In the mid-1980’s, I took my first trip to the Yucatan Peninsula.  Like many travelers, my first experience in that part of the world was the tourist mecca of Cancun.  One day during that initial trip, I rented a car and drove down the coastal highway, and fell in love with the hidden, off-the-beaten-path  places scattered along that pristine coast.  Each year for the next several years I returned, not to Cancun, but to the hidden gems further south, where one could have a thatch roof hut just steps from the Caribbean for as little as $12 per night.

By the end of the 1980’s, that coastline was beginning to change.  As the glitz of Cancun spilled further and further south, $12 rooms could no longer be found.  The Caribbean coastline even took on a new moniker, “The Riviera Maya”.  It no longer beckoned me, however.  I headed further down the Yucatan, to Belize.

I took my first trip to Belize in 1989, and went again the following year.  The little nation was just beginning to welcome tourists, who mainly landed in Belize City, and immediately caught a commuter plane or boat ride to one of the cayes located several miles off shore.  Here, the vast majority of American tourists would come to enjoy the clear, turquoise seas and white sand beaches, catching hardly a glance of the mainland, where 99% of the Belizean populace lives.

Yes, I enjoy a beach vacation, and diving or snorkeling in the Caribbean is an experience that should not be missed.  Still, I like to see where the people live and work.  On my trips to Belize, I made a point of going off the tourist path, to see what I considered to be the real country.  Sometimes it could be a little scary, but more often it was a delight – hot, and in town very frequently noisy, to be sure, but still a delight.

Belize, like Mexico’s Yucatecan coast, has changed a lot in the 20 years since I traveled there.  New eco-tourist lodges have sprouted up in the interior, and more and more luxury resorts have opened up along the coastline and in the cayes.  Since getting married in the 1990’s to one who prefers cool, northern forests and mountains to hot, tropical beaches, my trips that far south have come to a halt.  So the memories and mementos I have may be outdated now.  But they do show a snippet of what Belize was like 20 years ago, and perhaps what can still be found there if one seeks it out.

Belize is a very small country.  In area, it is about the same size as Massachussetts.  Its population is only about 320,000.  Its capital, Belize City, is home to about 70,000 residents who live in very close quarters in often ramshackle wooden houses.

Here is an aerial view of the city.  When you consider that the river flowing through the heart of the city is little more than 100 yards wide, you can see just how compact the town is.

Most tourists avoid Belize City.  It is hot and noisy and dirty.  But it can be a lively city, too, where one can see the rich cultural diversity of the nation.  People with Mediterranean complexions mingle with light skinned Mennonites, dark skinned Creoles, even darker skinned Garifuna (descended from escaped slaves and Caribe Indians) as well as other African descendants, and Hispanic Mestizos.  Although the official language is English, most Belizeans speak a Creole dialect among themselves that is difficult to impossible for North Americans to decipher.  But most Belizeans will understand your English dialect, and can speak standard English with a very pleasing musical accent.  You will occasionally hear Spanish spoken, too.

Belize’s British colonial heritage is evidenced in the city’s architecture.  Here is the Supreme Court building, typical of the British-built buildings found throughout the main thoroughfares of the town.

When you move away from the center of the city, the streets become much more crowded with clapboard houses and businesses built on dirt roads lined with small canals that are use for waste water disposal.  Tourists should be careful venturing into neighborhoods like the one shown below.  Any ostentatious display of wealth, such as nice jewelry, purses, or cameras, should especially be avoided.  At least, that was the case when I was there 20 years ago, and I suspect it still is.

One interesting place to visit in Belize City is the Central Market, where farmers sell their produce, and fishermen sell their catch.  The market is also the scene of clandestine activities.  Right after I took the photo below, the man who is slightly hunched over beneath the clock pointed at me and yelled, “Camera!  Camera!”  He began to make his way past the tables of fresh fish toward me, a look of fire in his expression.  I quickly turned and walked as fast as I could without drawing too much attention to myself and got out of there, where I blended in with the crowds walking along the waterfront.  Later, I mentioned the incident to the proprietess of my hotel, and she said I had probably taken a picture of someone smuggling goods or bribing a customs official to avoid taxes on imports brought from Guatemala or Honduras.  Another possibility was that I had interrupted a drug transaction, most likely marijuana.  My advice:  look closely at your subject before taking a photo!

