Why Not?

Since returning from our last trip, we've been getting lots of questions from neighbors about our travel habits. Why would you want to go anywhere and stay a month?  Why do you like to travel so much?  Why do you even have a home? 

What I'd really like to say in response is why not?  Travel is all about seeing and experiencing new cultures, new people, new things. 

As my aunt always said, I wouldn't have missed it for the world!

Huichols in the village of Yelapa, Mexico.

 

Fire dancers in Bucerias, Mexico.

A vendor in San Pedro, Belize carrying her wares on top her head.

Beach vendor on Playa Norte, Isla Mujeres.

A woman selling fruit in West Bay, Roatan.

 

School girls and a local delivering beer on Isla Mujeres, Mexico.

 

A young woman walking down the street in her 'hair/fur skirt' in El Centro, Isla Mujeres.  A friend told me this is the typical dress in Chamula, Mexico, another place I hope to visit someday!

One of the girls from Chiapas who sell Guatemalan woven goods on the beach on Isla Mujeres.

 

A little boy who marched as El Presidente in the Dia de la Revolucion parade on Isla Mujeres.

 

A Rastafarian with his kids on Caye Caulker, Belize.

One of the bullfighters of small stature (they refer to them as midget bullfighters) waiting to perform on Isla Mujeres. 

Mariachis leading a December procession through El Centro on Isla Mujeres.

 

 

Crazy woman on top El Castillo at Chichen Itza.

 

Recently on Roatan, we boarded a boat for the short ride to West End late one afternoon.  It wasn't a licensed water taxi -- just a guy returning from West Bay who wanted to make a little money on his way home.  While I was looking at several inches of water in the bottom of the boat wondering if we needed to start bailing, Big John struck up a conversation.

 

He wanted to know where we were from.  After giving him a short 411 on us, I asked him if he was from Roatan.  He said generations of his family had always lived on Roatan, and he had never left the island except for one short day trip to Utila, the next Bay Island over.  I'll admit that blew me away since Roatan is only 30 miles offshore from mainland Honduras and many people go there to shop.   He owns boats and runs fishing and snorkeling tours out of West End.  He said his sister wanted him to come to Boston and live there, but he had no desire to leave his home and life in the Caribbean.  And really, why would he want to trade the life he knows and loves to work multiple jobs and shovel snow in Boston!  We talked about the beauty of Roatan and how lucky he is to live there.

 

We ran into Big John several times, and he introduced us to his wife and happy little boy who loved to run down the dock and greet us with the latest version of hand slaps.

 

And that is why we love to travel and stay for more than a day! 

 

 

 

Playa Nirvana

Sometimes on a beach vacation you discover your nirvana.  The place you could return to day after day.  The water's a beautiful pale turquoise with a perfect 80's January temp and phenomenal snorkeling right offshore.  After a salty swim, a perfectly fried red snapper and an icy cold Salva Vida await you at the bar. 

 

This trip we found that location.  If we ever decide to splurge on a luxury vacation, we'll stay right here so we can repeat the same routine day after day.  Salty perfection!

 

 

Guess I should start buying lottery tickets!  

Third World Laundry Tales

Recently Craig walked out of the bedroom in a weird pair of low cut baggy underwear.  Are these mine???  We both immediately fell on the floor laughing.

We'd been the victims of a bait and switch laundry scam in West End, Honduras!  Upon further examination, he was missing most of his Fruit of the Looms and my underwear drawer seemed a little empty.  Call the policia!  Actually, just drive to Walmart.

Dirty clothes can sometimes be a problem for tourists in a third world country, especially if you're staying up in the hills an expensive cab ride away from the closest lavanderia for a month.

On Isla Mujeres, we grab a  cheap cab to town or walk down the street to drop our clothes at Tim Pho on Juarez.  We return a few hours later to pick up clean dry clothes folded and bagged in a plastic wrapped bundle.  Easy peasy. 

In Bucerias, Mexico, we discovered a laundry where our aging underwear went in and came out looking brand spanking new.  Craig vowed we should return to Bucerias every year to the magic laundry to refresh our dingy whites!

