Belize

Take a vacation from your problems. - Dr Leo Marvin

Don’t Worry ‘bout a Thing

From the Boston Globe Travel, August 27, 2006.

Caye Caulker - “No Shirt, No Shoes… No Problem.” So goes the motto at Caye Caulker’s favorite restaurant and watering hole, Rasta Pasta. Nothing seems to be a problem at Rasta Pasta or, indeed, anywhere on this tiny Belizean island, where mangy dogs nap in the middle of the dirt road and suntanned cyclists pedal around them. The only traffic sign on the island instructs golf carts and bicycles to “Go slow,” a directive that is taken seriously.

The one thousand residents of this tiny island have traditionally made their living from the sea, specifically from the spiny lobsters and red snapper that inhabit its warm waters. In recent years, the primary economy has shifted but it still depends on the sea: now it attracts tourists, who flock to the island for windsurfing, sea kayaking and snorkeling.

Caye Caulker offers fewer amenities than a typical Caribbean resort, but that is part of the charm of this place. Of twenty or so guesthouses, all are privately owned and most have less than a dozen rooms to let. As such, the island enjoys the friendliness of a village, as opposed to the formality of a resort.

Island residents wouldn’t have it any other way. “How you feelin’, mon?” a local asks a passerby. He is sitting in a lawn chair along the main drag, a dirt road known as Front Street, with his shirt open and dreadlocks draping across his shoulders. The sunburned, sandals-clad tourist smiles back, giving his new acquaintance a two-handed point, a la Manny Ramirez. “Alright, my friend, you feelin’ fine.”

The easygoing attitude is due in part to the thriving Rastafarian culture on the Caye, which pulses to a reggae beat. If it’s not Bob Marley blaring from a boom box on the beach, it’s the latest in punta rock, an eclectic blend of Garifuna drum rhythms. Drumming groups gather on the beach and at local bars to get their Afro-Caribbean groove on. They play for themselves, but anybody is welcome to gather round and soak up the good vibes.

The quintessential Caye Caulker bar is the Lazy Lizard, “a sunny spot for shady people.” The simple, tin-roofed structure is located at the northern end of town, overlooking a swift-moving channel called the Split. The Split was formed in 1961, when Hurricane Hattie whipped through here and cut off the northern tip from the rest of the island. Now, it is one of the preferred spots on Caye Caulker for swimming and snorkeling.

It’s not much as a beach – a small patch of sand strewn with rubble. But this is the center of island culture, where sunbathers lounge on a crumbling seawall, kids play with makeshift toys scavenged from the trash, and fishing boats slowly motor past.

From his perch at the bar of the Lazy Lizard, a friendly local named Greek surveys the scene. His matted hair hangs down his bare back, while a knit cap – the symbolic red, yellow, green and black – rests on top. He sips the local brew, Belikin beer. “Hey Ras,” he calls out to a tourist who has dreads to rival his own. “Stick around. We goin’ to have some drinks and check out the sun set.” Indeed, round about 6:00 pm, there is no better place to watch the fiery ball of sun, as it turns the sky an orangey-pink and drops into the clear green sea.

As in the rest of the Belize, the population of Caye Caulker is a mix of Mestizos and Creoles, plus a disproportionate percentage of Europeans and Americans (who came to visit the Caye and never left). Among the latter is Nara Belle Rosser, who moved here last year from the States. "I escaped the rat race," she laughs.

Nara conducts morning classes in kripalu yoga on a small private beach at the Iguana Reef Inn. At $200 per night, the Iguana Reef is by far the most luxurious accommodation on the island. But the yoga classes are open to anyone, and they usually attract both guests and non-guests, including a few local women. The beach faces west. Nonetheless, the breeze off the water, the fishing boats bobbing on the bay and the frigate birds soaring overhead make for an inspirational setting for sun salutations.

Caye Caulker's top tourist attraction is the barrier reef. About a mile off the island’s shore, it is the longest coral reef in the western hemisphere, much of it protected by a marine reserve. Carlos Ayala is one of several guides who take small groups out to the reef on his boat Gypsy. Carlos is a trained marine biologist, which you might not guess from his sun-streaked hair and ultra-cool demeanor. But his expertise is apparent when he talks about the reef.

"The reef is fragile," he reminds his clients. "The coral is composed of individual polyps -- living creatures. If you step on the coral, or even touch it, you destroy their protective cells. The coral becomes susceptible to invasions by algae and other bacteria."

His patrons, equipped with snorkels and masks, jump over the side of the boat and enter an unbelievable fantasy world of vibrant colors and exotic shapes. The reef itself is takes the form of a head of lettuce, or elk horns, or a brain. The life it supports is infinite, which is clear from the first descent underwater. Schools of golden-finned, blued-striped grunts swim by, seemingly inviting snorkelers to join them. The fluorescent pink and green stoplight parrotfish is not so social, but he’s not hard to find lurking under rocks. Bright blue tangs, striped angelfish and domineering bar jacks come and go. Suddenly, the fish disperse, as a slick, silver barracuda zips across the reef, then disappears into deeper waters. A sense of calm resumes on the reef.

A snorkeler frantically summons her guide when she spots the dark shadow of a shark lurking under the boat. Carlos reassures her that the nurse sharks are harmless. Indeed, later in the day, at a location known as Shark Alley, Carlos will catch a nurse shark and allow his clients to touch her soft underbelly.

Not surprisingly, most restaurant menus on Caye Caulker feature a variety of these creatures of the sea, with lobster playing the starring role. Distinguished from their New England brethren by their lack of claws, the Caribbean crustaceans are no less divine, especially when grilled and served with a Belikin beer.

The closest thing to upscale on the island is Habaneros, a thatch-roof cabana with a wide verandah. Guests dine by candlelight, feasting on “Surf & surf” – a grilled lobster tail and garlic shrimp served with a spicy papaya dipping sauce. Dessert is creamy, tart "Caye lime pie" topped with a scoop of rich, homemade frozen yogurt.

End to end, Caye Caulker is only a few miles long, and it's a half-mile across at its widest point. For its small size, it has no shortage of things to do, from sunrise yoga to snorkeling to seafood feasts. The appeal of Caye Caulker, however, lies in the revelation that it is not necessary to do anything, except relish the sun on your face and the breeze off the sea.

Mara Vorhees is a writer and photographer who blogs about food, music and adventure around the world.She has written guidebooks about Belize, Brazil, Costa Rica, Morocco, New England and Russia for Lonely Planet. Click here to read more about Mara.