THE chocolate making class

City: Antigua, Guatemala 
Place: Choco museo (chocolate museum)
Time: 2 pm

"Ready Dinh?", I asked, while skipping out the door of our hotel room. 
It was time to leave for our chocolate making lesson, and I was anxious to hit the road. This is chocolate we're talking about after all!!
Dinh and I were in Antigua, Guatemala. A little birdie told us that this chocolate making class was THE thing to do here, so we decided to see what all the hype was about. 
After a 7 block journey on foot, we arrive at the Choco Museo. 
We meet our teacher, Pablo, and another couple (from New Zealand and France), that will be joining us for our lesson. 
This Pablo was a character. His personality shined bright and his humor had us giggling the entire 2 hours. You could tell he really enjoyed his job. His English was impeccable and he was the perfect teacher. 

We get down to business. First, we learn about the history of chocolate. 
Where it's grown, how many bars each country eats on average (France eats the most), how the chocolate business boomed back in the day, the significance of chocolate to the Mayans and Aztecs, and how it is grown, among other tid bits. 
The Aztecs even used cocao beans as currency . You could buy a hen for 100 cocao beans and a large tomato for 1 cocao bean, for example. 
The cocoa bean grows on a tree inside a large pod. After the bean is removed from the pod, you dry and roast the bean until it becomes crisp on the outside. 

Then you crack and peel off the outer layer by hand or by machine. 
We were all given a raw cocoa bean to sample. My face scrunched up as I chewed the bitter bean. Wow-eee!!
Fact: Cocoa beans give you energy and are potent antioxidants. But I think I prefer it with a little sugar. 
After we had roasted and cracked our beans, we ground them down to a paste using a mortar and pestle. 

This took some elbow grease. Pablo turned it into a game to see who could turn theirs into a paste the quickest.
I lost :(
But not by much!
From the paste, Pablo mixed up a yummy hot chocolate using milk, sugar and chili. It. Was. The bomb. 
We took turns mixing the brown concoction between 2 cups. This helped cool the liquid, as well as produce bubbles to make it foamy. 

Next, Pablo showed us how the chocolate had to be churned for an entire day before it was worthy of eating. It reminded me of making homemade ice cream on Christmas Eve. 

We couldn't wait around for an entire day, of course, so Pablo had back-up chocolate for us to use. We each picked out our own personal molds to pour the chocolate in. I chose owls and shells :)

We were instructed to return in 2 hours to retrieve our chocolaty goods after it had chilled in the fridge. 
It was a hefty amount of chocolate, but this didn't stop me from eating it within a day. 
"Ugh, my stomach hurts, Dinh", I moaned the next afternoon. Dinh shook his head and had no sympathy for this glutton. On the plus side, I had an extraordinary amount of energy and started doing funny things in our hotel, like this:

Chocolate WILL make you hyper

I don't know about you, but I totally dig chocolate. When chocolate hits my taste buds, signals are sent to my brain saying "wow, life is really good". It's a feel good food!!!
I feel like this trip has been like a chocolate exploration expedition. I mean, we ate the best chocolate Mexico had to offer, and now in Guatemala, we make our own chocolate!!! How cool is that??!! 
Ahhh.... I'll always have a special place in my heart for chocolate :)

Anthony and the Guatemalan orphanage

It was a lovely summer afternoon when I met Julie Sutton, a nurse working on the same floor as I at a hospital in Fremont, California, where I was doing a short travel nursing assignment. 
"Where are you from?", I inquired, making conversation as we charted side-by-side at our computers. 
This seems to be the first question all travel nurses ask each other. 
"I live in Guatemala and come here to work every 6 weeks for a couple of weeks", Julie casually responded with a southern twang.
My fingers froze the second I heard the word "Guatemala".
Wait a minute. She was Caucasian, but she lived in Guatemala?? I was shocked and intrigued at the same time. 
She explained how her and her husband had a nonprofit orphanage in Jalapa, Guatemala. 

