Lamanai Guest Star

Entry by GUEST BLOGGER - Lauren Eberle...

Lamanai. Oh, Lamanai. Where to start? Let's start with the basics. First of all, the word 'Lamanai' is the Mayan word for submerged crocodile. If that didn't already peak your interest in this blog then you might want to check if you're brain dead. BECAUSE CROCODILES ARE THE MOST BALLER ANIMAL ON THE FACE OF THIS EARTH, aside from monkeys and turtles which will also appear in the blog. So please, continue reading.

Cassie and I went to sleep on the 30^th fully prepared for what was about to be the most baller day of our entire trip. We'd shelled out the 135$ to our boy, a Rastafarian named Leon who said 'ern' instead of 'or', and were prepared to either ask for our money back or get our heads blown off with excitement.

Luckily, it was the latter.

Cassie's alarm went off at 6 and surprisingly time seemed to fly as we got ready for the day and dropped my make up down the large, open drain that was our sink in the now 35$ a night room (we downgraded after we decided that if we could whether Brooklyn in the heat we could surely whether Belize……….. wrong.) So now it was time for the upgrade! We rushed about getting ready, sweating profusely and finally realizing it was 6:30 and we still had to check out of our hotel, check into the new hotel and get to the dock to meet the tour group all in 20 minutes! The Belizean minute had turned it's back on us and left us when we needed it most! While Cassie finished packing I rushed downstairs and harassed the people standing outside on the streets, wondering why the front desk wasn't open and where we could drop off the keys. They told me to leave them in the deli next door and only then did we realize: the deli wasn't open yet! We continued to batter and harass the girl who had locked herself in the front office, begging her to take our keys because we HAD TO GET OUT OF THERE. Finally we decided to take to the beach and just check into the new hotel, hoping by the time we returned our front desk would have its business in check. So there we are, running down the beach with our luggage trailing us. We get to the new hotel and, surprise, surprise: the front doors are locked! After banging frantically on them a little old man came to our service, clearly wondering what in the world was going on. We explained we'd changed rooms the night before and needed desperately to check in and leave our stuff with the front desk so we could go see some ruins GOSH DARNIT! The man shuffled around, looking for any documents that said we'd checked in and finally we spat it out, "JUST LET US LEAVE OUR STUFF." He begrudgingly opened the office door and showed us a spot to leave our things, practically scratching his head and wondering what these crazy foreigners were going on about. Finally, I said, 'Carla checked us in. She said everything was settled, when is she here?!' Only then did the man turn to us and say, 'Carla only gets in at 6…' I rushed out of the hotel, running while Cassie stood there and stared at the clock on the wall. We ran back to the old hotel, now drenched in sweat and never realizing that the sun hadn't even started rising yet. Finally Cassie stopped me, took out her cell phone and realized something horrible: the night before the young girls who had come into our room had been playing with her cell phone and, unbeknownst to us, set her clock back to EST time-zone… meaning… it was 4:50am.

We nearly fainted with laughter realizing that we had woke up at 4 in the morning, rushed around shouting at people and demanding them to open their front doors at 5am and all the while we looked like crazy time consumed New Yorkers. Where was there even a place to go at 4am? Why hadn't anyone taken the time to stop us and wonder why we were OUT OF OUR MINDS?!

While Cassie went to sleep I grabbed a breakfast burrito full of deliciousness (from the deli that had finally opened it's doors due to our incessant nagging) and walked down the beach only to realize that crabs enjoyed running over my feet most at 5 in the morning. I stifled my screams while I settled into a beach chair and watched the sun rise over the Caribbean Sea. Not only was I horribly lonely, but I was completely blown away at the fact that I was in Central America sitting next to the CARIBBEAN SEA. I took a few thousand pictures and then headed back to the hotel room to wait for Cassie to awake. We got up, checked out (for good and at a reasonable hour) and headed down to the dock where we met up with Leon and waited for an additional 20 Belizean minutes for the tour group to actually show up.

Upon getting – or, rather, CRAWLING - onto the boat (the tour guide kept saying, 'get in like it's your car…' finally we responded with grunts of, 'but my car isn't a BOAT.') we realized we'd made a large mistake: the tour (and whole ISLAND, for that matter) was chock full o' couples. 6 on our tour, to be exact, and then poor ol' Cassie and me. We didn't notice much (aside from me noticing the DROP DEAD SEXY man with his girlfriend next to us) because as we sped across the water towards the native town of Bomba (Leon's hometown) we were too overcome with excitement that we were going on a REAL LIVE SAFARI to notice the three strange men that had not only come alone, but dressed like weirdos. First there was 'The Birdman'. The Birdman was a man of about 65 years of age who was clad in a full safari get-up. We're talking Steve Irwin crocodile hunter hat, kaki pants and a kaki shirt. He would stop the boat at EXTREMELY inappropriate times and throw Cassie out of the way to get pictures of these birds that he ranted and raved about. The Putu was his ABSOLUTE FAV and it almost cost Cassie her life. We later learned The Birdman was extremely friendly with the natives, newly married (Married? What nutjob married him?) and on a first name basis with the entire tribe of Bomba (which consisted of about 10 people; one named Ernesto who is my soon-to-be husband.) Next came 'The Bald Man'. There's not much to say about the Bald Man's appearance… clearly he is just that: bald. He donned a blue bandana tied around his head and talked fondly to the native dogs of Bomba whilst wiping residue out of their eyes (no, that's not a joke). The bald man took fondly to Cassie, me and anyone else would listen to him talk about anything and everything under the sun. He was 'happy to get to the mainland' after a 'long six days on the islands'. Word, brotha. Word. He also told us about the plot of a wonderful book-turned-movie called "The Ruins" which basically entails a bunch of kids messing around at some Mayan ruins and dying because of it. We literally could not WAIT to get to the ruins after that. Last but DEFINITELY NOT LEAST came my personal favorite: The Russian Spaniard. He seemed fairly normal on the first boat ride over to Bomba but on our SECOND boat ride (to the actual ruins) we got to experience the true Russian Spaniard as he took off all his clothes and jumped into the lagoon full of wild life and most importantly crocodiles. No one was really sure if The Russia Spaniard was Russian or Spanish or just downright crazy but apparently the word 'Lamanai' and it's meaning meant nothing to him because he frolicked in that water like a newborn baby. The Birdman, The Baldman and the Russian Spaniard gave us hours of terrified fun as we made our tri-legged journey over to the ruins.

