It’s probably evident already by the sudden influx of blog posts with numerous photos that we have arrived back to the estuary after a four-week trip to the Yucatan for Sage and Elise’s wedding. We left the boat on its own anchor and had a local guy looking after it but we didn’t exactly know what to expect when we returned; insane mildew takeover, one or more hulls gored by one of the rogue tree trunks that roam about the estuary, a bat infestation in the mainsail, a gaping hole lacking any boat whatsoever where we thought we had left it, etc. However, we returned to no more than a couple of cups of water in the bilge curtsey of a small but sprightly leak in our babystay. And a bat infestation in the mainsail. Well, one small bat. One small bat who, in violation of all rational physics, produced about three metric tons of batshit.

Babystay leak promptly sealed, we went about our business for two or three days noticing all this batshit but not actually able to wrap our minds around the reality because there was Just. So. Much. Of. It. There was a minor storm the day after we returned that kicked up some major wind and waves and let loose a torrent of wee pellets from our sail cover, which are startlingly similar in appearance to mouse, or godforbid rat, poops. “Huh,” we said.

We decided, after our previous boat-abandonment success (no mold, missing boat, etc.), to button up Time Machine once more and head off to Nicaragua to be land-based tourists for a couple more weeks. With the advent of electrical storm season, we were concerned that not only does the boat sport one giant aluminum middle finger sticking right up into the clouds, in the event of a strike, the charge would surely ignite the tons of guano and send our boat sky high in a fiery ball. Something had to be done; the inevitable eviction would be an event, to be sure, as I was certain we had at least a caveful of the things nestled amongst the folds of the sail.

Utterly preoccupied with bats and how an attack might be launched, we barely noticed the pair of ‘golondrinas’ (a type of swallow?) that had clearly used our absence to set up house in the one bat-free fold of our main. The sneaky little bastards would wait until we weren’t looking, then ferry in a feather or two to line the pad, lay an egg or four, etc. All the time I was thinking, “Hmm, those birds must really like us or something…”

‘Operation Eliminate Temporary Ecosystem, um, Eagle’ commenced yesterday afternoon during a not-terribly-windy spell. We released the catch on the bottom of the mainsail and prepared to remove the sail entirely for safekeeping in more bat-proof quarters. And this is the first thing we saw:

Whoa. Not a bat lair but a nest of great cuteness populated by four wee little eggies. So thaaaats what they’ve been up to; the parent birds were by this point flying all around the boat, basically freaking out I suppose. Not that the behavior of a freaking-out golondrina is any different than its non-freaking-out state, since they are particularly hyperactive little guys normally. We decided to remove the nest intact without touching it if possible so we used the bailer from the dinghy and just scooped up the nest. It fit rather perfectly and the container was similar in shape to the fold of the sail. We put the bailer in the cockpit cubby, which can be seen from the original nest position in hopes that the birds could wrap their little minds around the concept of Relocated Nest.

We commenced the careful extraction of the sail while diverting the rivers of batshit over the side of the cockpit. Finally we saw the bat. There was only one and he was very small. And cute.

Gah! The discovery! Rudely awakened, he tried to retreat back into the tighter folds of the sail. (Note cache of batshit.)

As we continued to remove the sail from the track, he abandoned his nook and made a bold attempt to scale the mast in hopes that there might be a quiet dark spot up higher. (There’s not.)

Alas! No place to hide up above; mast-scaling attempt aborted. The bat made again for the sail while, as a last-ditch effort, trying to scare us away with some scary bat antics. After this failed to remove us from the scene and/or produce a quiet dark spot to nest in, he jumped down into the cockpit and climbed up the curtain, dangerously close to the cabin entrance. Not interested in any new crew members at this time, Joshua shooed him around until he escaped into the cubby at the side of the cockpit (where the nest had been temporarily relocated). Satisfied that there was nowhere to go from here unless he burrowed through the speakers, we let him stay. Hopefully he’ll just fly away once it gets dark and find a less-rambunctious place to sleep. No other bats were discovered as the remainder of the mainsail was removed. We cleaned it up and folded it away.

Meanwhile, the golondrinas were still flying all around and chittering at us or each other. Joshua had grave concerns about the birds’ powers of reason and was not optimistic that they would able to relocate to a nesting spot not four feet from the original one. I figured that they might happen to look down if they went to the former location and recognize their nest and eggs; plus, we had been careful to not touch the nest and get our smelly people germs all over it. (Not that the boat contains any of these smelly people germs, or the mainsail, for that matter.) Joshua thought maybe we could affix the bailer to the maststep (which was approximately where the nest used to be located) and that would solve the problem. He wedged the bailer into the maststep and when he went to get a rope to secure it, it somehow popped out and nest and eggs went splattering all over the top of our deck.

It was very sad and traumatic and I practically started crying. The eggs were perhaps halfway matured so that you could see red developing-bird bits inside while the cracked eggshells bled white amniotic goo. The parent birds continued their erratic flight patterns about the boat and we felt very, very guilty; I don’t know if they grasped what exactly had happened. Joshua felt particularly terrible and gathered up what remained of the nest back into the bailer and put it back into the cockpit cubby, where it’s still sitting because we don’t know what to do with it. We gave the broken egg babies a sea burial.