On Ambergris Caye in Belize, it wasn't so easy.  We rode rickety bikes four miles into town to drop our clothes at the only laundry we'd seen on the south end of Middle Street.  Later that day when we arrived back at our cottage three miles north of the bridge exhausted and dripping sweat, the property manager informed us that the maid there gladly did personal laundry onsite for $10 U.S. a load.  LOL

When our lovely property manager checked us into our apartment high on the hill in Roatan, she commented that laundry might be a problem.  She thought there were several in West End, but none that would pick up and deliver.  At the end of our first week with piles of clothes mounting in the wardrobe, I researched the subject on Trip Advisor and made notes on possible lavanderia options in West End. 

We set off down the steep hill the next morning lugging two large bags of dirty clothes to the beach where we waited for a water taxi to pass.  Going to the laundry on Roatan was certainly more of adventure than walking down the street and dropping a bag! 

Fortunately, neighborhood security soon joined us on the walk to make sure we reached the beach with our undies intact.

Down at the dock, a passing panga sighted us and pulled in to help Mama into the boat with her bags of dirty laundry.  On a sad note, Craig's favorite t-shirt pictured here was also a laundry victim this trip.  On our last visit to the lavanderia, probably the same trip as the underwear heist, the valuable t-shirt in question returned home grey(er) than pictured here.

In West End, we dropped by a local dive shop to inquire because I remembered a comment on Trip Advisor about an employee there who picked up dirty laundry and returned it the same day for a fee.  The young girl working the desk looked at me like I was demented.  And yes, I probably am. 

After she quizzed me about where I'd read that information, she directed us down a narrow alley behind the town church to a little lavanderia located in the back end of a smoothie/coffee shop.

 

Bingo!  The little laundry was conveniently located on Half Moon Bay where we could lunch next door at Dix and walk right into the water to snorkel the reef around this point.

 

This trip, laundry day definitely fell under the category of it's not the destination, it's the journey.  Actually, the destination pictured here was also quite beautiful.

 

It's just the outcome of the laundry journey that was a little tawdry.  After seeing Craig in those saggy threadbare underwear, I made him throw the things away and do an immediate search and destroy through his drawers (no pun intended).  My female sensibilities couldn't stomach the idea of someone else's not so tidy whities inhabiting the dresser.

 

I'll add a little sidebar.  When we were at that rustic bar at the far end of Roatan, Hole in the Wall, a couple pulled up on a barge for lunch.  We exchanged basic pleasantries and found out they had just moved to a house on the water in that area which could only be reached by boat.  I asked her how she liked it.

 

She replied LAUNDRY was the big problem.  I kept a straight face because I was internally laughing with her, not at her.

 

She didn't have a wash machine or drier at her remote location, so was forced to handwash all their clothes and hang them on the line to dry.  Since it was rainy season on Roatan nothing ever quite dried, so their clothes were mildewed and quite dingy because she could never thoroughly rinse the detergent from them without a machine.

I felt her pain having washed most of my own clothes by hand in the bathroom sink for a month.  Another cardinal rule in third world travels is never send anything to a laundry you're not prepared to have destroyed.  Craig's clothes could be destroyed, but not mine!  LOL

 

No laundry post would be complete without a clothesline photo.  Here's the bar clothesline at Hole in the Wall.

 

 The trials of third world laundry day!

 

 

Drive By Shootings

Sometimes bloggers take desperate measures for ratings.  This would be one of those.  LOL

Seriously, I normally am able to walk through areas where the locals live on vacation, but on Roatan, the logistics weren't right.  It was a minimum $25 cab ride to get to those places, so all my shots of daily scenes in places we couldn't walk to were from a speeding taxi.  Hence the title Drive By Shootings.

These photos were taken the day we hired a driver to take us on an island tour.  Big Daddy (one of many Big Daddy's) was supposed to drive us on the tour, but he sent his son Junior.  Junior was nice enough, but had no experience being a tour guide.  Next time we visit Roatan, I'll hire a professional guide who specializes in island tours.  Lesson learned!

Junior never slowed down between official stops, so excuse the blur.  Many were shot through a dirty car window because Junior also liked his A/C.  Sometimes one can work wonders with editing programs!

Christianity is thriving on Roatan.  As Junior told us, Everyone goes to church on Sunday!  (Except Junior.  It was Sunday morning!)  But seriously, I love this photo!

