Lake Atitlan and San Pedro

February 6, 2016

San Pedro De Laguna, Lake Atitlan, Guatemala

A week ago we tried to get out of Antigua and head to Lago Atitlan and one of the numerous towns that line the lake. Unfortunately, we didn't make it. John's tummy told him that a van ride of 3 hours wasn't an option. This weekend we are both in fine health and, after some communication mix-ups, were the last two people to get into our shuttle van and head to Panajachel, the largest town on the lake. Being the last two passengers to board has significant disadvantages. Being the smaller of John and me, I rode the jump seat in the middle, between the driver and John, which is akin to sitting on a board. Between the sharp turns with nothing to hang onto, no back support and riding for nearly 3 hours, I'll be happy to avoid that seat for any future van trips. Lucky for me, John was in the passenger seat. He provided support in sharp turns to prevent me falling into the drivers lap.

Our ride terminated, after numerous mountain passes and a long windy road down to the lake, in the midst of a busy intersection, not far from the boat dock. The road is lined with hotels, travel agencies, local vendors and men hussling every person getting off a shuttle to offer a boat ride to the city of their choice on the lake. Each of the men doing the hussle would tell us his name after inquiring about what town we wanted to go to. San Marco? Oh, my name is Marco. San Pedro? Oh, my name is Pedro. Santiago? Oh, my name is Santiago. Rather peculiar, eh? After a bite to eat, we let one young man sell us a ride to San Pedro de Laguna for Q50. Fifty quetzales is equal to about $6.50USD. And yes, his name was Pedro!

The ride on the lake was enjoyable and provided an opportunity to view the spectacular inactive volcanoes that the rise abruptly from the shoreline. They are rugged, very steep and home to many indigenous Mayan groups. We also had some time for conversation with our fellow passengers and some excellent people watching. The boat was around 30 feet long and was loaded with about 24 passengers. Nearly every place we visited during the weekend after boarding the taxi, we brought the average age of the group way up. We were easily the oldest in the taxi by over 30 years. The ride was beautiful, the weather perfect and scenery enchanting. Our water taxi docked in an auxiliary dock just outside of the main part of San Pedro, as the main dock was full of other water taxis.

We were getting set to ride in Alma, but the captain decided to put is on a bit bigger boat. There were more passengers than the Alma could handle. 

We joined the other passengers on a short walk to the main part of town.  San Pedro is typical of every Latin American town I've been to. On the fringes of the waterfront tourist industry, which is quite small, are some of the real people of the town. We walked past the homes and businesses of families who have lived their entire lives there, generation after generation, squeezing a living from the land and the tourist industry. Further outside of the main part of town is one of the many indigenous Mayan communities, whose residents have resisted change for hundreds of years. Both the towns people and the Mayans work the coffee plantations, which abound all over Guatemala. The businesses are run by both Mayans and Guatemaltecos and, while may not be thriving, they provide needed goods and services for the rest of the town.  

Our first job was to procure a spot to sleep for the night and one of the first places into town was Hostel Fe, that has a booming business with the 20-something crowd. At 2 in the afternoon, the patrons were already showing the signs of crazy-ass drunkedness. A bit later in our journey of San Pedro de Atitlan, we discovered that Hostel Fe is THE place for travelers in the 20's and 30's. Later in the day we walked by Hostel FE and saw one of our housemates from Antigua, soaking up some sun and kicking back. We decided to stop in and say hi, then proceeded to meet many interesting, well educated young folks.

One young Australian man said he often prefers to chat with older folks (that's us) in order to gain a better understanding of life. He asked us for one essential piece of advice we can give. John's advice-don't stay in one place too long. John, the philosopher, stressed that he is not talking necessarily about a job or a city. It can be a state of mind, a new way of looking at things, accepting change. The young man liked the answer and we chatted a bit more, before he joined the other youngsters jumping from the second story patio into the lake. It seems to me that the 20-something group of travelers, from all over the world, are learning some very important life lessons in their travel, one of which is tolerance. Tolerance is a value and way of life that, I feel, is in short supply in our world today.