I told her I would be traveling through Guatemala in a couple of months and got her contact info. I asked if it was possible for me to volunteer at her orphanage. She said "yes". 
My eyes lit up. 
I had visited an orphanage while in Cambodia and was longing to see one in another corner of the world. 
While in Tikal, I emailed Julie, letting her know we were in the area and would really like to stop by in a couple of days. She emailed back with her telephone number and to call her when we got into town. 
Jalapa is a small town off the beaten path. It's loaded with friendly locals and is definitely NOT tourist jaded. Which was very refreshing.
We drove along weaving roads, slowly meandering up a mountain, finally arriving at the quaint village of Jalapa. 
We contacted Julie and her husband, David, and they invited us over for lunch. 
Their house was much more extravagant than I had expected. There were 8 bedrooms, allowing ample amount of space to house the groups of volunteers that appeared sporadically throughout the year. 
Julie was holding a jovial 8 month old Guatemalan baby like it was her own.  They assumed parenthood after his mother gave him up, leaving him in a box on someones doorstep. They also had an older daughter that lived in the states and 2 adopted children that lived with them since birth. Noah, 16 and Rachel, 19. As if this wasn't enough, they were also taking care of a beautiful 1 month old infant girl, whose mom had also left her in a box at the side of the road to die. 

Julie was raising 2 small children, plus juggling the responsibilities of the house, orphanage and her other children, plus working part time back in California. This is a Superwoman if I've ever seen one. David watches the children on his own while Julie flies to California for 2 weeks every 6 weeks. He is Superman. Did I mention Julie and David are in their 50's?
I was extremely impressed. 
They have hearts of gold. The world needs more people like the Sutton's. 
I watched as David held the tiny baby girl against his chest and my heart melted. He was so kind hearted and gentle. They are angels. 
They both grew up in Texas. They explained that God called them to do this type of work in Guatemala. 
Religion is the putty that holds everything together. 
As we talked that afternoon, I began to understand what they were all about. They want to give, give, give. They are not takers by any means. We quickly realized they were some of the most honest, down-to-earth people out there. Just all around good people. 
As you can see, I can't say enough nice things about this family . Their children are also very well mannered. They were raised well. 
After some time spent chatting at their house, we made plans to meet in the morning so Dinh and I could help out at the orphanage. 
The next morning, Dinh and I woke up early , ate breakfast, then met up with David to head over to his orphanage. 
When we walked into the orphanage, all the small children ran up to David and gave him a big hug like he was the Big Poppa. He was so warm and attentive to each and every one of them. There were 22 children living at the center at the time. Ranging in age from 1 to 16. Sometimes the children are there for only a few day, and sometimes they are there for years. The Sutton's label it a "safe house", the center acts as a safe haven when children aren't in the most optimal situations. 
There was a library , kitchen, dining room, play area, bedrooms with bunk beds and a laundry area upstairs on the roof. 

 

There is only 1 worker at any given time. She does all the cooking, cleaning and tending to the children. This is why it is so vital that there are volunteers on a regular basis. 
I watched as the solo worker, a 21 year old local girl, feverishly cooked dinner for all 22 children, while trying to entertain the multiple toddlers wandering into the kitchen, wanting to put their tiny hands on everything they saw. 

"Can we play now?"

Julie and David's 16 year-old son, Noah, along with another volunteer, Michelle from Florida, accompanied us at the orphanage that day . David had to leave to do some legal paperwork for some of the children. 
After a casual introduction to some of the kids, I walked into a small bedroom with 3 bunk beds. It was bath time and I saw a tiny baby laying quietly on one of the beds, wet and naked. He was waiting patiently for someone to dress him. The teenage children were busy dressing the other toddlers. I rushed over to him and started dressing him right away, making sure he was completely dry before putting on his tiny diaper, then his onesie and then his little jeans. I felt an instant CONNECTION to him. I felt the need to protect him and love him. I guess this is what they call a "motherly instinct".
I figured he was about 3 months old, judging by his size. I picked him up and he felt feather-light. He warmed up to me instantly and snuggled his little face into my shoulder.

I always feel like kids at orphanages are so hungry for love and attention. It breaks my heart. 
I touted him around as I toured the rest of the orphanage. 
I asked Noah what the little boy's name was. 
"Anthony", he replied. 
I asked how old he was. 
Noah answered, "A year and a half". 
My jaw dropped. How could that be?!
"He can walk", Noah said with a giggle. 
I didn't believe him, so I set Anthony on the floor and held him up, steadying him a little, ready to catch him if he fell. I slowly let go with my hands and guess what? Anthony stood on his own and started to walk, too. I was in shock.  
"How, uh..... why, is he so..... little?!" I wanted to know. 
"Malnourishment", Noah replied back. 
I never found out the exact situation with Anthony, but basically his parents weren't able to care for him, so this is where he ended up. 
He grasped onto my finger and started bobbing around the play area. I followed obediently . 
He looked up at me with his brown doe-eyes. I melted. 

