Belize is a poor country. There is little industry, technology, and/or big business in general. From the perspective of the local nationals, Americans are infinitely more wealthy. Whereas they might have enough money to go grab a Coke or Coke Light one day, we seem to have bags of money that allow us to fly across the globe and stay in foreign lands for weeks at a time.
This circumstance leads to interesting interactions in Belize. Recall the car rental place from a few posts back. Liz and I were immediately “assisted” by a scruffy looking man with a thick accent who practically grabbed our bags out of our hands and tried to recruit us into one of the other rental car shops. He wouldn’t leave us alone; he kept leaving and coming back to the shop with status reports and commenting on how bad Belize Auto Rental was.
I pretty much knew that I was going to have to tip this guy. I didn’t want to and I didn’t think he deserved one considering he forced his services upon us. But he’s broke and this is clearly the way he made his money. And, lets not forget that I am the rich American with tons of excess cash.
Tipping became a source of frustration for Liz and I. We received very good service from Beulah and Robbie and Jen and Chris at the hotels. And we felt they should get tipped, beyond the service charge added to our hotel bill. And the guys at Ecologic Divers were great! But as Liz had mentioned before, it wasn’t something we’d fully budgeted for, and we made some generous tips that were larger than our pocket change could sustain.
This challenge and frustration hit its peak when we were at the Belcove restaurant on our last night in Belize. Jules is the son of the owner of Belcove. He was visiting at he time of our stay. He welcomed us and was very friendly and declared that he would help us with our bags. He clarified “this is my family’s hotel. It won’t cost you anything.” But I was so distressed and programmed at that point, that I didn’t know what to do. So I tried to tip him.
He refused and repeated his connection to the hotel. I never felt more like an ugly American than at that point. Granted, I might not have looked like it, but I felt that way. We were so razzled by the tipping that we no longer knew what to do.
Our lesson learned and the corresponding travel tip is:
Understand that where you are going, the norms about service and compensation are different. The standard of living might be much different and many live off the tips they are given for their services. Understand that, appreciate it and have an idea how you are going to deal with it. — I once read a book full of little pieces of advice. One line said “tip well. The person serving you needs the money more than you do.” This is written to a son whom the father assumes will make his way in this world with some kind of “white collar” job. Assuming that is the case, then the advice is true. With that mindset, Liz and I are happy we rewarded those that helped us. We just wish we didn’t need the money as much as we do!