Lakes, volcanoes and things that go bang during the day

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Our little bus twists and turns through the hills of Los Altos for a couple of hours. The drive is interesting but not spectacular. But then Lake Atitlan appears below us, blue and sparkling with a backdrop of cone-shaped volcanoes. Beautiful.

The road drops steeply down to Panajachel, the large village on the lake shore where we are to stay. From the shore the scene is just as impressive, the cone of Volcano San Pedro standing across the lake, wreathed in cloud in an otherwise cloudless sky.

The sun sets, obligingly, over the lake. Spectacular. As we watch it fade away, we order our first fajitas of the trip. It is a great way to end the day.

We spend the next day on the lake, visiting four of the villages that dot its shore. Some are working towns but others have become havens for new age hippies. Organic, holistic, tantric, yogic retreats where you can learn reiki massage and improve your Spanish too. Or, if you prefer, just chill.

The more work-a-day villages are still centres for traditional crafts. Many buildings have murals on their walls depicting the village's history or traditions. Through doorways we see ladies weaving, their traditionally woven cloth is exquisite. Coffee bushes surround each village and the beans are dried and roasted in the family home. We drink great coffee within metres of where it grew.

On Sunday we travel to the market in Chichicastenango. It's the largest in the region and locals come from miles around. The fruit and vegetables are of very good quality and the variety is bewildering with lots of things that we don't recognise. The shoppers seem to be buying huge quantities - a dozen onions, three dozen plum tomatoes, half a dozen cucumbers.

A lot of people wear traditional dress. Straw Stetsons and stripped pantaloons for the men; woven skirts and embroidered blouses for the ladies. The embroidery is impressive, usually depicting birds and flowers. The colour scheme determines which saint the wearer supports, which tribe they are from.

We stumble across a church parade. A sort of sedan chair affair contains an effigy of St. Marcos. It is paraded, followed by musicians and a group of singers. Suddenly a huge fire cracker is let off, we jump a mile! Outside the church, a short ceremony is performed, after which one of the followers dances holding a model donkey and a woven ball covered in more fire crackers. We are left a little bewildered (and deafened).

On our return to Antigua the hotel staff are wearing surgical face masks. The volcano blew again last night and they are trying to not breathe in the dust.

Tomorrow we had east into Honduras. More soon.

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