The first day with the Dutch couple we remained at the compound. We did little other than to become acquainted with the fellow sojourners. We found ourselves spending more and more time with the Americans than with those who originated from the Netherlands. It is strange to hear just about everybody in the world refer to the United States of America as America. It is correct but it at the same time is totally incorrect because we have no exclusive hold on the term America or Americans. We are a very small part of the Americas as a whole and the Costa Ricans, the Mexicans, the Canadians, the Venezuelans, the Hondurans, the Guatemalans and every body else living here are all Americans. My brain itches every time I hear the word American attached only to those of us who call the USA home. You know Ole, it is just aint right what day say!
Persistent rains visited us throughout our two-day stint in the Mayan village of San Miguel. Get real...we have arrived in the rain forest! But that hampered us not in the least as we had good opportunities to become better acquainted with those in the group that we had joined. We played games at the table, spent time hearing of and exchanging travel stories and adventures and just loafed a lot in the comfort of the hammocks. Other than the three meals provided by Elizabeth, there were drinks available throughout the day. These included those with alcohol as well as juices, coffee and tea. Other than that, there was no snacking in between. That way, for better or for worse, the meals when they were served were consumed with little negative commentary. And, for the record, the meals were basic but good. That means absolutely no frills and little additives (if any) such as salt or sugar.
We had allocated only two days to this specific area so we knew that regardless of the rains, we would be going out the next day. There were two substantial Mayan ruins not far from where we were staying. Elizabeth assured us that the nearest one was an easy and quick walk from Back-a-Bush. So, we had at least that one on our agenda for the next day.
But, after supper and spending substantial times at the tables in conversation, we found the rains lulling us towards the bunkhouse door and to its beds inside. John and I were the first to find our resting places for the night. We hung out our damp clothing which joined the still more than moist clothing already hanging on the lines from the launch crossings and retired for the night. Other than some fairly hard rains that hit the tin roof overhead, I heard nothing other than an occasional snore during the night. Our Costa Rican friends reported that they were exhausted from first their air journey from Costa Rica to Belize followed by the five-hour drive from Belize City to Back-a-Bush. Not having GPS for guidance, they had trusted a map to guide them to our location. Normally, it would have been good to have selected the most direct route since it was marked in red on the maps. But, by so doing they opted for half of their journey on roads in sad state of repairs. Not hard surfaced by any stretch of the imagination but dirt filled with pot holes which the rains had filled to the brim. A rough passage for them and one that tired Gustavo as he attempted to maneuver his rented Jeep over the slimy and uneven mess. So, if either John or I snored or talked in our sleep that night, there were no reports from our new-found friends and bunk mates.
We met the gorgeous dawn without the dogs. They were out hunting and tempting fate. John and I were the first ones up and we selected the choice spots under the thatched area to view the pasture and enjoy the chirping of the birds. The hens were slowly examining the new delights that the rains had promoted for them. The yolks of their eggs were a dark yellow-orange giving testimony to their diet out on the free range. They were obviously happy in not being caged in a small rectangle.
Next the Costa Ricans arose and appeared on the scene. Finally Elizabeth and ponytail sauntered down the wet concrete steps and appeared along with the other Dutch guests. We were hungry and had there been silverware on the table there might have been a rap or two in an attempt to summons the genie for food preparation. Ponytail and the young Dutch lad appeared with coffee, freshly brewed from ground beans from their own farm for most of those awaiting the break of fast. I got an extra-hot cup of water into which I introduced my own tea bags (English Breakfast).
A note about the coffee that was served and that was also for sale on the property. The coffee trees are planted in places where they have an umbrella creating a canopy over the tops of the coffee trees. They do not thrive when uncovered. Also, they do very well when there is volcanic soil present. At any rate, Back-a-Bush came with coffee trees adult in nature on the property. And, the Dutch couple had learned the art of fermentation of the coffee cherry together with the extraction and drying of the two coffee beans held inside of each cherry. The roasting is also done out in the open under the thatched area and there was fresh-roasted while we were there. Finally, the grinding is done just before each brewing takes place to ensure freshness of taste. John reported that while the coffee was good tasting and lacked acidity, it was far from strong enough for geriatrics who have lost the keen sense of taste, most Europeans who thrive on very strong brew and foolish North Americans who insist on burnt beans which they doctor with milk, heavy cream and tons of sugar. The coffee served there was good but failed the Golden Spoon reward.
