It's hard to believe that ten years ago I flew by myself to Dublin to begin a totally new chapter of my life. How could we have ever imagined what was ahead of us? My utter lack of comprehension of what was to follow was signaled by my lone suitcase, full of t-shirts and shorts--the only clothes I had and all you needed in the warm South--as if that would be adequate in early spring in Dublin.
Yeah, a little naïve, at best.
From the time I touched down in Dublin I had exactly 14 days to establish myself in Ireland. I had to find some way of getting a cell phone, a computer, and then find a place to live. Once I had done that I was expected to report to work and from there I was to acquire a vehicle that would fit a family of seven, register with the Irish immigration, furnish my apartment with all the essentials, and secure a transit pass. And somewhere in between all that I had to get some warmer clothes.
But it all worked out. It always worked out.
Now that I've been home I think about Ireland in one way or another almost every single day. I love to reflect and talk about Ireland but I also hate to think that I'm bragging. I honestly don't consider it bragging, but rather a heartfelt outpouring of deep and genuine gratitude. I consider the Ireland experience a singular blessing from God--one I certainly didn't deserve but one I'll be eternally grateful for having.
"How Did I Get Here?"
On March 21, 2013 I made my first entry into this blog, what was intended to be at least a weekly entry cataloguing my and my family's life in Ireland.
On that day I wrote a short entry, including this line: "The first question could be 'how did I get here?'"
I never did answer that because what was ahead of me certainly was more important that how I got there. But maybe now, ten years later, a little context would be appropriate and perhaps would shed some light on why I consider the Ireland experience a lot more than just a cool trip.
To really start at the beginning would require us to go back to mid summer, 2012. Frankly, the kindest thing I can say about myself then is that I was being a brat. I must admit I was generally unhappy with a lot of things. Every day was a bad day for one reason or another--you name it: someone took my favorite parking spot at work, wahhh! I disliked my job, myself, and the South in general, for no particular reason at all. Outwardly everything was fine really and yet I was still dissatisfied. Aside from my family I didn't want to associate with anyone for any reason.
In retrospect I think I was being incredibly childish. I was magnifying everything negative in my life and minimizing (or ignoring completely) everything that was actually good. If I could go back in time I'd probably give myself a swift kick in the hindquarters. My ingratitude and selfishness were inexcusable.
That's the backdrop to what I thought would be another typical crybaby Tuesday--frustrating, unsatisfying, disappointing. I had just gotten up for work and checked my phone. I had a voicemail that had been left overnight. It was from a man who said his name was Chris. He spoke with a distinct British accent and laughed a bit in his message as he confessed "I just realized this is blazingly early for you!". He invited me to call him back at my convenience.
Later that day while I was at work I took some time to wander off to be myself and did call him back. He turned out to be a recruiter based in London and was actively looking for professionals with a background similar to mine. He had a handful of opportunities available and wanted to know if I was interested in any of them. I remember there were openings in Amsterdam, Birmingham, and Dublin. It sounded great, of course, the idea of heading off overseas to work in Europe, but I was being completely honest when I told him there wasn't a good chance of that happening as I had some pretty deep roots where I was and such a move with a young family of five kids would be next to impossible.
Still, I promised I would talk it over with my wife and from there would let him know if I felt it was really worth pursing or not.
Later that day when I got home Liz was attending to various activities around the house. I wandered into the living room and casually mentioned how I had been contacted by a recruiter who was looking for talent to relocate to Europe.
"Yeah? Where are these openings?" Liz asked. I explained what had been told to me by Chris and that I really didn't have much more details other than I knew they were in Amsterdam, Birmingham, and Dublin.
Liz paused and stared at me for a moment.
"I just got butterflies in my stomach when you said 'Dublin'".
Now I was getting butterflies. Liz has a knack for sensing opportunities and if she was feeling something then that probably meant it was important.
I called Chris back the next day: Tell me more about Dublin.
From then a library of emails began to be exchanged. Numerous phone interviews were held. And with each successive step I always checked in with Liz: Are we sure we want to purse this? If we actually get a job offer I don't think I would say no so we have to be sure this is something we really, really want to do.
She never wavered: keep pursing it like we're going to do it, she'd say.
