From now on, if you ever want to terrify either me or Nick all you will have to do is sneak up behind us and say, “Thank you for flying Tropic Air!”
It’s not that the woman who originally said the line was particularly frightening in and of herself; it’s more that Tropic Air (with nearly 200 employees!) runs 14-seater planes (or smaller) through rain clouds in Belize, and if we had known what that would be like, we might have reconsidered.
I’m glad that we didn’t, though, because the view (when not obscured by the aforementioned evil cloud) was spectacular, and I am writing this poolside at Francis Ford Coppola’s Turtle Inn, which really leaves nothing to be desired–other than, perhaps, a way of getting to it that doesn’t feel suspiciously like a suicide pact.
We adjusted quite readily to the routine here. It starts with at least ten hours of sleep each night, in the infamous “Chinese fertility bed” that Sofia Coppola herself apparently picked out, and has slept in now and then. On a side note, we think that she might be here–there’s this woman that…well. Anyway. The sun over the Caribbean wakes us up to sip coffee on our porch, from which we occasionally head out to what Nick insists is “our” hammock, although it’s not, and there are three excellent meals a day to somehow fit into that demanding schedule.
Some adjustments, though, are taking a bit longer than others.
“This is your outdoor shower,” explained the woman who greeted us. While I was taking in the charming garden, and the thoughtful details like the extra pots of shampoo and conditioner placed conveniently on hand, she went on mercilessly. “You may see an iguana or two while you’re out here,” she said nonchalantly. “They get pretty big.”
Yeah.
“You wanted to get close to nature, right?” asked the woman I chatted up at the pool bar while rapidly downing rum after that thing slid off the roof right next to where I was showering (fortunately, I was using the indoor one at the time). It was the culmination of every neurotic fantasy I had concocted since discovering the tiny lizard that keeps reappearing all over our cottage, who is far too fast to catch.
I don’t think that “getting close to nature” had ever crossed our minds.
We did, though. Mary, remember that absurd snorkeling trip we took in the Bahamas? Where that horrible woman tricked us by promising kayaking? You can’t snorkel in glasses (and I have no contacts), Mary didn’t know how to swim, the bottom was alarmingly shallow, and my goggles filled with salt water almost immediately. Therefore, when I saw that a snorkeling tour was part of our package here, I shrugged it off. “I’ll watch you,” I told Nick. “I’ll swim. I’ll sunbathe. I’ll hold the camera.”
“You’ll snorkel,” our guide announced firmly. (“Was it Dorrin?” the concierge asked us when we got back. “He got me to snorkel, too.”)
It turns out that with better equipment, better weather, better reefs, and an actual guide, snorkeling is awesome…even if you can barely see. I kept happily pointing out brightly colored fish to Nick, since the clams and shrimp and lobster were completely invisible to me, and even thought I saw the menacing outline of the barracuda that everyone else was oohing and ahhing over. By the time lunch was done (they have delicious chocolate chip cookies here, and start you off with a complimentary jar), I was eager to go out again.
Nick was having some trouble with his snorkel, so while he and Dorrin worked on that, I drifted off on my own a bit, although I stayed good and close to shore. It was still shallow, so the sheer size of the big fish surprised me: he looked about the length from my toes to my shoulders, and although he was a pretty silver-blue, there was something less charming about him than about, say, the huge school of blue tang we followed later. I got a good look and turned to go ask what I had seen, only to find another one about a meter away in the middle of a flanking maneuver–remember that scene in Jurassic Park?
“Caroline found more barracudas!” Dorrin cheered, and led Nick and the other couple back to where I had been. There was a third one I’d never even spotted–they’re sneaky.
The nurse shark that darted out from under its hiding rock was adorable by comparison, and I killed time when I couldn’t see much by waving my hands through millions of glowing minnows. It was, we decided, just exactly the right amount of snorkeling.
There are birds here that I keep wanting to ask Grandma about, although we’ve gotten pretty sluggish with the camera since our arrival, and crocodiles in the bay (cute little three-foot ones, plus one that is much, much bigger). We took out a kayak, and soon we will get to see the jaguars. And the constant sea breeze makes me mostly forget about our dodgy little lizard, which is, I think, just as well.