I picked him up and set off to meet the other children. 
I met a shy 15 year old girl. She was 7 months pregnant. The father of her baby was her own father. I was disgusted to learn that this happens frequently in Guatemala. 

I had to divide my time equally with the children, so I put Anthony down in the play area and was introduced to another little sweetheart, Maria. She was 3 years old and the same size as Anthony . Unbelievable. 

This blew my mind. Imagine a 3 month old baby walking and talking. This is what it appeared to be on the outside, but these children were much wiser than you would think. 
Michelle, the volunteer from Florida, was having craft time with the older kids. They were making owls out of fabric. 

Michelle and I helped cut difficult sections out for the kids and taught them how to sew. 

There was one boy that was a better sewer than all the girls. I was tickled pink as I watched him sew with such enthusiasm and patience. I told him he has a talent. He was such an attentive learner. 

It was such an educational, humbling, rewarding day at the orphanage. I really enjoyed every minute of it. Kids are awesome. 

I talked to Dinh about what more we could do to help Julie and David. They were just trying to keep their heads above water. Dinh and I recognized their need and decided to help out. We went to the grocery store with one of the workers and she told us what the center needed. We loaded up the grocery cart with rice, eggs, butter, milk, baby formula, toilet paper, toothpaste, sugar, etc.....
The good thing about Guatemala is that your American dollar goes a long way . We spent a measly $100 and bought enough food to fill up the trunk of David's car. 
It was the least we could do. It felt really good.

That night, we had supper at the Sutton's house. All 4 of their kids were there, it felt nice to be in the company of such a nice family and have a delicious home cooked meal.
As we said our goodbyes, they thanked us profusely and I told them I would do my best to get the word out about their cause. 
If you want to have an extremely rewarding experience, come to Guatemala and volunteer at Julie and David's orphanage. It will touch you in ways you would never dream. They are 2 people with big hearts that desperately need help but don't always know how to ask for it. 
Their website is: handsofmercyguatemala.com
They would greatly appreciate the help, and so would the kids. 

For days (even weeks) later, I thought about and talked about Anthony often. I wondered how he was doing and how he would turn out later on in life. He's going to be a handsome little devil. I felt the need to look over him and seriously thought about asking Julie and David about adopting him. It was so heart breaking to see such a helpless little human being with no parents to give him constant love. He has to fend for himself sometimes in the orphanage, there isn't someone watching him all the time. I think a child deserves more than that. Don't you??

It's funny how a chance meeting with someone turns into such a great moment in your life. I'm so grateful for having met Julie.
I will never forget little Anthony. I know he has potential to grow up to be a very successful young man, if the cards fall right. 
I'm hoping to be able to return to the orphanage one day soon. 
And hopefully you will too!!!

Tikal , tarantulas and toucans

If you visited Guatemala and didn't stop to see Tikal (the famous ruins), people would probably call you crazy . So naturally Dinh and I planned to go to yet another Mayan ruin. After you see one, the others just kinda mush together. Like the temples in Thailand, the monasteries in Tibet, the rainbows in Hawaii.... 

You get the picture.

As some of you might know, I have a short list of irrational fears. Gracing this embarrassing list is: bears, sharks, heights and large spiders. It's not something I'm proud of, and if you asked a psychologist he would probably give you some fancy explanation as to why I am so afraid of these things. But that's not the point. The point is, I'm scared to death of these certain things. 
Large spiders would be at the very bottom of this list. Sharks are probably #1. Well, anyways, I'm specifically afraid of TARANTULAS. Ewww. The word alone makes me squirm. Big, black, hairy, and full of piss and vinegar. So I thought.  

Like all my other fears, I try my best to get over them by facing them head on. 

I had a sneaking suspicion that I would run into my first wild tarantula while in Tikal. This area is teeming with them.

Sure enough, while touring the ruins, our tour guide, Samuel, pointed one out to us. 

The 8 legged creepy-crawly was relaxing on one of the ancient stones. I approach the insect cautiously and quickly learn that these furry creatures are very docile. 

"God, why do I put myself through this torture?!!", the voice in my head screamed. 

