'Welcome to Caye Caulker - Paradise'. Music to my ears. A skinny island a couple of kilometres long, free from cars and their fumes and with transport instead taking the form of golf carts and rickety bikes, CC was hit by a hurricane in the sixties, leaving a split which now conveniently provides the perfect place for ignoring all sunbathing advice, and catching some serious rays. And, if less inclined to laziness, hitting bright blue water with your snorkel on to catch sight of some tropical fish. I was practically hopping with excitement when we stepped off our boat onto Caye Caulker, which is quite an achievement when carrying a (admittedly less so than when I started but nevertheless) whopping great big backpack. My palpitations were caused by the brochure worthy, crystal clear waters which swirled underneath the jetty we tottered along to reach shore. Ohoho I could barely wait to get my bikini on and have a splash! Which is why it was a bit of a bummer that we had to traipse around for quite a while to find a budget-worthy place of accommodation. Team's tempers were fraying (hunger + tiredness = grumpy travellers) by the time we had thrown our packs down in what was a totally bling, yet bargain-priced new hotel room. Ok, so we were sharing 2 double beds between the four of us, but this was the norm by now, and it was the fridge, the microwave and our own mugs which got me really excited. Tea! (as it turned out these mugs were later used for Cuba Libres, but I was initially optimistic). By the time we hit this part of Belize we were all working to overcome our undeniable English rosiness and were starting to acquire beach bronzed tints, so as a result of the next five days there, and several days in Mexico, I am now sporting probably the deepest tan I've ever had in my life. Scrap the English Rose title - you can all call me British Beach Babe. And so five more horizontal days ensued. An average day might consist of the following or some variation thereof: suncream application, breakfast, walk down the island to 'The Split', lie down, walk up the island for lunch, walk back, lie down, walk up for a juice, walk back, lie down, walk back home, decrisp from the day, crack into some Lobster for dinner (2 quid, TWO QUID!!!), shlurp a Cuba Libre, and head out to the local club 'Oceanside' to: sing karaoke/prove that English girls can dance (in spite of the Caribbean boys' teasing)/break some local hearts (the Belizean boys fall as frequently as they fall fast). The easy bliss was broken only by one day of sailing and snorkelling in the surrounding reefs and waters of crystalline turquoise perfection, which thronged with sealife, and where we saw turtles, stingrays, nurse and reef sharks, and the most colourful variety of tropical fish I've yet to clap eyes on. I had to wrench myself away from the country. Sob. Food Fiends

• Lobster (grilled)
• Lobster (with garlic)
• Lobster (in salad)
• oh, and shrimp
• ha!