After a substantial as well as comforting breakfast of freshly baked bread with butter from the Mennonite neighbors and jam made on premises by Elizabeth, as well as eggs and potatoes, we joined the Costa Ricans for the "short" trek to the nearest Mayan ruin. The rains had not been with us since very early in the morning so it seemed very promising for the walk. It was both hot and humid and some clouds hung on the horizon. I had my huge Canon camera hung around my neck as I was intent on recording some of what my eyes might be seeing. The Costa Ricans brought along bottles of water, sunscreen, bug juice and their miniature camera to also do some shooting of the site. Now recall that Elizabeth told us the journey was short and our site was easy to find so we had smiles on our faces at least at the inception of our trip. We walked and walked greeting folks along the way. Other than fellow pedestrians and bike riders, we saw just a hand full of vehicles then entire day. There were a few tourist vans and some pickup trucks on the gravel roadway we were traversing. The Mayans in this specific area do not dress in a distinct way that would single them from anybody else. This we found to be very different from other areas of the world where this is not so.
We continued to stroll on the roadway for perhaps an hour and finally came to the sign pointing to the ruin we were seeking. It had a disappointing number on it which gave us pause. The good folks in Belize use miles instead of kilometers to measure distances on highways and roads and we all saw 7 miles to the site. Oh boy! Well, at least it was not raining so we trod on. The road was fairly level so at least we were not climbing on our journey. The rains had made it difficult to carry on without stepping into and sliding a bit on very slippery red clay. But none of us took a tumble. We carried on our journey and each of us wondered how soon the seven miles might be behind us.
Shortly thereafter we approached a rise and upon reaching its zenith, we spied what appeared to be blankets with trinkets displayed for sale. There were mothers and wee lads and lasses ready to assist for anybody interested in a sale. Just ahead also was a deep dip followed by an incline which led up to a small information center and museum. Amazingly, we had shortened the 7 miles into perhaps no more than one as the crow flies. Good for us but an unnecessary distraction to fellow sojourners. John and I fail to purchase trinkets anymore. He has a good warehouse filled with gems from points unknown and with stories that by now have faded from distinct fact. But, the Costa Rican gave the vendors hope in that they promised to not only look but purchase on their exit from the archaeological site.
We entered the information booth and paid our entrance fee to the site. The keeper of the bolsa and the dispenser of tickets indicated that we had walked no fewer than two and one-half miles one way. (Thank-you Elizabeth.) So, now we knew that we could most likely chalk up a five-mile viaje de ida y vuelta.
We walked around following different paths and there were at least two cameras shooting away at this amazing site. Those folks had to have sweated buckets in its construction. But, when one has never seen Jerusalem, how can one compare and contrast? Joining us during our time of visitation were only a handful of others who also were snapping their Kodak Brownies. This site is not unlike hundreds of such sites throughout this area. One defining characteristic though is that there are curved corners on a portion of this site which is unique to this area.
Foolishly neither John nor I took anything like water along with us. But the Costa Ricans came in handy once again. Our friends offered us water for which I was in desperate need. I had begun to feel lacking in pep and knew from past experience that I was becoming dehydrated. Daniela offered some refreshing water and I gladly accepted it.
We were soon ready to make our retreat so exited the area and passed again by the vendors. The Gustavo and Daniela both found items of interest and exchanged them for currency. As we exited the way seemed far shorter than on our outbound leg. Good for us but we were still puzzled about the 7 mile sign. I felt like rubbing a gob of red clay on it to encourage others who might happen by. But, I did not do so.
We ambled along while solving all of the world's problems in conversation. About one mile from returning to Back-a-Bush a very dark purple cloud loomed overhead and a few light sprinkles began to fall. I was trying to figure out what I should do with that piece of electronic equipment dangling from my neck. Because I do my best to conceal the layers of unwanted fat about my body, I am accustomed to purchasing or otherwise acquiring garments several sizes larger than those that would just fit me. Good for my camera because it did fit atop my pot-belly and under the t-shirt that covered it. Not long after Daniela peeked around and made a funny face at my "lady in waiting belly". She asked me if it wouldn't be better to store it in her day pack. Of course that is what I had hoped for at first but figured if I were stupid enough to forget taking a bag along, I should suffer the consequences. She took my camera and tucked it securely into her pack. I offered to carry it for her but she assured me that I should not worry.
