Evolving blog
July 5, 2009 by Richard McGuire · Leave a Comment
I began this blog for the one-time purpose of a trip to Central America in the winter of 2008-09.
It’s now time to give it a new life.
I plan to write about my interest in photography, and also about the subjects of my photos — often the backroads of Ontario and Quebec, or the streets of their cities.
I am currently on a trip to southwestern Ontario, the shores of lakes Erie and Huron, a part of Ontario I know the least.
I’ll post a few notes and photos from my journey.
Your airline has asked that you be given a secondary inspection
January 18, 2009 by Richard McGuire · Leave a Comment
Travel tends to change one. Of course it’s always hard to return from a trip and pick up where you left off.
As I began to unwind from a stressful fall, I began to let my hair down, so to speak. In order to shave, I need a mirror and hot water, and most of my hotels were missing one or both of those, so I decided to grow a beard. And, I picked up a set of natty dreadlocks.
Should I be surprised that when preparing to board my connecting flight in Chicago, the security people took me aside and told me my airline had requested that I be given a secondary inspection?
“Is this random, or is it because I have a beard?” I asked the guard.
“It’s because you look like a terrorist,” he said, smiling, and then adding that there actually are many reasons an airline might call for this — ranging from purchase of a one-way flight, paying cash, etc. “Do you have any ticklish spots?” he asked, preparing to feel me up.
It was that kind of a trip home. First, I got to Cancun airport well ahead of time, which was a good thing, as the line-up to check in was more than an hour long in a hot building. Then the departure of the flight kept being pushed back while mechanics worked on the plane. We finally left, two hours late, when I only had an hour and a half in Chicago to clear immigration and customs, change terminals, get inspected, in make my flight. Needless to say, I missed my connection, as did many others.
When I talked to the American Airlines people, they told me they had me on a new flight going at 9 a.m. Saturday. In other words, I would have to spend the night in Chicago. But she checked, and lo and behold, there was a flight with United going later Friday night, and I had plenty of time to make it. I would get into Ottawa just after midnight.
All was well until I arrived in Ottawa, and waited for my luggage to come down the carousel. I waited and waited until I was the last person, and they shut down the belt. It never came. After filing a claim, I now faced the task of getting home in minus 26-degree weather without even my jacket, which was in my luggage.
Fortunately, I got a taxi right away, so didn’t freeze for long. But I didn’t get to sleep until close to 3 a.m. And United gave me very little information about my luggage until they told me Saturday night that they’d located it. They finally delivered it to me Sunday night.
So here I am back home, and all set to return to work. I haven’t decided how long to keep the beard, but I won’t wear the dreadlocks. They are just a crude wig made from cotton in Guatemala, and sewn into a Rastafarian hat to sell to tourists.
Returning to the frozen north
January 16, 2009 by Richard McGuire · Leave a Comment
I’m now in Cancun in the same hotel where this adventure started exactly five weeks ago. This afternoon I fly to Chicago and then on to Ottawa, if my plane doesn’t hit geese and try to land on Lake Michigan.
Mid-January is not a great time to return to Canada, but I’ve been blessed with several weeks of great weather while most Canadians suffered in cold. Still, the weather in Ottawa looks to be right now about the worst of the season. And never in my wildest dreams did I think a transit strike in Canada’s capital would be allowed to go on for five weeks. My arrival will be lots of fun, because I left my winter coat at home.
When people down here ask about Canada, they know it’s very cold and there’s lots of snow. But most, except those who’ve been to North America, have no real concept of it. Ice is something you put in drinks, and they’ve seen snow on TV, but here if it goes down to 15C, people say it’s cold. One British expatriate in Belize just shook his head when I said it was minus 20 in Ottawa that day: “Why would anyone live there?” Good question, though I do love those few weeks of tulips and autumn colours.
I’ve met several retired or semi retired people from North America who live down here. At Lake Atitlan in Guatemala, which must have one of the best climates in the world, I met Ron, who retired there and rents a two-bedroom house for less than $100 a month. He says he could never afford to live on his pension in the U.S., but here he lives well. He strikes up conversations with tourists, and he lives with two females — a dog and a cat. The four-legged kind of female, he says, is much more affordable than the two-legged kind.
