"Belize" means "muddy waters" but it was dry and familiar to us passing overland westbound. The slow local transport used to be called "chicken buses" in a ridiculing way but now it's the accepted name for our usual bus.
You still have to walk about 2 miles to the Guatemalan border and pay C$10 to leave Belize. Once into good old Guatemala (1997), a desperate cab driver gave us an offer we couldn't refuse for a speeding-all-the-way ride to Flores. But first he stopped to give his young daughter some money --- "Don't let your madre (his ex) see it!"
After a zip through rough farms of corn and beans our race car arrived at the island of Flores, which means "flowers". Appropriate town for the Garden Girl, no? It's smaller than expected (about the size of a major shopping mall), completely built over, but new places are always surprising. We expected a mile-long shore walkway circling the island, but no such luck. Heavy rains have raised Lake Peten so much that even the paved shore road is under water.
Hundreds of blaring "tuk-tuks" roam Flores like flies buzzing for fresh meat. (At least they're little red convertibles!) Dozens of "launches" take people and cargo to the settlements around the lake. But a funeral wake passed by in vehicles --- note the casket sticking out of the SUV.
Street food is everywhere and tantalizing. But eat quickly because the mummer-like parade is coming! Firecrackers whiz and bang leading the street scene of locals on a promenade to the decorated church. You think they noticed a couple of gringos joining in?
Flores could be explored and viewed in a couple of days. So out to the airstrip for a '70's era SAAB puddle jumper, and on to ---- the next blog!!
You still have to walk about 2 miles to the Guatemalan border and pay C$10 to leave Belize. Once into good old Guatemala (1997), a desperate cab driver gave us an offer we couldn't refuse for a speeding-all-the-way ride to Flores. But first he stopped to give his young daughter some money --- "Don't let your madre (his ex) see it!"
After a zip through rough farms of corn and beans our race car arrived at the island of Flores, which means "flowers". Appropriate town for the Garden Girl, no? It's smaller than expected (about the size of a major shopping mall), completely built over, but new places are always surprising. We expected a mile-long shore walkway circling the island, but no such luck. Heavy rains have raised Lake Peten so much that even the paved shore road is under water.
Hundreds of blaring "tuk-tuks" roam Flores like flies buzzing for fresh meat. (At least they're little red convertibles!) Dozens of "launches" take people and cargo to the settlements around the lake. But a funeral wake passed by in vehicles --- note the casket sticking out of the SUV.
Street food is everywhere and tantalizing. But eat quickly because the mummer-like parade is coming! Firecrackers whiz and bang leading the street scene of locals on a promenade to the decorated church. You think they noticed a couple of gringos joining in?
Flores could be explored and viewed in a couple of days. So out to the airstrip for a '70's era SAAB puddle jumper, and on to ---- the next blog!!
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