The first thing you need to know about Harvest Caye is that it’s pronounced Harvest “Key.” Now go back and re-read the title and post to the comments section: “who wrote this, Dr. Seuss?” Because in Prof. Cruise’s class, flattery gets you everywhere. As does chocolate. So if you were being sarcastic, a king-sized Kit Kat will re-good you in my graces.
Now, the second thing you need to know is that Harvest Caye (you accidentally said “cay” again didn’t you?) is an island off the coast of southern Belize.
But, by way of a third fact you may pretend not to hear, “la la la,” the island is owned by Norwegian Cruise Line (NCL) and offers nothing of the rich cultural experience you promised your kid’s teacher in order to justify pulling him out of school for three weeks. Be sure to block Mr. Michael from Facebook before posting the following:
And instead divert him from your trail with a photo you dug up from an entirely unrelated trip to Portland, Oregon and the famous Powell’s Books:
Don’t forget to include the caption: working hard on vacation! which is technically not a lie as you didn’t specify which vacation.
While Harvest Caye does not offer much by way of an authentic, immersive Belizean experience unless you choose to purchase an excursion that will ferry you off the island to the nearby city of Placencia, you’ll find plenty there for a relaxing beach or pool day, an island adventure, or a break from ship provisions. Not that I will ever tire of NCL’s breakfast rice, Indian curries, and soufflés, but others, hoping to avoid “predicable” as their signature characteristic, “that Prof. Cruise is so predictable,” might enjoy a change of pace.
Or, like us, you might be wondering…
You said “Cay” again, didn’t you? I give up. Go back to texting your buddy two chairs away about your plans to further avoid me, or rather the homework I’ve assigned, later tonight. And I’ll continue lecturing to myself and the fly buzzing around, attracted to the dog do I stepped in, “oh, crap!” cutting across the lawn at a sprinter’s pace to arrive on time to an empty classroom where my students would languidly meander in, leaving a trail of slime behind them while retreating into their shells at the smell of a backed up toilet in the nearby men’s dorm or their incontinent professor. Both reasonable speculations, I’ll admit.
Anyway, our visit to Harvest Caye was just one of ten ports of call during our 21 day cruise on the Norwegian Pearl. A sailing taking us from New Orleans through the Panama Canal and back up the Pacific Coast to our home port of Seattle where we would boo and hiss and hand gesture at the sight of our downtown apartment as we pulled into Pier 66, causing an innocent bystander joining us on the Promenade deck to think she had offended us with her breath: “I normally brush, but I didn’t want to miss the Space Needle.”
But due to our long, but never long enough, itinerary we needed to pinch our pennies at Harvest Caye and, while neglecting to do our homework in advance (do as I say, not as I do), we stumbled upon the following 12 free activities for which we did not let a bit of precipitation stop us from enjoying (after all, we’re from Seattle where rain is a season and bumper stickers read: “rain happens”):
But fail to mention that you passed out at the first bend and spent the next 6 hours doing this:
The first thing you’ll see upon stepping off the gangway and attempting to shake free from your sea legs is a long, thankfully shaded, pier leading you from the ship to the entrance to Harvest Caye. There are trams available for anyone with mobility issues or who overindulged at breakfast (Prof. Cruise) or brought too many beach toys to carry with anything short of 8 arms (not Prof. Cruise – stay tuned).
While I was asleep under my hat, my teaching/travel assistant “H” was attempting his:
At seven acres, the beach at Harvest Caye is extensive and features well over 2,000 loungers with sporadic umbrellas and palm trees offering shade, all free to use. Get off the ship early for the best selection.
Numbers 3, 4, and 5 below will cover additional free beach activities.
Intact shells are plentiful, but you should also know that the sand at Harvest Caye was manufactured, made from pulverized seashells. So while security won’t let you bring your collection back onboard, you’ll have the last laugh three weeks later when you’re still washing microscopic shells out of your naughty bits back home in Oklahoma. “Ha!”
Or rather the antipode (opposite side of the world) of Harvest Caye, which is the west island of the Cocos Islands, an external territory of Australia located in the India Ocean. But you’ll have to do it with two spoons borrowed from the Lido buffet if you’re parents didn’t come prepared with beach toys (guilty).
You’ll feel like a winner either way. And while I don’t condone faking a drowning and diverting resources from the safety and well-being of others, I won’t go so far as to discourage poor swimmers from taking a dip. Because trust me, the worst that can happen is that you won’t need to be rescued.
