The Good Ol´ Savior

You know the old saying, ¨good things come in small packages?¨ Well, I can´t find any expression that more perfectly describes the country of El Salvador. The smallest country in Central America, at only 21,040 square kilometers, it is often overlooked by most travelers circuiting the isthmus. However, for those other travelers it is most certainly their loss, as it is really amazing and packs a lot of punch into its little package.

So when the rest of the gang left, driving off in the vehicle held together by masking tape, I found myself standing in the central plaza of the city of Santa Ana, with absolutely no idea as to where I should go or what to do. I knew nothing about El Salvador! Essentially, I was clueless and in need of some guidance.

Luckily for me, I spent that first night in the home of an incredibly friendly and helpful man who was more than willing to share with me his wealth of information about his country. As he sat me down in his living room and spread out half a dozen maps in front of me, going into extensive detail about every city, site and volcano that I just had to visit, I was taken aback by his openness, geniality, and just plain friendliness - something that would become a major element of my time in the country. For the truth is, Salvadoreños are some of the friendliest, most likeable people I´ve met - so much so that I can say without hesitation that they were my favourite part of the country. Everyplace I went I was constantly astounded by their hospitality, outgoingingness and the treatment I received by them - whether it was an older couple coming up to talk to me and find out more about my travels, or the wife of the hotel owner who went out of her way to make sure I was comfortable and that all of my needs were very much met. Now, I´m confident that this characteristic is definitely a Salvadoran trait but I also have my suspicions that it is a result of the lack of tourism and thus, tourists in the country. Whether because of its small size, lack of Caribbean coast, or ill-informed reputation as a ´dangerous country´ (I´ve found other countries to be way more dangerous), there is a very noticeable lack of extranajeros traversing the country - tourism is so low that almost every Salvadoreño that I talked to would ask me what project I was working on, assuming that I was there to work, not travel. And when I replied that I was just ´paseando´, or traveling through, surprise, but also delight would appear on their face and they would begin to ask me a million questions about where I had been, where I was going and my general thoughts on the country. Minimal exposure to brash foreign backpackers has meant that Salvadoreños are still curious and very much welcome to outsiders, and haven´t become jaded to them as can be seen in so many other places.

After my intensive tourism tutorial that first night, I headed north, to the charming colonial town of Suchitoto, where I was incredibly fortunate to run into a young American shortly after arriving. After chatting for a bit, he invited me into the house he was renting with four other friends, and what do you know, I ended up staying there with them for the next three days! They were an awesome bunch and we had a great time together, as the young budding filmmakers showed me the movies and music videos they had been working on and I in turn introduced them to the seductive art of cliff jumping.

Next came the capital, San Salvador. Always a fan of big, noisy and chaotic cities, I loved it and ended up staying a few more days longer than originally anticipated. My first day was spent in the company of a really cool couchsurfer and together we lounged in the park, playing music and singing songs all afternoon. It was through Melvin that I found out that two other viajeros were playing at a cafe that evening, a celloist and a guitarist - which immediately stood out to me - my old roommate from Guatemala, Liz (who plays the cello) and her boyfriend and my old guitar teacher, Hafid, were traveling and playing music through Central America. Could it be a coincidence? I didn´t think so, so that evening I turned up at the cafe and sure enough, there they were onstage, warming up. It definitely was an unexpected, but very pleasant, surprise for all of us, and we took advantage of the situation to spend some more time together while I was in the city.

Through another couchsurfer I got to sneak on a tour of the San Salvador volcano, pretending to be the French/English bilingual tour guide in training. Luckily the Americans who were on the tour were so laid back and cool I really don´t think they would have cared had they found out the truth anyways. But it´s always a little fun to wear a different identity for a while anyways.

From San Sal I went south, to check out some of El Salvador´s 300km long Pacific Coast. Again, the intention of a few days turned into a few more as I extended my stay just a little bit longer. I mean, how many times in your life do you get a whole beach all to yourself, free of other travelers?