There were many times it seemed impossible. How could we ever move the entire family over to Ireland for an indefinite period of time? What would we do with all our stuff? Our cars? The house? Sell it? We really liked the house and had put a lot of effort into it.
I remember at one point when we were discussing it I got really frustrated and exclaimed "This is impossible; this is never going to happen! How are we going to get this to work?" Again Liz proved the rational one and said simply, "have faith".
By December the hiring managers had offered to fly Liz and me out to Dublin to meet key personnel and to have an official interview. They also arranged for us to take a tour of the city and other activities.
That first trip to Ireland merits its own blog entry but, but to be short, it was that trip that really sealed the deal. By the time we got home, if we weren't sure before we were now: we were going to Ireland.. We didn't have all the answers to "how" we only knew that it would all work out.
From December to March I and the family were in full-on "Operation Ireland" mode. A lot of work had to be done and a lot of important decisions had to be made. And a lot of sacrifice as well, and not really on my part but on my family's. Liz by herself spent an enormous amount of time and energy getting the house ready to rent out while we were away.
Many of the sacrifices were also borne by my young children. I'll never forget the day we had a "super yard sale" to dispose of everything we couldn't put in storage or take with us, which to be clear, was almost everything. I looked out that day and was stung to my heart: my kids had put virtually everything they owned on that patio to be sold. Clothes, bikes, beds, toys, keepsakes. Their contribution to pay the cost of my decision to move the family was made evident that day, and it wouldn't be the last time.
As would be proven time and time again everything that had to be done was done; perhaps not always to our preference but it did get done.
Then it came time to buy that one-way ticket to Dublin. I remember telling the recruiter Chris that I was feeling a little bit like Felix Baumgartner before taking that step. But I did take that step and much of what happened next I captured either in this blog, photos, emails, or perhaps just my memories.
I reflect upon those first few weeks when there was so much to be done and I had virtually nothing. Many kind people came to my aid when I needed it. I am so grateful for their help. They all became my first friends of many I and my family would make. By the time my family arrived about a month later every major piece had been setup and was ready.
What I could not have conceived then was that in only about two years I would be repeating virtually everything I was doing then, just in reverse. I would be selling the van I was buying. I would be disposing of all the household goods and furniture. I would be disconnecting all those communication devices. I would be cancelling all my Irish accounts. And the hardest part: Saying goodbye to all my dear friends I had made in Ireland and the beautiful country I had grown to adore.
But I knew going into it that it wasn't meant to last forever.
The last photo I took in Ireland. Our cozy townhouse, 1 Manor House View, Raheny.
Epilogue
When I returned to the United States in April of 2015 I was a different person--I was a better person. My whole family was different. Though we returned the same house and the same beautiful South I felt differently about it all. I didn't dislike it anymore. Things seemed . . . better, ok even.
I guess that's why I am so deeply and humbly grateful for my two years in Ireland. I've said it before but while I was there I had no bad days, and I mean it. Sure there were trials and disappointments but we dealt with them. The Ireland experience had changed me for the better. I had grown and a lot of my pettiness, selfishness, and ingratitude were gone. It's difficult to express adequately how or why it did, but it did, and it set the stage for a lot more growth to come because life doesn't stop coming at you, no matter where you live.
So, yeah, Ireland holds a very special place on the mantelpiece of my heart. It always will. My emotions are near the surface whenever I reflect upon my time there. It was . . . a gift, to one as categorically undeserving as I was, it came at a time when I needed a rescue of sorts.
So at the risk of being too emotional, I must again raise a glass and toast Ireland again, as I do every St. Patrick's Day. Sláinte .
Someday I hope to return but even if I never do, that will be OK. Ireland lives in my heart every day.
I have something of a confession to make: I really don't like to travel, I don't like to take vacations, and I don't like camping. I'm kind of boring that way. I'm something of a homebody. I am a product of self-domestication with a shrinking brain on a comfortable couch.
I don't think I've always been this way. Maybe it's just an effect of getting older, but now the very thought of travel for any reason makes me grit my dentures.
This is a little contradictory considering all the (admittedly pretty cool) traveling I have done in my life. But lately all I can think about are all the downsides to any of these things. Air travel seems particularly odious: Where else can you simultaneously be treated as a millionaire, a sardine, and a prison inmate? Oh, and now in the post-COVID era, also as a plague rat.
