Entry by GUEST BLOGGER - Lauren Eberle...
Lamanai.
Oh, Lamanai. Where to start? Let's start with the basics. First of all,
the word 'Lamanai' is the Mayan word for submerged crocodile. If that
didn't already peak your interest in this blog then you might want to
check if you're brain dead. BECAUSE CROCODILES ARE THE MOST BALLER
ANIMAL ON THE FACE OF THIS EARTH, aside from monkeys and turtles which
will also appear in the blog. So please, continue reading.
Cassie and I went to sleep on the 30th fully prepared for what was about to be the most baller day of our
entire trip. We'd shelled out the 135$ to our boy, a Rastafarian named
Leon who said 'ern' instead of 'or', and were prepared to either ask
for our money back or get our heads blown off with excitement.
Luckily, it was the latter.
Cassie's
alarm went off at 6 and surprisingly time seemed to fly as we got ready
for the day and dropped my make up down the large, open drain that was
our sink in the now 35$ a night room (we downgraded after we decided
that if we could whether Brooklyn in the heat we could surely whether
Belize……….. wrong.) So now it was time for the upgrade! We rushed about
getting ready, sweating profusely and finally realizing it was 6:30 and
we still had to check out of our hotel, check into the new hotel and
get to the dock to meet the tour group all in 20 minutes! The Belizean
minute had turned it's back on us and left us when we needed it most!
While Cassie finished packing I rushed downstairs and harassed the
people standing outside on the streets, wondering why the front desk
wasn't open and where we could drop off the keys. They told me to leave
them in the deli next door and only then did we realize: the deli
wasn't open yet! We continued to batter and harass the girl who had
locked herself in the front office, begging her to take our keys
because we HAD TO GET OUT OF THERE. Finally we decided to take to the
beach and just check into the new hotel, hoping by the time we returned
our front desk would have its business in check. So there we are,
running down the beach with our luggage trailing us. We get to the new
hotel and, surprise, surprise: the front doors are locked! After
banging frantically on them a little old man came to our service,
clearly wondering what in the world was going on. We explained we'd
changed rooms the night before and needed desperately to check in and
leave our stuff with the front desk so we could go see some ruins GOSH
DARNIT! The man shuffled around, looking for any documents that said
we'd checked in and finally we spat it out, "JUST LET US LEAVE OUR
STUFF." He begrudgingly opened the office door and showed us a spot to
leave our things, practically scratching his head and wondering what
these crazy foreigners were going on about. Finally, I said, 'Carla
checked us in. She said everything was settled, when is she here?!'
Only then did the man turn to us and say, 'Carla only gets in at 6…' I
rushed out of the hotel, running while Cassie stood there and stared at
the clock on the wall. We ran back to the old hotel, now drenched in
sweat and never realizing that the sun hadn't even started rising yet.
Finally Cassie stopped me, took out her cell phone and realized
something horrible: the night before the young girls who had come into
our room had been playing with her cell phone and, unbeknownst to us,
set her clock back to EST time-zone… meaning… it was 4:50am.
We
nearly fainted with laughter realizing that we had woke up at 4 in the
morning, rushed around shouting at people and demanding them to open
their front doors at 5am and all the while we looked like crazy time
consumed New Yorkers. Where was there even a place to go at 4am? Why
hadn't anyone taken the time to stop us and wonder why we were OUT OF
OUR MINDS?!
While
Cassie went to sleep I grabbed a breakfast burrito full of
deliciousness (from the deli that had finally opened it's doors due to
our incessant nagging) and walked down the beach only to realize that
crabs enjoyed running over my feet most at 5 in the morning. I stifled
my screams while I settled into a beach chair and watched the sun rise
over the Caribbean Sea. Not only was I horribly lonely, but I was
completely blown away at the fact that I was in Central America sitting
next to the CARIBBEAN SEA. I took a few thousand pictures and then
headed back to the hotel room to wait for Cassie to awake. We got up,
checked out (for good and at a reasonable hour) and headed down to the
dock where we met up with Leon and waited for an additional 20 Belizean
minutes for the tour group to actually show up.
Upon getting – or,
rather, CRAWLING - onto the boat (the tour guide kept saying, 'get in
like it's your car…' finally we responded with grunts of, 'but my car
isn't a BOAT.') we realized we'd made a large mistake: the tour (and
whole ISLAND, for that matter) was chock full o' couples. 6 on our
tour, to be exact, and then poor ol' Cassie and me. We didn't notice
much (aside from me noticing the DROP DEAD SEXY man with his girlfriend
next to us) because as we sped across the water towards the native town
of Bomba (Leon's hometown) we were too overcome with excitement that we
were going on a REAL LIVE SAFARI to notice the three strange men that
had not only come alone, but dressed like weirdos. First there was 'The
Birdman'. The Birdman was a man of about 65 years of age who was clad
in a full safari get-up. We're talking Steve Irwin crocodile hunter
hat, kaki pants and a kaki shirt. He would stop the boat at EXTREMELY
inappropriate times and throw Cassie out of the way to get pictures of
these birds that he ranted and raved about. The Putu was his ABSOLUTE
FAV and it almost cost Cassie her life. We later learned The Birdman
was extremely friendly with the natives, newly married (Married? What
nutjob married him?) and on a first name basis with the entire tribe of
Bomba (which consisted of about 10 people; one named Ernesto who is my
soon-to-be husband.) Next came 'The Bald Man'. There's not much to say
about the Bald Man's appearance… clearly he is just that: bald. He
donned a blue bandana tied around his head and talked fondly to the
native dogs of Bomba whilst wiping residue out of their eyes (no,
that's not a joke). The bald man took fondly to Cassie, me and anyone
else would listen to him talk about anything and everything under the
sun. He was 'happy to get to the mainland' after a 'long six days on
the islands'. Word, brotha. Word. He also told us about the plot of a
wonderful book-turned-movie called "The Ruins" which basically entails
a bunch of kids messing around at some Mayan ruins and dying because of
it. We literally could not WAIT to get to the ruins after that. Last
but DEFINITELY NOT LEAST came my personal favorite: The Russian
Spaniard. He seemed fairly normal on the first boat ride over to Bomba
but on our SECOND boat ride (to the actual ruins) we got to experience
the true Russian Spaniard as he took off all his clothes and jumped
into the lagoon full of wild life and most importantly crocodiles. No
one was really sure if The Russia Spaniard was Russian or Spanish or
just downright crazy but apparently the word 'Lamanai' and it's meaning
meant nothing to him because he frolicked in that water like a newborn
baby. The Birdman, The Baldman and the Russian Spaniard gave us hours
of terrified fun as we made our tri-legged journey over to the ruins.
