Livingston, I Presume

Made my way up the river to the Caribbean seaside town of Livingston. Home to a fascinating mix of Garifuna (cultural group derived from West African slave-descendants), Maya and Spanish-speaking Guatemalans. Place has got a very cool laid-back vibe, but it´s set to that backdrop of slight seediness and and that subtle scent of lazy lawlessness that seems somewhat common to the Caribbean port towns I´ve been to and is undoubtedly what made them such popular haunts of the pirates of yore. Though no actual pirates were in evidence, our arrival at the dock was predictably marked by the loud calls of the local hustlers promising to lead you to a good hotel, carry your bag or in any other way ¨help you¨ regardless of whether that help is actually desired. Had heard a lot of good things about Casa de Iguanas and upon learning the only available accommodation there was a hammock decided I could bear it for the night. The owner has adopted and hand-raised an orphaned raccoon. As anyone who has traveled in Central America knows: sleeping outside in a hammock in a hot, humid, and mosquito ridden coastal town with the jungle looming over you requires certain preparations. Chief among these is drinking enough alcohol to elevate your blood alcohol enough to discourage the mosquitoes from mistaking you for anything from which it could possibly be safe to drink blood to feed unborn mosquito children. Liberal amounts of deet containing substance smeared over exposed skin is also a good idea. All very scientific I assure you. In addition, upon learning of my predicament a young local, whom I assumed was a traditional medicine man, offered me a packet of herbs with the understanding they could be used to assist sleeping. The hostel staff were young, funny and party-oriented guys and I awoke the next morning having slept but somehow feeling not at all rested.






A quick boat ride to some nearby waterfalls, guarded by an old man watching over an elaborate and incense clouded shrine to Bob Marley, provided the necessary refreshing swim to wake me fully up and yet another opportunity to jump off of something into water. We were next transported to a boat-accessible only private white sand beach to spend the afternoon relaxing. Played some volleyball with the locals, but as the net only came up to my head I found it a bit unsporting to be able to spike the ball at my much shorter opponents without having to even jump. We quickly switched to futbol and after an hour running around in the sand on a hot beach I recuperated by swimming, lying on the beach, reading my book, and watching a large group of French frolic. Tough life.





Smoky shrine to Bob Marley







The town is quite charming, with drumming and vaguely African sounding rhythms competing at odd hours against the more typical Latin music heard throughout the rest of the region. The city planners also had the commendable foresight to place a large open air crocodile pit in the middle of the children´s park. Two foot walls protect the children from an unobstructed four foot drop down into a small holding cell for a pair of giant crocodiles, one of whom I was informed carries the name ¨Kunya Kinte.¨ There are spaces for four crocodiles but apparently the other two managed a daring escape into the river while their cells were being cleaned out. Went out at night, despite somewhat dire warnings about a series of tourist robberies at knife-point the previous weekend, to check out the local Garifuna music. Extremely passionate drumming and maraca rhythms accompany singing/chanting and the highlight for me: the guy playing an instrument constructed from tortoise shells, of which I have semi-clear recollections of seeing in various cartoons throughout childhood.





Wonder what happens when the ball accidentally goes in the pit...

The British hostel owner, Rusty, offered me a job working at the hostel, which I´m sure would have been entertaining, but I declined. For one it´s just too hot to do anything during the day and nights aren´t much better. Plus I´m starting to think about home more and more and want to continue on my journey towards its eventual finish. Finally one of the other staff has recently contracted dengue fever which I didn´t find all that encouraging towards semi long-term employment in the area.

The direct boat to Belize apparently only runs twice a week and I´ll be hanging out here till Friday when I leave for Belize. Just gonna relax, sip rum on the beach, read my book and generally enjoy the tranquilo atmosphere of the place. Looking forward to Belize, will keep you updated! -Azi