DAY 2 ON LAGO DE ATITLAN
The next morning we take a boat to San Pedro right after breakfast. We pass by several little villages and towns on the hills of the Lago. We stop at several docks to pick up passengers from “casas” like ours, from little secluded hotels or from homes of locals. Some homes look like villas of some significance. When we inquire, we learn that, sure enough, one of those belongs to the owner of the Guatemalan beer Gallo. Who knows how kosher the money they make is. I recall the 10 M dollar homes we had seen in Miami on a tour Zeynep and I had had in Miami more than a decade ago. One had belonged, to Somoza, the Nicaraguan dictator, and who knows who it belongs to now after his death in 1980 following the 1979 revolution led by the Sandinista Liberation Front. When his people were moaning under poverty, starvation, and torture, he had invested in America this “negligible” amount of the national income into a single family home, with air-conditioners installed in the yard for their summer parties. Who knows what the Castillo Hermanos’ home, everybody on the boat is mesmerized with looks like. I can’t help but wonder if there is anybody’s blood staining the quetzals spent to build this mansion.
SanPedro is a town similar to Panajachel, but less touristy. The entrance to the national park leading to the summit of Volcan SanPedro is at the skirt of the impressive volcano. That is where we are heading. We take a tuk-tuk, a local means of transportation, a motorized tricycle that accommodates up to 3 passengers in its backseat. $1.5 per person, the driver flies us to the trailhead. The streets are narrow down to ally size now. But our driver seems to be seasoned. As soon as we get off the tuk-tuk, locals meet us at the entrance to the park, volunteering to guide us up the volcano. We heard at the hotel that it is a straightforward hike, but the story here is different. They state, whether we take a guide or not, the entrance fee is 100Q (quetzal), doesn’t make sense, but what the heck. We decide, it may be another opportunity to get to know locals. We take the guide, it turns out to be an opportunity for Zeyno to practice her Spanish, too.
The climb unfortunately is more difficult than I expected. The guide is half way to flying up the mountain. The earlier he gets back, the more likely he will squeeze in another group up and another 100Q. I wonder if we made the right decision by hiring this guide. Setting our own pace could have been much better. In addition, altitude may be playing a role in this, too. Zeynep and the guide obviously have been well acclimated to the altitude. For me on the other hand, it has been only 36 hours of breathing this thin air. In an hour and a half, we are half way to the summit.
Shortness of breath, dizziness and muscle aches take over me. Never experienced such altitude sickness before, but never have been at such high elevation and embarked on such a climb, at such a fast pace before, either. Zeynep is very understanding, we decide heading back to make use of the rest of our day in other ways, if nothing else there is shopping of course. We decide to walk down to SanPedro from the national park, partly to save my honor, I guess, and partly to see if we can catch an opportunity to walk through real neighborhoods.
Entrance to the national park
We spot a narrow ally heading down toward the water, we take it. What a good idea, it takes us to the heart of a neighborhood. Women cleaning their yards, carrying stuff on their heads as all Mayan women do, kids released from school bringing the streets to life, men driving their tuk-tuk. We go into a vivid discussion about how similar the Mayans are to primitive societies. Women stayed around the home, grew their food, took care of the home and the kids, men hunted. We observe that women do the same here, everything that is sold in the markets are pretty much the product of female labor. Men fish it appears and we see many of them, just like in the paintings all over the market in San Pedro and other towns we will see, fishing in their simple boats. Otherwise, all else seems to be produced by women. How unfortunate that the education of such important manpower, of women is neglected in many societies, especially in the developing world, which needs utmost efficiency from it.
One of the women earning a living for her family
One of the kids falls on the side of the ally or so we think, another starts yelling at us “Emergencia, emergencia.” We stop for a moment, hesitantly, but soon discover with the giggles from others around, he didn’t fall actually but threw himself on the ground and they are pulling our leg. We giggle back and continue on our journey. There are many more giggles behind us now.
Zeynep in one of the colorful allyways
The rest of our walk takes us to artisan galleries where a style of painting is displayed in great multitude. A style characterized by a combination of impressionism and expressionism displayed with as bright colors as these people have made part of their lives at every turn: the façade of their homes are in bright yellows, reds, oranges, pinks, greens, and blues. Their clothes bloom in all colors of the rainbow with a bold statement at each piece that these women weave and embroider. Guatemala, in short, is an elegant parade of spring colors that elate the mind and the spirit. They use all these colors, their weaving, their lake, their volcanoes, their fishing and cultivating the soil in their painting. We buy two paintings.
A woman doing her laundry, wading in the lake up to her waist.
I find one of them in an artisan store. She tells us she and her husband do all the paintings. I don’t know if she is telling us the truth initially. But I like the images of the lake I have been savoring for two days now, I buy it, for a special friend, who I know will appreciate it. On the way back, we take out our lonely planet book and discover with joy that in fact that very store was one of those where this style of painting started and spread to the southern Lago de Atitlan. We will see similar paintings in San Tiago de Atitlan the next day and I will buy another one with the image of a Mayan woman portrayed from her back with just the right colors and right amount of details. This will go onto the wall where I display the special small art pieces I have been acquiring in countries I have visited over the years.
Throughout the week, we buy lots of things from mostly female vendors and shop keepers. I feel a gender-camaraderie with these women, somehow. I want them to be successful. I like overwhelming majority of them. They have such positive attitude, I can see the goddess of fertility and productivity in almost each of them. I wonder if there is something in the tropical and subtropical lands that make people so laid back, gay, jolly, and full of hope. Perhaps the mild climate, the sedative effect of the lush green, colorful flowers blooming everywhere, all the time. I hope they don’t lose this as they are more exposed to globalization and the perceived goods it brings along. I hope they don’t start feeling less because of being deprived of our fake fortunes due to their poverty.
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