It
started with a boat ride to Bomba where we experienced the natives,
their food (a rodent called a gibnut who made the most horrible sound
known to mankind and looked like offspring of Splinter from The Teenage
Mutant Ninja Turtles) and their toilets - not so much fun, that one.
Next we got on a bus driven by my Rastafarian fiancé, Ernesto, and rode
through the rainforest. Literally. We learned about the natural trees
and herbs of the rainforest and what they healed and how our tour guide
used marijuana to cure his wife and 2 year olds son's asthma. He would
just put some in the formula for his son and cook some into his wife's
food. Couldn't. Be. Smarter. We also got to pick up the two CUTEST old
people from their farm and drop them off down the road at their
families house. The man was missing all his teeth and had one lazy eye
and I still loved him to death. Our last leg of the tour was the
safari. We got on another boat and saw crocodiles, turtles, tons of
birds (to the Birdman's delight and Cassie's terror) and even BATS!
But, I must say, the most disturbing encounter we had on our entire
safari was the clan of Mennonites (Amish for you UN-EDUCATED). Some
time ago they moved to Belize and took up their duties on the shore of
the lagoon in which the ruins are on and as we passed by their
settlement our tour guide, Edie, slowed down the boat and allowed the
crazy Americans to lean out and snap a few pictures of the boys
swimming in the water. Who, at one point, grabbed onto the front of the
boat and enjoyed a free ride down the wild-life infested river. Safe. I
was beyond surprised the Russian Spaniard didn't join him.
When
we finally pulled up to the ruins (after 3 hours) our tour guide, Edie,
pointed out a temple whose top was visible over the canopy of trees and
said, 'We can climb that later.' We didn't really pay much attention as
we got seated at a picnic table and began to feel the humidity of the
mainland while we had fried bananas, stewed chicken, rice and beans and
delicious FANTA (the beverage of choice in Belize, next to the Belikin
Beer brewed in Belize) The first thing we did in the jungle was see
some howler monkeys! Wish were pretty awesome. Awesome enough to
warrant the first 10 minutes of our tour while birdman and co stood
underneath and snapped picture after picture. We got to taste the
allspice seeds that came off the tree the monkey's lived in and it
NUMBED YOUR MOUTH! Crazy stuff. We made our way over to the first ruin
which was awesome and encompassed a nutty stone sculpture of a Jaguar.
We continued on our trip ooh-ing and aah-ing over the ruins and then we
came to the mother of them all: the High Temple. The name says it all.
Just like the Bald Man being bald the High Temple was RIDICULOUSLY
high. And then we spotted it: the yellow rope trailing up the side of
the stairs. I looked at Cassie and with all the courage I could muster
said, 'Are we doing this?' She responded with, 'I'm never going to get
another chance to climb a Mayan Temple… just give me a minute.' We eyed
the temple with fear as the theme song to Rocky played in my head and
then, just like that, we went for it. I was sweating bullets by the
first step and definitely had an out of body moment when we got to the
second tier. I looked down, feeling faint, and then climbed to the top,
amazed at the view and how quickly I'd developed a fear of heights.
Howler monkeys were going nuts in the distance while Cassie and I went
into cardiac arrest for a minute and then it was time to descend. I sat
down on the edge and contemplated my death and how okay I'd be with it
at that moment, took a deep breath, and slid down the entire ruin on my
butt. There was no way I was going to make it down any other way. After
that ruin I don't really recall much since my organs were shutting
down, but I do recall our tour guide trying to coax a tarantula out of
its home.
At that point I had had enough. My scarf was wrapped around
my head like I was a leukemia patient – but only according to Cassie… I
was more prone to believe I looked like Lucielle Ball - and my stamina
was dropping quickly. The three legs of the ride home were exciting but
not that exciting (except for when we almost left the Russian Spaniard
at the ruins. OH, and those delicious Coconut Brownies we had…) But if
I continue to write I will really bore the pants off of everyone. So
this is the end, but not before I include my favorite quote of the
trip. On our final leg home I turned to Cassie and asked if she wanted
to put her arm around me since all the other couples seemed to be doing
the same as the sun set and we rode along the Caribbean Sea. Cassie
turned to me in all honesty and said, 'You don't even want to smell my
arm pit right now.' I think that's a fantastic depiction of how far we
let ourselves go this trip and just how much we sweat making our way up
to the High Temple. So thank you, one and all, for letting me share my
favorite quote, embarrass Cassie and star on The One Love for just one
night.