Not all of Belize City is seedy, though.  As a British colony, the dominant religion is Anglican.   Below is a picture of St. John’s Anglican Cathedral, built in 1812.  In the early part of the 19^th century, Britain installed a puppet state along much of Central America’s Caribbean coast, which was the home of Meskito Indians who were opposed to Spanish claims to their tribal lands.  The British coronated several “kings”  for the short-lived Mosquito Coast Kingdom in St. John’s Cathedral, probably the only royal coronations ever to take place in an Anglican church outside of Great Britain.  I walked by the church on a Sunday morning and stopped to listen to the Creole congregation enthusiastically singing British hymns.

A few days is usually long enough to explore Belize City’s charms.   One interesting excursion is to take the Western Highway toward Guatemala.  Near the border is the town of San Ignacio.  You will begin to hear more Spanish in this part of the country, but English is still widely understood, too.  San Ignacio almost has the feel of an Old West frontier town.  One can almost imagine John Wayne coming out of the Belmoral Hotel, six shooter in hand.

I am always intrigued at the presence of American pop culture in the most out-of-the-way places.

While driving to San Ignacio, we crossed a bridge and saw women doing laundry in the muddy Belize River.

I love rivers, and have blogged about a couple of raft and canoe trips I have made on different rivers in North America.  I also canoed the Monkey River in south-central Belize.  It was a beautiful float, with park-like shorelines, banana plantations, jungle, and small villages.  As we neared one bend, we heard voices singing this well known hymn:

We shall gather at the river

The beautiful, the beautiful river!

Gather with the saints at the river

That flows by the throne of God…

Then, turning the bend, the music grew louder, and we watched several adult converts profess their newfound faith with full emersion baptism.

My favorite place to stay in Belize was just outside the village of Placencia, near the mouth of the Monkey River.  Placencia is on the tip of a narrow, 15 mile long sandy peninsula.  There are a large number of Garifuna who live on the peninsula.  The Garifuna are a unique ethnic group.  In the 1600's two Spanish slave ships were destroyed during a storm off the coast of the Caribbean island of St. Vincent.  Many of the slaves escaped to the island where they eventually intermarried with the Arawak and Caribe Indians living there.  Eventually, a hybrid culture combining African and Native American traditions developed, and the result was the Garifuna people.  The Garifuna remained free and isolated from Europeans until the 1790's, when the British took St. Vincent and exiled its inhabitants to the Bay Islands of Honduras.  From there, the Garifuna moved and settled along much of the Caribbean coast of Belize, Guatemala, and Honduras.  Passing through a Garifuna settlement, one can easily imagine being in rural Nigeria or Malawi, with stilted thatch huts scattered about, and colorfully clad black-skinned women balancing large loads on their heads as they walk along the pathway.

Unlike the rest of the peninsula, the village of Placencia was largely settled by Portuguese, and many of their descendants have intermarried with English speaking Creoles.  I also saw a large number of Rastafarians in this area.  My favorite feature of Placencia is its main street, which is a 30 inch wide concrete sidewalk that curves around for nearly a mile through the center of the village.  Other than the unpaved, little used highway that runs the length of the peninsula and skirts the edge of town, this is the only “road” in the entire village.

Just off the sidewalk is Placencia’s chuch and school.

Placencia was just beginning to be discovered when I visited there.  The tourist infrastructure was primitive, and electricity was unreliable.  Frequently, nighttime lighting was provided by kerosene lamps.  During the 1990's, the Placencia peninsula became the sight of significant new tourist development.  In fact, Francis Ford Coppola developed a resort just up the road from where I twice stayed.  Has development changed Placencia like it did Mexico’s Caribbean coast?  Probably.  I hope it will remain affordable for more than just the wealthiest North Americans, though.  I hope it will remain a laid back, pristine place where one can quietly enjoy watching the sun rise over the beach in the company of a stray dog.