Belize Beginnings — From Hong Kong to the Caribbean
From airport to island life in just a few hours — my first glimpse of Belize.
Covid just sucked.
But if there was one silver lining, it gave me time — time to save, plan, and dream a little bigger.
Somewhere between lockdown boredom and endless travel daydreams, I decided to challenge myself: one country per month, for a year, on a $1000 USD budget per country.
The most I’d ever traveled was two or three months at a time, but I wanted to know if I could really do it — a full year with no job, no home, and no routine. My original goal was to make it all the way through Central and South America — from Belize to Brazil for Carnival, with Peru’s Machu Picchu and the Galápagos Islands somewhere in between. I’d never set foot on that continent before, and it was time.
Even with a mask and travel bans, I was already planning my next flight — Belize was waiting.
After Some Researching…
I realized that starting in Central America made sense — cheap, tropical, and (contrary to what the Canadian travel advisory suggested) relatively safe for solo travellers. Dozens of backpackers do this route every year and live to tell the tale. I figured if they could do it, so could I.
I braced myself for the usual travel mishaps — lost phones, sketchy Wi-Fi, and a few sleepless bus rides — and promised to follow the golden rules: no flashing valuables, no wandering alone after dark, and always trust your instincts.
The start of it all!
Volunteering Instead of Vacationing
When I began pricing accommodation in Belize, I nearly choked. Even the cheapest hotels started around $110 USD a night, which would have wrecked my budget in less than a week.
That’s when the idea hit: what if I volunteered?
After some researching, I found Wildtracks, a wildlife-rehabilitation centre caring for rescued monkeys and manatees. As a Marine Biology graduate, it sounded like fate. The one-month placement cost $750 USD, including meals and lodging — perfectly within budget. I applied immediately and was thrilled when they said yes.
From Hong Kong’s Ocean Park to Belize’s lagoons — following my love for marine life, one ocean at a time.
Wrapping Up Life in Hong Kong
My teaching contract in Hong Kong ended in mid-September, giving me a few days to clear out my apartment before the flight. My plan was simple: pack, hand off things people were coming to pick up in the morning, and head to the airport that night.
Then came the curveball.
While I was printing my plane ticket, my coworker Yoki looked up and asked,
“What time’s your flight?”
“Ten p.m.,” I said.
She looked surprised.
“Are you sure?”
Cue panic.
Turns out, the airline had moved my departure time from 10 p.m. to 9 a.m. — that same morning.
Thankfully, my friend Lance swooped in like a superhero, helping me pack the last of my things at lightning speed. We finally collapsed into bed around 2 a.m., and I was up again by 5. I grabbed a Starbucks hot chocolate at the airport — I didn’t care what it cost — and hoped the sugar rush would make up for the lack of sleep.
I wasn’t exactly bright-eyed for my grand departure.
Meet the heroes of my chaotic Hong Kong send-off — Lance packed boxes at 2 a.m., and Yoki saved me from missing my flight entirely.
The Journey That Never Ended
I slept almost the entire Hong Kong → Vancouver flight, waking only for meals. The 12-hour layover in an empty Vancouver airport felt surreal — like being stuck in a movie set after everyone had gone home. Once I finally boarded again, sleep became impossible. Between short connections, airport noise, and constant time changes, I didn’t get a single proper rest through the next legs: Vancouver → Seattle → Texas → Belize.
By the time I landed, I’d lost all sense of what day it was.
Hong Kong → Vancouver → Seattle → Texas → Belize — 36 hours, four flights, and zero sleep.
Welcome to Belize
Customs wasn’t the quickest. We had to go through a health check before reaching the main customs line, and that wait dragged on. But once I reached the counter, the officer was friendly and cheerful. He stamped my passport and said, “Enjoy your time in Belize!” — and just like that, I was officially in Central America.
I shared a taxi to the ferry dock with a mother and her son — it was about a 30-minute drive, and splitting the fare made it much more reasonable. We just missed the ferry, but I bought my ticket, dropped off my big backpack, and decided to walk around for a bit while waiting for the next one. The area was quiet — not a soul around — and after some photos (including my first Belize sign photo!) I went back to the dock early. There was no way I was missing this boat.
The ferry first stopped at Caye Caulker, the famously chill “Go Slow” island, before continuing to San Pedro, which I chose since it was closer to Wildtracks. I may have been exhausted — I hadn’t slept since leaving Vancouver — but I was too excited to close my eyes. That mix of adrenaline and disbelief was the only thing keeping me awake as we skimmed across the turquoise Caribbean.
Welcome to Belize — hot, humid, and full of promise.
Drift Inn San Pedro
From the pier, it was about a 15-minute walk to my hostel, Drift Inn San Pedro — a relaxed, friendly spot owned by a young American woman who hires locals to help run it. I completely lucked out: I had the entire ten-bed dorm to myself.
Determined to beat jet lag, I decided to stay awake until local bedtime. I opened the 750 ml bottle of Belizean rum I’d picked up and video-called my best friend Bryce. We chatted and laughed until 10 p.m., the absolute latest my eyes could stay open. I fell asleep before my head even hit the pillow.
When I woke up at 12 p.m. the next day, I’d slept a solid fourteen hours without even stirring — not a single bathroom break. I’d missed breakfast completely and went straight to lunch. The hostel had its own little restaurant overlooking the street with a peek-a-boo view of the ocean, and the smell of frying plantains was enough to get me moving. I promised myself a true ocean-view meal the next day.
Rum, laughter, and a call with my best friend Bryce — the perfect end to a 36-hour travel blur.
Slow Island Days
I only had 48 hours in San Pedro, but after weeks of packing and travel chaos, slowing down felt incredible.
After lunch, I went exploring north of Drift Inn. The sun was blazing, the streets quiet, and the air heavy with salt. I didn’t see another person the entire walk, but I stopped often — to take photos, sip from my water bottle, rest under palm trees, and chase iguanas lounging on the rocks and sandy paths. The island was bigger than I expected, and after a while I gave up on finding the beach. I should have rented a golf cart.
Later that afternoon, I researched a small outdoor gym nearby. Even though I couldn’t lift weights the same way I did back in Hong Kong, I still aimed for at least an hour of exercise each day. The gym was tucked closer to where boats depart for Sarteneja, not near the beach, but it felt amazing to move again after so many flights.
Even in paradise — an hour of exercise keeps me grounded (and guilt-free for later snacks).
After working out, I wandered the streets until I heard music and cheering echoing through the warm air. Following the sound, I found a volleyball court buzzing with energy. I climbed the bleachers to watch the men’s game while a group of women practised on the side.
One of them came over and smiled.
“We’re one player short — want to join?”
I laughed. “I haven’t played in forever. I’m probably terrible.”
She shrugged. “Doesn’t matter. We just need someone.”
So I jumped in — completely rusty, missing serves left and right — but laughing the entire time. We didn’t win a single match, but that didn’t matter. After months of waiting, planning, and packing, I was finally here.
As I walked back to the hostel that night, warm air and distant music swirling around me, I couldn’t stop smiling. Belize was already reminding me why I love being unsettled.
Tomorrow, I’d catch the water taxi to Sarteneja and begin my volunteer placement with Wildtracks — the real adventure was about to begin.
My first night in Belize — joining locals for a friendly volleyball game under the lights.
