Saturday, January 7, 2006

We had bargained down the price of our room a bit last night – rooms in Rio Dulce are expensive, and I am not talking about nice room with river views. I think the lady who rented us our room must have been thinking of us and laughing this morning around 7:00 a.m. when the drilling and metallic pounding started at the work site just outside our door. We rarely know what day it is, but Michael was pretty sure it’s Saturday. But we had gone to bed at a decent hour, so it wasn’t too much of a hardship to get up.

We had a little breakfast and then took our bags and set out to find the lancha to Livingston. Livingston is not an island, but you can only get there by boat and a large part of Rio Dulce’s activities involve schlepping tourists there. Most of the rest of it is international folks with yachts and sailboats who stay at the marina.

Despite our early wake-up call, we arrived at the spot at around 11:00 and found we had missed the 9:30 lancha and that the next one would be leaving at 1:30. Great. Whatever, we ordered a fruit plate and waited around.

When the lancha came, a small motorboat with four rows of padded benches, we were the first ones on and we sat in the front. Next stop was the municipal dock, where some other guy boarded. He sat between Michael and me on the front seat. Then the lanchero came and told us to move to the back, for balance, which we did… and then he seated the next folks in the front. We kind of looked at each other like, why did we have to move?

Michael immediately let it go. I pouted some and then remembered that the front of a lancha rises up when the motor is on and the boat is moving, so the front isn't really a good seat for viewing anyway and I let it go. But the other guy was just not having it. He wanted to take pictures. He got all huffy and got of the lancha entirely and insisted on being able to sit in the front. Then of course when we started off, the back of the boat sank down and the front rose up and there was really no advantage to sitting up there with regard to photo taking. It might have been nice to be further away from the noise of the engine, but the view is better from the back of the boat. Poor guy.

The ride to Livingston is gorgeous and I was really looking forward to it. We passed houses on stilts in the water and passed through mangrove channels and little islands in the middle of the river that are home to egrets and some kind of similar looking bird that's jet black. And part of the boat trip involves stopping a couple of times for photo opportunities. The sky was gray, but still pretty, but it's a cold, windy ride because of the speed of the lancha. I put on my fleece, and everyone else fished out a sweater or jacket; everyone except Michael who claimed he was fine.

Sitting in front of us were a couple and their little girl who looked like she was around six. The lanchero had announced that he was the president of a bank, but we didn't really understand. Anyway, as soon as the boat started, this couple covered up their daughter with a jacket and a little white quilted blanket and pushed her head down. She didn't look as though she was sick or anything, but they were just not letting that wind touch her.

We made a few stops to pick up passengers, and once we stopped so that the lanchero could go to his house for something. Three other kids got on the lancha and no one covered them up, so I guess there was just something special about this little girl.

And then we arrived at Livingston. Livingston is home to a large number of Garifuna people, who are descended from a mix of African and indigenous people. They look just like black people that you see in New York, and in fact there is actually an immigrant Garifuna community in New York, and people who pass back and forth, so you'll find a lot of New York style among the Livingston people. And that's all very interesting, but I came for the food. I have been dreaming about tapado for the past four years. It's a stew made of fish, shrimp, crabs and plantains in a coconut milk broth that is just amazing. I'm going to eat it every night.

The tourist portion of the town is mainly one long strip lined with restaurants and Garifuna ladies who braid hair. I got a lot of stares from these hair braiders. Anyway, we set about looking for a room, but the couple we saw were kind of dank. Then we met Jason, who was born in what he called "Los Scandalous." He said he'd take us to his hotel, so we went with him. He sure had a lot of energy.

Skipping ahead a bit, we took a room at his hotel, the King George. Then later when, we realized that neither one of us particularly liked it, we had a little fightscussion about communication methods and how we can figure out which rooms we like without offending the guy whose hotel it is, and whether turning down the room would offend him, and if it matters if we offend him or not. There were a bunch of mosquitos in the room and Michael predicted that we'd be eaten alive. Then he took a nap on one bed while I read on the other.

Later we felt better and went out for dinner. We both had tapado and it was as good as I remembered. A bit messy because everything is whole - unpeeled shrimp and crab and whole fish, head and all, but so so good. Tapado.

HOURS IN A LANCHA: 2

 

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Fisherman.

Our lanchero.

The Rio Dulce.

Another village.

Kids on a dock on the Rio Dulce.

Lancha passengers.

Cotton candy girl.