As we continued our walk in search of lodging, we were nearly out of the main section of town where the hotels and restaurants are and found Hotel Maria Elena. This little place on the shoreline, run by a Mayan family, was scrupulously clean and had very comfy beds. For 150 quetzales, we scored. That's less than 20 USD. After we settled in, I dug out my bubbles to play with Maria, one of the owner's children. We had a terrific time, even though I could only speak a few words in Spanish. It seems that bubbles are the international language for kids.

We walked into the uphill areas of town during the afternoon, away from the tourist trade. On our walk, we were passed by a very large Mayan funeral procession. Close to 150 mourners, walking behind the casket with rosary beads in hand, were murmuring their Hail Mary's. Some of the Mayan villages have taken to Catholicism, while others will have nothing to do with 'religion', other than their gods that they have worshipped for centuries. Throughout the town are signs, painted on buildings and doors, telling the residents that only Jesus can save. It seems as though there is a struggle between various denominations for the souls of the indigenous groups that have not converted. On our stroll we saw Baptist, LDS, Presbyterian, Church of Christ, and Catholic churches. I think my biggest surprise were the number of Jewish kibbutzes in San Pedro. We came across three in a single block near the center of the tourist area, along with kosher restaurants.

Just one of the kibbutzes in San Pedro. 

In this town, with it's various denominations  abounding, we found a tribute to San Pedro, complete with a rooster, in the Catholic Church courtyard.   It seems that Mayans and Guatemaltecos work together without the same level of discrimination that we saw in larger, more urban cities. 

This young woman was rinsing the maize, under the supervision of a mother.  Or, more probably, a mother-in-law. 

The tuk-tuks are the easiest way to get around town and up the steep hills of San Pedro. They are a common site in all of the towns. We even saw a few on some busy highways. Beware as a pedestrian however, because they stop for nothing except a potential rider. 

Many homes and businesses in the non-tourist part of town have murals painted on them, depicting ways of life, various gods and staples of the earth that the Mayans have cultivated for generations.

San Pedro is filled with street vendors selling everything from fruit, bread and beautiful weaving to jewelry and crystal healing stones. I happened to get a lovely sculpted pipe from an artist named Pedro. Go figure.

A great photo of Pedro, but the artwork is in shadows. 

As our day passed into evening we visited various bars and eating establishments. We discovered a large number of ex-pats from England and Australia in one pub, ex-pats from all over the world in another and even met yet another man from London who has spent six months in a commune near our home (Cinderland, for those who might know our area). After dinner we hit the sack, as our brains were still exhausted from the week of classes.

Our return on Sunday, from San Pedro all of the way to Antigua, is one I don't want to repeat again. Our 'ferry', about 28 feet long and loaded with close 15 passengers, crossed the lake in some incredibly rough waters. Everyone was bounced around, held onto tarps in a attempt to stay dry and, after our 30 minute crossing, arrived at yet another auxiliary dock as a bunch of wet and battered tourists. Funny thing was, even with the super nasty ride, everyone was laughing, smiling and generally taking it all in stride. This was the easy part of our journey back to Antigua. After hanging out in Panajachel for a few hours, we were picked up by a very grumpy shuttle driver. During our ride to Antigua he passed other vehicles on blind corners, cut into traffic with only an inch to spare, nearly ran motorcyclists off the road and drove at an insane speed (120 km on posted 60 km highways) on curving, dangerous highways. We, along with the other 4 passengers, were hanging on for dear life. John was white knuckled from clinching the handle on the seat in front of him. I simply closed my eyes on the most outrageously careless acts and prayed. From an elevation of 5,000 feet in Panajachel, through numerous passes up to nearly 9,000 feet in elevation, this crazed man got to Antigua in 2 hours. The normal time is 3 hours. I shan't be recommending this tour agency for anything.

Back to Antigua with rattled nerves, we grabbed some pizza and beers at joint close to home and finally arrived at Oskar and Chiki's, ready for a good night of sleep.

We may go back to San Pedro for more Spanish education, as they have a number of very good schools. The people of the town, the scenery and the feeling of comfort make this a good possibility for future schooling. Fortunately, there are buses that go to San Pedro, so we can avoid another nightmare ride we experienced.