Every ounce of my body told me to run like a mad woman, but I forced myself to inch closer, knowing it was something I had to do to overcome yet another fear. 

I handed my camera to Dinh. I needed evidence that I was actually this close to a tarantula. 

the evidence

I started to feel more comfortable around him and actually thought he was a little cute. Fuzzy, black, slow-moving. They really aren't that bad. I really believe that society conditions us to have these irrational fears. And I'm determined to undo them!!

The cool thing about Tikal is that it's one big jungle. Many of the ruins are still enveloped by the lush jungle. It takes a lot of time and money to excavate them, which is why a large portion remain a mystery under the jungle's growth. 

I expressed to our tour guide that my goal was to see a toucan. He said he would do his best, but the chances were slim. 

As we traversed through the jungle, getting eaten alive by swarms of mosquitoes, we see a shy fox cross our path. It made me uneasy to think that there are also jaguars in this jungle. Yikes. 

Suddenly, we hear a peculiar sound, and our tour guide stops dead in his tracks. He points to the sky and is as still as a pointer dog. We all listen intently . 

We hear the distinct croaking sound of the toucan. My heart races. Are we REALLY going to see a toucan??!!

We move swiftly through the jungle, towards the purr of the toucan. Samuel grabs his binoculars and scans the canopy of trees. 
I pray . 
After what seems like an eternity, he exclaims "Ah, there you are!"

He shows me where this beautiful bird is perched and I search with his binoculars. After a bit of a hunt, I spot him. His tail is long with a patch of bright red coloring and his body is black with a dazzling yellow neck. He turns his head and I gasp as I see the shockingly bright colors of yellow, green and orange on his enormous bill. Imagine the most vibrant colors ever. That's what it looked like. Nature is so awesome.

It's toucan Sam from Fruit Loops!!! Only much, much prettier!! 

I watched with wide eyes as he hopped merrily from one branch to another. Wow. What an amazingly gorgeous creature.

After Dinh snuck a peak, the stunning bird flew off and we continued our tour, in awe of it's beauty. 

We climbed to the top of temple 4, which gave us a bird's eye view of Guatemala. Above the canopy of trees, it was peacefully quiet at the top of this ancient ruin. Bushels of trees could be seen for miles, with the peek-a-boo tops of the ancient temples. 
With only one other couple at the top, we had our privacy . Everyone sat in silence and just listened. There was a powerful energy emanating from the jungle. We heard the occasional squawk from a bird or the whacking sound of a machete. 
Nature in the raw.  
I could have stayed up there all day .

This is a popular place to watch the sun rise. I bet it would be spectacular, but I'm not a fan of getting up before the sun. 
As we were exiting the park, we encountered a family of 3 spider monkeys. We cranked our heads up and watched the graceful creatures swing from tree to tree. I made all kinds of silly noises at them and they curiously stopped to look down at me. We noticed that one of them had a bulging stomach. Soon a new batch of cute monkeys will be added to the jungle.

As we drove back to the town of El Ramate later that day, I reflected back on our experience in Tikal. Overall, it was a very memorable time. But, minus all the animals and insects and Tikal would have been just another Mayan ruin.

By the way , if you're ever in the Tikal area, I recommend staying in the little town of El Ramate. There is a hotel called La Casa de Don David. It's run by a man from Florida and his Guatemalan wife. You never did see a cuter couple!!
They are so sweet, they will give you a toothache. We just loved them! 

The hotel is located on a lake that is so clear you can see to the bottom. 

The water is warm, but we didn't swim in it because there are rumors that cocodrilos (crocodiles) live in the lake!!! Another one of my fears! Ahhhh!!

Mennonites of Belize

When we crossed the border into Belize, one of the first people we saw was a Mennonite lady . 
Dinh pointed, "Look honey!" he blurted out. 
"Yea, it's a Mennonite lady . What's the big deal?", I replied with one raised eyebrow.
Dinh was fascinated with these people and I had no idea why . Growing up in Minnesota, I had seen plenty of Mennonites. Seeing them in Belize was a little odd, but their physical appearance didn't shock me. 
Mennonites in Belize? Who knew?!!
But, there is actually quite a large community of Mennonites in Belize. I know... I was also bewildered.
One night in the town of San Ignacio, we decided to get some Chinese food. A family of Mennonites sat at the table next to us. I had to scold Dinh for staring at them. It was worse than me getting stared at in India. 
A travel nurse friend of mine had told me about this wonderful family she met while doing missionary work in Belize. We just had to meet them. They lived near San Ignacio, in a small town of about 1,500 people, called Spanish lookout. 