But alas, our time at the beach came to an abrupt end when “H” declared loudly that he needed to pee following up with, “but I’ll just do it in the ocean.” I quickly whisked him away to the pool where they have chemicals for that sort of thing.
The crowds cleared out quickly upon our approach and we had this whole place to ourselves! Even those who reserved expensive private cabanas cut their losses and abandoned their cushy chambers like a hurricane was imminent.
Looking for a little more action, but don’t want to pay for zip lining ($89) or the ropes course ($19)? This delightful ruse involves positioning your husband, in my case Mr. Cruise, directly under the giant blue tipping bucket as seen at the very top center in the above photo. Tell him you want to take his picture: “stand right here for a second while I snap a quick photo for my blog.” Then if you time it right, “three, two, one,” he’ll get a surprise splash at the exact moment he was expecting only a flash.
Any pint-sized witnesses to this stunt will giggle uproariously, ceasing to be intimidated by Mr. Cruise’s size upon discovering him a good sport and will turn the water shooters on him while taunting: “get me! get me!”
Then tease her with the comments:
#1 looks like her lecturing. She’s gone and put herself to sleep!
#2 for the receding chin and her refusal to accept that she’s over 40 now and needs to moisturize.
#3 is Prof. Cruise awkwardly trying out to be a flyer on her high school cheerleading squad even though she’s clearly built to be a base.
Turns out they do. And because parrots learn through repetition, you’ll find the three most common phrases spoken by visitors to the Wildlife Experience are as follows: “ahhh, shade,” “Bill hold my purse,” and “sure, if there’s cash in there. No one around this place will accept my ship card!”
With regard to that last one, keep in mind that food and drinks are not included as part of your cruise fare or your beverage package, as is often the case on cruise line owned islands. So bring cash or a credit card if you plan to eat, drink, or buy anything in the shops.
But both the Wildlife Experience and the Blue Morpho Butterfly Sanctuary are included for free. So if Polly asks you for cash, know she’s running a scam.
With a 6 year-old, window shopping sounds something like this: “can I have this mom?” “No.” “Can I have this mom? “No.” And you’ll look at the bin of stuffed toy parrots and think, “I know what you guys would say if you could talk: can I have this mom. No.”
But be prepared for a lecture on diplomacy and nothing but that boring guy with the zip-up sweaters and slightly creepy imagination on the telly upon your return home.
If you guess blogger, I can tell you with a high degree of certainty and relevant experience that you’re wrong. And if you’re thinking, “maybe if I stand here long enough, they’ll invite me in for a tour and a cocktail,” you’re also wrong. Again, based on experience.
One of my favorite things about being a travel blogger, besides not having to do real work, is that I get to tell stories. Sometimes with words and sometimes with pictures. And while I’m not much of a photographer and the most expensive camera I ever owned sits, as a man-made reef of sorts, at the bottom of a lake at Raccoon Creek State Park in Western Pennsylvania due to an unfortunate misunderstanding with a canoe, the best photography advice I ever received was to capture people and places and emotions in the same frame. Where were you? Who was there? What were you doing? And, most importantly, how did you feel? To tell a story.
And if I had to choose one photograph to capture our day in Harvest Caye (I’ll let your mispronunciation slide this once for rhyming purposes), it would be this:
It tells the story of a little boy and the only grandpa he’d ever meet. And the one he almost lost. As “Poppi” neared the end of his battle with a genetic liver disease two years prior to this trip, I confess to having wondered with regret and heartache if “H” would be too young to remember him. That a whole generation of men and their unique life experiences and lessons and unconditional love would be missing from his life, as my own dear father had passed away from Multiple Myeloma before H was born.
But thanks to organ donation, this picture captures a brief and simple moment in time shared between a grandfather and his grandson. One that almost didn’t happen. A hand on a shoulder before H would scurry off into the waves and Poppi would take shelter in the shade.
Fleeting and fragile and precious and beautiful and funny (notice H’s two spoons?), much like life itself. And while this photo could have been posed anywhere, the red lifeguard tower and smattering of blue loungers and yellow umbrellas and palm trees in the background will remind us that it happened at Harvest Caye. A little island off the coast of Belize, staged, but still with a story to tell. Where we didn’t spend a dime, but managed to have a wonderful time.
And with that, not that you’ll do it, but it’s my job to assign…
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Class Dismissed.
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