Leaving a cloudy Caye Caulker and an empty hostel behind me as we all went our separate ways, I walked to the bus terminal against the advice of the taxi drivers who wanted to relieve me of rather a lot of my remaining Belize dollars. I had been informed by some reliable locals that it was a 15 minute walk, so I figured I'd be there in five minutes as I've still not mastered to art of waking slower than I can crawl. Upon arrival I decided to spend the extra couple of dollars taking the "express" bus which is a vaguely comfortable coach rather than a chicken bus as this would deliver me to the bus terminal rather than a random street in a city I have no inclination to spend a whole day loitering around in. In hindsight I'd have been better off just setting off from Caye Caulker a little later and not bothering to catch the last "express" service as I got ditched at the border by the bus as the driver obviously decided that waiting for the gringa to fill in her form and wait in the queue would be a waste of his time. Fortunately I had taken all of my belongings from the bus as I do not like to leave them behind, and I am sure that if I had left them on the bus this would not have made a blind bit of difference to the idiot driver. As I walked out of the "nothing to declare" area I was surrounded by a swarm of taxi drivers desperate to take me to my destination. Slipping right back into Spanish I explained to them that I had a bus and it should be around here somewhere. My fruitless search for the massive white bus which would be impossible to miss left me feeling pretty stupid in front of these guys who must see this happen all the time.

With just a couple of Belize dollars remaining in my pocket after the ridiculously extortionate exit fee, it became apparent that I was going to have to pay again for the stretch from the border to the town where I was due to be hovering all day. Thankfully I was in no rush to get there! I found a bus that I was able to pay for with my last remaining Belize dollars. (Possibly the worst exchange rate in the history of the World was given here, but it was still cheaper than a taxi.) Unsurprisingly this bus did not terminate (or even pass by) the terminal, but it went fairly near the central market which also happened to be home to a minor bus terminal where I could at least find out the times and prices of the buses out of there that night, and I could pay a much needed visit to a cashpoint.

Armed with a healthy wad of cash, a list of bus times and directions to the main terminal I set off on foot once again; this time I'd been given an estimated time of at least 30 minutes, and even a distance which sounded like I'd be walking quite a bit longer once laiden with my bane of a backpack. About a minute after I set off I stumbled across a shop whose walls were lined with really nice tattoo designs, and my eye was immediately caught. As I still had plenty of time (6 hours) before the next bus with vacant seats was due to leave, I stepped in to take a look. I've been considering getting a tattoo for quite a while, and have plenty of ideas floating around in my head that just look rubbish when I put pencil to paper. I really liked the designs of this guy, so I asked him if he would like to help me get my thoughts out of my head onto paper, and maybe even onto my skin if I was happy. I have never wanted to get a generic design that I have found by leafing through tattoo books, but rather something that was uniquely made for me, and preferably not drawn by my own fair hand as I want it to at least vaguely resemble the ideas in my head!

After about an hour of discussions on what I wanted and a few sketches, he was pretty confident he understood what I wanted - quite impressive considering it's been over a week since I spoke a word of Spanish. Since coming on this trip I've had a couple of visits to the hairdresser, which to be honest has been difficult at times to explain what it is that I want... something like a tattoo is along the same lines, just a little more complicated and a hell of a lot more important to get right! He seemed to understand me well enough though, and I appreciated the opportunity to practice my Spanish. Once we had all the ideas coming together he informed me that he had to close the shop so that he could go and pick up his wife and kids, but that he would be back within an hour and would continue to work on the design if I'd like to return in a couple of hours. I figured this would give me time to go to get a quick bite to eat and to use the internet to check this guy is legit, and also confirm that the Mayan symbol I wanted to use did indeed mean what I thought and not something random like "toilet" or "stupid foreigner".

I kept all of my bags with me, and I did consider just continuing my walk to the main terminal, but I figured I owed the guy at least the opportunity to satisfy my design curiosities and I could pay him for his time working on bringing my thoughts to life. I mean, who seriously considers getting a tattoo directly ahead of a 13 hour bus journey? Especially when it's their first one, and not exactly going to be small! When I got back to the shop (safe in the knowledge that the Mayan symbol was correct and he was indeed a tattoo artist with a healthy bit of experience under his belt), he was almost done with the design and I loved it. After a couple of tweaks under my direction I was stood holding a design much better than the one I've had sitting in the back of my mind all this time. As soon as I saw the completed image I knew I would be getting a permanent reminder of this process that very night.

We agreed a price and I got myself as comfortable as possible as Pepe assured me that it doesn't really hurt, and he even fell asleep whilst getting one of the ones on his arm... I told him that just as long as he stays awake for this one I'll be happy. The transfer was created and placed onto my skin after being cleaned up (thankfully no shaving was required), the inks were set up and the needle-gun-thingymajig was ready to start buzzing its evil sound.

At this point I'd like to say that Pepe is a big fat liar - it does hurt, and quite a lot at times! However once I'd started that was it. I was getting the full shebang. In all honesty there was large portions that didn't hurt that much, but over bones and in sensitive areas it is probably the most uncomfortable I've been for a prolonged period of time... can't wait for childbirth! In total it took three hours to finish all the inking, including a couple of breaks that I had to call to give my body a rest, and at least have a fighting chance of achieving a state of "mind over matter" and simple things like remembering to breathe. During this time various locals wandered into the shop to see what was going on with the white blond girl lying on a sofa. I lost count of how many people asked if they could take a look, with the second question after this being without fail "te duele?", and my response pretty much always being "si, a veces... como ahora!" as they always seemed to come at the most painful sections. One of the curious passersby got to play photographer, just in case I ever forget this experience! I even managed to crack a smile so it looks like I'm quite enjoying myself - I can assure you that looks can be deceiving and I am in fact rather uncomfortable.

Once it was complete and I was happy with everything, I got cling-filmed up and informed of after-care procedures, paid Pepe for his torture services, and set back on my merry way to the main bus terminal, carrying my big backpack over my new tattoo which was not exactly comfortable. As it was late and I did not fancy a 10.30pm stroll through an unknown city with all my possessions for anywhere up to an hour (now that I was walking Belize speed thanks to the new addition to my body), I treated myself to a taxi.

Luckily there was still space on one of the buses leaving that night, and I only had to wait for less than an hour before it was due to leave. So there I was at the end of what I expected to be a very uneventful day. Just one of the things I love about backpacking is the spontaneity that is so widely present, and being alone allows me to make whatever decisions I want to make my day as good for me as possible. I had no idea when I woke up that morning that I was definitely leaving Caye Caulker, that I would be ditched at the border and end up taking another bus to a different part of town whereby I stumble across the guy who I want to tattoo me. With less than a month to go, I am coming to realise that it is the days like this I will miss immensely. It is not all about sightseeing, tanning and eating great food: there are so many life-changing circumstances and decisions that arise all the time. This day is just one example of this, and one that has left me with a physical (and permanent) reminder of the randomness of my life at the moment... I love it!