Over the past four days, since my arrival in Placencia, Belize, I have eaten more cookies than the cookie monster himself could possibly manage. It is a good job we are moving on as if not I would have turned in to one giant cookie and not managed to get back into the tiny plane that brought us to this peninsula. As nice a place this would be to be marooned, eating cookies forever after; I think I quite like my life in England after all, so I will pass.

Back to the cookies, the culprit was the cookie jar that sat on the wooden table in our beach hut, looking regally out to sea, awaiting visitors to pass by on the way to and from the beach to be tempted into its contents.

Cookie Jar Poised in Prime Position
Cookie Jar Poised in Prime Position

Soft and chewy discs with chunky chips of chocolate speckled throughout. On arrival to Francis Ford Coppola’s Turtle Inn, our warm host kindly informed us that the cookie jar would be replenished daily with home-made fresh cookies. If we ate at a faster pace than possibly human (that of, say, a monster, of the cookie type!), we had merely to call the kitchens on the shell-phone… That’s right… A mighty conch provides communication in this beach haven (the calamari-esque interior of this beautiful shell is also delicious deep-fried in the country’s classic conch fritter dish!). Within the half hour, after my tummy grumbled in request for a replenishment of freshly baked treats, the jar was filled and the world was once again at peace… Un-belize-able!

Cookies Only A Conch Call Away!
Cookies Only A Conch Call Away!
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