Several years ago, my sister and her stepdaughter vacationed at a resort in Belize, Coco Beach out on the island of Ambergris Cay. When she invited me on a cruise or resort experience, I asked if we could go there. She provided the resort and I paid for the side trips. It worked out beautifully. These next few posts are generated by that trip to Belize.
Getting There
Belize is a nation of resorts for a good reason—there is so much to see and do. But getting there and getting around can prove interesting. I mentioned that our destination, Coco Beach, is out on an island. You can fly there or take a water taxi. We flew. Two local airlines, island hoppers, serve the islands off Belize. Basically, they’re Alaskan bush pilots but without the snow.
There is a schedule of sorts. When we arrived, the plane out to Ambergris Cay filled up before we boarded (the aircraft have about a dozen seats, give or take and even I have to duck to board). No problem. Five minutes later we boarded a plane they had diverted from its usual run and we were whisked off to Ambergris Cay’s little airport. Two days later our own plane was diverted to go pick up some SCUBA divers who had finished their day on another island.
Air service may be casual but it’s not lax. They fly as safely as any other regional system.
The casual attitude is even more pronounced on the ground. When the British were laying out the cities, they were thinking horse carriages and not many of those. So the streets are narrow and often without proper sidewalks. Most people drive club cars or ride bikes. Near misses in the golf cart vs bike melee are constant, and the Belizeans have a wonderful eye for judging trajectory. A miss of three feet is as good as a mile as some cyclist whips across your lane. Across. In mid-block. Helmets? What’s a helmet?
Out of town, the golf carts disappear and cars, trucks, and vans take over. Speed limits are posted here and there but nobody notices them. As one driver philosophized, “If the guy’s going fast he must have some reason, so let him go.”
Are there police? I suppose so. Dotted around the countryside here and there are buildings labeled “Police.” Their footprint is maybe 20 ft by 20 ft. Some are two stories tall, and all are well maintained, painted wood.
I never saw one open.