In Search Of The Affordable Caribbean

[vc_row][vc_column][vc_column_text]My first visit to the island of Ambergris Caye, Belize, I climbed down the stairs of the eight-seater airplane, grabbed my duffel from nearby on the runway where it’d been placed by the pilot who doubled as baggage handler, and carried it with me across the dirt road to the hotel where I had a reservation.

There I was met by the real estate agent who had promised to show me around. He wore shorts, a T-shirt, and no shoes.

“Welcome to barefoot paradise,” he greeted me.

It was 1986. I was 23-years-old. Ambergris Caye, like me, was but a young girl.

San Pedro town, the fishing village around which development was just beginning, was situated along three short parallel roads, all unpaved. The hotel where I stayed that first visit and the several that followed over the next few years, the best on the island, could generously have been described as two-star. Amenities included towels in the bathroom (some days), a telephone at the front desk (that worked sometimes), and a front-line position on the Caribbean Sea.

It was the beachfront situation, of course, that people, including myself, came for. There’s only so much Caribbean seafront, and, as they say, nobody’s making any more of it.

Thus, what there is tends to be pricey. I came, therefore, all those years ago, to Ambergris Caye in search of the affordable Caribbean.

And I found it.

My first several visits, that same real estate agent (who never did invest in footwear) toured me up and down the coast of the island in his small boat.

We had to go by boat, as the single road that led up the island beyond San Pedro town didn’t continue far. The only way to see what the island had to offer beyond San Pedro was on foot (tough going, through untouched jungle that grew up to the water’s edge) or from offshore.

I was naive and inexperienced, but even I recognized the pristine beauty of this place. The beaches of Ambergris were (and are) far superior to those of mainland Belize. They compete with the best of the Caribbean, and back then they were a steal.

They were also utterly undeveloped. If you didn’t bring it with you from the mainland, you did without it on Ambergris Caye. I remember a couple of beachfront bars and grills and a single small shop where you could buy warm Cokes and toilet paper.

If you wanted to own a stretch of the sandy Caribbean, this was a good place to shop for it cheap. If, though, you were in the market for a Caribbean beach home, you needed a bit of the pioneer in you to make a happy go of it here. Three-and-a-half decades later, Ambergris Caye has come of age.

The three original town roads are paved… and a number of others have been carved out. A central island roadway continues from end to end, meaning that, now, you don’t have to travel by boat to see the length of the island. You can go by golf cart, the preferred means of transportation on this Isla Bonita.

The hotel where I stayed decades ago is still there. Today it shows four stars in its materials. This coast is now also dotted with five-star hotels and resorts, along with high-end condo communities, restaurants, art galleries, supermarkets, delis, wine shops, and golf cart rental agencies. The best part is that it’s not as bad as all that might make it sound. Ambergris Caye has grown up, yes, but she’s managed to keep much of the charm of her youth.

Ambergris hasn’t matured into a tourist haunt. Rather, this island has evolved into a cozy and welcoming community. This is neither tacky Cancún nor prim, proper Bermuda. This is a small Caribbean town of expats from all over the world working together to create the life they all came in search of. They’re opening businesses, indulging artistic interests, inviting each other over for beach barbecues, and connecting with their local neighbors.

You wouldn’t describe property prices today as a steal, but they can be a bargain compared with elsewhere in the Caribbean.

More to my point, though, Ambergris Caye, Belize, today is a place where anyone interested in an escape to the Caribbean would do well to take a close look.

Morley Safer traveled to Belize a year before I arrived in the country for the first time. He came to film a segment for “60 Minutes.” “The good news from Belize,” Morley said looking up from a little wooden boat in the middle of the Belize River, “is no news from Belize.”

I’ve borrowed that line over the years because it captures the essence of this country.

Belize was way back when I discovered it and is still today one of our world’s ultimate escapes.

And I’d say that the promise of escape is even more valuable today than it was when Morley and I experienced it for the first time decades ago.

I traveled to Belize for that first time as the guest of the Belize Tourist Board.

I landed Belize City then hopped to Ambergris Caye, Placencia, and finally inland to Cayo.

For me and Belize, it was love at first sight. I connected with every aspect of this quirky little country, but it was Cayo that really got under my skin. Even my 20-something self recognized it. “This would be a great place to disappear,” I thought to myself.

One afternoon I broke away from my guide and wandered through the jungle to the river, where I sat down on a fallen tree. I listened to the birds and the monkeys, watched the women doing their laundry on the rocks downstream from where I sat, and wondered how long I could get away with hiding out in this glorious spot.

I’ve thought of that afternoon often in the years since. Sitting on that log in the middle of nowhere Cayo, I felt a sense of freedom as strong as I’ve ever known.

Later that day, my guide took me to San Ignacio, Cayo’s biggest town, to a hole-in-the-wall bar-restaurant-café known as Eva’s.

Eva’s was, even then, a legend among travelers in this part of the world. If you wanted to meet up with fellow expats in Belize, Eva’s was the place. You’d find them sitting at the small wooden tables or hanging out around the bar drinking Belikin beer from the bottle, and, if you were looking for someone in particular who wasn’t around when you stopped by, you could leave a note.

This was pre-Facebook, pre-internet even. To communicate with another human, you needed a piece of paper and a pencil. Eva’s supported the effort with a giant message board.

Looking for a travel companion, a roommate, a room to rent? Have a truck, a canoe, or a house to sell? Jot down the details and thumbtack the note to the cork board on the wall inside Eva’s.

Anyone interested in whatever you were buying, selling, or seeking did likewise. Next time you were in San Ignacio, you could stop by Eva’s to see reply posts, similarly tacked to the cork board. Zero-tech social media.

Over the years to follow, I’ve spent many memorable afternoons and evenings at Eva’s. It was the kind of place where everyone knew your name within a few minutes of your arrival and you never had to worry about drinking alone.

I don’t get back to Cayo nearly as often as I’d like. When I’m up against a deadline, though, or dreaming of disappearing, just for a little while, it’s where my mind wanders.

I imagine myself sitting at a table inside Eva’s… or alone riverside, as I’ve done so many times over so many treasured visits.

And I fall in love with Belize all over again.

Until next time,