We actually got a late start because Alex was feeling worse and we decided to eat breakfast first. We first headed for Chetumal near the border to try and sell the bullet-proof vest. After visiting 7 stores, Alex finally gave up. It seems no-one had any interest… hard to believe. So, for now, the vest stays with me as “motocross chest protector” in case it gets discovered ๐Ÿ™‚

We stopped for our last lunch/meal in Mexico and the place turned out to be run by a bunch of deaf, in-bred local retards who couldn’t take an order if their life depended on it. In the end, we got the most disgusting egg sandwiches despite ordering something completely different. Oh well… a bad ending to wonderful cuisine in Mexico.

Crossing the border was actually relatively pain free. We turned in our Mexican visas and got our bikes stamped out of Mexico before crossing into Belize. A half a mile before the border checkpoint, we were flagged down by a guy who spoke at the speed of light. He explained that we needed to have mandatory insurance for our bikes and also that we needed to have our bikes “fumigated” before entering the country. Then he asked for $5 per bike and said he would go up the road and “take care” of the fumigation for us. What a guy! He pointed us in the direction of the insurance office / “shack” and, as he climbed into a waiting van and sped off, he uttered the immortal words of the Terminator… “I’ll be back!” I looked at Alex in a daze as I marveled at how easily and completely taken I was… we would never see that guy ever again.

Into the insurance shack we went and paid the princely sum of $200 pesos for 3 days worth of insurance. Halfway through the paperwork, who marches in the door with fumigation certificate in hand but our good friend the Terminator ๐Ÿ™‚ Apparently, there are still a few honest guys at the border. I actually told him that I never expected to see him again… he took it well. With papers in hand, we headed off to the actual border control point. Inside we went with papers in hand and ten minutes later we were crossing the border into Belize. Easy as pie ๐Ÿ™‚ No entry fees, no bike importation permits, no hassle. The guys were very nice and I even understood them given the official language of Belize is English. Go figure. Check my blogroll for more info on Belize.

We breezed down the northern highway, took a short-cut on the old northern hwy which turned out to be an absolute disaster of a road. The locals were all signaling us to turn around and that we were crazy for going that way but were ignored them. As I said to Alex, “Dude, we went down Copper Canyon… how bad can this be?” It was bad but in a good way. The pavement ended and what ensued was a hard-packed, pot-hole filled stretch of goat track that felt like we were riding on a washboard. Still, it took us deep into the cane fields and off the beaten path and it was fun riding.

We eventually got back on the northern highway and headed south toward Belize City. The sun was falling fast and we rode into Ladyville and spotted a hotel. Turns out it was a Chinese owned hotel and that there is a large Asian population in Belize. Good thing Alex knows some Chinese as well ๐Ÿ™‚ We were fortunate that they let us ride the bikes right inside the hotel to keep them safe and we slept soundly because of it.


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