Yeah, not the healthiest attitude, I know.
So perhaps the whole "let's go to Belize" thing was more than just good for me, it was therapeutic. It dumped this lazy dope on his head and said "let's go before it's too late."
I am grateful to Liz and all my friends who have patiently prodded me to peel myself off the couch and get up and Seek Out the Adventure.
Prologue
It was about mid-summer 2021 when my good friend Rich from Washington messaged me about the possibility of a big couples reunion with him and his wife, Andrea. Liz and I hadn't seen them since we moved away from Washington in 2009, and getting back together would really be great. He and Andrea had just gotten scuba certified so he was thinking something tropical early in 2022. The trip would involve a lot of air travel, boat travel, and . . . . camping.
I groaned within myself. We already had a big trip planned for Florida in late September to see friends, family, and otherwise frolic in the early fall Florida shores. I referred to it as "Operation Speargun". In my mind that was enough vacation to last a few years. My old stubborn self was already fighting back at the thought of all the costs and perceived inconveniences of another big trip.
But for some reason it was hard to say no this time. Despite describing virtually everything I dislike about vacationing, it really seemed like something I shouldn't say no to. So I said yes. Borrowing the naming convention for my Florida trip I dubbed it "Special Operation: Ripley's Belize it or Not!" (No points for originality as will be explained later).
While Rich and I began to make some plans on dates and locations, I still needed to let Liz know. This trip was such a big deal, so telling her had to be something special, akin to asking a girl to senior prom. What would it be, though? Sky writing? A marching band? A Blue Angels flyby? Or perhaps a poorly photoshopped image converted into a puzzle would suffice:
Oh yeah, that's the ticket. (And by the way, unbeknownst to me at the time, FOUR of our major stops are listed on this map!)
Finally, the day of the big reveal came! Oh, just look at the raw excitement in her eyes!
And just FYI, assembling a puzzle without a picture reference is really hard.
Of course Liz who is about 1,000 times more adventuresome than I am eagerly accepted and immediately began making plans.
Now in making plans for a trip like this in earnest brought up some real issues. As much as we love our friends we had never travelled with them before. It was only fair to warn them, inform them of how Liz and I differ in vacationing styles. Liz vacations on one speed: Intense. I don't even know how fast "intense" is but believe me, it's fast. She also operates quite well on 30 minutes of sleep per night, never needs to sit, and fills in every waking moment engaged in one activity seamlessly connected to the next., if not overlapped. She really could have been a Navy SEAL. She would have aced BUD/S training easy. Me on the other hand despises the fact that hotel complementary breakfasts end at 10AM. That's just way, way too early for me. And one activity per day is plenty, especially if that activity involves anything outside of my hotel room.
Another thing that became clear after a while were the (overused buzz term) "NEW NORMALS" of international travel. For example, here are the things the Belizean government required of us before we would be allowed entry:
Proof of vaccination
Proof of negative COVID test no earlier than 96 hours prior to departure
Proof of travel insurance (theirs, of course. How convenient!)
Poof of hotel accommodations that were Belizean "Gold Standard"
Proof I wasn't an interdimensional demon robot pirate
OK, so that last one wasn't really required but I wouldn't have been surprised if it had been. And of course none of this insulates you from the normal battery of paperwork and interrogation you'll face as soon as you arrive to reverify all of these things.
Surprisingly, booking the hotel was almost worse. After purchasing the hotel rooms for the week, the hotel required me to upload images of all my government issued IDs, proof of vaccination, image of my credit card, and then do a LIVE PHOTO submission from my computer's video cam. Sheesh, should I send a blood sample too?
Life carries on pretty much as normal but go-launch is getting closer. Are you ready? The answer is no.
Day 1: Monday February 28, 2022
It's not even 5 AM in Fort Mill, SC (did I mention I'm not an early riser?) but we're up and one our way to the airport. Fly out of Charlotte to Atlanta then to Belize City. OLD MAN GRIPE: the total time for us to get up and fly to Atlanta from Charlotte took over four hours. We could have driven riding lawnmowers to Atlanta faster--and wouldn't have been required to wear masks the entire time, either. Anyway, the flight was uneventful except for a brief moment where I thought I had lost my passport prior to boarding the plane to Belize. Luckily, it had just slipped into a pocket where I couldn't feel it. Whew: disaster #1 averted. (Eerie foreshadowing . . . )
Oh, aircraft trivia game has a bit of an attitude (even if it's sorta true . . .)
