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07. 05. 2007 Belize City (BELIZE)

My project has begun! One thing that struck me as soon as I got on the bus to Belize City: the driver gets off, pot-bellied and black but with a kind face, I greet him with a Spanish "hola" and he, in perfect British English: "Good morning" — oh right, Belize, formerly British Honduras, is still under British protection, as you can tell from the fact that the banknotes bear the image of Queen Elizabeth II... I get on the bus and instead of loud Reggaeton or Latin music there's a series of old American country songs; we're really entering a country completely different from Mexico...

We cross the border and the time changes too! In 100 metres there are 2 different time zones! We find ourselves in the unknown Belize! Honestly I was quite tense because the idea of coming here had been mine, so I felt a bit responsible, especially after the many diaries I'd read, our guidebook and the accounts of those who'd been. It's an extremely dangerous place! Tourism doesn't exist except on the little islands (note: this isn't entirely true, because visiting the Bliss Lighthouse we discovered that Belize City is a pit stop for cruise ships — indeed, next to the pier there were lots of stalls, today empty because no ships are expected).

I felt a bit like when I ventured into Macedonia, but in reality so far everything has been so calm! We're staying in a very spartan Guest House. Its name is "Barrack Road", and there couldn't have been a more appropriate name! A very rough room, small and very dirty, and on top of that expensive too. We can fend for ourselves, but cleanliness must be guaranteed! Unfortunately here we have to put up with what we find.

On our little reconnaissance stroll we also pop into a primary school, accompanied by the headmaster! We go into a classroom — how sweet, they were studying comparatives, and they all stand up! We chat a bit and leave them to their lesson!

We spend the whole afternoon visiting this little town, a typical lunch of fish at the famous "Macy", so praised by all the travel guides! We visit the largest church in Central America, the Governor's palace, and savour a bit of Belizean nightlife, that is, idleness in its purest form with interludes of begging!

"Home sweet home"! A historic phrase for returning after a long journey, but I certainly never imagined I'd whisper it to myself as I came back tonight to our crumbling room! But that's just how it is, Belize City really disappointed me! At first I was a bit puzzled because the courtesy and kindness of the people I'd met up to lunch had disoriented me.

I expected to meet lots of shady characters who would bother us asking for money, but instead everyone was helpful and nice; sitting on a kerb, while we enjoyed an ice cream — pineapple and coconut — with the kids, I remarked that if I hadn't read all those bad things about this city I would never have believed it! But I was wrong! After all, if everyone says the same thing there must be a reason! No sooner said than done: we sit in a bar to drink something, chat and read our guide a bit, when various characters start inviting themselves to our table, taking turns: first a harmless old man who introduced himself as a tour guide, then a half-drunk 30-year-old who praised France and hated Americans, and finally a somewhat battered guy who, after a lot of chatting, suddenly starts threatening us, shows us lots of scars, some fresh and stitched up "as best they could", and at the first opport

unity we buy him a beer and slip away. On one hand we had to experience it too, otherwise we'd have wrongly reported that Belize City is the calmest place in the world!

In a way, as Carlo noted, it's very contradictory because most of the population is made up of Rastas whose philosophy of life is "No Money, No Problem", "Peace and Love" between one joint and another. All brothers, in short — yet here you see them looking like they've stepped out of a Snoop Dogg or 50 Cent video, with baggy trousers, giant chains, and everyone posing as a criminal rapper.

The good thing is that the more the sun set, the more of these types appeared on the street (maybe it was just our impression). They live idly and then come to ask us for money: convenient, that way! In the evening, Carlo and I take the chance to sit on the edge of a kerb watching the daily life of Belizeans pass before us, a bit like two spectators at the cinema, harshly criticising their lack of desire to progress.

Dear Belize City, tourism-wise you can only live off the cruise-ship tourists who brush past you for a few moments; those like us who really wanted to discover and get to know you, you just chase away! And indeed the next day we took the first ferry and headed to Caye Caulker: a little island an hour from here, famous thanks to Madonna's song: Isla Bonita!

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