Here's another man who's not in church, but he's minding the pulperia.  He may also be guarding his clothesline if he heard the serial clothesline shooter's on the island.  I asked Junior what a pulperia was and he said a mini-mart.  The official definition says it's a rural grocery store which may also function as a drinking establishment, so we may have missed a bar!

Some of these photos of quaint brightly colored homes were shot as we passed through French Harbor, the second largest town on the island and home to most of the fishing trade.  It's about mid-way down the island on the eastern windward side.

This fence and home are still dressed for Christmas.  Slow down Junior!

 

 

Coca-Cola has a large presence on the island (just like everyplace we've visited in Mexico and Central America.)  I'm assuming diabetes is also off the charts here.

 

 

This guy is staring at his cellphone.  The Third World is like everyplace else when it comes to smartphones.  I like the Jesus Saves juxtaposed against the No Fumar at the gas station.

 

 

I'd like to buy the world a Coke, but I think they already have one.  But seriously, I guess rum and Coke go together and Cuba Libre's are very popular on the island.

  

 

 I know.  Enough already! 

 

 

Mom and daughter walking down the main street in Coxen Hole.

 

 

Next trip I vow to walk some of these areas so I can take more photos.   There are collectivo vans that can be taken from the West End area to Coxen Hole for a fraction of a cab price.

 

 

 

Sometimes you realize you're very far from home . . . .

Garifuna Scenes from Punta Gorda

On our tour of Roatan the last Sunday we were on the island, we visited the Garifuna town of Punta Gorda to watch the Sunday afternoon drumming and dancing, a style called punta.  Along the way, I snapped some photos of the scenes around me.

The Garifunas (click this link to find out more) were brought to the Caribbean as slaves and escaped to the neighboring areas of Honduras nd Belize from St. Vincent in the mid-nineteenth century.  Garifunas are unique because they've been able to maintain so much of their culture, including language and religion in addition to their unique music and dancing style. 

Here's a short video of the music and dancing we came to see.

 

 

 

 

The Ocean is Made of Drops

 

 

 

 

Some Parting Pics

It's moving day.  Moving home that is! 

You know it's time to leave when the microscopic ants are taking over.  I opened a bathroom drawer where I keep toothpaste this morning and it was swarming with those teeeny tiny see through ants.  

It's nothing unusual.  Before we flew to Roatan, I was still killing tiny little bugs that have inhabited my Nook since our last tropical trip in July.  They crawl out when the glow screen comes on.

Living up this hill seems to have had a positive effect on us.  I pulled out a pair of crop pants to wear on the flight home and I'm swimming in them.   The pounds will return, but living a rigorous walk or a $10 cab ride from the closest little tienda seems to have trimmed a tiny bit of fat. 

I've so enjoyed my hammock time on the screened balcony this trip, but I bet I'd get a big fat fine slapped on so quickly if I hung one of these on my patio out back in Arizona.  They'd say it was distracting to golfers on the course?

This little one stop stand at the main traffic rounder in West End by the Coconut Tree (I like saying that) sells papayas, coconuts, mangos, flip flops, miniature wooden boats, carved wooden bowls, and religion all on two tables.  Look carefully and you'll see the vendor.

It's winter here on the island with overnight low's dipping into the mid-70's, so every girl needs some sleeves.  For us, the cooler nights have been a godsend since we're living with nothing but sea breezes and fans to cool us at night. 

With no A/C humming, we wake to the sound of the macaws from Gumbalimba Park flying over the macaws in the cage at the neighbor's compound below.  The cage free Gumbalimba's are mocking our enslaved neighbors saying -- Ha ha!  We're free, you're not!  The two gangs rumble early every morning and again at 5:10 p.m. every evening.  We know we've stayed too long when we're charting macaw behavior!



I'll miss the mobile fruit and veggie stands.  Craig bought four bananas the other night with a Honduran 10 lempira bill.  While the 10 spot looks impressive, it's worth about 50 cents.  We're trying to unload the remaining cash before we leave.  Hopefully the airport will have a snack stand!

We're going to miss Roatan!  How many times do you walk down the street at home and see this?  I think that's the spider monkeys my friends.  I just remember the guide on the boat in Belize saying -- Careful!  De spider monkey might bite! -- so I choose to just take a photo of someone else holding them!

I'd better get busy because a tiny little woman with bright purple hair arrives at noon in a beat up cab to drive us to Roatan International.  Cheers, and we'll see you on the other side!