I thought a lot about if and how I wanted to use this blog now that it’s officially, finally, out in the world. I wanted to be helpful, but the longer I travel, the more amazing resources I find, and the less helpful I feel like I can be. I wanted it to be authentic, with stories written like my early posts, but then I felt too much pressure and not enough inspiration. I wanted it to be the perfect mix of unimaginable and attainable, but then I met people on their hundredth country having spent just a few thousand dollars (much more unimaginable than anything I have to share.) And after all that, I end up giving up. I’m left hoping that my goldfish brain will just simply remember the tiny details from my favorite moments.
So I’ve decided that from each trip, I’ll be aiming to post something with recommendations, itineraries, tips, and lessons learned. But first, I wanted to promise myself that I’ll write about the little moments, just for myself. I won’t worry if the story is boring, or that I’m rambling, or that someone (@ mom) would question my decisions.
And thus, I bring you
Belize: Part One, subtitle: “Always talk to strangers.”
Lots of things hit differently on a travel day. No matter how early my alarm is, I never hit snooze. I’m too excited to eat, so I just try to choke down a granola bar so that I wont be stuck paying $17 for snacks at the airport (and then I spend $17 on airport snacks anyway.) I spend every waking moment electrified. Nerves and excitement feel like they pulse through me and every twenty minutes, like clockwork, I check my bag for my passport and wallet. And every twenty minutes, like clockwork, my passport is right where I left it. (I’m scarred from the ONE time in 2015 I forgot my passport at home and my then-boyfriend, bless his soul, Ubered all the way to O’Hare to drop it off. I somehow still made the flight.)
Basically, travel days are just equal parts “I’m 100% forgetting the most important item in my life and will probably get on the wrong plane and then somehow get arrested and held in jail for no reason” and “welp there’s nothing left for me to plan, or do, or change so.... Might as well relax and hope for the best.”
The flight was a breeze to CLT, and our 40 minute layover ended up being perfect timing and felt more like a pit stop than a layover, cruising from one flight to another. Upon landing in Belize, we were herded from line to line, showing proof of negative Covid tests or vaccinations at 4 different stations. Sarah’s vaccine was just short of 2 weeks ago, so she presented a negative test and was shepherded to a line separate from me and in the chaos, I lost sight of her as I was directed to quickly continue through my line, out the door, and onto customs. I spent the next 2.5 minutes worrying that something has gone wrong. That maybe she had a problem with her documents, or she was randomly chosen to do another test and she was showing a false positive and would be stuck in Belize City, or that she just randomly had a heart attack while we were separated or somehow there was another freak emergency. Is this how people with kids feel?? Because man, that’s exhausting. My brain would not physically be capable of handling that level of worry if this is what my brain does when I lose sight of a 27 year old, extremely capable, adult. *eye roll*
After getting through customs without any issues, we made our way to our connecting flight, changed our tickets for an earlier flight, and patiently waited.
And then.
THE BEST FLIGHT OF MY LIFE HAPPENED!!!!!!!!!!!
I had heard that if you ask nicely, you can sit in the copilot seat, but I assumed that was a myth, and if it weren’t a myth, I assumed I would feel too awkward to ask the pilot something that very well could be a stupid question. And god forbid I ask a stranger a stupid question! (*eye roll*) Then, while waiting, I thought I heard someone else ask the flight crew and get denied because it wasn’t a full flight. So when Sarah and I climbed aboard the tiny little Cessna plane and I saw the copilot seat empty, calling to me, I mustered up literally allllll my mental strength and convinced myself to speak to a stranger (gasp) and ask a potentially stupid question. AND HE TOLD ME TO CLIMB UP!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I legitimately thought I might have a heart attack, I was so excited. I love planes, I love doing things I’ve never done before, and I love seeing views I’ve never seen before, and sitting on the front of a little 12 seater plane while we flew over turquoise ocean water definitely fit the bill.