Did you know you can see cargo ships from 30k feet? It looks like they're not moving at all, as if they're just paintings on the water.
Welcome to Belize
We're here! Made it through immigration, found our shuttle and are off to the water taxi! Of course there are all sorts of touristy gift shops around, many featuring t-shirts which I usually buy as a memento of any major trip. Many of the shirts featured Belize puns like "Better Belize It!". Oh, I guess my codename for the trip wasn't that original after all . . .
At the water taxi pier
Liz putting on the sun screen baby! Oh it's real now!
Riding the water taxi from Belize City to Caye Caulker. This was the one and only time riding the water taxi was enjoyable.
No sooner had we stepped off the water taxi on our home base of Caye Caulker we met up with our good friends, Rich and Andrea! Finally! We all made it!
After a joyful reunion with Rich and Andrea, we had an appointment for an orientation session with our dive & snorkel expedition on Wednesday and Thursday. As part of our orientation we got fitted for snorkeling gear, reviewed trip details, signed waivers, made final payments, and discussed other assorted travel details. They even introduced us to the luxury superyacht we'd be venturing into the depths of the Caribbean Sea on for two days! Behold! The Lady Victoria!
Yeah, um, I don't know a lot about boats but I always thought large holes on the hull were generally a bad thing, but whatever!
The boat actually seemed fine, though a bit old. Its most sophisticated navigational equipment was a compass without even a radio in sight. Most of its original lights were missing with assorted dangling wires, frayed duct tape, and mysterious tubes scattered about. All of the original head and galley equipment was painted over. Its upper deck with the wheel was obviously retrofitted. In all this, the biggest problem of all was actually the head. It was small, of course, but it to flush it required pouring a scoop of soapy water down it. Also, the door didn't close so anyone using it had to sort of stick out a leg or an arm to signal to others that it was being used. This isn't too big of a deal for the men, of course, but I did feel sort of bad for Liz and Andrea. To their credit they pressed on without complaint.
One thing that became clear quite early is that all of us would have to relax our personal privacy standards a bit on this voyage.
Day 2: Tuesday March 1, 2022
Our first full day started early again, another water taxi ride from Caye Caulker to Belize City. After only one trip, the novelty of the water taxi ride was completely gone. Now it felt like riding in a cramped old covered wagon that smelled like dried seaweed.
Luckily, our tour guide was there to pick us up in his nice, fully air conditioned van with fresh hot Belizean meat pies for us to enjoy on our way to the river boat tour. And he didn't make us wear our masks! That was the first time in over 24 hours where we could unmask in public or in transit.
Our tour guide Nephi was so nice, cheerful, thoughtful, and knowledgeable! Highly recommend!
Our van ride snaked around the streets of Belize City, which looked about like what I imagine most central American cities look like. Lots of cars, bikes, people about; storefronts, apartments, gas stations; just people living their lives as normal. After about an hour drive though we were far away from the urban jungle and into the actual jungle. A boat launch area called Bats Landing had us in a small motorboat heading upstream toward the temple complex.
Bats Landing boat launch area featured these space-age foot operated flush toilets so you never had to use your hands!
One of the things Liz and I noticed on our first arrival into Belize were people whom I had not seen since I served my mission in Pennsylvania: The Mennonites. They sort of stand out from your typical Belizean: The men all wear straw hats, long sleeved shirts, and coveralls. The women wear full-length dresses and have white bonnets or hair coverings. What I did not know is that they had settlements in Belize and had been residents there for a long time. Furthermore, their industrious nature has been a boon to the Belizean economy. Their products and services extended beyond furniture and bread into more modern operations such as shipbuilding.
A more "modern" Mennonite tractor, but with hard metal wheels instead of rubber tires.
A Mennonite shipyard where they construct barges for sail. . . get it? "Sail"??!!
