Southern Comfort - Epilogue

It’s always difficult to know how to close a blog, after all I’ve covered so much ground and explored so many topics. From transport to culture, to history and cuisine, I seem to have packed a lot in. I think perhaps the theme of clothing has reoccurred more than I thought it might, and maybe that’s the place I should end with both metaphorically and literally. I feel as though I’ve shed another layer of my own preconceptions and prejudices, and exposed this region to a wider audience. 

I hope everyone who has stuck with me on this, my final journey, feels as though I have sufficiently covered everything from top to bottom.

Picture courtesy of pretty much all the staff at The Tipsy Tuna, Placencia, Belize. ...it caused a bit of a stir truth be told. ...I cleared the bar ...again. 

Day 52 - Placencia (Last Post)

I'm going to start wrapping things up now. I leave Placencia for Belize City and then up to Cancun for my flight home in a few days, but we've done the whole chicken bus thing, I've gushed enough about Belize, and I'm sure everyone is beginning to get tired of my endless travel rambles by now. So let's call it a day while I've still (in the words of Def Leppard) got something to say ...it's better to burn out, than fade away.

I always wanted to travel, and I've done a fair amount of it so far. ...And hopefully I've got a fair amount left in me yet. But as I've already said, this is likely to be my last backpacking extravaganza.
I conceived this trip with a few things in mind. I wanted to fill in a few knowledge gaps around this part of the world, and come back to Belize on a budget one last time. But the truth is, this trip has been about something much more personal and difficult to define, but I've managed to identify at least three reasons that I can share:

1/ I am now careening towards 50 at what seems like warp speed. That uncomfortable truth has given me some pause for thought this year and this trip has in effect been a massive 'FUCK OFF' to whoever invented the business of ageing.
Why should teenagers have all the fun? Who said you have to stop having adventures the minute you look in the mirror and discover a grey hair? What's the problem with discovering more about yourself and the world you live in the middle section of your life?

2/ I've already said there aren't that many people doing what I've been doing at the age I'm doing it. Sure, silver foxes still travel, but carrying your life on your back and hitchhiking through the jungle isn't the norm. Being chauffeured in air-conditioned comfort to your next 5* hotel is a little more common. So while I've been seeing new things and experiencing new stuff, I've also been sticking two fingers up at those who conform to the notion that immersive independent travel is a young mans game.

3/ Most of all I've been proving to myself that even though I now seem to have more hair growing out of my nose than on my head these days, I'm still very capable, determined, adventurous, open to new ideas and I'm sure as fuckity fuck not going to let anyone tell me I can't do stuff just because I'm 48.

I don't want to get too poncey about it, but as far as backpacking is concerned, I've done what I've wanted to do. I've discovered what I wanted to discover, I've sought out and met the challenges that I've set myself head on. I've had my right of passage, probably a lot later in life than I ought to have done, but at least I've done it. And many people don't get this far. I feel privileged, and enriched, and now satiated. I certainly don't know everything, but I now know enough about myself to be a better me. And quite honestly, I feel pretty ok about it all. I suspect my travels ongoing will be a little less 'slummy' and a shade more 'conventional'.

This is my last standard post for this blog but I've done a special bonus entry to close affairs formally for this trip and blogging in general.

Oh just fuck off! I've got two legs and a bag of attitude which has proven more than adequate for a sedate romp around Central America thank you so very much indeed,

Day 51 - Placencia (Sub-marine Special)

Well yesterday wasn't a bad day all told. A nice little boat ride to Silk Caye and then a wee swim with the fishes. And sharks. And Turtles and rays. I make no claims to being a great swimmer, nor do I know a lot about the stuff I ended up sharing my bit of sea with, but we all seemed to get along just fine, bobbing along, bobbing along on the bottom of the beautiful briny seaaaaaa. You get the picture anyway. It's one of those things you just don't get to do most places you go on holiday. And if you DO get to do it, there are precious few places you'll get the clarity of vision and wildlife diversity that you'll find in Belize. It always feels like a privilege to spend the day mucking around with these dudes. And yes, I threw up and gave them a spot of lunch to nibble on. My lunch point of fact.

