home visit, but the meat was almost non-existent. Our guide bought lunch for the police officers, who were hanging around as we ate.

Well-preserved carvings at Yaxha.

Rounded, rather than squared corners on a temple at Yaxha.

We continued to the Belize border. Getting out of Guatemala was easy. Our guide collected all of the passports and took them into the Migration office for us to get them stamped. Getting into Belize, however, required that we get all of our suitcases off the bus and take everything through with our own passports, one person at a time. Then we had to wait in the rain as they processed the bus and driver through the border. We had to chip in a dollar apiece to tip a guy to help the driver get the baggage back up on the top of the bus -- an expense I think that OAT should have included.

The shore of the Caribbean at Belize City.

Belize requires local guides, so our OAT guide sat silently while the Belize guide droned on about every village we passed and every river we crossed. We quickly fell asleep. One can sum up by saying that Belize is a former British colony populated by the descendants of former slaves imported from Africa, as well as a mixture of Mayans and others. It is part of the British Commonwealth with English as official language, but Spanish and other languages are spoken. The country considers itself Caribbean, rather than Central American. It is small, poor, and sparsely populated, with miles and miles of totally useless savannah that can support no agriculture. Belize City is probably the most godawful place we’ve ever visited, not because it is the poorest, but because the people clearly don’t give a damn what it looks like.

Memory of Yaxha.

Our evening meal was by far the worst we’ve had, with terrible service, bad food, and air conditioning turned up so high we had to go back to our rooms and get jackets. Hopefully, tomorrow, we’ll see something worthwhile that improves our impression of this country.