As the grand finale, I ended my tour of El Salvador in Perquín, a small pueblo in the northern mountains bordering Honduras. Steeped in history, the area was both the headquarters for the guerrillas and the area most devasted by the brutal 12 year long civil war that raged through the country in the eighties and early nineties. The proximity and abundance of resistance forces taking refuge in the densely forested mountains led to fierce and brutal reprisals on the part of the conservative, staunchly anti-communist military government, who felt no qualms about unleashing their wrath on the civilian population. The remnants of this devastation can be seen everywhere, from gigantic bomb craters in the middle of town to the remains of those bombs that are now located in the town museum. But leftover bombs and half destroyed helicopters were nothing compared to the intensity of the site of El Mozote. On December 11, 1981, government forces took the tiny hamlet by storm and in one evening led a massacre that resulted in over a thousand killed and only one person surviving. While the numbers will never be known for sure, what is known is that the majority of lives taken were innocents - 80% of bodies exhumed have been children under the age of 12. What stands now is a giant memorial to pay homage and respect to those fallen, who lost their lives way too early, and also to stand as a stark reminder of what war really is - a brutal and destructive force that serves no positive purpose whatsoever. For all the glamours that Hollywood or CNN may show of combat and armed force, it is clearly apparent to anyone visiting a site such as El Mozote that those projections are so far from reality. War takes - takes lives, takes innocence, takes any hope of a future and destroys them all, leaving nothing but death and destruction in its wake.

Clearly, visiting such a site was incredibly difficult -  both frustrating and heart-wrenching. On very few occasions have I felt such strong emotions evoked in me, as I felt both pulsating anger that something like this can happen in the first place and overwhelming sadness when I reflected on the fact that this is only one of many places in the world where it does.  But while some may say its macabre to visit, I think it is necessary - by visiting these memorials not only are we paying our respects to those we´ve lost, but we´re also standing up and saying that this can never happen again. Let us hope that we will finally learn from history and these memorials will be our last.

Suchitoto Cathedral

Hanging out in the park of San Sal

Sunset at Los Cóbanos

Rufina Maya, the lone survivor of El Mozote

We must live in peace with ourselves so we don´t lose life´s values. To value what we have, we must know our origin. Those who don´t know their history are condemned to repeat the past.

The El Mozote Memorial - each plaque contains the names of those murdered by the army

Operation Flying Hawk 2011!

So, with the decision made to leave, it was just a matter of when and where. With my birthday approaching it seemed like the perfect opportunity to really exit in style, and after much debate and discussion, it was decided that myself and three good friends and roommates (Javi, Aida and Luke), would be roadtripping it to El Salvador. (We later picked up a fifth member). Nevermind that the whole Pacific Coast of Central America was feeling the wrath of a vicious tropical storm - our minds were made, we were determined, it was going to happen. And besides, lemons can always be made into lemonade right? (The chante ¨limonada¨ would later become the slogan of our trip).

So, a roadtrip it was. Now, for regular people, planning might start off with such logistical details as finding a car, planning a route, all that boring business. Not for a Yogamigo! Instead of wasting our time on such minor logistical details we focused on the really important stuff - such as creating a secret mission for ourselves. Under the code name Operation Flying Hawk 2011, we quickly got to work creating aliases for ourselves (Bobby DeNiro - Money Extortionist Extraordinaire, Bomba Jackson - Explosives Expert, Leroy Brown - Team Pimp and Trixie Hawk - Pigeon Fender Numero Uno), identification cards, and even a team mascot for an important member that couldn´t be with us. By the end of the day we had all we needed: new names, objectives and roles, a stove made out of a beercan and minor explosives. Everything except for an actual car. Or food. Or a map.

However, that proved to be a small bump in the road, easily overcome by a highly trained team such as ourselves and we soon found ourselves off, cruising down the Central American Carretera #1. Nothing but adventure ahead!

Well, it soon became apparent that the news reports of landslides, collapsed bridges, uprooted trees and other disasters that occur in less developed countries after 10 days of continual torrential rain had a lot of validity to them. We encountered a number of shocking things on the road but the real test for Operation Flying Hawk came when we were just 50km from the border - a huge, gaping chasm in the highway at least 20 meters across and 20 meters deep. We were slightly suspicious when they told us it would be fixed in an hours` time.

Now, most people would feel defeated at such a sight, and perhaps turn back or contemplate a change in plan. Not for Operation Flying Hawk! In fact, this is the type of situation Operation Flying Hawk thrives off of - and it`s what it was made to do - surmount the insurmountable. And once again, the team proved its worth and after a short delay of 3 or 4 hours, once again, we were off.

