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<\/a><\/p>\nBelize!\u00c2\u00a0 This is the coastline north of Belize City.\u00c2\u00a0 The well-known islands (Cayes) are visible on the other side of the plane.\u00c2\u00a0 The water was so clear and still that it didn’t look at all like water… it looked like odd, Dr. Seuss-inspired, green desert.<\/p>\n
I landed at the airport and waited around to see if, by chance, the last minute pick-up request I’d sent to my hotel in San Ignacio had been received.\u00c2\u00a0 After a good 15 minutes, I figured it was time for an adventure… and set off via taxi to the Belize City bus station.<\/p>\n As we pulled away…<\/p>\n Me: “What language were you speaking back there?”<\/p>\n Driver: “Creole.”<\/p>\n Me: “Is that a type of Spanish Creole?”<\/p>\n (laughing) “Oh, no.”<\/p>\n “A French Creole?”<\/p>\n (laughing harder) “No, no no nono…\u00c2\u00a0 It’s broken English!”<\/p>\n “English?!\u00c2\u00a0 And here I thought I spoke that language pretty good!”<\/p>\n “Yeah, you’re doing alright to me.”<\/p>\n “But I did not understand A WORD you said!”<\/p>\n Thus begun my introduction into Creole.\u00c2\u00a0 Best I could tell, you take an English sentence, cut every word in half, and them jam them all together.\u00c2\u00a0 Then I saw the Coca-cola ad: “Di One Dala Deal.”\u00c2\u00a0 And suddenly, the world of the Creole language opened up.<\/p>\n But it didn’t help me understand the friendly folks at the bus stop.\u00c2\u00a0 The bus stop itself was like any other I’d been to in Central America.\u00c2\u00a0 Except much, much more diverse — and diverse in its local population, I was the only gringa tourist there.\u00c2\u00a0 Mennonites.\u00c2\u00a0 Asians.\u00c2\u00a0 Mayans.\u00c2\u00a0 Guatemalans.\u00c2\u00a0 Rastafarians.\u00c2\u00a0 And more.<\/p>\n I would have loved to photograph it all, capture the moments in color perfection to go back and study the detail: the texture of the paint, the funny captions on the ads, the expressions on the kids faces as the sucked plastic bags of pureed fruit.\u00c2\u00a0 But if I’d done this, I would have become a voyeur in that space, turning it into something uncomfortable and suspicious.\u00c2\u00a0 Better to be there, than to take it away.<\/p>\n Instead, I missed my express bus.<\/p>\n The local buses looked a bit daunting — crowded, and with the understanding that it would take almost 4 hours to get where I needed to go.\u00c2\u00a0 I needed another option.\u00c2\u00a0 After all, I was suppose to get be getting to work.<\/p>\n Admitting defeat, I went to study the ultra-confusing bus schedule, where once again, I broke into conversations.\u00c2\u00a0 First with a Mennonite who went out of his way to be helpful.\u00c2\u00a0 Then with a bus station employee.\u00c2\u00a0 She wasn’t feeling her best and wanted to go home… which just happened to be the very place I needed to go.\u00c2\u00a0 I paid her gas, she drove us West, into the jungle.<\/p>\n<\/a><\/p>\n