Last night was the first night I slept well in more than a week. I am running a sleep deficit and accumulated probably 9.5 hours last night. As a diamond member, Nicole was given the option of a free breakfast or a credit of $15 per person. We opted for the breakfast which was quite a let down. We weren’t given any options at all — just this mediocre plate of random fruit. The yogurt was warm. The hot dog in a roll was cold. Needless to say, we went up to the desk afterward to change our option to the $15 credit from here on out.
For a resort that’s on a caye just next to the ocean, you might be surprised to know that there is no beach attached to the Hilton. We had to reserve a spot on an 11am boat to the Hilton’s private beach (the 10am was already full). In the meantime, I arranged for us to rent a golf cart as transportation around the area. After a bit of confusion, we acquired our vehicle and immediately drove into town to get ourselves a proper breakfast. We went to a place called “The Baker,” where we had a cinnamon roll and a muffin. It was much much better than whatever abomination the Hilton was serving up to its most loyal members. We also went to a small supermarket to get some snacks and beverages for later.
We soon embarked on the 11am boat which took about 15-20 minutes to reach the private beach. The 10am crowd had already settled in and taken most of the prime real estate. We walked to the far end of the beach thinking we could be away from people. We were able to acquire a couple of chairs in the shade of some kind of hut thing and settled in. Just as I was about to let out a contented sigh, twenty people showed up and set up camp in front of us. And when I say camp, there was a group of six that inexplicably brought a tent. Not unlike a park in Santa Monica, what was once nice and tranquil was transformed into tent city.
Being at the mercy of the Hilton’s boat schedule (which was infrequent) and amongst such unsavory characters did not make for the most enjoyable experience, but we tried to make the best of it. Nicole started reading a new book. I worked on my Italian exercises. Also, fun fact: the official language of Belize is English. Spanish may be spoken here or there, but as a former British colony, the English colonists always far outnumbered the Spanish ones and thusly we are left with a country that primarily speaks English or some sort of creole dialect thereof.
The most exciting part of the afternoon involved observing this little iguana awkwardly try and eat whatever it’s trying to eat. At times, Nicole and I did venture up and down the beach or into the water as well. No reef at the private beach, so no fish. The water there was very shallow — at no point greater than two feet deep. This proved to be inviting for the masses who trudged into the water with an undeserved amount of confidence. I have never felt more judgmental of other human beings than I was on that beach. Speedos that should have never been bought, tents that should not have been brought, and numerous people who thought they were hot, . . .but quite frankly were not. We made sure to position ourselves to be in line for the 3:15pm boat back to the Hilton. Like a couple of weary soldiers at Dunkirk, we had to jockey and hold our position in line so as to not get left behind.
Despite being primarily in the shade, the overall heat had fatigued us a bit. It had also been an ongoing battle to try and reserve a snorkel tour for tomorrow morning to take us to see the sharks. I’m a friend of the sharks you know. People just don’t respond to messages on this island (and that includes the Hilton too). When we got back, we were finally able to confirm something last minute since all the others seemed to be at capacity.
With that sorted, we relaxed back on our porch for a spell. Having not had a proper lunch today (or a great breakfast), we set out to find a mediocre dinner. We drove the golf cart into town — a 12 minute drive on very bumpy roads. The speed bumps on these roads are especially tenacious. In either case, we eventually arrived at a restaurant that seemed to have good atmosphere, but they wouldn’t have availability until 8:30 pm. It was about 5:30pm, so this wasn’t ideal. For the next hour, we went from one place to the next, and they were either busy, sketchy-looking, or in one case completely dismantled as of yesterday. Void of options, we drove all the way back to Mahogany Bay. And then the battle began all over again.
The main building and restaurant at the hotel had a very limited menu of about five items. The nearby Japanese restaurant was about 95 degrees inside and didn’t seem inviting. The adjacent martini bar had no food. Void of options once again, we went back to the not Hilton-affiliated pool bar that overcharges for bad food. Nicole had an overly creamy pasta and I had a disappointing chicken sandwich, which for some reason had ham and an egg on it. Good food is extremely elusive on San Pedro. I’d say we have a plan on how to rectify this tomorrow, but my confidence is low. Tomorrow we get up early to see our friends, the sharks. Hopefully they found themselves a good breakfast before we arrive.
passports & pepto bismol 