Last night in Cancun was spent not on the salsa dance floor (as expected), but instead, figuring out how to get to the Belizean embassy in Chetumal, the Mexican town on the northern border of Belize.  It turns out that the friend I am traveling with will need a visa to enter the country because he is from Japan (Mexico doesn't require this).

We took the 8AM bus from Cancun, feeling both excited for the adventures ahead, but also dreading the difficulties.  For example, we both ran out of Mexican pesos, and it's not clear how to transport ourselves to Orange Walk, Belize.  When we got to embassy, it turns out they don't take US dollars, but instead, can only accept payment in pesos (900!).  However, the clerk at the consulate, Gerves, was greatly helpful, telling us where to go change money and even showing my friend a video about Belize as I went to the Mercado Nuevo to change money for us.  It turns out we were lucky.  The consul will be away the next day for family leave, so we earn the opportunity to travel to Belize at just the nick of time.

While changing money I had my first contact with the Belizean people.  I was told of a money changer that stands at the market, but when I got there I found the casa de cambio closed.  I confusingly walked around a bit until I keep running into a big black man with a man waist wallet with him.  It turns out this man, named Charlie, was the casa de cambio.  His physically imposing look did not reflect the reality, that when I started talking about how we may be stuck in Mexico, it turns out he is the smiling, engaging, funny man you might imagine from a TV show taking place in Jamaica.  When I requested changing an additional 40 dollars, he joked that maybe I can change another 1000 so that way he can run out of money and go home.  Thus my first impression of Belize and its people will be happily positive, there's no changing that.

Not everything is positive, though.  At the border, we neglected to exit the Mexican side of the border, and had to walk back with all our luggage, pass Mexican immigration, pay an additional fee, and promptly missed our bus at the other side.

Belize seems substantially different from Mexico.  On the surface, there's the different look of the population, the manner in which they can speak English, the simpler and smaller towns, the crappier looking buses (seems like US school buses from the 60s compared to delux ADO servicio primera classe), and general lower levels of wealth compared to Mexico, at least at the big cities.

But what caught my attention the most was the diversity of Northern Belize: a mixture not only of Mexicans and Belizeans, but also other ethnicities like the Chinese, whose restaurants can finally be seen in Corozal after an amazing lack of them in Yucatan.  As we prepare to arrive at Orange Walk, I am only thinking about one thing after this long and often troublesome day: what will we experience next?