Guatemala

Well, here we were again, after almost exactly a month, preparing for and making another border crossing into parts unknown. As usual, we have checked all the websites to get as much information as we can so as not to be surprised, which we are finding is almost a waste of time. We were unable to change any pesos to quetzales in San Cristobal so we were hoping not to get gouged too much by the money changers at the border.

The Mexican side was pretty straightforward. We happened to run into an English speaking Guatemalan who changed money for us so all was good. He, his cousin, and his Dad were planning to drive all the way to Houston in a day and a half! Crazy but I think they didn't want to get stopped by the police too often. Too many questions?

The process on the Guatemalan side first required us to be "fumigated" by a guy in a gas mask and homemade hazmat suit. This involved spraying some obviously toxic chemical all around the outside of the vehicle, thank goodness not inside.  This cost $3 US and we got a very important looking paper that then needed to be shown to the aduana (customs) agent.The rest was straightforward: immigration then back to the customs agent for vehicle importation. The area was very chaotic with a lot of people waiting around for buses bound for interior of Guatemala. With a new sticker on the windshield and NO insurance we were unsafely in Guatemala and bound for new adventure.

Just inside the border we quickly saw evidence that Guatemala is a country of mountains, not the least of which are some 37 volcanoes, some still active.  Some of the most abrupt peaks were just inside the border with Mexico when we entered.  Were were treated to beautiful vistas but also a highway of questionable quality with seemingly endless curves and switchbacks.

I really don't think there was a straight stretch for any distance. This trip would be a blast on a motorcycle!

After leaving the border, we did not have any cell coverage. I had opted to just use my phone as a camera but Brad would get SIM cards. I had downloaded our route offline and when I accessed Google Maps, there was the blue GPS dot tracking our movement. Awesome!                                                                            

We would be heading inland to Lago Atitlan to the town of Panajachel, which sits on the shores of the lake.  We had rented a casita a little up the hills on the outskirts of town but with views of the four volcanoes surrounding the lake.  We still had about a five hour drive and it was now well after noon.

On our drive through the many mountain roads, we noticed many brightly painted school buses being used as local bus transportation. Many of them had brightly polished chrome accoutrements, so you could see them coming for a ways. They were loaded down with luggage on top and many people crammed inside.

While they were quite a spectacle Brad observed that they were modest compared to the gaudy and bejewelled busses in the Middle East.  These probably carried a much greater variety of produce and livestock however.

Also along the route we noticed many tiendas (small stores) with orange Crush signs. I have not seen orange Crush for awhile so here is a picture. Brad thinks I'm crazy! Either I am taking pictures of flowers or wildlife or signs!

We would drive from west to east and a little south across Guatemala to reach Lake Atitlan in the Western Highlands.  Passing through the large, smoggy city of Huehuetenango we took a picture of the clock tower.  While we didn't realise it at the time we noticed the power distribution system in the foreground and speculated how 'Dez' might react.


Now a lot of things make Dez (aka; Brad James, Nails, Demon, etc.) cringe, and this is not by far the worst tangle I have seen, but every time I see a rat's nest of wires on a power pole or a cable hanging perilously low to the ground I wonder how many months he might have survived as a lineman here, rather than having spent his career in the relative safety of Enmax. 


After a long day of driving, we finally descended into the valley protecting Lago Atitlan.  Ringed by four volcanoes it was to be a magical sight, but one still largely hidden through the many switchbacks on a narrow and overgrown roadway.













Our host had given us detailed directions to the casita in Panajachel but we now noticed they were mostly by landmark.  Although there appeared to be street names, none of the streets were actually marked by signs.  Darkness was descending on this chaotic little beehive of a town so Leona's acumen with the GPS was becoming critical.  She came through again and we rang the doorbell to the house at the very end of a tiny narrow road at the ragged edge of the town at dusk.

We were greeted by an older lady (our age in all honesty) and her daughter. She spoke only Spanish but luckily her daughter was a university student who spoke English well.

With our vehicle safely behind a locked gate, we huffed our luggage up a couple of flights of stone steps through a lovely garden to our casita.  Other than the twin beds, it was lovely!


 There were screens on all the windows and it was cool enough in these highlands that no air-con was needed. There was even a fireplace, but we never used it.

After getting settled, our stomachs were telling us it was necessary to find a restaurant. The main road, a block away and a Tuk-Tuk (i.e.: a three-wheeled motorbike with a covered bench on the back, © Thailand) could be had for $2.

View from the Casita in Panajachel

The next morning we were greeted with this view of one of the volcanoes from our window. We found out later that there is rarely a view of the volcano with no cloud cover, so we were happy with how this picture turned out.

There were two other casitas in our complex  and we met some of the other renters briefly, but the gardens were set up to keep the accommodations cozy and private.  The further we looked into the area the more magical it seemed but a magic that appeared to be turning a little sour with commercialisation.

We had heard this area had a lot of druggies from a character we met on the streets of Panajachel.  He has been nicknamed El Turco ( the Turk) from the locals and he took a shine to Brad because he called him "brother" in Turkish!

His real name was Ali and he had had a couple of lifetimes working high steel all around the world.  He had started big steel in Germany, went to London, then to New York, then Chicago, then Toronto before taking a turn as a steamfitter in Alberta's earliest oil sands projects in the 70s.  After that stint he retired and drifted south, to Mexico and ultimately Guatemala.

El Turco gave us a plethora of advice on how one should live one's life in this world. He had strong opinions on world events and kept himself very much up to speed on many topics including immigration issues in Europe, American politics, and Da'esh (ISIS).  For an elderly guy living in a 40 year old RV in Panajachel, most of what he said made sense and all of it was based on experience.