Curiously, the parent golondrinas did not flee the boat after the terrible destruction of their nest and potential offspring; in fact, it appears they are preparing to build a new one. We’re fairly certain that they can’t build it anywhere that will be in the way or require removal anytime soon, and so we look forward to seeing a new little nest with four new eggies when we get back from Nicaragua.

This precious gem was found lying around on a table in Punta Gorda (Belize); we desperately wanted it for our very own but feared it belonged to someone. Someone with a colorful sense of spelling and a raging appetite for whodyt. Such a person might just be dangerous.

(You can click the photo to see a larger image.)

A basic translation and discussion follows:
The WhoDyt ReSip
A strong statement is made immediately with the piece’s title boldly written across the top in black lettering over a scarlet border: The WhoDyt ReSip. Arguments can be made as to why the author chose to highlight certain letters (namely, the D in WhoDyt and the S in ReSip) with capitalization, and further arguments may be made as to whether the S is even capitalized at all. Or what the bloody hell is a Whodyt anyway.

Counat Interpretative spelling of the word ‘coconut’ (or currant)? My guess is coconut because I have a feeling the author might have chosen to spell ‘currant’ with a K.
3 green 1 ripe plante[n?] Plantain? Note different color chosen for the second ingredient, a clear indication that the second ingredient is distinct and separate from the first. Also, that the author has recently obtained a new box of colored markers. (And, have you ever actually tried to eat an unripe plantain? This resip calls for three.)
3 Leaft of Kulant[?]o Some indecision occurred when drawing the initial L in Leaft. The author may have begun the word with a very small circle or squiggly glyph before reconsidering and covering the error with a thick snakey tail on the L. A possible translation: 3 leaves of cilantro (or currant). Again, a color change.
½ of a onion No spelling anomalies nor random capitalizations; clearly, an unimportant ingredient. Note color change.
counat milk It is unclear whether the initial C is capitalized, actually. It is presumed that this item refers to the first ingredient although the color is distinct. Repetition of already-used colors is evident; other markers have already been lost or eaten by younger siblings.
[??] of basans This ingredient leaves a considerable amount open to interpretation. A blank of basans. Bassoons? Currants? Hopefully this is not a key ingredient requiring precise preparation. If I had to make this dish, I might substitute the word “salt” for the lot.
2 or 3 fish Simple. Definitive.

[Instructions for preparation:]
Bolb the green planten first for a pout 5 mints or 15 mints (probably depending upon whether you used 2 or 3 fish)
The putthe ripe one in
…

Actually, I think this is all fairly self-explanatory. Bolb the green planten.

Of course, there were a lot of consumables in this town and we found and consumed our share.

Our favorite was the woman (possibly named Teresa) who set up a stand to the right of the Havana grocery store across from the bus station. She made flour-tortilla tacos (soft small tortillas folded over; we might call them burritos but they were called tacos) using stewed chicken, some sort of marinated cabbage, and hot sauce and they were great. She is there daily but only in the mornings and there typically was a crowd. Her tacos are 50 cents Belize apiece (that’s 25 cents US); three of them makes an excellent breakfast.

Our second favorite was the night burrito lady in the green stand in the middle of town on the main street. She was on the same side of the street and about two or three doors down to the left from the “Garden Shop” mini-market (which is across the street from the big hardware store). She is closed up during the day but opens at night and you can barely see in her window due to the massive refrigerator that hogs all the space. She also makes burritos and hers are $2 Belize apiece (you could eat two maybe). Then you can get some beer at the Garden Shop and eat a nice picnic dinner at the beachfront park down the street. Note that there is a prominent green food stand on the corner directly across the street from the hardware store advertising tacos and burritos and while she is open pretty much all day, her burritos are not as good as either Teresa’s or the other green stall.

Incidentally, if you are self-catering, the Garden Shop sells shilling (25-cent) bags of frozen water, which you can bash up for iced drinks.

Many restaurants and bars also had excellent hand-painted signs.

We serves breakfast! We were told that the place used to be called Burger King until the owner received a cease and desist notice in the mail from Burger King â„¢. He has diner style food and makes his own ice cream (and has sour sop flavor!). The conch soup came recommended but Joshua was not too into it (I thought it was all right).

King Burger had a series of groovy menu signs.

That meat pie illustration is super awesome.

New Place, Old Sign.

This was outside one of the bars in town. (You can view a larger photo by clicking the image.)

We didn’t actually go to this bar but we did go to a place called “Bleachers” (bleaching means, apparently, getting wasted). They are just up the street from the bridge in the center of town and they make their own bitters. Bitter drinks seem to be popular in Belize and theirs is a gnarly concoction that is scooped out of a five-gallon bucket into small plastic cups; you order it by $1, $2, $3, etc. amounts. We ordered $1 bitters and beers (you typically need a beer chaser if you drink this stuff). I kind of liked it but then I’m all over bitter things generally. (Brad—it tasted sort of like the un-refined version of your absinthe, but in a more drinkable way. I *suspect* Shanti would not like it..)

