Having had to ask for special dispensation from Yannik to spend just the one night here, I've ended up staying four.
This must be one of the few places where I'd actually consider growing a beard. Who knows, given another week I might even have taken up yoga.
Las Ranitas used to mark the end point of development; now you have to walk another km or two to the south before reaching the 'pristine' stretch of coast, and that still continues for many more kms until the arrival of some headland which I have yet to pass.
The other day the driver told me that the authorities have called a halt on the push south, at least until most of the half-done dream homes on the already-developed part of the beach have been properly finished off. We shall see...
The long flat shelf of sand in front of the beach means that even in apparently flat seas, the waves swell up surprisingly on final approach. But the undertow is fairly benign and it's not like Mazunte where the joy of simply floating on the surf is tempered by the real fear that a rogue roller can always come along and snuff you out. (Sadly the fate of Francisco Goldman's wife Aura, in whose memory a new literary prize for young Latin American women has been established.)
Yesterday there was a lot of wildlife around suddenly. Little blue-headed crabs were scuttling all over the beach and I almost tripped over an egret as I strolled back along the wavy line of the wet sand last night.
I can't help thinking that on this occasion Belize would have been a bit of an anti-climax, so I have re-jigged my intinerary accordingly and will be off back to the Chiapas highlands tomorrow.