Despite all the odds working against us, we made it to El Salvador - tired and hungry, but happy to be there and happy to be there together. And lo and behold, shortly after, the rains stopped. Thank you Mother Nature, you couldn´t have given me a better birthday present.

Having already spent many, many hours in our slowly falling apart Mazda SUV, we decided to carry forth the rest of the operation along the banks of a beautiful crater lake - Lago de Coatepeque. In fact, through our covert list of international contacts, we were able to stay por gratis on private lakeside property, got to meet a bunch of incredible people and have a private pizza party in a closed bakery. Can say you limonada? 

Any successful mission requires excellent planning

And we`re off!

A common scene - where are we going again?

How does the road just collapse?

Lago de Coatepeque

Operation Flying Hawk

Our vehicle by the end of the trip

Xela who?

Now that I´m restarting up this blog, I find myself at a loss as to where to even begin or how to accurately summarize my time in Guatemala. The past 6 months have been some of the most memorable, meaningful, profound and enlightening of my life. At the risk of sounding hyperbolic or a bit dramatic, I feel overwhelmed when I reflect back on all that I´ve experienced and learned - and in all respects - pertaining to not just Guatemala, but about myself, other people and life in general. I´m just beginning to appreciate how lasting and formative this experience has been - something that as time progresses will become more and more apparent.

So down to business. Now that I´ve emptied the depths of my soul on to this webpage, what exactly happened in this little Central American republic this past half year that left such a deep impression on me? Well, a lot, and even I´m not so idealistic as to think that I can even scratch the surface of six months in one blogpost, so what follows is a very brief outline. Not satisfied and want more details? Shoot me a line! I´m always open to good old fashioned emails!

I arrived in Quetzaltenango, better known as Xela (Shay-la) in the last days of April, geared up to properly study Spanish. As always, I had no real plan of action but envisioned myself there for one to two months. While I remained open to any possibilities, in no way could I have forecast that I would end up spending such a long period of time there. Obviously there was something about that little place that resonated deeply with me.

A few days after arriving I found a great school and signed myself up to start classes the next day. Super keen to  get a better grasp on this language, I threw myself at my studies and it wasn´t a rare sight to see me revising early in the morning or plastering posters of irregular verbs on my bedroom walls. While I only took formal instruction for six weeks, it was a goal that remained (and still does) high on my list of objectives and I kept on top of it in various ways - lots of newspaper reading, intercambios and practice, practice, practice! So where I am at now you ask? Not great - but definitely a lot better than I was six months ago! I´ve also learned that with language learning there really is no substitute for time - you just can´t cram it. So let´s see where I am in six more months.

Luckily the school I studied at was really great and I had the opportunity to meet some fantastic people - both fellow students and instructors. It was a great way to settle into and get to know Xela. But by far the most definining aspect of my time in Xela was the Yoga House. Now, most of you reading this are already probably well-aquainted with this yoga studio-extranjero meeting point- insane asylum, but there will be a few who aren´t so I´ll give a brief introduction. While I did try the homestay option out for the first week I was in town, I soon realized it just wasn´t my thing and began to look elsewhere for somewhere to live. By a chance encounter in the local bookshop, I discovered the Yoga House and moved myself in by the end of the week. What is the Yoga House? Well, firstly and obviously, a yoga studio. But secondly, a communal living space, shared amongst anywhere from 10-14 people, depending on the situation. With 11 bedrooms occupied all by foreigners from all over the world (Spain, the USA, Belguim, Britain, Australia, Canada, Japan, Chile and Singapore were all represented in my time there), and plenty more friends constantly hanging out in what is probably Latin America´s best kitchen, there was never a dull moment. It was so dynamic, that very shortly after settling in I came to the realization that it could easily be its own sitcom. Appropriately named Yogamigos, the idea really took off and it become common parlance around the house to say, when yet another zany event happened, ¨this sounds like an episode of......¨. Some of us actually got pretty serious about it and starting plotting and writing down episodes - which I still have with me, waiting for the perfect time to approach a Hollywood producer with my million dollar idea. My personal favourites include The Goat Lady Benefit Concert, The Love Letter, and Son of Sniffer. Keep your eyes out for Yogamigos!

