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Imagine a handkerchief of a country, barely 350.000 souls strong, where any of the following could happen: -A Latino speaks with a thick Caribbean accent: “Hi, my brotha! Wassup?!” -A Maya bar owner turns on Bob Marley’s Greatest Hits, but switches after a couple of songs to old-fashioned Spanish music.

My favourite moment of travelling is the moment when the road stops and the ocean starts. Waves are rushing to the coast and there is no way to continue. You have reached your destination. My second favourite moment is swimming in front of my own private beach. I float on

You know you’ve been travelling in Belize for too long when… 1. You count your experiences in bug bites, not in days. 2. You know that there’s “no working during drinking hours” and that Belikin is “the only beer worth drinking”. 3. You start to wonder if you’ll ever get

Huge abandoned houses. The terrible smell of sewage. A guy sleeps on the pavement in broad sunlight. A rusty iron bridge belongs more in some prison movie than in a tropical holiday destination. Old men shout at us from across the street. Dented, miserable-looking cars, rows and rows of closed

I ignore the blisters on my rugged hands as I tear a vine with a seemingly never-ending root from the soil. Yes, those hands that are routinely darting over the keyboard and performing other delicate tasks. After all, we become writers because we’re afraid of hard physical work, the heavy