1st Oct. 2016
It is all very informal. We have no receipt or ticket for today’s boat trip. Last night, we handed over Q300 to the receptionist at the hotel expecting both tickets and some Q20 in change but got neither. Change and smaller bank notes seems to be a perpetual problem in Guatemala. Many of the places we have been to have struggled when presented with a Q100 (£10) note – but that’s what the ATM issues. Anyway, we were told to come back to reception at 8:20 this morning for an 8:30 collection and here we are. At least we get our Q20 change and I take this as a good sign that our booking has been confirmed.
Sure enough, only 10 mins late, someone turns up to collect us – he does however have a push bike rather than the expected minivan but it is only a 5 min walk to the jetties on the lake front. Once at the shore, he helps us weave our way through the crowd to the boat – why do people insist in stopping as a group blocking the entire path? When booking our trip, I had asked the receptions “Es un barco grande o pequeño?” and was told “media”. It turns out that pequeño was the right answer whilst we had hoped for something a little larger. No matter, no sooner had we and 4 Columbians boarded than we were off and blasting across the lake.
Just like our trip around the lagoon in Rangiroa, we are heading anti-clockwise around the lake. It turns out that the towns on our four stops are ordered in increasing size, but decreasing order (of my) preference. San Marcos, our first stop, is a small, sleepy lakeside village like the land that time forgot. The path up from the jetty led past banana & avocado trees and coffee plants. There were signs for cafes and hostels proclaiming health foods, massage, meditation – a real hippy feel to the village. In the centre of the village was the main road with the ever present tuk-tuk drivers plying for trade (really?) and the village church set beside a huge strangler fig tree providing a large shady area. We wandered around following the shady paths enjoying the peace and tranquillity before re-boarding and the inevitable roar of the outboard motor.
San Juan is the next town and as we approach the jetty, we get the most visible confirmation that the lake level is rising as we can see flooded buildings surrounded by the lake and the submerged remnants of the original concrete jetty. The lake has risen by over 5m since 2009. Apparently, this is a cyclical thing but nobody knows when it will start falling again or how high it will rise. Once off the jetty, I am immediately tempted by the first coffee shop proclaiming locally grown coffee – well, you have to support the local economy! Of course, the Columbians later claim that Columbian coffee is better but I have liked what I have tried in Guatemala.
The town is famous for its arts and crafts. The paintings in the local (Tz’utujil) style in bold, bright colours showing the landscape and local life are not really to my taste, but they are distinctive and you can’t argue with the striking scenes they capture. The weaving is also in bright colours against a base of purple cloth. LP says that the patterns and colours were originally devised by the Spanish colonists in order to distinguish one village from another. Judging by the women with the body-tensioned looks (that were happy to be photographed) much of these very distinctive pieces are hand made. I wonder if we will regret not buying?
Whilst each of the towns that we have stopped at have (obvs) meant a walk uphill from the lake into the centre, at San Pedro, our next stop, there is a steep incline as the town lies at the foot of the eponymous volcano. Here also there is some real hustle and bustle with a much bigger crowd of people and more (and more persistent) tuk-tuk drivers touting for business. Again, we have an hour to explore and whilst previously, this has been more than enough time to explore San Pedro is much larger. We ignore the crowds and head up the hill heading past the street vendors and the local market; past the kids playing basketball; and look for the central plaza and the inevitable church. Having got used to a slower pace at our previous stops then the sheer business of San Pedro is a but of a surprise.
The final stop on our lakeside tour is at the larger again town of Santiago. It has now gone 1 o’clock (official Hornsey lunchtime) and our tums are rumbling. Whereas we would have been spoilt for choice for eateries in any of the previous stops (though it might have been vegan wholefood with added chanting and a side of yoga in San Marcos), here it proved more problematic. By the time we’d found somewhere and wolfed down our tacos we only had half an hour left, so it was off to find the church and the plaza (you’ve got to really love the consistency of the Spanish – it makes orientation so much easier).
After a quick look in the plaza at the bas relief map of the lake and the super-size 25 centavo coin (I think the woman whose profile is on the back of the coin was a local), we poked our nose in to the church. Whilst the outside of the church was whitewashed stone walls, the inside was draped in shades of blue and gold. Whether this is for a special occasion of not, I don’t know – but whatever, it was very effective. (It had to be to make the cut of photos for today as there were so many to choose from).
When we got back to the boat, we had the hardest sell yet from the women street vendors trying to sell their weaving to us. As we were sat, waiting for the boat to cast off, they were leaning through the windows and draping their cloth over the front of the boat. Unsurprisingly, their grasp of figures in English was very good and they would have been equally happy with either US dollars or Quetzales – and the prices kept dropping the more the captain looked like we were about to head off.
Santiago is almost directly opposite Panajachel on the lake and so the route back – as with our Rangiroa lagoon trip – was straight across the middle of the lake. Again, like in Rangiroa, the wind had now got up and the lake was bumpier than it had been early in the morning and the boat bounced and banged on the water. There was no slowing down though and soon enough we were back at Panajachel – and before the afternoon rain as a bonus.
All in all, another excellent day, and we’d highly recommend Lake Atitlan to anybody. We didn’t do the trip the way the locals would (turning up at the jetty and treating the boats as they would a bus and paying a few Quetzals for a single fare). However, neither were we the full gringo experience, no guide and no hand-holding (other than to each others) – just enough adventure, and another reminder that everything works out in the end.
[*Yes, the post is dedicated to the RRS Sir David Attenborough, so nearly named Boaty McBoatface]