She said to ask anyone in town and they would point us in the right direction to find this family .
We went out on a limb when we left our hotel that day . I had no idea if we would actually find this nice family my friend had told me about. I felt a little funny just showing up at a stranger's house, but I knew Dinh was interested in their culture, so we had to at least try to find this family . It would be an adventure. What the heck.

We pulled into the town of Spanish Lookout and immediately notice a change. The speed limit signs were in mph and the roads were void of pot holes. Overall, there was a very orderly feeling to the town. 
We stopped at the first gas station we see. 
"I was wondering if you know Frank Plett?", I shyly asked the guy behind the counter, feeling a little awkward. 
This guy probably thinks I'm a weirdo, I thought. 
"Yes. You can find him at the lumber yard. Take your first left and you'll find it.", he replied in his German accent. 
The Mennonites speak Plautdiesch, which sounds a lot like German, but they also speak English.
I thanked him and we drove down the road, following his directions. However, we got side-tracked along the way when we saw an ice cream store. Hehe. 
Ice cream is our weakness.
All I can say is, this was top notch ice cream and it was definitely worth the stop. It's called Western Dairy . They aren't messin' around, they use real cream in the making of their helado (ice cream).
It was delicioso!
We dilly-dallied for a while in the ice cream shop, sitting in the booth, people watching. It was a popular place! Scarfed Mennonite ladies came in with their suspender-wearing husbands and walked away with smiles on their faces while taking bites of their ice cream. 

With bellies full of dairy, we focused again on our goal while we were in town: find the Plett family!
We found the lumber yard and no one was there. Except a man on a dirt bike, fixing to leave. I thought it was a dead end on our hunt.
"Excuse me, do you know where I can find Frank Plett?", I inquired.
Long story short, it turns out that the man was a son-in-law and ended up bringing us to the Plett family home. 
As we drove the 3 miles on the windey gravel roads, I couldn't believe how everything was working out just right for us to find this family . 
The son-in-law pointed at the house as he drove away , leaving us to fend for ourselves. As we coasted down the long gravel driveway , we see chickens in the yard, as well as a large dog. Their house was enormous, made out of wood, wood from their lumber yard. It was situated on a large piece of land, with calming green rolling hill views in all directions. 
While getting out of the car, I felt nervous, I didn't want to be intruding on them. Before we reached the door, a man came out of the front door to meet us. 
It was Frank. 
After explaining who I was and how we had ended up there, he graciously invited us into his home.
It was lunch time and they were all gathered around the kitchen table, eating tacos. 
Oops! I felt terrible for the bad timing, but they didn't seem to mind. They quickly made room for us to sit and easily made us feel at home. Frank's wife and daughters greeted us kindly . There are 5 kids in total.
We chit-chatted for over an hour around the table about various topics. Lots of laughs and shared insights. I really liked this family . I talked most with Pearl, one of the daughters I was sitting next to. She did a lot of humanitarian work around the world. A very impressive young lady . 

That afternoon, I felt like I was back in Minnesota. They're that kind of nice. Very welcoming people. It made me a little homesick and, once again, I realize how great it is to grow up in the Midwest. Down to earth people are the cat's pajamas :)
I didn't want to impose too long on this incredibly sweet family , and as we said our goodbyes, they walked us out to our car.
Like a dad looking out for his kids, Frank realized we had a tire that was low on air. Pearl helped us put air in it from their compressor and Frank made sure we knew exactly where to go to get it fixed in town.

Dinh and Frank

I felt like all worries had melted away while we were in this little safe community . I fully trusted these people, and even though we were in Belize, it felt very far from it. I didn't have to worry about anything bad happening to us while we were in this "safe bubble". 
Driving through the community to the tire place, it reminded me a lot of Minnesota. Cows, fields, gravel roads, farm houses. Except there were palm trees. Ha. 

A nice young man swiftly repaired the tire before we could even think to ask how much it would cost. We knew they would be honest. It cost only $6. 
We had a bad experience in Belize with not asking how much a meal cost before we ate. Bad idea. The locals will take advantage.
On our way out of town, we passed by a local roadside bakery . Don't mind if we do!
We met an incredibly warm man named Andrew and bought the most scrumptious homemade chocolate-oatmeal raisin cookies from him. He was curious of our California license plates, which turned into a lengthy conversation.