Another semi-retired man, originally from Alberta and Saskatchewan, who I met yesterday on his way to Belize, lives in Puerto Vallarta, Mexico, and does metal art. He was on his way to Belize to look into setting up a store in the tourist zone where the cruise ships arrive. He spends his summers in Ketchican, Alaska.
Returning to Mexico is interesting after Guatemala and Belize. It seems so developed and relatively first world, even outside Cancun. The poverty and crumbling infrastructure in Guatemala and Belize are a sharp contrast to Mexico’s relative prosperity. Of course, traveling the other way, from north to south, Mexico’s poverty compared to Canada and the U.S. is more evident.
Soon it’ll be time to head to the airport. I don’t feel ready.
City of submerged crocodiles
January 14, 2009 by Richard McGuire · Leave a Comment
From Dangriga, I took a long journey north about seven hours, passing briefly through Belize City to change buses, to Orange Walk. The journey took me up the scenic and mountainous Hummingbird Highway, but the north itself is quite flat. It’s a mix of farm country, largely sugarcane, and wilderness.
Orange Walk is a community mainly of mestizos and largely Hispanic, though the surrounding area has a number of Mennonites. And of course almost every store and restaurant in Orange Walk is run by Chinese. It’s also the starting point for a river trip to the ancient Mayan city of Lamanai.
I arrived Monday night and booked a place with a small group going with a guide on Tuesday. Unfortunately, Tuesday started off as pouring rain, and I was soaked before I even found a place for breakfast. A German couple at my hotel backed out of the tour, but I figured, and the local people said, that the rain wouldn’t last and would soon clear up. I figured wrong.
I enjoyed the trip nonetheless, but was completely soaked. I wrapped my camera in plastic, but everything else got wet. The rain did let up for a while at Lamanai, but it rained continually during the river trip there and back.
The guide, Melvis, took me alone about seven miles up the river before we met five other tourists who were also coming. Along the way he pointed out bird after exotic bird in the thick foliage at the sides of the river or flying overhead: many herons, including great blue, who migrate from the north, a rare tiger heron, snowy egrets, parrots, a keel billed toucan, vultures, and numerous others. Melvis knew his birds. The river is infested with crocodiles, but as Melvis explained, in the cooler rainy weather, they tend to remain submerged in the water, rather than sunning themselves on the banks, as they do normally. Still, he saw one slip into the water, though I missed it.
Lamanai’s name, according to one interpretation of the Mayan languages, means City of Submerged Crocodiles. It’s an appropriate name, given that crocodiles seemed to have spiritual significance, and were certainly present.
The city itself consists of many hundreds of excavated, partly excavated, and buried buildings. There were a couple impressive temples, one of which I climbed on the steep stone steps, but generally there was less to see than in other cities such as Tikal. It was the setting in the jungle at the end of the winding river journey that made it an interesting experience.
Today, Wednesday, I took a short journey to the seaside town of Corozal, just south of the Mexican border. I’ve spent the day getting organized and ready for the long trip north. It was actually cool here today, unusually so, and overcast. This may be the southern edge of the cold system that has much of North America now in a deep freeze. I dread the return to the frozen north.
Home of the Garifuna
January 14, 2009 by Richard McGuire · Leave a Comment
Dangriga is the spiritual centre of the Garifuna people in Belize, and is the largest town in the south.
The Garifuna people trace their roots back to a shipwreck of African slaves, who landed on the island of St. Vincent in the 17th century. They intermixed with native Carib and Arawak Indians, forming a new cultural identify based on a mixing of African and aboriginal traditions.
In the 19th century, after deportations by the British, they arrived in Belize in dugout canoes from Honduras. They have their own language, and Garifuna can also be found on the Caribbean coast of Guatemala. Drumming is a strong part of their spiritual tradition.
I had a bit of a chance to experience Dangriga in the two nights I stayed there, but my timing, arriving mid-weekend, meant I couldn’t visit the Garifuna museum.
Dangriga is also home to Marie Sharp’s hot sauce. Very few restaurants in Belize don’t have a bottle of Marie Sharp’s habanero pepper hot sauce on each table. Marie developed the recipe when she found herself with more habaneros than she could use, and it took off in popularity. She now makes them in a factory instead of her home. I bought bottles of several varieties at her store, including the hottest one, which is called “Beware” and is claimed to be of “comatose” strength.
At other times, I wandered around Dangriga looking at the pelicans, and seeing a rainbow over Stann Creek following a quick downpour.
