Hopkins – Day 1: The Garifuna’s Homeland
HOPKINS
Day 1: The Garifuna's Homeland
September 22, 2022
The following morning, with a heaviness in my heart, I bid Becca and Oliver farewell. Then the tears started flowing as it was Roy’s turn. I could not even begin to comprehend how I had fallen for him so hard in such little time…
We promised we’d see each other again. He’d accompany me to San Ignacio, a city a few hours away from Caye Caulker, in a couple of weeks’ time. He also asserted that he’d probably join me for a week or so in Costa Rica at the end of the year. And he said he’d visit me in Malta once I returned. That maybe we could keep things going. I have to admit, I didn’t quite know what to make of all that. As much as I liked the idea of keeping in touch with him, the idea of us being together long-term was not only innocently childish at best, but also something I didn’t particularly entertain. Mostly because I enjoy my freedom – and secondly, because deep down, I knew we wouldn’t have worked out. We were too different. It was incredibly good while it lasted, but I was sure it wouldn’t go anywhere past that. I agreed to see him again in San Ignacio but told him we’d have to see about Costa Rica – let alone Malta.
And with that, there was only one final farewell. Saying goodbye to Caye Caulker was the hardest of all my travels up to that point. That slice of paradise had become home to me. I felt like I belonged – like I was safe, happy, blissful. But that is also why I had to move on. The point of my trip was to break out of my comfort zones, to challenge myself. And somehow, along the way, Caye Caulker had become a comfort zone in and of itself, holding me tightly in its grasp. It had grown almost stale by the end. I wanted change. I wanted to see more. And so, in a way, leaving the island felt freeing.
The second I stepped on the ferry, it felt as if a weight had been lifted off my chest. I was finally free again – free to roam, free to relax, free to do what I wanted, when I wanted. Free to just… be.
On the way...
From Caye Caulker, I’d be going straight to Belize City. Originally, I was meant to spend a couple of nights there, but after much thought, I decided to skip it and opt for another town called Hopkins – on account of the former being “just a city,” according to Roy and most other travellers I had encountered.
Usually, I don’t like to follow such advice, mostly because every city I’ve been to – even those described the same way – always had something that made them stand out. But instead of upending my whole itinerary once again, I decided to just stick to it. And so, the second I got to the city, I went straight to the bus station and bought a ticket to Hopkins: my next destination.
The bus… the bus was exactly like the ones we used to have in Malta back in the nineties. One of those old, rusty vintage buses with a brown-and-yellow painted exterior, dirty torn vinyl seats, opaque windows stuck in place, and stickers all over the dashboard. It felt like such a throwback! According to a fellow backpacker I met along the way, these buses had been donated by the US government for use in Belize.
What at first was a nostalgic and almost heart-warming experience soon turned into a somewhat frustrating one. For starters, my flat butt offers absolutely no support whatsoever, meaning I ended up sliding from one side to the other with every twist and turn. Second, the two-hour journey felt way longer, being cooped up in a bus full of people with practically no ventilation. It was hot and stinky, and I just wanted to get out. Perhaps that’s why the bus attendant told me to get off at a junction that stood some ten kilometres away from the town. Luckily enough, there happened to be a taxi on standby!
Hello Hopkins!
Hopkins, also known as the coast with the most, is a rural village considered to be Belize’s Garifuna cultural centre.
The Garifuna people are descendants of the Arawaks, Island Caribs, and Afro-Caribbeans who lived on the Caribbean island of Saint Vincent under British colonial rule. Following many conflicts and wars, the Garifuna were deported to Jamaica and later to Honduras, from where they migrated along the Caribbean coast of Central America – including Guatemala and Belize. Much like Maltese, the Garifuna language is a blend of others, with its foundation in Arawak but strong influences from Latin, English, and African languages – a reflection of the people’s complex history. The Garifuna of Hopkins mostly thrive on fishing and agriculture, with tourism slowly becoming more prominent.
By the time I got to my hostel, the sun was already about to set, leaving me with just a few measly hours to experience as much of Hopkins as humanly possible. I’d only be staying for two nights and already had plans for the following day. So, the second I checked into my private room in this funky-looking hostel, I rushed straight out.
I strolled along the main road, lined with colourful shacks and houses, with narrow paths leading directly to the beach. Starving, I made my way to a beachside restaurant and had the most amazing Garifuna dish: hudut. It consists of fish cooked in a coconut broth with okra, served with mashed plantains and cassava bread. It was, to say the least, absolutely delicious!
As much as I wanted to experience more of the Garifuna culture, my hands were tied. Close by, in the village of Dangriga, was also the Garifuna Museum, something which I had no time to visit either. However, knowing I’d be visiting other Garifuna communities in Guatemala and Honduras, I made peace with it and moved on.
As much as I wanted to experience more of the Garifuna culture, my hands were tied. Nearby, in the village of Dangriga, there was also a Garifuna museum – something I had no time to visit either. Still, knowing I’d be visiting other Garifuna communities in Guatemala and Honduras, I made peace with it and moved on. Surely, there’d be plenty of other things I’d have to miss out on!