The winding river at high speed
Proboscis Bats
Mayan temple ruins
After jetting along the New River, we arrived at the Lamanai Mayan temple complex on the mainland. Now if you don't know, Liz and I and our friends are all members of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. As part of our religion, we hold as true and sacred the volume of scripture titled The Book of Mormon, which "is a record of God’s dealings with ancient inhabitants of the Americas" (Introduction).
This belief obviously means there should be some sort of connection between the peoples and events recorded in the Book of Mormon and the ancient American societies we know of today. Touring and discussing these ruins is a opportunity to search for clues that could connect the secular world with the scriptural one. Luckily our tour guide is also a member and had himself spent a great deal of time researching all the natural facts of the temple ruins and any supporting evidence related to the Book of Mormon.
Here are just a couple of interesting tidbits:
The original name of the city was Lama'anayin, meaning roughly "submerged crocodile". It's one of the few Mayan cities where its true name was known. One of the first people introduced in the Book of Mormon, and a key figure in the subsequent nations, is a man named Laman.
This man Laman was given a blessing by his father that he would "be like unto this river", hence, his name is associated with rivers. The city is adjacent to a major river.
There were others as well, many of which involved the feathered serpent god Quetzalcoatl. A little more on that later.
There were four main temple ruin areas: Jaguar temple, Stella temple, High Temple, and Mask temple. There were also assorted related areas such as the royal court, ball court, and other ruins.
First temple climb of the day: Jaguar Temple
The acoustics up there were amazing. We could communicate with our tour guide who was on the ground on the other side of the plaza with normal conversation volume!
Other highlights from the day:
Howler monkeys
Holding ancient Mayan pottery shards
White-nosed coati was not afraid of tourists.
This is the exposed center stone of the ball court where the Mayans played their favorite ballgame Pok-A-Tok or Pitz. The objective was to work a ball into an opponent's goal or shoot it through a vertical hoop for an immediate win. Players could use their whole body except their hands and feet. While the game did have significant connections to their religious beliefs, the losers (or winners) were not ordinarily sacrificed. The capstone seen here has been lifted above ground but would normally be only seen the very top. It can't be seen but toward the center the stone is actually mostly hollow where a small gift was made of one of the Mayan's most rare and sacred offerings: liquid mercury, probably derived from cinnabar, a favorite colorant.
An effigy censer of the Mayan feathered serpent god Quetzalcoatl recovered from the temple complex.
Observe the curious hole in Quetzalcoatl's hands.
A few other shots of the amazing, verdant forest surrounding the temple complex
Here our tour guide is about to serve us an appetizer before lunch: Termites. (yes, really; mine tasted like dirty carrots) (Image: Liz)
Cutting up Horse Balls tree produces a natural insect bite salve and adhesive. (Credit Liz)
Oh, and another fun fact: chewing on the leaves of an allspice tree is a natural anesthetic
Heading home once again from an amazing start to an amazing adventure.
Dinner that night was at Il Pellicano Cucina Italiana. Highly recommend the eggplant parmigiana!
Day 3 Wednesday March 2, 2022
Today we set out on our boat expedition with another early start. We had to be at Frenchie's pier at 5:30AM, with an ever-bright Venus greeting us in the pre-dawn sky. Luckily we had packed light so we brought all our gear with us for the two day, one night adventure. Rich and Andrea would be scuba diving and Liz and I would be snorkeling. The crew of four included a dive master, skin diver, first mate and captain Frenchie himself. After a small breakfast on the pier we loaded up and shoved off.
The famous Caye Caulker sign early in the morning.
The predawn sky from the Frenchie's pier.
Shoving off from Caye Caulker that morning.
One thing I had not considered (one of many, really) was the prospects of me getting sea sick. I had always thought I was immune to it as I can handle other types of motion quite well. Everything on the boat was fine until we reached more open sea and the boat encountered some rather large swells. I never felt in danger at any time but I did begin to feel queasy. Breathing deeply and looking at the horizon helped, and eventually the seas calmed and the nausea went away. Liz also mentioned that she felt she was about to throw up too, but eventually that subsided.
Soon it came time for our first scheduled dive. I was ready and excited. Our snorkel guide and Liz jumped in and I, perhaps a little overzealous, jumped in right after them. I neglected to secure my mask and snorkel and the landing knocked both off, flooding my mask and filling my mouth with seawater. I have to admit, I felt an instant of panic. Luckily, I just got back on the surface, cleared my mask and snorkel, and was back in business, though a bit wiser.