We walked in consistently harder rain showers for the balance of our trek to Back-a-Bush. It got way past worrying about anything. Even our lenses in our glasses needed to be wiped by non-existent shield wipers. The perspiration of the day began to wash down into our eyes causing the sun screen and bug juice we had applied to find easy ports in our eyes. That stings! The only remedy is to peer heavenward and hope for more. It came and finally the eyes were irrigated. Yes!
So, how many pairs of pants does one need in the rain forest? I certainly needed more than the one that I was wearing on my trip. Fortunately for me John had thrown in two extra pair of stretch pants. One of them filled the bill for me at least until the others began to dry enough to exchange.
All four of us stripped every shred of clothing from our bodies and added yet another bundle of wets to the overloaded lines outdoors. Showers were available but there was no heated water. The water in the showers and commodes came from rain that had fallen and was collected from the roof-tops. Refreshed and in our last remaining dry duds we joined the others under the thatch. We had missed our lunch meal but none of us worried about being fed. As we sat there, the rains began to subside and the Dutch contingency set out with a Mayan guide to visit the village nearby. We had done our 5-mile walk already and it felt good to just sit.
Gustavo and Daniela played several rounds of Backgammon and John and I watched them, trying to learn so that we too could play. We got out a deck of Phase 10 and taught them to play that game as well.
The afternoon came to an end and the Dutch group returned with no problems regarding the rain. The guide is related to several members of the village and they were able to take cover in one or more of the homes along the route. We were ready for supper and this evening at least all of the Americans took leave of the activities earlier than the night before. The Dutch stayed up and talked and socialized far longer.
Our bus back to Punta Gorda (PG) was going to pick us up the next day at around one in the afternoon. We had planned to have breakfast, pack and go to the roadside where we would signal the bus to stop for us. But the Costa Ricans had other plans. They wanted to include us in a ride to the hard-surfaced highway on their way to the other Mayan ruin. We gladly accepted.
After breakfast and before we were scheduled to depart with Gustavo and Daniela, ponytail asked us to join the Dutch on a tour of the farm. The farm is large and has horses, chickens, gardens, herbs, fruit trees and coffee spread out over many acres. Remember too that it had rained steadily for the two days, more or less since we had arrived. There are mosquitoes, ticks and other annoying insects in the forest so we smeared the bug juice on once again and started out on the tour. Gustavo and Daniela had on only very thin-soled flip-flops. Not good anywhere especially when one considers the slippery mud. And not good either when one has to trudge through a horse pasture where one sinks about four inches into the sludge. We all decided to turn about half way through the tour. John had wisely opted to remain in a hammock during our foray.
We arrived back, packed and climbed into the Jeep. Again, the rains had ceased momentarily. But, we had only driven about three or four miles before the skies opened up on us. We arrived at the highway where we saw a waiting area for the bus, a small concrete shelter open on one side. We joined several others waiting for our bus. Gustavo and Daniela bid us good-bye and they went on their way to the site.
Recall the 7-mile sign? Well, immediately in front of the bus shelter there we saw its twin: 7 miles from that point to the turn. Solved finally.
We boarded the bus which came in about 15 minutes and paid about USD1 for the 40-minute ride to Punta Gorda.
But, after supper and spending substantial times at the tables in conversation, we found the rains lulling us towards the bunkhouse door and to its beds inside. John and I were the first to find our resting places for the night. We hung out our damp clothing which joined the still more than moist clothing already hanging on the lines from the launch crossings and retired for the night. Other than some fairly hard rains that hit the tin roof overhead, I heard nothing other than an occasional snore during the night. Our Costa Rican friends reported that they were exhausted from first their air journey from Costa Rica to Belize followed by the five-hour drive from Belize City to Back-a-Bush. Not having GPS for guidance, they had trusted a map to guide them to our location. Normally, it would have been good to have selected the most direct route since it was marked in red on the maps. But, by so doing they opted for half of their journey on roads in sad state of repairs. Not hard surfaced by any stretch of the imagination but dirt filled with pot holes which the rains had filled to the brim. A rough passage for them and one that tired Gustavo as he attempted to maneuver his rented Jeep over the slimy and uneven mess. So, if either John or I snored or talked in our sleep that night, there were no reports from our new-found friends and bunk mates.
We met the gorgeous dawn without the dogs. They were out hunting and tempting fate. John and I were the first ones up and we selected the choice spots under the thatched area to view the pasture and enjoy the chirping of the birds. The hens were slowly examining the new delights that the rains had promoted for them. The yolks of their eggs were a dark yellow-orange giving testimony to their diet out on the free range. They were obviously happy in not being caged in a small rectangle.
