Belize: Unspoiled Caribbean in Central America
INTERACTIVE |
Back on dry land, there are other attractions, some beautiful, some bizarre. On Wednesday nights, hundreds gather at the Pier Lounge bar for the one of the latter — the Chicken Drop.
Four white squares covered in red numbers are laid on the sand. A crowd gathers as we watch from above, sipping Belikin beers from a coveted balcony table at Caliente.
A hostess explains the game. Everyone has bought a number. If the chicken poops on your number, she says, you win $1,000. But you have to clean it up.
From a rattan basket, a tourist plucks a chicken. It takes a few steps, then freezes as the screaming begins. Children yell until they are hoarse. Grown men raise their beers, bellowing numbers.
The chicken stops. It is straddling two numbers on my husband's ticket: 72 and 25.
For what feels like minutes, the bird refuses to budge. The screaming continues until suddenly my husband yells, "Shhh! Be quiet! Let the chicken relax!"
For a second, there is silence. Then the crowd cracks up, the shouting resumes and the bird moves. Eventually he drops on No. 6, thrilling a tourist from Alaska.
It's easy to pass the days drinking Dirty Bananas by the pool, catching and grilling grouper, and snorkeling at hot spots like Mexico Rocks. But Belize has more to offer.
A 15-minute flight takes us back to Belize City, where a guide drives us deep into the Cayo District, to the Community Baboon Preserve.
Some 200 private landowners voluntarily protect 20 square miles of habitat for 2,000 rare black howler monkeys. Our guide hands out large switches to swat mosquitoes as we venture into the jungle to see them. There is a telltale roar, loud and guttural, and the crunching of leaves.
A family of five emerges overhead — two babies, a mother and two males. They come within 15 feet, peering curiously, awaiting a snack of cocoa leaves.
I ask permission, then pull from my backpack a sock monkey. It is my version of Travelocity's roaming gnome, always figuring prominently in vacation photos. The oldest male charges at me, brown eyes locked on the fake monkey. Instead of taking a picture of my toy here, I quickly stuff it in my backpack to avoid a confrontation. The real monkey stops, slowly relaxing but never taking his eyes from the bag.
He moves within inches of my hand, hardly a foot from my face — so close I can see myself in his eyes.
|
Then it's back to the Hummingbird Highway, heading south from Belmopan to the Cave Branch River, where we hike 40 minutes with inner tubes slung over our shoulders. We walk through caves where ancient Mayans lived, under cohune palm fronds some 20 feet long, then don headlamps and jump into chilly water to float through a series of pitch-black underground rooms.
Ordinarily, hundreds of people float here together. But we happened to be there on Christmas Eve, so there were only three of us.
It's peaceful at first. Quiet. Then too quiet. I start thinking about the horror movies I've seen on Sci Fi. Particularly one featuring a toothy fish. "Snakehead Terror," it was called.
Something brushes my calf in the water, and I gasp. It could have been my husband's foot. I can't see him in the dark. Or it could have been ...
Mind and heart racing, I arch my body across the tube, off the water. For the rest of the float, I remind myself to breathe. Then, back in daylight, I relax.
Later, back at the van, we find two guides hoping for a lift back to Belize City. On the way, they ask if we saw the snakes.
A pair of boas have been spotted in the river, they tell me.
Mating.
- Discuss Story On Newsvine
-
Rate Story:
View popularLowHigh - Instant Message
MORE FROM TROPICAL GETAWAYS |
| Add Tropical Getaways headlines to your news reader: |
Resource guide