Our friends and the boat crew getting ready for the first dive of the trip
The water was about 15 to 20 feet deep by my estimate and shallow enough to get to the seafloor and get up close with the coral and fish. It was a cloudy day so light was dimmer than I had hoped but I still got to see some amazing sea life. What I hadn't considered was the pressure. It takes a little getting used to it and allow the eardrums to acclimate. Once they did, though, I got to see my first real Caribbean coral reefs.
The Great Blue Hole
For me this was what the "hole" trip was all about. I have to admit I was a little disappointed at first because it was cloudy so it was hard to really see the dramatic deep blue circular impression from the boat. Once in the water, however, we got some great closeups of the coral reefs which were very near the surface. Rich and Andrea descended down to view the stalactites.
Not quite the breathtaking deep blue circle I had hoped to see.
But the sea life was stunning!
One of the things I want to mention is how great the captain and his crew were to us on the entire trip. They always took great care of us and tried to make us as comfortable as possible the entire time. After every dive, once we emerged from the sea we could count on a freshwater shower, homemade food, snacks, and beverages.
The expedition leader, Captain Frenchie himself. It was interesting because we know Rich and Andrea from the time we lived in the Seattle area, and Captain had also spent time there as well. Kind of a small world thing. Also, Captain Frenchie said that he had assisted Jacques Cousteau in his famous exploration of the GBH in 1971, and which Cousteau declared to be one of the world's best diving sites.
After one more dive stops we finally arrived at our destination for the night: Half Moon Caye. Even though we had been in the water several times already that day, Liz just couldn't get enough. I'm usually the one they have to drag out of the water but I was done with a capital D. She even found a live mollusk!
Facing roughly eastward on the island.
Four small shells pictured exactly as I found them.
The remains the original lighthouse which toppled in September of 2010.
Liz sitting out in the tidal pools looking at snails, mollusks and . . sharks!
The Belize Audubon Society had an outpost and research facility on the island.
The primary terrestrial denizen of Half Moon Caye: The hermit crab. Hermit crabs are surprisingly scrappy when they want to be, often fighting each other for the best shells and coconuts.
A cute little fuzzy red footed booby baby
In case you get lost
Beach Spider Lilly
In any type of expedition like this there are many factors that are completely out of the control of the tour guides. So everything that happens next I do not blame them for; they really did their best under the circumstances.
One of the biggest uncontrollable factors is the weather. We had plenty of indications that this could be an issue as it was mostly cloudy with scattered thunderstorms the entire day.
Of course, scattered thunderstorms are only really a problem if it's evening time and you're camping outside.
Murphy's Fourth Law: If there is a possibility of several things going wrong, the one that will cause the most damage will be the one to go wrong.
Corollary: If there is a worse time for something to go wrong, it will happen then.
That evening shortly before bedtime a massive squall blew its way over the caye nearly at dusk when the crew was attempting to setup our hammocks for the night. The captain called it in and invited the rest of us to shelter in the boat for the night. There's only one problem: the boat is small and sheltered floorspace for eight people is virtually nonexistent. Andrea and Rich opted for two shelves on the main deck under the shelter of the wheelhouse. The captain allowed Liz and me to use his cabin which was about the size of a Ikea loveseat but a whole lot less comfortable. It also contained all his personal bedding and various articles of clothing hanging about, including underwear. Oh, and remember the head and how it didn't have a door? Neither did the captain's cabin which was directly across from the head. My head was literally next to the boat's head. It was also quite humid and stuffy down in the hull of the boat, and the crew and everyone one else would get up periodically to use the head. Liz couldn't take it and got up to try to find sleeping arrangements elsewhere. I decided to try to tough it out because I knew I would have to get up at least a few times to use the head myself, so having it close was something of an advantage, if not a requirement.
