Paradise? You'd Better Belize It

New friends in Caye Caulker, Belize

Infatuation - that unpredictable, havoc-wreaking surge of dopamine that has fuelled the angst of many an artist, musician and poet. Like a filter on an Instagram photo it suffuses everything with a warm, fuzzy glow; miraculously erasing any flaws and camouflaging harsh truths. Scientists liken its effects to that of cocaine and heroin, such is its power over our delicate brain-chemistry. And just like an addict trying to go cold turkey, sometimes the only way to overcome an infatuation is to distance yourself from the object of your desire - completely.

This has been my experience with the Caribbean island of Caye Caulker, Belize. From the minute I stepped off the crowded water taxi onto the dock, I began feeling its effects. The calm turquoise water, the softly swaying palms, the powder-white sand and faded wooden cabanas… after the highlands and jungles of Guatemala, Caye Caulker felt like a different world. 

I'd made a tentative three night reservation at the highly praised Yumas House, largely because so many of its glowing online endorsements described it as 'peaceful', 'relaxing', 'an oasis of calm' etc. It sounded like exactly what I needed (and wanted) after my two studious weeks in Antigua attempting to learn Spanish and my whirlwind visits to Lago de Atitlán and the Mayan ruins in Tikal. 

Many hours were spent daydreaming in a hammock

'An oasis of calm' was indeed what I found. The camaraderie amongst guests was infectious and within no time at all I had inherited a new family. Many a secret was spilled over a glass (or three) of rum, with many mornings spent navel-gazing over a cup of coffee or simply daydreaming in a swinging hammock. 

I quickly adapted to the island lifestyle; living in my bikini and sauntering around barefoot clutching a Belikin. I survived on a diet of coconut rice, Jerk chicken, coleslaw, mashed potato, lobster, fish and shrimp; all washed down with a fresh Papaya juice or the aptly-named 'panty ripper' cocktail.

My days were spent snorkelling and swimming with sea turtles, sharks, dolphins and manatees; or I'd simply while away the hours conversing with my fellow travellers at 'The Split' and accumulating a tower of empty beer bottles.

We would accumulate a tower of beer bottles
at 'The Split''

At night we would enjoy the ridiculously cheap grilled lobster and rum punch at one of the numerous garden or beachfront restaurants, before descending upon the local reggae bar or the concrete sweatbox known as 'Voodoo Lounge' for some rum-fuelled dancing. Once we'd exhausted ourselves (and our wallets) in the bars, we would sneak down to the beach front for a late night dip or simply lie on a jetty marvelling at the many shooting stars…

With the annual Lobster Festival taking place on the 27th June somehow my three night booking stretched into ten, then twenty, then twenty five… I completely lost track of time, so enamoured was I with my new island home. Emails went unanswered, books unread. My laptop and iPhone sat gathering dust.

'Go Slow' is the Caye Caulker motto and I embraced this philosophy wholeheartedly. I found the usual incessant chatter in my brain ceased (along with my motivation to do any writing, let alone Spanish study). Any questions or doubts I had about the future were miraculously shelved. I stopped ruminating on the past. I felt completely present. It was bliss.

Snorkelling on the magnificent reef

With no planning necessary, I just took every day as it came and decided what I would do on a whim. Many days I would do nothing. A casual stroll down the street would turn into a few hours conversing with a local tour operator (and a few shots of rum). A brief introduction at a bar or a cafe would turn into a new best friend, insisting I go out fishing on their boat or come to their place for dinner.

Belize is not a place for the shy or anti-social. Intriguingly, it has more in common with its Caribbean cousins than its Central American neighbours. English is the primary language spoken, with the melodic Kriol a close second. The locals shout out nicknames to one another as they pass by on bicycles or golf carts; strangers wish you a jovial "Good Morning!" or "Good Evening!" when they see you on the street and conversations erupt spontaneously in queues or aisles of the supermarket.

Belize is not a place for the anti-social

Sure, there's the usual vendors spruiking everything from fresh coconuts and tamales to paintings and jewellery and wood carvings (not to mention all the sly offers of ganja and cocaine); but a simple "no thank you" is accepted graciously. The machismo and cat-calling from the swaggering Rastafarians is equally harmless, with the majority silenced by a friendly smile or a nod (that said - any tourists looking for a bit of a holiday romance are sure to find a local happy to oblige. And the blatantly sexual 'freaking' in nightclubs is something to be seen to be believed).

But just like the holiday romance that is as intense as it is short-lived, I must leave Belize before I lose all rationale and reason.

I asked a local man one day: "How does it feel to live in paradise?" To which he replied: "It's paradise to you, but we have good days and bad days and have shit to deal with just like everyone else" (at which point he simply shrugged, turned away and ascended a nearby palm tree armed with a machete).

The peaceful Manatee

As I watched him hacking off coconuts, I realised he was right. You can't escape reality forever. You can't have joy without suffering. And all good things must come to an end. I've come to the conclusion that we may all find our slice of paradise somewhere - but we need to recognise that this state is fleeting.

All month long I've heard the same song played over and over and over again throughout Belize (aside from reggae, Belize has an uncanny penchant for saccharine love songs). It's chorus goes like this:

Only know you've been high when you're feeling low

Only hate the road when you’re missin' home

Only know you love her when you let her go

And you let her go

I've undoubtedly fallen head over heels in love with Belize - it's magnificent reef, its stunning Cayes, its diverse mix of people and its abundant marine life. The month I've spent here has been invigorating, intoxicating and rejuvenating… and whilst far from perfect, it's been paradise to me. Perhaps one day we'll meet again.

Until then, the island fantasy lives on in my imagination.

The island fantasy lives on