Although we knew where wanted to go, we had nowhere in particular to be and nothing in particular to do this day. So, we woke up late and had a leisurely breakfast (actually TWO leisurely breakfasts cuz Jes's first choice was atrocious) before jumping the bus coastward. Our plan was to get to the small, seaside town of Hopkins, of which we knew virtually nothing about other than its geographical location relative to the rest of the country. Nonetheless, we had designs of making our way there and finding us some whale sharks.
We hopped the bus again and a couple hours later we were at the Dangriga bus station where we'd make the switch to the bus south to Hopkins. We grabbed our packs, got off the bus and asked when we could get on the next bus to Hopkins. "About 4 hours from now", we were informed. No chance we were waiting that long, so we approached the hoards of taxis who were eager to give us a lift out. "80 Belize" was the first quote given, high enough for us to swing around in unison and immediately get back on the bus. We knew the bus was continuing south to Punta Gorda, and the junction to Hopkins was only a short ride from where we were on any bus heading south. The problem was that between the Hopkins junction and Hopkins was a 5-mile dirt road under cover of nothing. We'd have to hike it in the sweltering heat or pray for a lift.
We took our chances and went to the junction. We had seen an English girl get off there on our way north from Placencia to Belmopan and in the time it took for her to step off the bus and the bus to depart, we could see her already throwing her bag in the back of a pick up. So we were confident we would get a ride as it seemed like there was a solid amount of traffic at the intersection, probably doing regular pick ups of folk just such as us.
When we got off, a couple of late-adolescent Belizean boys got off at the same time. They were making their way in the same direction. They immediately went and found shelter from the sun under the bus stop at the corner and we probed them as to how to get to Hopkins. "Pray for a short wait", they said. It was a million degrees out and I was sweating in the shade so there was no chance of hauling our packs that far; we were waiting for lift. We busted out our books and zoned out for a short time while the boys kept an eye out for potential rides. Only a few vehicles made the turn without stopping to offer a lift before a beat up old flat deck pick up carrying a big load of 2x4s stopped. "Let's go, if you want to travel the local way!", said the boys. Perfect! We threw our bags in the back and rode those 2x4s into town, eating dirt, rocks and sawdust the whole way. When we got to town we jumped out and the mysterious driver sped off, not leaving time enough even for a thank you, let alone a glimpse inside the cab of the vehicle. We were there and it didn't cost any extra, so we were pleased.
We had done some light research in our Lonely Planet and determined that we wanted to stay at Laru Beya cabins. When we got there, we were more than delighted by these spacious seaside cabins with A/C and verandas with only palm trees blocking the view of the incoming waves and the blue on blue horizon in the distance. At US$55 per night, we were laughing.
I paid the hotel keeper, a hilarious old lady from Belize City, in to tend for a couple days for her brother, the owner of the place. Upon doling out the loot, I realized we were running a bit low on dinero so I asked where the nearest bank was. "Oh, there's no bank in Hopkins!", she laughed. No bank, no ATM, no credit cards taken....we were in trouble. I did a quick count and found we had BZ$140 (US$70) to get us through supper that night, 3 squares the next day, breakfast and our trip to Placencia the following day. Oh, and plus any drinking we wanted to do...which we wanted to do a lot of. "We can do this", we figured, we'd just have to budget. We really didn't want to make the painful trip back to Dangriga and burn a good portion of our oceanside beach time to go get cash.
With bigtime budgeting in mind, we set out on a booze cruise. We scored a bottle of One Barrel for BZ$12, but the coke mix wasn't our best purchase at BZ$4 a liter. And we had to get 2 to get us through the night. We picked up a chips and salsa snack as well, so we weren't off to a very good start on the budget. We started getting gooned on the veranda, reading our books and crushing rum & cokes.
I was marvelling at the view when it dawned on me that I could probably grab a coconut from the nearest palm tree from right off the deck. It was a bit of a stretch, but I decided I was going to make that happen. I got up on the railing, wrapped one arm around the rooftop stantion, leaned out as far as I could and plucked that golden fruit right off the tree. It was still warm to the touch from the sun when I started trying to get inside it. We were pretty limited on tools, so I started trying to give it a jack-o-lantern-style top opening with the cabin key. I had the key fully inserted into the coconut in a couple spots but nothing was coming out. This was proving to be a lot more difficult than imagined. Then Jes had a brainwave: "Use my corkscrew!". Having, on a number of occasions on this trip, used my flip-flop-mounted bottle opener, I thought, "That's my girl!". Always prepared if there's an alcohol-opening emergency. I made quick work through the shortest side of that coconut and we each sucked a swig of the sweet nectar from the corkscrew wound before I poured myself a tall glass of freshly uncorked coconut milk. We threw that cononut, plus one more, into the fridge with the anticipation of finding a knife on the cheap at some point and cutting out the fruit from inside. This plan never did materialize, however I did make use of the juice as a cheap (read: "free") mixer, making several tasty rum concoctions.
Soon enough Jes started getting owly and I knew it was time to feed the beast. We walked to the south end of town to Innies restaurant where we dined on some local Garifuna plates. Naturally, with our budget and our state of inebriation, these choices were very nearly the most expensive on the menu. Still, it wasn't that bad at BZ$37 for both meals, a beer for me, plus tip.
Revelling in the pleasure of our state of fullness and intoxication, we decided to check out the convenience store for some cheaper cashew wine than the BZ$20 bottle offered in the gift shop. We spotted the exact same bottle for BZ$9 and I guess Jes was feeling sentimental because, despite our monetary misgivings, she decided now was a good time to pick up some jam for Grandma Fritshaw. And one wasn't enough, so we got one banana jam and one guava jam for BZ$4.50 each. So, to recap, after setting aside our bus fare to get to Placencia, we were down to our last BZ$55 that had to last us through the entire next day and we just spent 18 of it on wine and jam.
We must have been loaded. And the worst part was that the cashew wine was one of the most heinous tastes to ever touch my tongue. I couldn't even finish my glass and we wound up leaving the full bottle in the cabin, minus a drink each for Jes and I. Note to Grandma Fritshaw: You better like your jams!!
We had another early night in preparation for an early morning to watch the sun rise.
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