Mexico and beyond

Four days before my birthday and we headed to Managua, capital of Nicaragua from where we would catch a flight to the tropical Caribbean paradise of the Corn Islands for some backpacker-style luxury (i.e. upgrading to 2 star accommodation from our usual hovels) to celebrate the end of my twenties.

Sadly this wasn’t to be. On the bus to Managua we got talking to two young blokes who insisted on giving us a lift from the bus station. In hindsight this may sound naïve or foolish but we had enjoyed 4 months of meeting many different people who by and large had been generous and welcoming and although we had generally erred on the side of caution, we both believed it necessary (and still do) to be open-minded and generally trusting of people.

So it was we found ourselves in the back of a car with the two blokes from the bus and two other people in the front. Within minutes of leaving the bus station we were on a quiet side road and being threatened at screwdriver-point (ok, it might not sound as dramatic as knife-point but I assure you it was scary enough) tied up and slapped about a bit. We then had about 45 minutes of hell, driving around, not able to see where we were and forced to provide the pin numbers for our bank cards, while our bags were totally ransacked and anything of value was taken – even things of no particular value!

Eventually we were dumped in a field about 20km from the city with our few remaining belongings and our hands still bound. The police were predictably unhelpful and we had the horribly surreal experience of having to hail down a bus to take us back to the same bus station where it all began.

Anyway, to cut a long story short, we decided we couldn’t go on from both a practical point of view as they had taken a huge amount of money and possessions and also emotionally, as the experience took away our motivation and enthusiasm to carry on.

We flew to Atlanta from where we expected to be able to easily change our existing return flight back to the UK. Instead we spent 3 days at the airport (including my 30th), in a hopeless Groundhog Day state, known as ‘standby’. Anyway, we’re home now and staying with Xander’s parents while we try and sort out what to do next!

As horrible an experience as it was, I certainly don’t regret our trip – we had 4 fantastic months, met some brilliant people and had some amazing experiences – and I’m only sorry it ended prematurely. Unfortunately this final blog entry is all text as the b*stards took all my photos (I’m more gutted to lose these than anything else) but as they say, we’ll always have our memories!

After 2 months of relentless tortilla eating and struggling to communicate solely in Spanish, we were looking forward to some Caribbean-style respite in the form of Belize. For such a tiny country (population of only 312,000) Belize is incredibly diverse but the large Hispanic community in our first stop of San Ignacio give us the feeling we’d never crossed the border, although the presence of Mennonites dressed like they’d just stepped off the set of Little House on the Prairie reassured us that we had.

Mennonite horse and cart - they don't use cars - and a very young looking Queen on the Belizean notes

One of the things that most struck me about Belize was just how empty it was. In Dangriga, the second largest town in the country, we wandered dusty, tumbleweed streets, wondering where all the people were.

The empty streets of Dangriga, Belize's second largest town

From, Dangriga we endured a choppy 12 mile boat ride to Tobacco Caye. The captain had warned that we might get a bit wet which was the understatement of the year and we arrived in much the same state as if we’d swum.

Our lying captain and approaching Tobacco Caye

But this tiny 300 by 200 yard island was worth it and definitely the highlight of our time in Belize. We stayed in a simple wooden cabana right on the water’s edge and spent 3 blissful days snorkeling around the coral reef that surrounds the island, chasing after the local kids to retrieve our snorkels and lazily swinging in hammocks.

Island Life

As the 1 restaurant on the island was closed, we were fed 3 meals a day canteen-style, summoned with the 10 or so other guests by a bell. It was a bit like being on a school trip but a good way to meet other travelers and we all congregated at the island’s only bar in the evenings for a few beers and rums. A perfect desert island experience.

The island bar, local kids and pelicans