 Yes? Can I help you?

We're going to need a bigger boat....

How can something so blobby be so graceful? Meanwhile, here's a turtle.

Members of the Tuna family I was told. Look, there's cousin Tiffany, and isn't that uncle Brian trying to get his fin away with Linda from next door?

 Dive dive dive! ....Shit! There's a shitting big stingray at 12 o clock!

Day 50 - Placencia (Cocktail Special)

Last night I had sex in the tropics. Quite a lot of it if I’m being honest. And I have to say, it was very very good! ...And that was after a couple of panty rippas, which was also quite an experience. The latter is the national drink of Belize. Coconut rum and pineapple for those interested. The former, I couldn’t testify to its absolute origin, only it’s intensity. Like most cocktails I've tried, they seem all too innocuous until it's time to walk home and then they pounce like an backstreet skin trader, stripping you of all motor function, eyesight, vocal chords then abandon you on the sidewalk with a label around your neck containing just your hotel address and the annotation 'Please put me to bed'. This morning I rather felt as though I’d been buried under a truck load of pineapples while simultaneously being waterboarded by Captain Morgan and Comrade Smirnoff. 

Now not all of this wanton drunkenness was entirely sun and sand provoked frivolity you understand. My fair weather football team, Crystal Palace earned a vital 3 points to keep the dream of Premiership football alive for one more season, plus I sold a holiday yesterday, one from Google rather than trade shows and personal recommendations. So I’m bound to claim that the whole affair was with considerable justification, but deep down, I, and everyone else should be honest and declare it a holiday overindulgence and leave it at that. 

On completely separate note, I was rather boldly propositioned this morning while getting my morning cup of tea to go. Sadly the lady in question was as drunk as a skunk despite the early hour, and I fear a touch mentally short of the mark. Still, a man of my age can’t entirely dismiss a ‘you is one haaaaansum man you is’ accompanied by a provocative flash of the left tit without at least a grateful acknowledgement, no matter the degree of incapacity or insanity of the commentator. Plus, for all I know, I looked exactly the same to whomever I engaged last night, assuming I engaged anyone at all, on my rum and vodka soaked extravaganza, so… people in glass houses and all that….

Aside from the rock n roll side of life, I had a simply marvellous guava jam to go on my toast for breakfast and took a long stroll up the Placencia peninsular.

Fair enough I guess...

A Panty Rippa

Sex in The Tropics

Day 49 - Placencia

Placencia is a lovely spot at the end of a long spit, jutting out into the Caribbean. A normal day is calm, warm, and being Belize, vey very chilled. It claims to have the narrowest main street in the world, and it's clapboard stilted houses are all brightly coloured shabby chic and in my opinion, quite quite delightful. I'm staying in one such dwelling for the duration of my stay, and I've already decided I'm going to buy it and set up permanent residence here. More on Placencia to come I'm sure.

I’m glad I’m giving up this stuff, it is starting to bring out some very unkind thoughts and shows me in a poor light. I sat between two Americans at a bar last night quietly reading my book but earwigging their conversation. One guy bought the other guy a beer because he was a veteran. A very gracious and honourable thing to do. The veteran, of short service it seems, then regaled his countryman with impressive tales of derring-do revolving mainly around spending US tax dollars on doing some terribly unadventurous touristy stuff without any peril, initiative, or indeed any interest whatsoever, let alone putting his life under threat of expiration. Not that every person that dresses in olive green has to be Rambo, but accepting gratuities for getting drunk and peeling potatoes 500 miles from the front line seems pretty poor form to me. The guy buying beer had the good grace to thank the drinker for his service and wished him a pleasant evening. Personally, I would’ve accused him of being a show-off sham of a man and insisted that if he wants free beer for life, he should go back, pick up a rifle and actually do something worthy of such generosity first. I’ve exposed myself to far greater danger, at my own volition and expense in the past 6 weeks than this chap did in his 2 year tour of Greenland and Guam. 

It’s not an American thing. I’ve seen this time and time again, from ex-military rear echelon bods the world over. All servicemen deserve respect regardless of the role they play, but let's keep it proportional eh? There are genuinely deserving folk out there that keep their courageous exploits to themselves and in my experience, they buy their own beers. 

