I was beginning to feel pretty rough at this point. I’m not sure if not was the consequence of a week of hard partying, or the physical manifestation of whatever was stirred up spiritually the day prior; likely a combination of both.
We had booked a plush hotel a little further out for our last night, as we couldn’t extend at the yak nor get a ferry that day for The Belizian island of san Pedro. It was needed. The day was a drag, as we toiled for hours on the e-learning course for our scuba qualification. I coughed and sneezed as question after question emphasised why not to dive with a cold or congestion. We ate Mexican street food and got an early night, as I resolved to slow down on the ciggies due to my pounding headache, congestion and sinus infection. I think the damage was already done.
We took the early morning speedboat from Chetemal towards San Pedro. I slept most of the way, nauseas and head pounding . Woke up 15 mins out and decided that I If I was going to keep a journal, I needed to get started. Smashed out day one on the rest of the ferry, checked into our new hotel, ate and rented a golf buggy to check out secret beach. Swam in the sea and made friends with a few groups of Americans, some of whom we went out to dinner with. San Pedro is a strange island. One the one hand, it was almost as if it was frozen in time, with gorgeous carribean sunsets over rustic wooden buildings with corrugated iron roofs. But on the other, it felt completely set up for tourism, and I struggled to put my finger on anything unique about the place. It’s was nice, but it was no Jamaica.