But seriously, it was through the Yoga House, the adventures and mishaps I had there, and the people I met, that led me to staying so long and feeling as deeply as I do about the place. Above all it was about the people - the community I fell into and the great friends I made that made me fall in love with the place. I was fortunate to meet so many incredible and inspiring people and forge strong friendships with them that I consider myself to be such a lucky girl. So I want to say a big thank you to you all - you know who you are. You have played such an integral role in my life and led me on crazy adventures, had deep discussions with me, and shared many, many laughs with me (and even some tears - but mostly on my part!). You rock!

And then, besides the aforementioned studying, what else did I do to keep myself occupied for 6 months? A lot! I ran a small peanut butter business (Manifico), climbed the highest point in Central America (Volcano Tajamulco), trekked for five days through the jungle to perhaps the grandest Mayan city of them all (El Mirador), learned to milk a goat and make cheese from it, attempted to make yogurt, biked 100km in one day to the coast, learned to weld, helped build a foosball table, jumped off a 20m high cliff, volunteered as an English teacher, went on a human rights mission in the heart of rural Guatemala, and learned guitar, just to name a few.

After all that adventure, and some pretty intense moments, I decided (for the 3rd and final time) to say goodbye. Goodbyes are never easy, especially for me, but I felt ready and knew it was time to move on. And so, backpack safely secured on back, camera in place around my neck, and guitar in hand, I waved and said, ¨Adios Yogamigos!¨ End of series.

For more photos: http://s1177.photobucket.com/albums/x349/nmazga/My%20heart%20belongs%20in%20Guatemala/Kicken%20it%20around%20Xela/

Back to Belize

I officially concede and admit defeat - I am quite possibly the world´s worst blogger. I thought that once I was settled in Xela I would have more time and really devote myself to this project - but in reality it was the opposite. For the first time in months I had a life and it pretty much overtook me - class five hours a day, plus a couple extra studying, friends, events, housekeeping - you know, all the normal business most people deal with. I found I had little time left over and what little there was I used for sleeping. But, enough of my excuses, and enough about Xela (I´ll save that for later), and I´ll get on with my story. Maybe in 3 more months you´ll find out what I´ve been doing here in Guatemala ;). Back to Belize......

I last left off with Steve, and how we began our crazy roadtrip together. When I agreed to go with him, I initially had no idea how much fun we would have together. We ended up spending a week together, made it all the way to the south of Belize, and picked up two important things along the way: a tent for me, and Doris.

Both were procured while we were spending some time at the Barton Creek Outpost, a magical little place set on the banks of the Barton Creek. Endowed with an amazing swimming hole (with an equally great ropeswing!) and a delicious orange grove (from which you can pick all you want!), it was a great a place to spend a few days. I wanted to get down to earth a bit, so I rented a tent from them and camped. Steve, with more money, rented their one cabana and lived it up in style. It was a very relaxing spot, and we spent most of our time swimming, eating and juicing oranges, jumping off the cliff into the swimming hole (which I discovered isn't that deep - ouch!), reading and getting high off of their extremely strong coffee.

My tent came to me via one of the volunteers there. I had been itching to do more camping, and asked him if he thought the owners would sell me one of their older tents. Well, it just turned out that he was leaving the next week and they were giving him one. Fortunately for me, he had bought one in Mexico and thus wouldn't be needing it anymore. So, in the amicable travel spirit, he passed it down the line to me. Suddenly there I was, the proud new owner of a cheap, non-waterproof, one-person tent! I couldn't have been happier. Life just got a bit better.

Unlike the tent, Doris wasn't passed off on us but came freely and willingly. She was a fellow traveler at the outpost and also a Canadian - which means I was automatically suspicious of her. Just kidding. She had been spending a lot of time in Guatemala and came to the outpost with a group she had met there. They were all splitting up to go their separate ways, and she liked the idea of coming south with us, so it was soon decided she would join us when we left.

And so there we were, the three of us, the most unlikely of trios. Steve, the born and bred New Yorker with a strong affinity for schedules, Doris, the young new-age hippy who lets the universe guide her in life, and me, the aspiring finca-owner traveling Latin America keeping her eyes open for good farmland. Surprising, we complemented each other incredibly well - Steve was practical, forward thinking and logical. I helped him to live a bit more spontaneously and get rid of his plan. Doris, in addition to cooking us delicious food (and reminding us to always bless it before eating it) kept us filled with positive thoughts and energy. I find one of the great joys of traveling is connecting with those you would least suspect - they create the most energetic and lasting experiences. And boy did these two give me a lasting experience.

