As always, we left with more questions than answers and a sense that we had just dipped into something very rich and beautiful. We realized that the distribution of wealth is desperately uneven, too, but there are signs of hope in initiatives like the fair trade coffee cooperative (and that the post civil war peace is still lasting). And we left with an overwhelming sense of gratitude for such an astonishingly beautiful place and for the refreshment for being there for one all-too-short week.

Very early on Saturday morning, February 18, we drove through blowing snow to Toronto International Airport. The temperature was around -30C with windchill as we left the car in the ‘Park’n’Fly.’ A few hours later we were leaving Guatemala City Airport in a minibus in the tropical afternoon sun, heading for Antigua, once – more than 300 years ago — the colonial capital of all Central America. What a charming old city! Built mainly as single storey facades with slightly higher back courtyards and principal buildings, it feels very livable. We strolled the cobbled streets (not very disability-friendly, but quaintly appropriate to the city) breathing the Spanish colonial atmosphere and enjoying the colourful flowers and paintwork. Occasional horses clopped by and Mayan-looking peoples mingled with the fairly numerous tourists, also enjoying the weekend diversions. These seemed mainly to be the same as ours – being flaneurs, lingering in cafes or brightly decorated fabric stores or just watching the world go by.

After finding a place for dinner we drifted back to our little 10 room hotel built around a courtyard. We slept quite well, considering the change, but were rather aware of neighbouring guests during the night, who made no attempt to lower their voices or close their doors quietly! In the morning we started by surveying the city from the roof terrace, where we also hung our towels to dry. The morning light was clear and clean (contrast with Guatemala city where we had not even paused the day before) and the volcanoes rose dramatically – one was smoking! — through the morning cloud around the city. Beautiful. We breakfasted at a sidewalk restaurant and packed up ready to find the ‘chicken bus’ for Panahachel. Our Spanish being somewhat – ahem – underdeveloped at the time we ended up making two or three changes because we didn’t know quite how to insist on a direct bus. But all fellow passengers were helpful and friendly. During one leg of the journey a preacher got up and led anyone who cared to listen in an impromptu service – Bible reading, prayer, sermonette, hymn and all was a solo performance!

Panahachel, when we eventually arrived, seemed pretty tourist-oriented, especially in the area around the dock. We had to wait a while for a boat to take us across the lake (Atitlan) because there weren’t enough passengers (he needed eight to fill the boat). Eventually around 4:00 p.m. we were crashing through the waves in a small launch, feeling very battered below because of the bumping slap of bow on water! The lake is large, and circled by majestic volcanoes, with little villages nestled on promontories near the shore. San Pedro, where we were to stay, has less than 15,000 population and is dependent on coffee and tourism. But with just two streets there are very few cars and most people walk or take pickup rides (as it sounds; the back-of-a-pickup serves as a bus). We wended our way up the steep cobbled streets and lanes to Casa Rosario to find out about homestay and were eventually settled in a little home down a narrow dusty alleyway.

Things did not seem quite right though. For a start, no dinner appeared and we eventually asked what was happening. A daughter of our hosts made us a small meal of eggs and refried beans but we were paid little attention. During the night we were sure we heard a baby cry several times and the sound seemed close. Sure enough, when we asked we were told there was a one-week-old addition to the household – but mother and son seemed to be literally confined to the room next to ours. A wrinkled abuela (granny) hobbled around and a 12 year-old seemed to have been detailed to look after us. Anyway, after a couple of days we decided this wasn’t what we hoped for so Vicente, (one of the brothers running Casa Rosario) kindly found us an alternative home. What a contrast! In our new place we were talked with at every meal and the atmosphere was most welcoming. Maria was our host (and a restauranteur); Cecilia, her daughter (and Sue’s teacher) lived there too with her husband Mario and 2 year old son. We concluded that the other family was simply preoccupied, but this new one was a far better deal!

Our days were split, such that we spent the mornings enjoying our own activities and afternoons in class. We loved to drink the fine local coffee near the dock, we used kayaks to take two trips on the lake, hired a guide and horses to take us riding round lower slopes of the closest volcano, went swimming in the lake and on one morning, visited a coffee cooperative in the neighbouring village of San Juan. This last adventure was very amusing, as we’d cashed in on the inaugural day of their new ‘coffee tour’ so had things explained and were given coffee and lunch all for free! A couple of costumed and masked figures led us, along with a wooden pipe and hand-drum accompaniment, through the coffee groves, with little explanations being given every few metres by a different guide. The ‘GuateVision’ press was there so we felt we were extras in someone else’s show. But it was great to see the whole process, including separating the berry husks for compost-making, raking the green beans on concrete slabs for drying, and so on. As it happens, coffee from this very plantation (fair trade registered, organic, shade-grown) is bought by our friend Rich Ottenhof, who sells it through his Multituli business here in Kingston!

What is hard to express is the sheer breathtaking beauty of our surroundings (and the photos at http://flickr.com/photos/suelyon/ should help, we hope). San Pedro La Laguna is at 1693m above sea level on the SW shore of Atitlan. Surrounded by towering, clean-lined volcanoes (one of which is San Pedro) and rocky volcanic hills, against the azure blue of the lake and sky, the prospect in every direction is unbelievably lovely. David took a swim each morning at dawn (6:20), watching the sunlight start to bathe the mountain tops in warm light and then as it suddenly flooded the sky with light, turned the western slopes to a blazing orange. The silhouettes of fishers out on the lake well before the misty dawn only adds to the magic. On shore, birds are flitting about their morning business and Sue enjoyed watching several colourful species both in the morning, and at later in the day when they again appeared for their afternoon chores. So lovely! The tonic could also be absorbed in other ways: our view from the kayak gave us a broader perspective across the water, and the horseback ride gave us yet another vista from above lake level. The view alone is enough to make your heart sing. But we also enjoyed being with the local people, who were so generous and accepting (despite the presence of some long-stay hippies, who induced a cringe factor in us). The Mayan Indians who make up the vast majority base their livelihoods on maize (originally) and coffee. We were taught Spanish by people who speak Mayan languages at home. And the iridescent colours of the clothing just add yet more to the visual feast of living there!

Getting to know a few people quite well, through living in their homes and being their students, was great, too. It gave us a sense that we weren’t merely tourists (and it meant we could give away some tee-shirts when we left!). We saw from the inside a home with a new baby and we heard Maria recount her ongoing pain of her husband’s truck-driving death two years ago. But it also dawned on us that our family and the Cume brothers who run Cara Rosario are Christian believers. While Dolores is catolica the others were all evangelicos. Although we knew about the huge growth of Protestantism in Central and Latin America for some reason we hadn’t expected it to be so obvious. No objections were raised to the bus-preacher; he had a respectful hearing. And everywhere in San Pedro are Christian texts and slogans painted on the walls. In the evenings you could hardly walk a few metres without hearing the sounds of singing voices from one church group or another. And while there are some connections with North American churches, these are all indigenous, locally autonomous groups. So while the place-names and architectures reveal the Catholic, colonial heritage, superimposed on and sometimes mixed with ancient Mayan practices and beliefs, the most vital signs seem to be among the Evangelicals and Pentecostals. In conversation, we discovered that this actually leads to some new cultural and family divisions (no birth control on one side, no drinking or dancing on the other, for example) but to many positive aspects as well.

Tags: 3 Comments