Watching him methodically flick switches, twist dials, and push buttons on, off, and on again like a choreographed routine had me sitting wide eyed in admiration. Knowing that one of my best friends had this same skill and then thinking about how amazing she is for doing something she loves so much and then remembering when she took me flying and then thinking about how damn cool the world is (we can just get in little metal canisters and soar through the sky?!?!? Insane.) and then I thought about how lucky I am to explore and live my literal dreams... So obviously, all this gratitude and excitement had me ~emotional~ in this poor man’s copilot seat, so next I knew, I was quietly crying as we crossed over the second largest coral reef in the world.
It was a short flight, but 25 minutes of extreme happiness had my cheeks hurting by the time we landed. We grabbed our bags, scurried to our hostel, and promptly changed into our swimsuits to lounge by the pool. After having a beer and loading up on sunscreen, we we struck up a conversation with another guest, John, and his friends Andrea and Stephanie. It’s amazing how easy it is to talk to strangers at hostels (I should say: good hostels.) So many people avoid travel because they can’t find anyone to go with them and they assume that solo traveling might be lonely— NO!! If I were talking directly to you, dear reader, I would scream this in your face and shout it from the highest rooftops: SOLO TRAVEL IS NOT LONELY (unless you wanted it to be.) This trip reminded me of just how fun solo travel can be, and got me excited all over again for my future trips! Vulnerable moment: After spending a year inside, I was honestly quite concerned that I wouldn't be able to communicate with people. I thought that making friends would be an active, exhaustive effort. I worried that I wasn't interesting or cool enough to connect with strangers- after all, most of my recent memories from the past 14 months were basically just me and Beau in my apartment trying to learn how to embroider (to be clear, Beau was not learning embroidery, that was just me.) And while COVID had made my initial insecurities stronger, I remember feeling similarly before my first solo trip and I've had others tell me that they held off on traveling because they weren't "extroverted enough." This long tangent is all to say, I'm glad that worry was for nothing. I loved being back in my element. I loved talking with strangers and joking and sharing a beer. I loved hearing their tips from previous trips and their stories from home. I loved how effortless it felt, because the people I had met were all so genuinely cool and open and quick witted and adventurous. Ugh, it was just so great. I loved it all. Tangent over.
And so, 20 minutes after check in, Sarah & I had made our first friends. And that evening, when she & I wandered to a nearby bar for dinner, we were greeted with sharpies and saw every inch of space covered in names, Instagram handles, phone numbers, and short sayings as those before us had made use of the sharpies they were given. It only took us a few minutes before we found ourself sharing a round of shots with another new friend, and shortly after that, John, Andrea, and Stephanie walked in. So our single graffitied dinner table quickly became 3 tables roughly dragged together, with Sarah and I on separate ends of our 6 person dinner and both of us visibly buzzing off the excitement of the environment (and also probably a slight buzz from the 3 rounds of shots we just threw back.) Halfway through dinner, plans for the next day came up and Sarah and I invited them to join us on our full day tour. By the end of dinner, we had all signed up for the same tour.
It wouldn’t be a hostel story if I didn’t mention the night ending with a snoring man (whose snores sounded like a very weird mix of sighing and moaning??), a 5:30am very loud exit from our room, and a drunken and loud, but ultimately successful, venture up the ladder to the lofted bed.
The next day was a full day cruise, complete with bottomless cocktails. Stop one was Hol Chan, which roughly translates to “little channel.” This small break in the reef was near some of the best snorkeling, with incredible coral shining through pristine teal water. We saw a sleeping shark, a turtle, a couple string rays, and hundreds of fish. I actually kept breaking the seal on my snorkel mask because I couldn't stop smiling, which sounds cute but was actually pretty annoying by the end. One of these days, I'll learn to control my facial expressions. Next up was shark ray alley and if you’ve known me since I created my bucket list way back in 2014, you know that swimming with sharks was on it. Obviously, I had a little happy tear escape and Sarah and I sat in wonder, staring at nurse sharks swarming around us, occasionally bumping into us on their path towards they real snack (hint: not us.)
^me literally chasing after sharks, as any sane person would.
^our kind tour guide took this video for us, which should be obvious because I am simply not capable of holding my breath and willingly entering a random little cave in the ocean. I work a desk job. My body is not equipped for that kind of thing.