It was comforting to be around blonde hair, blue-eyed people once again. My people!
I didn't want to leave this safe haven. But, it was inevitable. 
What a great place Spanish Lookout is. Incredible. A utopia for Mennonites. So much different than the rest of Belize. 
The only way to live there is to be born into it or have one of the families sponsor you. You have to live on their land and sign a paper saying that you won't drink alcohol and that you will attend church. 
It's funny how the chain of events unraveled and allowed us to have this amazing experience with the Mennonites of Belize. Now Dinh is happy and doesn't stare as much as he used to. 
Thank you to the Plett family for all your hospitality!!

UnBelizeable

Thoughts of Belize conjured up images of clear blue water surrounding magical little islands with palm trees swaying in the wind. Paradise. 

 Once we reached Belize, my fantasy was quickly squashed and replaced by the brutal reality of what Belize really is. 
I'm going to come right out and say it. I didn't like Belize. 
Let me explain.....
It happened like this:
At the Mexican/Belizian border, a colorful sign greeted us "Belize in you, Belize in me, land of the free."
"Wait a minute, isn't America 'land of the free?'", I thought to myself. 
Huh. 

The official language of Belize is English. The locals also speak Creole, which is similar to pidgin in Hawaii. They shorten up words and speak with a strong accent. 
They also accept American dollars, but do have their own Belizian currency . It's like being in the US. 
Yea..... not really. 
Belize is the most expensive Central American country . 

Everything was dandy at the border crossing, until they accused us of having alcohol and threatened to search our vehicle. This was ludicrous, of course. 
Dinh laughed at him and said "I don't drink". 
Which is the truth. He's actually never had a drink in his life. Personal choice. Goody two shoes. 
The border control man sheepishly let us pass through once he realized he was in the wrong. 
Unbelizeable. 
We shook it off and continued along. 
For our first night in Belize, we hunkered down in the small town of Corozal.

As we pulled into town, searching for a hotel, we were pulled over by a vehicle filled with 4 cops. They had corrupt evilness written all over their faces. I could see it a mile away . 
They tried to bully Dinh, threatening him with a $200 fine. Dinh showed him his police badge and they backed down a bit, but not much. They were still rude and suspicious and it was obvious that they wanted a bribe from us. They gave me the eebie jeebies. 
After that, we knew that we needed to do anything possible to avoid the cops in Belize. They were trouble. It was a little unnerving to think that the people you go to for safety will possibly extort you.  
Belize was such a stark difference from Mexico, even though it was only a few miles away . 
I immediately felt a change in the air. The people were much different. 
First of all, they looked different. Belize is a melting pot. The country itself is rather small. But it's filled with a smorgasbord of races. Most of the local Belizians look African. 

Second, the residents acted much different than Mexicans. 
The first night in Corozal, we went for a run through town. I was taken back by the constant cat calls and hisses I received. I guess they think I'll like them if they hiss at me. 
Yup. I said hiss.
A hiss as your mating call? It's the strangest thing. 
Never mind the fact that Dinh is literally a foot away from me. After the 57th hiss, I was thoroughly annoyed and just wanted to go back to the safety of our hotel. 
I missed Mexico. I wanted to go back. I never had to put up with this kind of sexual harassment there. It felt so much safer there. 
The next morning, we had planned to take the water taxi to the Cayes (pronounced keys) from Belize City .
Apparently it's what the cool kids do. 
On the drive, it was difficult to contain my excitement. "This is going to be SO awesome Dinh!!", I squealed with joy . I was optimistic and thought that maybe Corozal was a fluke and the rest of Belize would be different.  
I had read about this little laid back island named Caye Caulker that didn't allow any vehicles. 
An island where everybody knows everybody. 
An island where you could easily walk from one side to the other within 30 minutes. Where the mode of transportation was a golf cart, a pedal bike, or your 2 feet.  
An island where the slogan was "no shirt, no shoes, no problem."
Sounded alright to me. 

 We planned to stay at least 3 nights. But as the bad experiences piled up, we decided to bail early after only 2 nights. 
This is what turned us off:
•The unrefined local men (and woman) had horrible potty mouths. Every other word was the F-word. It got old fast. They said it in daily conversation. It made me feel uncomfortable because I thought they were mad at first. They desperately need to expand their vocabulary . 
Unbelizeable. 

