Do you Belize? Caye Caulker!

The speedboat takes you 40 kilometres out into the Caribbean over turquoise blue, smooth water. The cayes off Belize City are small reef islands and the melting pot for all international travellers between Alaska and Tierra del Fuego. The Pan-American Highway clearly runs over water here.

Caye Caulker is small. At just 1,500 metres by 500 metres, the houses are stacked high and narrow. There is hardly any open ground; countless bars and restaurants ate it up a long time ago. The only open spaces are the sandy streets, a football pitch and the cemetery.

Caye Caulker is struggling with the property mania and climate change. More and more buildings are increasing the pressure on the land – and the sea level is rising. Business-minded pub owners therefore launched the “Do you Belize?” campaign. Everyone has to believe in something. Visitors to Caye Caulker believe that they can reduce the weight of the island through heavy alcohol consumption – and thus save it from sinking. During my five days on Caye Caulker, the highest point remained at exactly 53 cm, despite the greatest willingness to sacrifice. We probably should have drunk more beer than rum.

At sunset, the whole island gathers at the Lazy Lizard on the northern tip. Boats pull up right in front of the bar, while children swim through a ferry channel to the nearby neighbouring island. The beer flows so heavily from buckets here that the island should actually tip over.

For the first time in a month, I finally have some wind again. Not much, but when it blows over 20 knots, that’s a lot on Caye Caulker. But I’m on the water three days out of five. There’s only one reason you can’t call the launch site “crappy”: There isn’t one. We set up on a few square metres of sand between closely spaced trees. Roll up the lines again and jump into the water with the kite over a one metre high quay wall with protruding nails. The few stones are avoidable, but a Norwegian woman tries to flatten a sea urchin on the very first day. He wins. Once someone has launched the kite in the water, the spot is okay: turquoise shallow water, numerous piers and yacht masts are easy to navigate around.

On two evenings, small Caribbean lows pass through. The wind suddenly picks up to 25 knots. This makes Caye Caulker a spot for music lovers among kiters: you can now watch the band in the last pub from above while jumping.

After the evening session, we head into the centre of Caye Caulker with good people. The concerts in the Sports Bar are legendary. Caye Caulker only has one band, but it’s good and plays the right songs. Half the pub dances on the tables to “Freebird”. Everyone gets a free shot for this.

After two days, I know the stories of half the island. There’s the pizza chef whose wife is buying. The 130kg ex-pastor who steels his muscles with mouse clicks. And here we are: a small international bunch of travellers, wonderful and cruel at the same time. “The best days of our lives” simply doesn’t work as an everyday concept.

The army of bedbugs apparently living in my bed at Bella’s Hostel agrees. For four days, they kept my participation in the island rescue well in check. Before the 13-hour journey to Mexico, I stay sober for one night and hardly get any sleep because of the bedbugs. In the early morning, a festering, bloody, scratched zombie drags itself to the pier.