The tour finished in a little area, with waist deep, crystal clear water and soft sand. Sarah and I agreed in Philippines that we might never see water that beautiful again, but Belize certainly proved us wrong. Some of our new friends played volleyball while Sarah and I talked with a woman named Denise who was solo traveling as well. Sarah and I ended up spending the next couple hours talking to this woman (and dancing on the boat to old school rock with her) and by the end of the tour, we had made plans to meet up for dinner. Denise had told us that her sister was originally meant to join her on this trip, and she was missing her terribly and feeling just a bit lonely. She later confessed that Sarah and I reminded her of her sister and had eased some of the sadness she had felt without her. When she told us that, I was reminded of my post-breakup trip to Costa Rica. I’m not religious, so I don’t know that it’s “God” necessarily, but it does feel like the universe introduces you to specific people while traveling. If you take the plunge and talk to strangers, the rest seems to fall into place. And I just love that.
So after our shower, Sarah and I wandered up the beach, looking for the place Denise had suggested. We found Denise, went into an over water restaurant, and ordered a few drinks and apps while we shared stories and bits of our life back home with this woman who was a complete stranger just a few hours prior. Denise and I crawled down the side of the deck onto the water trampoline and watched the sunset over the water before scrambling back up (but not before breaking the rope they used as a fence) to order more drinks. By the end of dinner, our table of 3 had turned into a table of 8 or 9 as our friends from the hostel joined and our tour guides brought over bar games for everyone to play together. I always say that I’m not a competitive person (I cry watching major sporting events because I feel bad that one team has to lose— it must be so disappointing!!!) but then when games get brought out at a bar, I end up talking an excessive amount of shit and getting way too competitive and non stop bragging when I win. So.... not sure how that makes sense.
The night ended just after curfew, after a few more drinks on our hostel’s dock and some drunken dancing. (I want so badly to include a video here of Sarah’s stellar dancing, but I’m refraining.)
The next morning, while Sarah nursed a hangover, I spoke to yet another stranger (who AM I?!?!) and he just happened to be heading to Secret Beach, so he joined into our little group of 5. Two tour guides from the previous day joined as well, so Rich, Sarah, John & I hopped into Rich’s golf cart and embarked on the long journey up the island. Rich and I spent the time sharing stories from our lives and our travels, (he was on his 60th country!) and laughing as our little golf cart catapulted over potholes that littered the road.
After an hour our two relaxing at shaded picnic tables sitting in the ocean, Rich reminded us that he had signed up for a fishing tour for the afternoon and would have to head back. Sarah and I, not exactly fishermen, realized our poor, Midwestern skin needed a break from the sun and readily agreed to join Rich on his fishing tour, which Sarah later referred to as a “murder tour” when she realized the fish we caught (and later ate for dinner) were dead. (?¿?¿?¿) I now have an excessive amount of pictures of myself holding dead fish on my phone, but i must say — I’m kind of understanding why guys post these things on their dating profiles. I was really proud of my catches! Not quite proud enough to feature it on my hinge profile, but still pretty proud. We caught barracuda, some sort of Jack, and I think one other type (Rich, if you ever stumble upon this blog and read this far, I KNOW you’ll remember so please correct me!) I was in charge of the music, but I had only a few random songs downloaded to my phone, so I scrambled together a very weird, very eclectic mix of songs and hoped that Rich didn't want to toss me overboard in response to my taste in music.
We ended the night sharing a round or two of shots with 6 of our new friends. (Looking back, this is a common theme when it comes to nights on vacation.)
And when I remember that night, with Sarah and I surrounded by new friends, laughing at each other’s jokes, swapping stories and contact information, and lamenting over our departures the next day, I remember one of my favorite parts of travel. You end up talking to strangers, and these people will continue to restore your faith in humanity with their kindness, adventurous impulses, and genuine friendship.
So when we checked out of Sandbar after only 3 nights, we agreed that we wished we hadn’t needed to and I was reminded why, when traveling, I always talk to strangers.
Noteworthy moments from these days:
Sarah almost dying from the pepper at Wayos
Me being way too competitive with Tower of Hanoi
Waking all 10 people in the dorm up with my alarm (fml)
The amazing pizza at sandbar
My bruised and painful forehead after I annihilated my skull on the corner of the cabinet
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