Belize City - Belize

When I arrived in Belize City there was only one thing on my mind: Food. I had just spent 12 hours walking, hitch-hiking, and catching various buses to get there, with nothing to fuel me but a miniature order of quesadillas in Chetumal, Mexico. Although my stomach was begging for attention, it soon became apparent that I would have to shift my energies from finding food to even more pressing matters, like staying alive.

"Planning to stay here long?" the taxi driver asked me as we sped through dimly-lit, trash-laden streets.

"Actually, I'm on my way to Placencia. I'll be leaving tomorrow," I replied, trying not to think about how light-headedly hungry I was.

"Good idea. No reason to stay here. It's too dangerous."

"So it's true what they say?" I questioned.

"Worse. Seven people been shot the last couple weeks. F*cking government's making everbody poor, so now they break in your windows to steal your sh*t," he replied, his voice full of anger.

"Oh." I thought what I'd heard was simply traveller's paranoia.

As we stopped in front of my hotel, I noticed that the name on the sign above the door didn't match the name I had given the driver.

"I didn't tell you earlier," he said, recognizing the look of confusion (and possibly a dash of fear) in my eyes, "but this place burnt down a couple times before they finally sold it. Some Chinese people bought it."

"But it's still an okay place, right?" I asked.

"Same old story," he replied, now a hint of contempt in his voice as he stepped back in his car and drove away.

I looked around me: Dim streetlights, closed-up shops, and stray dogs eating from the piles of garbage scattered around the sidewalk. According to my guidebook (which had failed to mention the burning and selling of my hotel) this was the only cheap place to stay in the area. Great, I thought as I rang the bell. An entire Chinese family answered the door; they all seemed really excited to see me.

"Do you have any single rooms?" I inquired.

"You want TV?" the youngest girl asked, translating for her parents.

"No, just the cheapest room you've got," I answered.

"Twenty dollar."

"Belizean," I wanted to clarify.

"No, US."

Huh? My (soon to be dog food) book claimed the original place charged eight bucks a night.

"There's nothing cheaper?" I nearly begged.

"Twenty dollar," repeated the little girl.

Again, I looked around. Twenty dollars was supposed to be my budget for a whole day, but this didn't seem to be the time or place to be wandering around searching for another hotel with all my belongings on my back. And my stomach was reminding me of its current empty state.

"Fine," I said. "I'll take it."

The little girl led me through the thick metal gate into a hallway that smelled like a scientifically derived mixture of moth balls, my grandma's hairspray, and shrimp fried rice. Not the sort of welcome my 20 dollars were hoping for. My room was in the far, right-hand corner of the dead-end hallway.

"Here you go," the little girl said as she opened the door, turned on the light, and moved to the side, letting a gigantic cockroach scuttle by, out into the hallway. Well, at least it's not in my room anymore. I opted to look on the bright side.

I paid the girl, closed the door, dropped my bag, and collapsed onto the bed. It was a little lumpy, but heavenly compared to the bus seats I had been condemned to for much of the day. I was starting to feel better, jolly even, when I turned my head and saw all the little black hairs scattered around me. The resulting feeling in my stomach reminded me again that I needed to eat.

I emptied my pockets of everything but a few bills, had the little girl show me how to unlatch the three separate locks on the front gate, and ventured out into my gruff surroundings. After walking around (burning a great deal of the few calories that were keeping my heart beating) for 15 minutes or so I started to get frustrated. I had passed half a dozen restaurants and two grocery stores, all of which were closed, thick sheets of metal covering their openings.

Finally I came to a building with a lit-up Belikin Beer sign and a young man sitting on the step in front of the door.

"Is there food here?" I asked, desperate enough to eat the man's arm if he offered it to me.

"Nope. Just drinks. You thirsty?"

I hadn't thought about that.

"Actually, yeah. But I need to eat. Anything. Is there a restaurant or store open anywhere in this city right now?"

"Yeah. Sure. He'll show you where," he said, pointing to my newly appointed guide.

I looked at the man who had somehow appeared just to my left. About 60, he was a coat-rack of a man. Somehow he kept his ratty jean shorts and t-shirt from sliding off his bones.

"Come on," I think he said out of his toothless mouth, starting off to my right.

Again, all I could think was, Great.

After a failed conversation consisting of him mumbling through his gums and me mumbling through my hunger-induced haze, we wound up at Chin-Tu-Yuk's Mini-Market. From the sidewalk I looked through the metal bars at the modest selection of what I guess some people call food. After weighing my options a bit I ended up with some raisins, a small box of "ValuTime Toasty O's," and a bottle of water. Such a meal had never looked so delicious.

As my change came, my guide, whom I had pleasantly forgotten about, starting mumbling again and didn't stop until I understood what he wanted. I have him one of the two coins the woman had handed me through the bars, but he demanded the other as well.

"What?" I asked firmly.

"Gimme the other!" He was finally speaking a little more clearly. "I took you here, and I wanna buy a beer!" Now he had a crazy look in his cloudy eyes.

"Fine." I tossed the other coin into his outstretched palm and started back across the street. He stuck to my side like a leech, still mumbling periodically. Only now I didn't try to understand and didn't say anything in response. Finally he turned down a side street, still mumbling, but now only to himself.

Alone again, I downed my somewhat disappointing feast while maneuvering my way past the sorry-looking dogs and sometimes sorrier-looking people. Everyone in the streets was either stumbling around, sniffling and wiping their noses, or sleeping on cardboard mattresses. They were all staring at me, and a lot of them seemed to think I was feeling lonely, because they were quite eager to attempt to strike up conversations. Before I started pretending to be deaf, most of these conversations led to open palms first being shoved at me, and then grabbing at my arms when I refused to put anything in them. Getting back to my hotel seemed to take even longer than it had to find the market, but eventually I wound up there, a little surprised to still be in one peice.

I quickly rang the bell, and this time was greeted only by the little girl. As I slipped through the front gate and heard her latching the locks behind me, I had never been so happy to be walking into a stinking, roach-infested building. After a brief, cold shower everything felt in order as I turned out the light and laid down. Ignoring the growling in my still-hungry stomach and pretending not to feel the dull aching behind my eyes, I rested my head on the lipstick- and drool-stained pillow, the slightest hint of a grin crossing my face as I quietly said to myself, "I'm Alive!"