The narrowest main street .....in the world. 

Jesus, it's all gone a bit Live And Let Die

Breakfast view.

Day 48 - Placencia

Today was departure day from San Ignacio. My destination, the Southern Belizean town of Placencia. I had to catch 2 chicken busses with a schedule unknown, and it’s a fair distance to travel, so I left my digs in the early morning. A fifteen minute wait at the bus stop saw me onto bus to the Belizean capital of Belmopan an hour or so away. On part tarmac, part limestone hardcore roads, we passed through jungle villages like Blackman Eddy, Cool Shade, Teakettle and Roaring Creek. The corrugated iron cattle shed bus terminal at Belmopan contained a few sleepy folk half selling, half not bothering to sell sandwiches of dubious pedigree, and the departures board I found lying in the grass by the boundary fence, it’s informative days now well behind it. By chance I wandered back onto the concourse and saw a bus with Placencia on the front, enquired, hopped on and we puffed and coughed and burped away from the terminal and onto the Hummingbird Highway heading south. Total time in Belmopan, 5 minutes. 

The poor old HH has suffered a little since I last passed this way, but it think it’s the oldest road in Belize and is in parts still as it was laid down by the Royal Engineers. So it is somewhat overdue for an upgrade. Given how shockingly uncomfortable chicken buses are under the even the best of conditions, my arse is only just beginning to come back to me as I write this six hours later. 

All of this means I am now in one of my favourite towns on planet earth, Placencia. And the even better news is, I’m here on holiday from my holiday. I’ve been saving a few pennies by staying in cheap hostels so I have enough budget left to do a couple of nice things while I’m here. And when I’m not doing that, I’ll be on the beach getting burnt right in front of the Caribbean. Lucky me. 

Village life in Belize. In this case, Blackman Eddy.

The joys of chicken bus travel.

A beardy Mennonite (Belizean Armish). I had to take this pic covertly in case he thought I was trying to steal his soul.

I don't really know what to say about this. I guess if you haven't got a bag in which to carry your Chuppa Chup, you have to improvise. 

Day 47 - Sam Ignacio

Well as this is the first day of the new year, I ought to begin with something uplifting and positive to set the tone for the next 12 months.
New Years Eve is pretty dreadful the world over. Doubly so when you spend it on your own. I think 4/5 of my friends spent NYE on their own and didn't make it anywhere near midnight as far as I can tell, and it was the same for me. And I know I wasn't the only one to be roused from my slumber at midnight by a barrage of fireworks. Happy New Year and thank god for earplugs.

I have decided to lighten my load a smidge. I’ve come away with way too much technology really, and way too many clothes. I’d quite forgotten how much wear you can get from a pair of pants without feeling a great deal of shame. So I am shedding two pairs of well worn pants. Quite frankly there are Papua New Guinean tribesmen still resorting to wooden codpieces that would turn their nose up at my jaded briefs, and one pair at least has developed a crutch hole that kind of lassoes and then garrottes my left bollock from time to time and results in some considerable discomfort unless I am able to retrieve it fairly sharpish, so they’re binned. Likewise socks. The underwear I brought with me was all deliberately end of life, so I’m just keeping two pairs of socks, which I don’t expect will see the light of day until the plane home. Finally, and much to the relief of one or two people I know, a vest is also going on the pyre. I don’t know exactly what you call these, I’ve heard them described as muscle shirts before now but that has a somewhat ironic ring to it in my case, but they aren’t unusual garments on the backpacker trail, and yet have caused in my opinion, unwarranted attention from spectators back home. Anyway I bought a job lot in Nicaragua a few years back and their low quality is beginning to show, and one at least is failing to perform its basic function of being a vest. Lastly, I have ditched a Star Trek themed t-shirt. Not so much because of the subject matter, I’m unapologetic about pretty much everything I wear, but because it is cut so badly, it makes me look like a string of badly tied sausages. 

So in total, I reckon I’m saving about 400g, and that makes my massive winter clear out a big fat waste of time really. 

Goodbye old friend, you've been shit.