One of the most striking things about my recent cruise through the gorgeous blue waters of the Caribbean was a new presence in the region.
I noticed it first when we arrived in Georgetown, capital city of the Cayman Islands. It was a rainy day, as wave after wave of heavy tropical squalls dosed all who ventured ashore on the tenders. Georgetown was neat as a pin and orderly, reflective of the status of Grand Cayman as a financial haven. The buildings and roads were well maintained, the cars mostly new or late model. Being a bit of a car obsessive, I noticed those most of all. There were countless Hondas, particularly Honda Fits, tiny little practical hatchbacks that we no longer can buy in the United States because we 'Muricans like burning guzzoline.
The Fits were all the newer version, meaning they run a hybrid drivetrain, getting 55 mpg-plus on an island where gas runs about six US dollars per gallon.
But there were other cars, cars I'd never personally seen. Like, say, this one, a sleek modern SUV:
It's a Changan, meaning it's Chinese. There were all sorts of similar Chinese brands puttering about in Georgetown, which marks a shift from six years ago, the last time I came through the Caribbean. Six years ago, there weren't any. Now? Chinese vehicles are everywhere. Chinese tourists are also everywhere in the region, taking pictures and spending money.
Later in the trip, during our stop in Belize, Rache and I had lunch at a little riverside cafe, where I sampled a local beer and watched iguanas fighting and mating near the outdoor dining area. After eating, I wandered around the grounds, where I encountered a little motorcycle that had been left running. 
It was a cop bike, emblazoned with the insignia of the local police force. The cop, who'd stopped for lunch, came back bearing a takeout bag, and we chatted bikes for a bit. "What is it?" I asked.
"It's a one fifty. It's Chinese," he said.
The tiered structures stood stark against the sky, arranged with sacred intent around a reminder of a proud and ancient culture that fell prey to ecological changes and the aggressive incursions of another, more technologically sophisticated society.
Near the entrance to the temple complex was a concrete marker. It memorialized the archaeological efforts that had surfaced this monument to the history of the region. The decades-old stone upon which it had been carved was beginning to fade and wear with time, but the words upon it were clear:
"ALTUN HA. Work at this site was made possible through the joint efforts of the Government of Belize and USAID."
One wonders, as those proud ancient Americans withered away, if they recognized the signs that marked the end of their greatness.
Do we?
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