•Some of locals were rude. We had one too many instances where they tried to sell us something with the price inflated ridiculously . If we did buy something from them, a "thank you" would never leave their lips. 
One day, as we were taking pictures of the island, a rasta dude approached us, wanting us to donate money to him for his emerging rap career. He was dressed nicely and was not skinny by any means. After we politely declined, his "pseudo-niceness" turned to blatant rudeness as he walked away, mumbling something under his breath. 
Excuse me? You can't just walk up to tourists while they're on vacation and demand money for something we see as nonessential. 
Plus, I don't even like rap music. 
Unbelizeable. 

•They don't understand the concept of waiting their turn in line. One night at a small grocery store, I watched as Dinh was budged in front of 4 times. I couldn't stand to watch it anymore and had to budge in for him. I've dealt with budgers all over the world. It's my pet peeve. They were drunk locals, buying more beer. And the more they drink, the louder they get. 
Unbelizeable. 

When Dinh and I left the hotel, we were always together. One night, while Dinh was ordering Chinese food to go, I spotted a cute dog outside that I wanted to pet. I'm a sucker for those doggies. 

Does it get any cuter?

Dinh was still inside. In a span of about 30 seconds, 4 different local men had a comment for me. "Baby in blue, I love you", one of them said. (I was wearing a blue dress.) I heard kissing sounds and again the official mating call of Belize, the hiss. 
I pretended to be completely oblivious to these uneducated hillbillies. 
In the corner of my eye, I saw them with their long dreadlocks, lazily sipping their Belikin beer.
Unbelizeable. 
If I was alone, I would have been constantly eaten alive by these locals. 
When Dinh came out of the restaurant, I put my arm in his and sneered at the disgusting men. 
This country had started to remind me of another country I'm not too fond of: Morocco. 
As some of you might recall, Morocco is on my "do not like and will never return" list. 
In Belize, the people reminded me of a mix between the Rastafarians of the Virgin Islands and Moroccan men. It ends up being a very bad combo. 
There was zero warmness in these people. 
I was over it. 

In light of all this negativity about Belize, we did meet one local man that we liked immediately . He was pushing around a little cart selling his homemade goods. He was a big boy . 

He would push around his cart, yelling out "I'm right here!", in his thick Caribbean accent, alerting people that he had some goodies. I was curious to see what he was selling and had a hankering for something sweet. 
I approached him, "Got anything sweet??", I asked him. 

"Sure do.", he replied, while presenting a coconut empanada to me. "Is it good?", I joked. 
"Yo' jus goin ta have to fine out fo' yo'self", he joked back. 
I took a bite. It's kinda like a pot pie crust, filled with a sugary coconut concoction. 
"Oh my gosh", I mumbled with a full mouth. It. Was. Delicious!
"Is it good?" Dinh asked me. 
"You see her, she enjoyin' hers, ain't she?" The large man replied. 
I was slowly savoring each bite. 
He was so warm and witty, he made me want to talk to him longer. 
"Did you make these, or did your wife?", I inquired. 
"No, made dem myself, miss", he says. 
"So you don't have a wife?" I asked. 
"No, you wanna be?" He asked. 
I rolled in laughter.
We joked around for a while and I discover he is 30 and is still single because he "ain't willin' to leave his island". I told him he would make a great husband, baking the way he does. 
That dude was awesome. He had a great energy to him. 
Dinh and I still laugh about him. 
I guess the only way I would go back to Caye Caulker is if I could hang out with him and eat his baked goods. My stomach muscles would ache from laughing so much!!!
So that was one positive experience we had. Back to the negative. Ha. 
Our bad experiences had snowballed and left us feeling jaded.
Physically, we were not the least impressed with the island. 
After you've lived in Hawaii, anywhere else pales in comparison. 
We missed our pristine Hawaiian beaches. 
There was absolutely NO beach on Caye Caulker. Imagine that. An island with no beach. Huh. 
I found the island to be dirty, with garbage and debris bobbing along the coastline.

Well, now that I've painted such a pretty picture of Belize, I'm sure all of you want to go there. 
Haha. 

Yep. Belize is unbelizeable...... Unbelizeably hard to love.

The pictures may look nice, but save your dinero, folks. There are gaggles of other places I could recommend that will blow this place away. 
You better belize it!