Seaweed drink is a gelatinous drink made of seaweed obviously, and flavored with a little cinnamon, nutmeg, coconut milk, and perhaps a tiny bit of rum. The one we tried was actually off the main square in Orange Walk Town and was served in recycled Guiness beer bottles.

BOOZE: Beer by the way is Belikan Belize and it’s quite good in my opinion (after Mexican and other Central American fare). They have one bottle and you can get both regular or stout (different bottlecaps to tell which one). There is also a light version but honestly, who drinks light beer? Guiness is also widely available but it is made either in Belize or possibly Jamaica and is probably a little different than the Irish version most are familiar with.

You can also get Campari (they call it Bitters) in Belize; it is made in Jamaica, is wonderfully cheap (~$7 US per bottle), and tastes almost exactly like the Italian version. The color is only a little bit off, maybe they don’t use carmine bugs to dye it the beautiful red they do in Italy.

Belize makes several different “wines,” such as ginger wine, cashew wine, blackberry wine, etc. We tried the ginger wine (there are two brands that appear to be widely available: Fandango and some other one; the other one is better). It’s pretty good as is (I recommend chilled), intensely gingery but strong and very sweet and it is much better, in fact VERY much better, if served over ice with a splash of soda water. Mmm. We were intensely curious about the cashew wine but never tried this due to the elaborate cautions we received by every single Belizian we mentioned cashew wine to. “That stuff is dangerous mon.” “Your grandma drink that stuff, she go dancing in the street naked!” “You drink one bottle of that stuff and you are drunk for three days. So I guess it’s economical. Of course you don’t remember any of it!” So we stayed away from the cashew wine; we got enough shit from people for drinking the ginger wine.

MISCELLANEOUS: Marie Sharp’s Hot Sauce!! Almost my favorite thing ever. I threw a colossal fit when Joshua proposed a return to El Salvador via Mexico/Guatemala and not via Belize (where I could stock up). We returned via Belize and I am the proud owner of about fifty gerjillion bottles of hot sauce. She makes the traditional carrot orange habanero sauce (in mild, hot, fiery hot, and novelty—has capsum oil in it and a warning label about feeding it to the elderly). She also makes an orange/habanero and a grapefruit/habanero version and various jellies and chutneys. We’ve only tried the habanero jelly so far because the jar smashed in transit but I salvaged the majority by slicing the glassy bits off the outside (ala moldy cheese). It’s pretty good I think; it has very few ingredients but you can taste each one but the habanero heat is very mild. I’ll report back later on the Green Mango Chutney, which must be just awesome.

Fresh juices: At most of the grocery stores (there are two big ones near the main bridge and the Havana market across from the bus station) you can buy fresh juice in squarish plastic bottles (like what Odwalla comes in). The grapefruit in particular is very good.

Coffee: None. Bad, vile. Drink coke.

We really really like this town. There’s not a whole lot to do here really, except drink and lie around in the sweltering humidity producing giant sweat bullets. We managed this and also we met a couple of Canadians on the boat over from Honduras (Life and Francis) who lived there part time running a kayak tour company. They introduced us to Jack who is building a proa out of a dugout canoe with the intent of sailing to the Pacific via Lago Nicaragua and then up the coast to the north Sea of Cortez. So we had instant friends and drinking buddies upon arrival. Fun for us!

Another thing we liked about this town is the insane friendliness of almost every single inhabitant. Ruthie, who ran the guesthouse where we stayed called us “babies,” as in, “okay babies, you just let me know if you need anything;” almost everyone we passed in the street said the equivalent of “hey man, how’s it going.” And the signage. Nearly all of it is hand painted with often awkward illustrations and anomalous spelling.

I like the “ESTB.” part.

I believe this place also had rooms for rent. I’m not sure what the dollar sign is all about.

We heard that the owner of the hotel added the ‘no loafers’ part because of a good-fer-nothin’ son or some such. There was a ‘no vendors’ sign on the other side with a herb seller set up directly underneath but naturally, I didn’t have the camera with me that day.

All bars had some variation of the ‘spiritous liquors’ sign painted outside.

I love this one; look how she illustrated the styles of the blocks she offered. (You can view a larger photo by clicking the image.)

Condoms! Karaoke!!

The latest in oldies!

Val’s offered cheap lodging in addition to internet and laundry. Dorm-style rooms for $7ish apiece I think.

From Dangriga we headed up to Orange Walk Town which is near the ruins of Lamanai. It´s a small but important site with some interesting temples. The only problem is that it´s only accessable by boat, so you´re pretty much required to take a guided tour. The boat ride is nice though and we got to see a lot of wildlife.

The launching point.

Some guys in a dugout with a bicycle.

Fresh water crocodile.

A small toucan. I think it´s a Collared Aracari, but you birders out there can correct me if I´m wrong. We also saw a Keel-billed Toucan but couldn´t get a good picture.

The Mask Temple.