Ben Welsher | Writings

In no particular order other than chronologically. McSorley's Irish Bar ...36 beers stagger us but not as much as the $90 bill... Our first night on our first day in our first country of many to come found us in this Irish bar whose history dates back well over a hundred years. Presidents, poets and paupers drank here and now so had we two peripatetic Englishmen. Conversation was struck up with locals on the timeless and ever novel subject of differing nationalities and backgrounds, a scene to be repeated again and again on this trip. We staggered home happy, drunk and with empty wallets, a scene to be repeated again and again on this trip. Snorkeling in Belize ...I felt as if part of the ocean. I must confess to an apprehension of the water borne of watching a particular film as a child, I believe the medical condition is known as 'Spielbergian scarring'. I didn't realise though that Mike's watery inhibitions put mine to shame. But he did it and he loved it ...

Day 9 - Belize City Night was not Belize City's best side, black was not its colour. We fell in a parabolic curve down through Mexico, gravitating towards the little country sitting below the peninsula. The book helpfully outlined the places not to walk at night in Belize City - just about everywhere. We caught a cab with a German called Benton or Fenton or something and made for the Smokin' Balam Guesthouse. Our landlady also instructed us to 'be careful' and with nervous glances all around we walked to the main street in search of sustenance. We collared a copper to ask about gringo-friendly venues and though his suggestion of a bar down a dark alley was not taken seriously his advice to 'stay safe' certainly was, despite the fact that he should surely have a hand in that. Carmita's by the famous swing bridge was relatively friendly and a couple of buckets of Belikin (Belize's #1 beer, sorry, 1 beer) softened our angst. We had Lyndon's (after Joh...