After hydrating, we put our carry-on bags and heads under the seats at our gate in Denver to attempt to sleep on the floor, in the shade provided, until our flight to Houston in less than five hours. We roughly make it two hours, waking every half hour, as our bodies remind us that we’re no longer at grandma’s house where playing under the furniture and on the floor was still fun. Though, we should’ve found a spot that would’ve allowed us to stretch our legs and I would’ve been out.

I’m done struggling and upon waking find out that our gate has changed so we decide to walk down there to try again. We find people stretched out on comfortable benches and I quickly join them for a good nap while Caleb chooses to stay awake. We’re third on the plane again, but this time it’s back to an exit row for us, which comes with the same legroom as first class but with limited refreshments. I ask the Air Force guy in front of us about his sweater and he tells me it’s his bootcamp class Raider logo, not the football team, but also not the lost name of the Twix bar in Europe until 1991 and 2000 when countries switched to the US branding.

Hello, Houston

And to think, my bootcamp class was just a number, though I suppose we could’ve had our hand-painted flag turned into a logo in 2004, but it would’ve been a very different process back then… with all our old technology, like a $1300 Nikon digital camera that was created from its 1975 Kodak predecessor that was the size of a toaster and cost ten times as much; it’s no wonder my mom used film. Not sure why I’m trying to limit the transfer of mediums to cameras when the class would have chosen someone to take the flag to the sweater shop so we could advertise our experience outside of a graduation book and a VHS tape.

Just typing that reminds me of how much history I have; knowing that some of my favorite readers were born before 1976. I’ll sit between Aaron, an off-duty flight attendant, and Caleb. Aaron caught my attention by taking a nice picture out the window, as the lights looked neat above the place, as he doesn’t get that opportunity while working. This flight has him going to a friend’s wing pinning ceremony to join the aviation industry. As we ascend, Aaron’s headphones go in and Caleb’s go on. I’m left to feel the pressure change like going up and down in an elevator.

I try to sleep and turn the music off, then back on with the volume down, but I give up and enjoy watching Caleb catch a nap on our two-and-a-half hour flight at 5am. We stop at a United Lounge for some breakfast and I’ll stand to eat my granola and yogurt until a couple gives us their seats amongst a sea of chairs filled with people’s bags so that they can crap, or talk crap on the phone, or have easy access to their crap because they think the world is crap and that they should treat others that way. We’ll get in a post breakfast walk before being the third passengers to board again.

near Fort St and Cork St

Caleb prefers to do crosswords on the ground, so we do that until takeoff. I’ll check out the current magazine and perform other in-air activities; one of which requires use of the facilities. Most airplane bathrooms are moist, everywhere, with a mixture of those wet smells, but this lavatory has the overwhelming stench of turds covered in disinfectant; kind of like the people who fart while using the alcohol wipes on their arm rests and tray tables.

I won’t realize it until we land and see the welcome signs that not only is this a new country for us, but a new isthmus too. We’ve been to the unnamed isthmus that Seattle, North America is on and the Niagara Peninsula connected to Canada. Of the seven countries located here, Belize was the only one to be ruled by the British until 1981 when the colony gained its independence but kept English as the official language. Most of the population also speaks creole patois – a mix of English and West African Akan – and one of the many Indian languages that make up ten percent of the population. 

in memory of Lena Quinto

We get through passport control and customs rather quickly as we’re just another couple coming to enjoy the beauty that this country’s water has to provide. We step outside, before noon, and are greeted with a group of men holding signs, none with our name, and others offering to take us so many places. We take turns in the loo and then our driver arrives. Lamar will place us and our bags in the Adidas van (that’s what the logo looks like) and then go back in the heat for the other name on his sign, who is running late, so we leave without them.

Baron Bliss Lighthouse

Lamar is happy to tell us a bit about Belize – the dialect, the manatees, and his time in customer service jobs that landed him this driving gig. He says something about, “you have to be right upstairs, so you can be right downstairs,” in reference to your mental and physical health. Caleb and I agree. Lamar has taken us from the Philip S.W. Goldson International Airport to the San Pedro Belize Express Water Taxi station that will deliver us to our vacation island in an hour and a half for $59 each, round trip. The alternative is the 15 minute flight starting at $116 from the municipal airport or an extra $100 to leave from the international airport to the island.

Along the way, we pass a lot of greenery and the Belize River; some houses that look modern and beachy but others that look more abandoned or unfinished with people living on the bottom floor (common in heavy weather locales); and get to see the new Haulover Bridge under construction. Some businesses are ran out of a garage or room in the house while others consist of a multi-floor building. I know all these things are common, but the contrasts aren’t usually so mixed; unless you’re overseas in a former or current British territory.

We pick up our paper ticket in the taxi office and confirm our return trip so that we don’t miss our flight. I find a table and finish my rice and tofu from the plane and then we walk to the Belize sign on the water where some girls will pose for the camera. We complete our little tour loop and return to the terminal for some water while we wait in line to board. We can’t sit at the front, where the employees lounge, so I’m happy to think that we’ll get a side window seat, but it quickly gets closed so that the splashes don’t wet the other passengers. There’s a slight breeze coming in through the part left unzipped but no chance of seeing whale sharks, dolphins, and turtles through the thick plastic.

Our bags were tagged before being loaded and we will point them out to the employees once ashore and they will match the numbers and return them to us. We are greeted by men selling coconuts, weed, and trips to Margaritaville (a resort at the other end of the island). Our driver to Mahogany Bay Resort will arrive shortly to help pull our bags to the van that will drive us the fifteen minutes to our accommodations for the week. There’s a strong island vibe as we pass dive shops and restaurants, of which we get a few recommendations of what and where to eat, before having our bags dropped at the golf cart shack and us being delivered inside.

sipping on fruity welcomes

The woman behind the counter will check us in and give us the same restaurant endorsements; as will the porter who brings us and our bags to room 316B, the upper half of a duplex connected to another duplex via a wide staircase; after the short tour of the bar and pool so that we can get our icy welcome drinks consisting of a pink and yellow mix through a paper straw. The a/c is on in the sunroom and bedroom with one cute blue robe with white fishes folded neatly at the end. The doors and windows aren’t airtight and are made of mahogany, the national tree of Belize; which is popular for use in furniture, boats, and instruments – for being wet and salty.

the view from our front door

Caleb checks that the mini fridge is packed with bottles of water while I check out the aluminum shower in the more humid bathroom with sliding doors to separate the rooms at different temperatures. Caleb puts on shorts and we both put on flip-flops for the short walk to the Tuff E Nuff office to check on our dives. We’re told to come back tomorrow at 8:50am and that Saturday we will need to be across the street, about a half mile, by 5:30am for our trip to the Great Blue Hole that inspired this trip. We have dinner early, outside at The Verandah; I’ll go local and Caleb chooses fish and chips.

stewed chicken, rice and beans topped with plantain, potato salad

With full bellies, clean bodies, and our dive bags ready for tomorrow, we put our feet up to relax, but sunset came too soon; an hour and a half earlier than San Diego, so we’ll be in bed early to make up for the night we spent as weary travelers in Denver and Houston.