We headed south, in Steve´s rented SUV, without any real destination in mind - our only limitation being ourselves. We drove along the Hummingbird Highway - without doubt one of the most beautiful roads I have ever seen - and stopped where we wanted - whether it was a beautiful cenote or a hot sauce factory to take the inside tour. We laughed, we talked and we found out more about ourselves and each other with each passing kilometer. Eventually we reached Hopkins, a little fishing village, and decided to stay there for a few days and soak in the wonderful Garifuna culture, as well as take advantage of the beautiful Caribbean stretched out before us. Within such a short time period we became such great friends and repeatedly remarked at how it felt as if we´d known each other for years. When it came time for me to leave - I was headed off to camp on a deserted island - I found myself filled with such deep conflicting emotions - incredibly happy and appreciative of the time I got to spend with two amazing people - but also so melancholic to have to bid them farewell. And so, after having said my second big goodbye in a matter of weeks, I left my new-found friends and headed on once more - off to an island in the middle of the Caribbean!

Some new photos!

Finally some new photos, but from way back in the day - Guanajuato, San Miguel and Michoacan. About 2 1/2 months ago!

Here are the links:

http://s1177.photobucket.com/albums/x349/nmazga/Guanajuato%20and%20San%20Miguel%20de%20Allende/

http://s1177.photobucket.com/albums/x349/nmazga/Michoacan%20State/

Enjoy!

Belize it or not! (These stupid puns continue!)

From Caulker it was time to head inland (where Belize's civil war is less intense). I had to pass through Belize City again, but at least I knew where I was going this time. Again, no incidents, probably due to my street smarts ;). I was off to San Ignacio, heart of the Cayo district. Because I made a short stop at the Belize Zoo (not really a zoo but a rehabilitation centre) I didn't get in until early evening. By that time I was suffering from some serious hunger pains, and as soon as I arrived I plopped myself down in a chair, turned to the guy next to me, and said emphatically, "I'm staaarving!" To which he responded, "I'm Steve. Nice to meet you too." After more politely introducing myself, we began to chat. He was a retired NY firefighter in Belize for a 2 week holiday, and wanting to see as much of the country as he could, had rented a vehicle for the whole duration of his trip. He had already signed up to do a tour of the ATM cave the next day, and seeing as how I had wanted to do it anyways, I decided to tag along.

While I normally avoid guided tours like the plague, this is something entirely different. For one, it is pretty incredible, especially if you like caving or are the slightest bit interested in the Maya . But, you really don´t have any other option, as the Belize government doesn't allow access to it independently, thereby effectively forcing people to go as a group. This is supposedly done to keep the numbers low and help preserve the sight, but I have my suspicions it's just a cash grab.

Anyway, my suspicions aside, the ATM cave, short for Actun Tunichil Muknal, is an extensive cave network that was highly sacred to the Maya, who during the classic period, used it for various religious ceremonies and rituals. As we explored the cave (an adventure in itself, as this is done by a combination of swimming, climbing and trekking) we came across many different Mayan artifacts. At first they were mostly shards of pottery, but as we went further and further in, things began to take on a more serious tone. As the foundation of their world began to crumble, the Maya became increasingly desperate to appease the gods. Not only did they go deeper into the cave but they began to practice more extreme rituals, including bloodletting and sacrifices. The apex of the tour came after 3 hours in the cave, when we came across the perfectly preserved remains of a young sacrificial victim, known as the 'crystal maiden'. Interesting, of course, but eerie. Adventure and history combined into one.

Steve and I got along so well, and I really didn't have any sort of plan (remember, I hate plans) that I decided to join him and road trip it through Belize. All I knew was that I wanted to be in the south within a week to go explore a remote island. But before that, I would just let the universe dictate my path and have some adventure. And what an adventure we had.

We left bright and very early the next morning to go see the ruins of Caracol. We specifically left early so that we would arrive at the nearby military post for the 9am military escort to the ruins. (High levels of banditry on the road has led to a daily military escort. Due to the proximity of the Guatemalan border, the Belizean authorities blame it on the Guatemalans.)

