Lakeside Lakeside Lakeside

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Following a week or so of draining travel days and a couple of sketchy digs (at the last place we stayed even the towels didn't work), Dr Guatemala prescribed complete bed rest with a touch of pamper. Hence we found ourselves gazing out from the upper bedroom of our apartment at a seductive, perfectly conical volcano, one of 3 on the lake's shoreline.

On our last visit 13 years back, our guide book described Lake Atitlan as one of Guatemala's most beautiful lakes. Seeing as Guatemala doesn't lay claim to all that many lakes, that particular writer had his finger right off the trigger in terms of superlatives. The same guidebook this time managed to ratchet up the rhetoric claiming Lake Atitlan as one of the world's most beautiful. This writer's dart a little closer to the bullseye.

For myself and the blushing bride, this week at Atitlan was to be a feet up self indulgent affair. On the other hand, Burch decided the 3 amigos would be temporarily separating. He reckoned this Spanish gig was worth a shot. Gritting his teeth, brushing the cobwebs off the school uniform, polishing the Bata Scouts and packing the play lunch, the Burch enrolled in a week of one on one Spanish classes, including a home stay with a Mayan family. Gutsy call Burch. We wandered by the school a couple of times to see if he was standing in the hallway on detention but no such luck. My tip was that this week would be the longest year of Burch's life. On the contrary, he took to to the experience like Berlusconi to a Bunga Bunga party.

Back on the lake and while she is a big time player in the eye candy stakes, Atitlan also has a couple of other arrows in the quiver aside from the good looks. Dotted around the foreshore is a sprinkling of Mayan villages where the locals cling to their culture like poop to a baby's nappy, despite the potential ramifications of the head on collision with the vices of western tourists. Each village has its own language and mode of dress, the ten gallon hat a particular hit amongst the men. The colours and patterns of the outfits are fetching to say the least. Back in Oz during a State of Origin match, it's "go the Blues" or "go the Maroons". An inter village soccer match here, assuming they wear the same colours as their traditional garb, and it's "go the yellow purple orange red tangerine ....... etc". By the time the chant finishes the game would be over.

The local market of each village is also a great freebie slice of entertainment whereby the colourful outfits complement the colours of the produce. Being a self catering week, we were able to indulge into these bonanzas on a richer level to purchase our goodies. The main town of Solola has one of the funkiest of them all even if there is a chronic pickpocket issue for tourists.

Not really being an intrinsic shopper, usually buying out of necessity, the shopping merry-go-round here is a completely different kettle of fish. Whoever thought the buying of mangos, bananas, watermelon and papayas could be fun?

One of the more pleasant aspects of a transaction in Guatemala is the up front quoted prices. Drawing a line in the sand over a fair price for both parties in the bargaining process can be at best frustrating. In Guatemala it hasn't been an issue. I've been tuning intently into the prices for food quoted to locals and they pretty much mirror those given to us and a similar ethos has transpired right throughout the country (except with the transport touts). "Ya gotta aggle"? Not in Guatemala and it's refreshing.

In the meantime, when someone asks us on return to Oz in the next year or so: "What was the highlight"? If we don't throw Atitlan into the mix somewhere then 2012 is going to be gilt edged.

Now it's time for: ANECDOTE OF THE WEEK!

Guatemala houses numerous frontier towns that exist for reasons I can't decipher. Sayaxche is one of those. Barely paved streets, chaotic, a litany of stray dogs scavenging to survive and everything covered head to toe in a film of dust. In the midst of this hive was a ramshackle car spare parts shop with samba music blaring out a decibel level that would have them arrested in most other parts of the world. In the doorway was a scantily dressed young attractivish local lass swinging the hips and dancing up a storm. My first thought was that the spare parts must have been a front for the world's oldest profession being carried out somewhere out the back. Not quite certain, I quizzed a young fellow wandering past. The story?

"Eef you buy sometink from de shop you get to dance weeth da preety seenorita". Now there's a marketing ploy from outside the square. Come for the brake pads, stay for the Lambada.

Yeatesy



I think I am pretty robust in most situations , however my biggest fear is having to jump into dark pools of water from any height, even 1 foot. Yes, I know I am a bit of a sissy, but so far I have managed to navigate around such situations or avoid them totally.
Our stop in Semuc Champey for 3 nights was the test. The area has beautiful waterfalls and famous caves. The waterfalls look great from a distance, but the great thing about them (for most people ) is being able to jump into them and swim from one waterfall to the other. Mmm it wasn't pretty, I did manage to jump into the rocky bottom pools, but Gary and Burch were quick to tell anyone watching that I wasn't Australian, they couldn't believe I could be so useless and didn't want the locals to think this awkward person (hopeless) could possibly be Australian. So mean.

So if that wasn't bad enough, the boys thought the perfect way to end the day was with some spelunking followed by a jump into the river (rocky river) from a high rope and than finally tubing down the river to where we were staying.

Where do I begin. The cave of course is dark, with lots of stalagmites and stalactites as you'd expect. I was prepared for that, but I hadn't anticipated that I would have to swim through each of the stages of the cave holding a candle in one hand and swimming with the other, while my thongs had been tied on my feet with string. It only took a few strokes before my thongs came undone and I couldn't paddle or kick, my candle had gone out and I was slowly going under. To the rescue Gary and Burch. While I am flailing around they are still able to walk through the water, it's only up to their shoulders, it really is a disadvantage being short. So for the rest of the swim through the chambers of the cave I had my two bookends chaperoning me and they have a few nasty scratches on their back, I'm sure they'll heal!!! So I made it!!!! Yeh.

Next comes the jump into the river from a high swing!!! Not a chance, I am not even going to try and attempt this. Burch goes off first, splat, a hug splash. Gary next. I forgot to tell him to put his thongs down the front of his pants instead of the back. Ouch, as they say in cricket, don't rub them count them. As painful as it looks it takes a bit of pressure off me. Finally the tubing down the river. Now that's something I can do, even though the water is still pretty cold. Yeh Which takes me to Atitlan. Burch has been attending Spanish school for the week, while Gary and I live it up in Santa Cruz.

One of Burch' s days involved a cooking class which he invites Gary and I to attend. So if the waters sports are not my game, you've got to think I'm in the medals against the boys at cooking. Burch has already claimed cooking is for girls, so I'm bound to kick his butt. The task was to make tostadas. So who do you think was the champion tortilla maker.... Can you believe it, it was Gary!!!! Yes I know,it's had to believe, followed by me in second place and Burch is still picking up his dough from the floor. Stick to the Spanish Burch!!!

A few more days relaxing and enjoying Santa Cruz and then we are off to the highlands for a 4 day hike, I am praying there are no cliffs to jump off, caves to swim through just a few mountains to climb.

Penny

More images at:

www.colvinyeates.zenfolio.com

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Photos

Santa Cruz, Lake Atitlan
Penny checking out our bedroom view first morning. All for the princely sum of $31 Oz.

Semuc Champuy
From the mirador

Santa Cruz Atitlan
For whom the bell tolls.

Laguna Lodge
Santa Cruz Atitlan

Laguna Lodge
Plunge pool beside the lake

Santa Cruz Lake Atitlan
Tres romantic

Panajachel
Market colours

San Antonio Palopo
Smiling ladies in front of the church

Solola
A more practical mode of transport than a stroller.

Solola
Through the fog.

Making tortillas
They say making tortillas is women's work. Gaz and Burch getting in touch with their feminine side.