Next the Costa Ricans arose and appeared on the scene. Finally Elizabeth and ponytail sauntered down the wet concrete steps and appeared along with the other Dutch guests. We were hungry and had there been silverware on the table there might have been a rap or two in an attempt to summons the genie for food preparation. Ponytail and the young Dutch lad appeared with coffee, freshly brewed from ground beans from their own farm for most of those awaiting the break of fast. I got an extra-hot cup of water into which I introduced my own tea bags (English Breakfast).
A note about the coffee that was served and that was also for sale on the property. The coffee trees are planted in places where they have an umbrella creating a canopy over the tops of the coffee trees. They do not thrive when uncovered. Also, they do very well when there is volcanic soil present. At any rate, Back-a-Bush came with coffee trees adult in nature on the property. And, the Dutch couple had learned the art of fermentation of the coffee cherry together with the extraction and drying of the two coffee beans held inside of each cherry. The roasting is also done out in the open under the thatched area and there was fresh-roasted while we were there. Finally, the grinding is done just before each brewing takes place to ensure freshness of taste. John reported that while the coffee was good tasting and lacked acidity, it was far from strong enough for geriatrics who have lost the keen sense of taste, most Europeans who thrive on very strong brew and foolish North Americans who insist on burnt beans which they doctor with milk, heavy cream and tons of sugar. The coffee served there was good but failed the Golden Spoon reward.
After a substantial as well as comforting breakfast of freshly baked bread with butter from the Mennonite neighbors and jam made on premises by Elizabeth, as well as eggs and potatoes, we joined the Costa Ricans for the "short" trek to the nearest Mayan ruin. The rains had not been with us since very early in the morning so it seemed very promising for the walk. It was both hot and humid and some clouds hung on the horizon. I had my huge Canon camera hung around my neck as I was intent on recording some of what my eyes might be seeing. The Costa Ricans brought along bottles of water, sunscreen, bug juice and their miniature camera to also do some shooting of the site. Now recall that Elizabeth told us the journey was short and our site was easy to find so we had smiles on our faces at least at the inception of our trip. We walked and walked greeting folks along the way. Other than fellow pedestrians and bike riders, we saw just a hand full of vehicles then entire day. There were a few tourist vans and some pickup trucks on the gravel roadway we were traversing. The Mayans in this specific area do not dress in a distinct way that would single them from anybody else. This we found to be very different from other areas of the world where this is not so.
We continued to stroll on the roadway for perhaps an hour and finally came to the sign pointing to the ruin we were seeking. It had a disappointing number on it which gave us pause. The good folks in Belize use miles instead of kilometers to measure distances on highways and roads and we all saw 7 miles to the site. Oh boy! Well, at least it was not raining so we trod on. The road was fairly level so at least we were not climbing on our journey. The rains had made it difficult to carry on without stepping into and sliding a bit on very slippery red clay. But none of us took a tumble. We carried on our journey and each of us wondered how soon the seven miles might be behind us.
Shortly thereafter we approached a rise and upon reaching its zenith, we spied what appeared to be blankets with trinkets displayed for sale. There were mothers and wee lads and lasses ready to assist for anybody interested in a sale. Just ahead also was a deep dip followed by an incline which led up to a small information center and museum. Amazingly, we had shortened the 7 miles into perhaps no more than one as the crow flies. Good for us but an unnecessary distraction to fellow sojourners. John and I fail to purchase trinkets anymore. He has a good warehouse filled with gems from points unknown and with stories that by now have faded from distinct fact. But, the Costa Rican gave the vendors hope in that they promised to not only look but purchase on their exit from the archaeological site.
We entered the information booth and paid our entrance fee to the site. The keeper of the bolsa and the dispenser of tickets indicated that we had walked no fewer than two and one-half miles one way. (Thank-you Elizabeth.) So, now we knew that we could most likely chalk up a five-mile viaje de ida y vuelta.
We walked around following different paths and there were at least two cameras shooting away at this amazing site. Those folks had to have sweated buckets in its construction. But, when one has never seen Jerusalem, how can one compare and contrast? Joining us during our time of visitation were only a handful of others who also were snapping their Kodak Brownies. This site is not unlike hundreds of such sites throughout this area. One defining characteristic though is that there are curved corners on a portion of this site which is unique to this area.
Foolishly neither John nor I took anything like water along with us. But the Costa Ricans came in handy once again. Our friends offered us water for which I was in desperate need. I had begun to feel lacking in pep and knew from past experience that I was becoming dehydrated. Daniela offered some refreshing water and I gladly accepted it.
