Barefoot on the Beach and The Rasta

My birthday on San Pedro

(to be sung)

Happy birthday to me; Happy birthday to me!  Happy biiiiirrrttthdaaayy  to Meeeee; Happy BIRTHDAY to Meeee!!!

I can’t hardly believe that I am 22!  A multiple of 11 and the beginning of official adult-hood.  Oh dang!

Anyway, I have to tell you what happened on that amazing day—aka May 3.

I spent time with my Savior the night before (which is what I do every year) and looked out onto the ocean when I “rang in” my new year.  I then swung on a hammock on the 2^nd floor of the hotel Blue Tang. 

Because of complicated funding, I was not able to go snorkeling with my group the day before my B’day.  But because of a generous benefactor, I was able to go.  I woke up at 7:ish and this person gave me money so that I could go.  The boat left the dock at 9, so I walked barefoot on the sand to the pier and arrived at about 8:30, paid my money and struck up a conversation with a local—one of my favorite things to do.

This guy was a Rastafari which I talked about in one of my previous blogs.  Basically they live as close to the earth as possible.  They are also referred to as the Black Jews and their religion is based on the Abrahamic lineage.  There is no Rasta church and it’s quite individualistic.  One thing I found quite ironic, according to many Christian beliefs of the States, is that they chant and pray using Scriptures while they are high on weed as weed gives you a feeling that makes you close to God.

He asked me a lot about my life and told me about his.  He’s a 26-year-old virgin which is rare no matter what culture, religion, or country one is in.  He had really thought through his life and had answers for deep stuff and was really fun to talk with.  No, Mom, he doesn’t have my phone number, or my e-mail address!

He did show a lot of interest—none of which was related to my snorkeling abilities.  I was entertained and felt quite honored.  His level of respect for women was much higher than the dudes at MSU.  Then, he told me that he would find me in the States.  I told him that if he could find me, I would think about him in more of a shake-of-a-hand sort of way.  He told me that women within a few seconds knew whether a man was hers or not.  I thought to myself:  “Little do you know, Dude.  Nice, but weed? Don’t think so.”

Good times. 

I got onto the boat and started out on my snorkeling adventure.  I was ecstatic to say the least!!!  Our guide was another Rasta.  He told us to put on sunscreen to protect us from the jellyfish! Now, I must confess something to my blogging audience:  I am REALLY afraid of jellyfish.  Now why, you all ask me?  Well, because of Finding Nemo.  Ever since that movie, I have NOT liked them.  I didn’t like them before, but it’s now official.  We are not friends.

After being in Belize for almost 4 weeks, and since I happen to being quite brown, I have not needed to wear any sunscreen.  So, I had to act like I knew how to put the stuff on because I’m smart and queen of all trades.  Well, I forgot my lips—who needs sunscreen on their lips?  Because of my lack of thoroughness, I got stung on my upper lip twice.  Not cool.

The jellyfish were the size of jumbo macaroni but shaped like half a ziti. They were brown like me.  The tide brought 1,000s of these little critters.  I had to do a whole lot of mind over matter exercises to survive.  When I jumped off the boat, I was overtaken by all the stuff God made that is underwater.  There was coral and big fish and little fish and an eel and my favorite—Mr. Sea Turtle.  Mr. Turtle was just chillin’ on the floor and then randomly decided with his Eeyore personality to start swimming.  I think I saw Dora, but I’m not exactly sure.  Our Rasta tour guide coaxed an eel out from under the coral so we could see his head.  He looked totally ticked off.  We followed our guide at the first location like little guppies.

At the second spot, we were able to explore by ourselves.  There was more coral, but the main attractions were the big fish (I think they were barracuda) and the sharks.  We saw the sharks from the boat and got to swim with them.  They had sandpapery skin and suction-mouth like the Coneheads.

One thing I didn’t realize to the fullest extent was ocean salt water.  Did you know that the ocean water is salty?  Not salty, but SALTY!!!!! I was shocked when it got in my snorkeling gear and into my mouth.  It was the way I like my pop-corn but not in water.

I really wanted to touch a fish, but they could almost feel my inner thoughts and swam away.  I was a bit ticked, but I thought about what I would do if I were in their situation.

We explored the area for about 45 minutes and then got back in the boat.  It was an amazing experience.  Thank you generous benefactor!

I had been craving nachos with no cheese since we first got to San Pedro.  Lily’s Treasure Chest is where we first went on the island to indulge our carnal-non-sexual desires.  I saw they had nachos with one meat choice, sour cream, cheese, beans, and salsa.  For my birthday, I got nachos—with no cheese.  Lily’s was situated next to a dock.  I sat under two palm trees, barefoot in the sand, and with the perfect view.  Ah bliss!

We left San Pedro the same way we came—on a boat named Thunderbolt. We sped through the waves that were much calmer that when we left Corozal. 

A great day to turn 22.