We made it to the post a little bit before 9am, only to be told by the officer in charge that it wasn't leaving until 9:30. After signing in they told us to stretch our legs for a while and come back at 9:30. Steve went off to take some photos, and after chatting with the soldiers for a few minutes, I left to go use the washroom at the store across the street. I had just walked out of the store when I saw Steve's white SUV racing frantically towards me. It was just within earshot when he leaned out of the window, and his voicing cracking with fear, yelled at me, "Nicole! Hurry up! Get inside, they left without us!" Bewildered, but clearly sensing the panic in him, I hopped in without questioning it further. Once inside though, I turned and asked him what the hell was going on. Apparently, he explained, when he arrived back at the post (around 9:15) the soldier in charge casually walked up to him and nonchalently informed him that the military escort had just left. When Steve asked if he could radio them to wait for us, he just told him to drive fast and catch up.

Immediately I thought that the story made no sense. There was no one else there at the post - who were they escorting? What was the point of a military escort if you just left the only people signed up behind? These questions were futile, as there was no one to answer them, and I had no choice but to sit back and laugh at the absurdity of the situation. My immediate concern was to calm Steve down, who was clearly scared and driving at breakneck speed through the Belizean jungle.

After about 10 minutes we spotted an army vehicle ahead of us - at this Steve sighed a huge breath of relief. As we approached it, however, it simply pulled over to the side and waved us on. Confused, we pulled up beside it and made the international hand signal for 'roll down your window'. When they began speaking, in British accents, it became clear that this wasn't our allotted military escort. When we asked if they'd seen it, they said they hadn't. I was beginning to suspect that this military escort may not exist, and decided at this point we had no other choice but to keep on going. I told Steve not to stop for anything, and that if we approached any sort of blockade ahead, to pop it in reverse and drive backwards as fast as he could. For some odd reason this didn't seem to calm him down any further.

So we drove on, pretty fast, and pretty recklessly, through some pretty awful road, sans miltary escort. And then suddenly, after about 20 minutes, there it was up ahead, the gates to the archaeological site! This time Steve gave a really big sigh of relief and we pulled into the (empty) parking lot. The funniest part of the whole experience was that 10 minutes after we parked the real military escort came driving in, at the proper time, followed by some other vehicles. To this day I still have no clue what the hell actually happened. But I do know I have very little faith in the Belizean military.

Seein´ is Belizean!

On to the next stop for me. Caye Caulker, a smaller, less developed, well-known backpackers´ hub. I spent a few days there, and while I didn´t feel it lived up to its glorious reputation, I did have a good time. Belize is famous for its barrier reef (the second longest in the world) and the cayes are perfectly situated for some marine exploration. It was on Caulker that I first became introduced to this wonderful world.

I indulged a bit and took a snorkling trip, something I normally wouldn´t do, but I just felt like I had to. And I´m so glad I did - it was phenomenal. The coral was great, and the marine life was even better. Although uber touristy, one of the spots we hit, Shark Ray Alley, was such a visceral experience for me. I was able to snorkel among dozens of sting rays and nurse sharks - a bit intimidating at first, but once you get into it, unreal. I´ll never forget what it feels like to have sharks grazing your legs as they swim past you, or the smooth feel of a sting ray´s back.

At another location, we got to see two spotted eagle rays, a rare treat indeed. They´re the second biggest ray in the world (after the manta) with a wing span of 2 meters. They are incredibly beautiful when they swim and have the appearance of flying in the water. Other fun stuff on the trip included sea turtles, eels, barracudas and too much wonderful tropical fish to name (I don´t even know half of the names). On the way back, we came across a pod of dolphins, playing in the water. An even bigger treat.

While on Caulker I tried to re-create the offroad adventure I had had with my relatives, but this time with a bike. After a few hours of some tough biking in the bush, I suddenly emerged from the jungle on the smooth, flat tarmac of the island´s airstrip. Right next to me was a sign showing a biker with a slash right through it. Less than five minutes after finding my way to the proper path, a plane came down and landed right beside me! Close call.

It was also in Caulker that I began to learn that Belize is at a serious threat of colonization - by Canadians. We are taking over the place there! Never in my life have I met so many of us in one place (outside of Canada of course). It became so bad that 2 guys from Vancouver and I made a plan to spread the rumour that Belize is in the middle of a serious civil war. Otherwise, it´s just going to keep on developing like crazy, lose so much of its appeal and charm, and end up like another Yucatán. And I believe this idea could work - how many people really know anything about Belize, or even where it is? So remember, next time you´re talking to someone, don´t forget to casually mention how bad that civil war in Belize is, eh?