Lake Atitlan from the viewpoint high above San Marcos

We visited him twice during our time in Pana and even tried to include a picture for the blog, but he demurred.  He told us that he held counsel with the natives of Mexico and Guatemala who felt that being captured in a photo could be very dangerous, even on occasion leading to the death of those photographed. Eccentric, maybe; a local icon, definitely; a reason to stick around Pana for those mid-afternoon discussions, almost.

Panajachel was now a party spot for backpackers and a place where traditional medicines are freely available and routinely abused.

El Turco's reticence to be photographed seemed a more reasoned approach to traditional knowledge that rushing to experience psilocybin and ayahuasca without context. Just sayin'

Perhaps the magic is still here?

Over the next few days we explored the lake and its many isolated communities accessible only by boat.  The simplest way involved taking a ferry to visit for a day or less.  Hotels and restaurants were available but we had not allowed ourselves the time, which may have been a mistake we can rectify on the return trip,

Our first attempt to visit Atitlan's 'outports' started at the very eclectic village of San Marcos la Laguna. It, like several of the other lake communities, had become destinations for 'New Agers', whatever that means. We found many yoga retreats, organic restaurants, healing centres, and even some detox spas.

San Marcos had also been a thriving native village before foreigners found it,  Many of the arts practised today echo the local traditions.  It seems that New Age and Old Age coexist peacefully here and one has informed the other in this place.


We hiked up the nature reserve just outside of San Marcos.  It was a short climb and it provided great views of the lake, but it was clear that we're not 35 anymore!

The narrow streets of San Marcos, not for cars

The ferry dock welcoming travellers to San Marco

Your tour guide at a viewpoint above
scenic San Marcos on Lake Atitlan

Below are a sampling of some of the photos we took of this magnificent lake cradled by volcanoes and shrouded in mist.

There were some pretty unique cottages on the Lake

The Old Mission in the original
settlement of San Marcos

Lake house on the shores of Atitlan

View from the nature reserve

Traditional fisherman netting tilapia and black bass

We left Atitlan after 3 days but on the road out of town we were finally able to capture the two volcanoes on the far side of the lake. Some of the younger crowd climb them and sleep at the top overnight to see the sunrise in the morning.

Having spent dark nights climbing volcanoes before sunrise in Indonesia 25 years ago, we knew it was well out of our comfort zone these days.

Leona had to get a picture
 and stop for fries at this Burger King in
Huehuetenango,Guatemala

A float we saw in the town of Chimaltenango

Enroute we saw many people working in the fields.

We were now heading to Antigua, the original Capital and the oldest city in Guatemala. The country was mostly mountainous but when there were flat lands they were incredibly rich and fertile.  In Canada this would be prime farmland. Unlike Canada however, they would take 3 crops off the land in a year.  Sometimes it was hard to understand how their social and economic organisation could have conspired to keep people generally impoverished on land so productive.

One of many mini-volcanoes enroute to Antigua

Each of these little mountains was volcanic in origin even though they were not acknowledged as such on maps.  It was clear that at one time in the geological record each of these hills would have been a real problem for the critters living nearby.

As we skirted by so many of these cone-shaped troublemakers we hoped that their rabble-rousing and misdemeanorin' days were past.

Santa Catalina Arch

We had booked our hotel in Antigua on booking.com, as we had in the past, based on pictures posted on the site. We arrived a little early and our room was not ready so decided to explore the city a little before settling into the hotel.

Iglesia de la Merced, an integral part of Santa Semana

The streets in Antigua were typical of the earliest Spanish settlements in Central America, mostly cobble stone and quite narrow. We walked around El Centro, typically also dominated by ancient churches with small parks and grand buildings clustered around the Central Square with it's Cathedral, the Judicial offices and seat of local Government, and the Governor's Mansion.

Santo Domingo

Upon returning to our  a hotel, we discovered that our room was finally ready but obviously the last room available.  It was the size of a closet, had water laying on the floor, and was damp and musty smelling. It brought back memories of the prison in the 70s movie, Midnight Express.  Great, we were stuck for the night.

The couple running the hotel were very friendly and tried their very best to be accommodating but we felt like we had been misinformed.

We were supposed to stay for two nights but both of us felt one was enough in this place but very little was available just before Christmas.  Unfortunately it was going to be easier to change our bookings and head to Honduras a day early.

We had found some wonderful little corners in the city in just an afternoon of wandering around.

In a lot near the Iglesia de Merced we found 12 intricately detailed floats, each representing a Station of the Cross,  apparently a central part of  the religious observances during Easter Week (Semana Santa). 
More detail at https://aroundantigua.com/antigua/2013/06/14/easter-week-in-antigua-guatemala/

We enjoyed a respite in the zocalo with this lovely, if not a little erotic, central fountain.  A closer inspection revealed mermaids with fountains of water spouting out of their nipples. It gave us a higher opinion of the Spaniards, at least when compared to the Italian fashion of having cherubs peeing in a fountain!


We also got a cute shot of a child wearing traditional garb eating an ice cream cone. I took it surreptitiously as the locals don't like having their picture taken.  We were reminded of El Turco every time we hoisted the camera now.



Even though we often felt that in Guatemala we were just being tolerated by the locals and that we were looked upon as walking dollar bills, we felt that we had not given Antigua a proper chance.  It was agreed that we give it a more thorough visit on the return trip, which would hopefully be at a less busy time of the year.

After a fitful sleep on a soft and uncomfortable bed we were up at 5 AM, dressed and ready for the road by 5:30.


So, we said goodbye to Guatemala and headed for the border crossing to Honduras.

Hasta luego: B&L