As bad as we had it the crew still had it way worse. The dive master and the skin diver both slept on small shelves in nose of the hull, curled up on their sides in the fetal position all night--no mats, no pillows. Liz said when she passed the captain that night on her way off the tug to find more suitable sleeping arrangements, he was in the the full lotus position, deep in meditation to the point that he wouldn't even acknowledge her stepping over him. Apparently he did finally take shelter beneath the galley table. Liz took some sleeping bags and made a bed on a picnic table under a shelter not far from the shore. Luckily for her it didn't storm again the rest of the night so she managed to sleep a lot better than the rest of us who remained on the boat.
Day 4 Thursday March 3, 2022
The next morning I was awakened to the sound of country music. Country music with profanity which as I write this seems so counterintuitive. Nevertheless I was never more grateful for morning, even if it was about 5AM.
Departing Half Moon Caye as the sun rises.
It was early and still relatively cool when we made our first dive stop of the day. The prospects of jumping back into that water again didn't sound very exciting. Nevertheless I made myself do it without complaint and I'm really glad I did. I saw some of the coolest things those last few stops.
Then there was this spontaneous little gem. I honestly don't know how he could get that deep without his eardrums bursting. This one was one of the coolest moments on the whole trip.
Liz was the only one to catch a fish on the trip, a barracuda. Unfortunately we didn't get to have any so it was all for the crew to enjoy by themselves!
And . . . We're back in Caye Caulker, heading to the hotel for a REAL shower and a REAL bed. Oh sweet modern conveniences!
Walking down the streets of Caye Caulker to find some dinner.
And a random dinner guest to join us.
Day 5 Friday March 4, 2022
All good things--warts 'n all--must come to an end. We had breakfast that morning at Errolyn's House Of Fryjacks. I don't know what a fryjack is but it had pretty much every meat imaginable and potatoes on a fried flatbread and was amazing.
Heading out one last time and saying farewell to our friends.
Here is a brief pelican.
A house on Caye Caulker built up on blocks
Caye Chapel
Warning: Sour grapes ahead. And one final scare at the airport. We were waiting for our turn to board the airplane and I was watching the boarding status on the Delta app. We were seated facing away from the gate and I couldn't hear any PA announcements for our flight. Suddenly, Liz gets up and says "let's check on this". I am *so* glad she did; the app I was so dutifully monitoring had failed to update our actual boarding time and they were actually just getting ready to close the gate! We were the last two people to get on the plane. If she hadn't gotten up right then we would have missed our flight and yes, it would have been my fault for not watching the times instead of the boarding app, bla bla bla. Lesson learned but that was way, way too close for comfort. CURSE YOU DELTA! FIX YOUR APP!
Luckily the rest of the trip went fine and we made it home, safe and sound, and everything and everyone there were fine.
Epilogue
Here is my memento of Special Operation Belize it or Not. But it's way more than that, it's more like a merit badge or a campaign ribbon.
It would be dishonest to say that this trip did not come at a high personal cost both in explicit and implicit terms. Airfare, shuttles, hotels, meals, and expeditions all come in monetary costs that can be quantified which were high enough in my opinion. But how much does it cost to stand in lines for hours? To be treated like a spy by your own country? How much does it cost to be shuffled around like cattle by an indifferent airline? How much does it cost to sleep next to an open toilet in the hull of a leaky ship? Or worry about getting food poisoning, catching COVID-19 or malaria or bot fly parasites?
I'm being rather pessimistic, I know, but again, it's simply dishonest to say that all of these things were not actual costs--real or implied--of this trip.
It was rough at times. Perhaps even my life was in danger. "Without the possibility of death, adventure is not possible." (Reinhold Messner, the first person to ascend Mt Everest without supplemental oxygen.)
On the other hand, I got to see my dear friends I hadn't seen in years. I saw stars in the southern sky that I'd never seen before in my life. I saw howler monkeys in the wild, held ancient Mayan pottery in my own hands, willingly ate two bugs, swam in the Caribbean Sea, dove down the Great Blue Hole, chased reef fish of countless varieties including sharks, rays, and sea turtles. I saw tropical birds of the most exotic kinds. I experienced, did, and otherwise witnessed a thousand new things, met dozens of interesting people, tasted amazing authentic cultural foods and otherwise felt inspired and awestruck for three solid days. Now you tell me, Mr. "I Don't Vacation", what are the implicit benefits of this trip? Hmmm? How does that cost-benefit economic scale tilt now?