It started with a boat ride to Bomba where we experienced the natives, their food (a rodent called a gibnut who made the most horrible sound known to mankind and looked like offspring of Splinter from The Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles) and their toilets - not so much fun, that one. Next we got on a bus driven by my Rastafarian fiancé, Ernesto, and rode through the rainforest. Literally. We learned about the natural trees and herbs of the rainforest and what they healed and how our tour guide used marijuana to cure his wife and 2 year olds son's asthma. He would just put some in the formula for his son and cook some into his wife's food. Couldn't. Be. Smarter. We also got to pick up the two CUTEST old people from their farm and drop them off down the road at their families house. The man was missing all his teeth and had one lazy eye and I still loved him to death. Our last leg of the tour was the safari. We got on another boat and saw crocodiles, turtles, tons of birds (to the Birdman's delight and Cassie's terror) and even BATS! But, I must say, the most disturbing encounter we had on our entire safari was the clan of Mennonites (Amish for you UN-EDUCATED). Some time ago they moved to Belize and took up their duties on the shore of the lagoon in which the ruins are on and as we passed by their settlement our tour guide, Edie, slowed down the boat and allowed the crazy Americans to lean out and snap a few pictures of the boys swimming in the water. Who, at one point, grabbed onto the front of the boat and enjoyed a free ride down the wild-life infested river. Safe. I was beyond surprised the Russian Spaniard didn't join him.

When we finally pulled up to the ruins (after 3 hours) our tour guide, Edie, pointed out a temple whose top was visible over the canopy of trees and said, 'We can climb that later.' We didn't really pay much attention as we got seated at a picnic table and began to feel the humidity of the mainland while we had fried bananas, stewed chicken, rice and beans and delicious FANTA (the beverage of choice in Belize, next to the Belikin Beer brewed in Belize) The first thing we did in the jungle was see some howler monkeys! Wish were pretty awesome. Awesome enough to warrant the first 10 minutes of our tour while birdman and co stood underneath and snapped picture after picture. We got to taste the allspice seeds that came off the tree the monkey's lived in and it NUMBED YOUR MOUTH! Crazy stuff. We made our way over to the first ruin which was awesome and encompassed a nutty stone sculpture of a Jaguar. We continued on our trip ooh-ing and aah-ing over the ruins and then we came to the mother of them all: the High Temple. The name says it all. Just like the Bald Man being bald the High Temple was RIDICULOUSLY high. And then we spotted it: the yellow rope trailing up the side of the stairs. I looked at Cassie and with all the courage I could muster said, 'Are we doing this?' She responded with, 'I'm never going to get another chance to climb a Mayan Temple… just give me a minute.' We eyed the temple with fear as the theme song to Rocky played in my head and then, just like that, we went for it. I was sweating bullets by the first step and definitely had an out of body moment when we got to the second tier. I looked down, feeling faint, and then climbed to the top, amazed at the view and how quickly I'd developed a fear of heights. Howler monkeys were going nuts in the distance while Cassie and I went into cardiac arrest for a minute and then it was time to descend. I sat down on the edge and contemplated my death and how okay I'd be with it at that moment, took a deep breath, and slid down the entire ruin on my butt. There was no way I was going to make it down any other way. After that ruin I don't really recall much since my organs were shutting down, but I do recall our tour guide trying to coax a tarantula out of its home.

At that point I had had enough. My scarf was wrapped around my head like I was a leukemia patient – but only according to Cassie… I was more prone to believe I looked like Lucielle Ball - and my stamina was dropping quickly. The three legs of the ride home were exciting but not that exciting (except for when we almost left the Russian Spaniard at the ruins. OH, and those delicious Coconut Brownies we had…) But if I continue to write I will really bore the pants off of everyone. So this is the end, but not before I include my favorite quote of the trip. On our final leg home I turned to Cassie and asked if she wanted to put her arm around me since all the other couples seemed to be doing the same as the sun set and we rode along the Caribbean Sea. Cassie turned to me in all honesty and said, 'You don't even want to smell my arm pit right now.' I think that's a fantastic depiction of how far we let ourselves go this trip and just how much we sweat making our way up to the High Temple. So thank you, one and all, for letting me share my favorite quote, embarrass Cassie and star on The One Love for just one night.