I.II.IV.I – Hopkins: Day One
HOPKINS
I.II.IV.I – DAY ONE
22/09/22
The following morning, with a heaviness in my heart, I bid Becca and Oliver farewell. Then tears started flowing as it was Roy’s turn. I could not even begin to comprehend how I had fallen for him so bad 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. He’d also visit me in Malta once I’d return. I have to admit I didn’t know what to make of that. As much as I liked the idea of keeping in touch with him, I did feel a bit suffocated as he stood there listing down all our future plans – as if we could ever have a future together. The idea of us being together for longer than that was not only innocently childish at best, but also something I didn’t particularly entertain. Mostly cause I enjoy my freedom, and second, cause in the long-term, I’m sure we wouldn’t have worked out. We were too different. It was incredibly good whilst it lasted, but I was sure it wouldn’t have gone 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 in all my travels by that time. 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. I had grown too comfortable there. The point of my trip was for me 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 and held me tightly in its grasp. It had grown almost stale by the end of it. 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 this weight had been lifted off my chest. I was finally free again! Free to roam about, free to relax, free to do what I want when I want. 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 accounts of the former being ‘just a city’ according to Roy and most other travelers I had encountered.
Usually, I don’t like to follow such advice, mostly cause every city I had been to, including those that had been 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 follow 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 which are stuck in place, and stickers all over the dashboard. It felt like such a throwback! According to a fellow backpacker I met on the way, these buses were donated by the US government to be used in Belize.
What at first was a nostalgic and almost heart-warming experience pretty soon turned into a somewhat frustrating one. For starters, my flat butt offers absolutely no support whatsoever, meaning that 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 whatsoever. 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. A taxi ride later, and there I was.
Hello Hopkins!
Hopkins, also known as the ‘coast with the most’ is a rural village that’s considered to be Belize’s Garifuna cultural centre.
The Garifuna people are descendants of the Arawaks, Island Caribs and Afro-Caribbeans who used to live on the Caribbean island of Saint Vincent under British colonial rule. Following many conflicts and ward, the Garifuna were deported to Jamaica and later to Honduras where they migrated along the Caribbean coast to Central America; including Guatemala and Belize. Much like Maltese, the Garifuna language is a mix of others, with its foundation being Arawak but having a lot of influence from Latin, English and African – a reflection of the people’s past. 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 a few measly hours to experience as much of Hopkins as it was humanly possible. I’d only be staying there for two nights and already had plans for the following day. And so, the second I checked in to my private room in this one funky looking hostel, I left the place in a rush.
I strolled along the main road, one peppered with colourful shacks and houses in between paths that lead directly to the beach. Starving, I made my way to a beach restaurant where I had the most amazing Garifuna dish; hudut. This consists of a fish cooked in a coconut broth with okra, served with mashed plantains and cassava bread. It was delicious to say the least!
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.