We were soon ready to make our retreat so exited the area and passed again by the vendors. The Gustavo and Daniela both found items of interest and exchanged them for currency. As we exited the way seemed far shorter than on our outbound leg. Good for us but we were still puzzled about the 7 mile sign. I felt like rubbing a gob of red clay on it to encourage others who might happen by. But, I did not do so.
We ambled along while solving all of the world's problems in conversation. About one mile from returning to Back-a-Bush a very dark purple cloud loomed overhead and a few light sprinkles began to fall. I was trying to figure out what I should do with that piece of electronic equipment dangling from my neck. Because I do my best to conceal the layers of unwanted fat about my body, I am accustomed to purchasing or otherwise acquiring garments several sizes larger than those that would just fit me. Good for my camera because it did fit atop my pot-belly and under the t-shirt that covered it. Not long after Daniela peeked around and made a funny face at my "lady in waiting belly". She asked me if it wouldn't be better to store it in her day pack. Of course that is what I had hoped for at first but figured if I were stupid enough to forget taking a bag along, I should suffer the consequences. She took my camera and tucked it securely into her pack. I offered to carry it for her but she assured me that I should not worry.
We walked in consistently harder rain showers for the balance of our trek to Back-a-Bush. It got way past worrying about anything. Even our lenses in our glasses needed to be wiped by non-existent shield wipers. The perspiration of the day began to wash down into our eyes causing the sun screen and bug juice we had applied to find easy ports in our eyes. That stings! The only remedy is to peer heavenward and hope for more. It came and finally the eyes were irrigated. Yes!
So, how many pairs of pants does one need in the rain forest? I certainly needed more than the one that I was wearing on my trip. Fortunately for me John had thrown in two extra pair of stretch pants. One of them filled the bill for me at least until the others began to dry enough to exchange.
All four of us stripped every shred of clothing from our bodies and added yet another bundle of wets to the overloaded lines outdoors. Showers were available but there was no heated water. The water in the showers and commodes came from rain that had fallen and was collected from the roof-tops. Refreshed and in our last remaining dry duds we joined the others under the thatch. We had missed our lunch meal but none of us worried about being fed. As we sat there, the rains began to subside and the Dutch contingency set out with a Mayan guide to visit the village nearby. We had done our 5-mile walk already and it felt good to just sit.
Gustavo and Daniela played several rounds of Backgammon and John and I watched them, trying to learn so that we too could play. We got out a deck of Phase 10 and taught them to play that game as well.
The afternoon came to an end and the Dutch group returned with no problems regarding the rain. The guide is related to several members of the village and they were able to take cover in one or more of the homes along the route. We were ready for supper and this evening at least all of the Americans took leave of the activities earlier than the night before. The Dutch stayed up and talked and socialized far longer.
Our bus back to Punta Gorda (PG) was going to pick us up the next day at around one in the afternoon. We had planned to have breakfast, pack and go to the roadside where we would signal the bus to stop for us. But the Costa Ricans had other plans. They wanted to include us in a ride to the hard-surfaced highway on their way to the other Mayan ruin. We gladly accepted.
After breakfast and before we were scheduled to depart with Gustavo and Daniela, ponytail asked us to join the Dutch on a tour of the farm. The farm is large and has horses, chickens, gardens, herbs, fruit trees and coffee spread out over many acres. Remember too that it had rained steadily for the two days, more or less since we had arrived. There are mosquitoes, ticks and other annoying insects in the forest so we smeared the bug juice on once again and started out on the tour. Gustavo and Daniela had on only very thin-soled flip-flops. Not good anywhere especially when one considers the slippery mud. And not good either when one has to trudge through a horse pasture where one sinks about four inches into the sludge. We all decided to turn about half way through the tour. John had wisely opted to remain in a hammock during our foray.
We arrived back, packed and climbed into the Jeep. Again, the rains had ceased momentarily. But, we had only driven about three or four miles before the skies opened up on us. We arrived at the highway where we saw a waiting area for the bus, a small concrete shelter open on one side. We joined several others waiting for our bus. Gustavo and Daniela bid us good-bye and they went on their way to the site.
Recall the 7-mile sign? Well, immediately in front of the bus shelter there we saw its twin: 7 miles from that point to the turn. Solved finally.
We boarded the bus which came in about 15 minutes and paid about USD1 for the 40-minute ride to Punta Gorda.
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