Belize is a mixed up kind of place. With no real predominant caste or colour and a corrupt government it makes for interesting systems and beliefs. Take, for example, their policy on imports: The mantra goes "If we can make it in Belize, we don't import it (but if you've got a load of cash, we can bend the rules, of course thankyou yes please)." There is a trade embargo on beef because you can grow beef in Belize, however Coca-cola somehow manage to import their drinks here even though there's plenty of Belizean drinks on offer. This might have something to do with the fact that Coke owns a significant portion of the orange groves here and the sole distribution rights to said company being owned by one of the four families who run the country!
In the absence of competition, this has led to hugely inflated prices in the country with, for example, room rates being around eight times higher than neighbouring Guatemala. When you look at what you get for your money, it's surprising that the whole country doesn't up root and leave or revolt.
Alledgedly the current government will certainly not be re-elected next year, so they introduced a 10% sales tax to line their pockets before the off. (Harsh you might say, but if you've seen the state of the roads and buildings here you'd understand!)
Aside from this, the people do seem to be genuinely happy here. This is reinforced by the number of ex-pats here (mainly from the US) who, to be fair, are all a little quirky.
Having endured the 'eye-incident' we headed south to Punta Gorda where we enjoyed a little eco-tourism. After getting dropped off by the bus in nearby Santa Cruz, Em and I looked at each other and laughed out loud. With no accommodation arranged, we had truly been dropped in the middle of nowhere- a small village with a few grass huts in the middle of the jungle. Oh- and there's only 3 buses a week that go through it!
We were welcomed into a nearby hut by the Sho family who said they'd 'take us' for the night. Now Mopan Mayan families differ to our own slightly- Marcos and Conceptiona (seriously) live with their EIGHT children and numerous grand-children in a small number of huts with reed roofs and dirt floors. Hammocks are the order of the day for sleeping which are strung up just about anywhere there is space. The houses had only one or two 'rooms' in them and were surrounded by chicken huts, pigstys and the obligatory donkey! I don't even want to discuss the toilet arrangements... let's just say maggots, spiders and flies.
Needless to say we had a truly eye-opening experience. The family were incredibly friendly and accommodating, serving up three hot meals a day largely consisting of freshly slaughtered pig, rice and non-descript sauce. Whilst tasty, this wore a little thin after the third meal!
Evening entertainment consisted of the village men convening at one house with a generator (no electricity here at all) hooked up to a television with DVD player. Em and I were subjected to a pirate Bruce Lee film with no sound, though this did not pose a problem to any of the small group there- they just wanted to see the fighting and general action- the plot was clearly not essential to their enjoyment!
Marcos (the grand-daddy and general household boss) took us for a tour of their farm- several acres of rainforest that are continually worked from dusk till dawn to produce corn, beans, rice, plantain (my new bestest food) and bananas. Each part of the farm had been divided up and given to each son accordingly. The women, meanwhile, washed the clothes in the river, cleaned the dirt off the dirt floors (?!) and prepared food for the hungry workers.
We spent the afternoon teaching their youngest son, Jonathan, to juggle who learned in about ten minutes (it took me several months) - a smart child - too bad he'll inevitably come out of school and work the fields for the rest of his life.
To quickly give a picture of family life, they rise at around 3.30am and bed time is around 7.30pm. This allows them to get to the fields for first light after a breakfast of either rice and pig or tortilla and pig...! Alarms clocks not required of course - their cockerill wouldn't shut up from about 3 o'clock onwards. After two nights with the Sho family, we exhaustedly waved goodbye after many conversations about Osama bin Laden and Tony Blair.
Next on the agenda was Hopkins, a small fishing village apparently built on one road and stretching two miles from top to bottom. I think the town planners were having a day off when they thought about this one! We spent an enjoyable two nights with Oli (an ex-pat German) who welcomed us into his beachside cabanas (huts) with all the windsurfing facilities you could shake a stick at. Unfortunately we'd forgotten to bring enough cash, and with no Visa facilities and no ATM we were royally screwed! The windsurfing will have to wait for another day, but luckily their darts board came in handy.
We are now in the west of the country perched on the border with Guatemala ready to embark on our trip to Tikal, a famous Mayan ruin. More to follow. Before that however, we have signed up for a trip into a Mayan sacrificial cave where you have to swim and trek through the jungle to see the remains of a human sacrifice dating back to around 200 BC. Yesterday was spent kayaking through the jungle, although the limited experience of our guide somewhat detracted from the experience! Guide (pointing): "Over there- iguana," Us: "What kind?" Guide: "Yes, yes." Excellent.
¡Ola! Yes, 
