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Into The Lake
Michael jumps off the platform in the Parque Cerro Tzankujil in San Marcos.Being woken up by bedbug bites (again!) at 5am isn’t the most ideal way to start the day. Then on the first of four chicken buses that I had to catch to Lago de Atitlan, I realised that I had left my favourite headphones back at the hostel. Having taken them for a swim on Roatan Island however, they weren’t quite working properly anyway and luckily I have a spare pair, even if they are just shitty regulation iPhone issue.
But a bad day got worse when getting on the second chicken bus in Chmimaltenango. Getting off the first bus, a dude comes racing up to me asking where I am going.
“Pana”, I tell him.
He then throws my backpack on the roof and ushers me through the backdoor of the bus…except that in any developed country, this bus would be 120%!f(MISSING)ull.
“Es no posible”, I tell him.
“Puede!” he replies.
Like a Japanese train worker, the guys is then pushing me as hard as he can into the bus, to the point where I am spooning a local in
Typical Dress
Lady in traditional Guatemalan highland attire. front of me and sandwiched against him by the backdoor as it closed. Looking ahead, all the two-seater seats had at least three people in them and the entire aisle was rammed. The back door then opens and I am incredulous when water sellers try to get on board to flog their shit. Are you kidding me? Where are you going to go? No way man, there is literally no space. The word “full” doesn’t seem to exist in Central America.
As I then tend to do instinctively and regularly, I check my pockets just to make sure everything is rtill where it should be – and to my horror, I realise my right pocket is empty…which is where my wallet is supposed to be.
Looking around everyone around me, I knew I’d been pickpocketed but that there was no way of knowing whodunit. And even if I did asked every person within my vicinity, do you think they would have owned up? I desperately wanted to do something but realised that whatever I was to do, that it would be futile.
I was angry, but not as angry as I thought I would have been. There was also
Parque Cerro Tzankujil
Perfect place to chill in San Marcos La Laguna. a sense of despair as yet another piece of misfortune struck me after
contracting yellow fever, having a credit card cancelled for fraud, getting altitude sickness twice, getting food poisoning three times, getting bedbugs five times,
breaking a camera,
losing my iPhone, getting my universal adaptor stolen, getting my flip-flops stolen,
forgetting my camera battery charger, forgetting my headphones and now finally, having my wallet stolen.
With this kind of thing though, I’d always thought it’d be a matter of
when rather than if it would happen, especially on such a long trip, which is now approaching seven months. Still though. Philosophical resignation was the overriding emotion in the end, much the same as when I lost my phone in Mancora.
I had lost US$40 of Guatemalan
quetzales which in the grand scheme of things, isn’t really that much, and my debit card and credit card can be replaced at no cost. So unlike Mancora, I wasn’t feeling the severe pangs of despair as when I lost my phone.
Despite cursing my ill luck once again, I can be thankful that nothing life-threatening or trip-ending – touch wood – has happened to me, although much of what has happened to me was preventable in some way, which is the most frustrating
Streets Of San Marcos La Laguna
Much prettier and more colouful than over the lake in San Pedro La Laguna. part. The replacing of my phone and camera battery charger in particular wasted a lot of my time that I could’ve spent doing way cooler things. It was a bit stressful too. But travelling is all about lows and highs – but for sure it’s more exciting than sitting in an office five days a week!
At least I had the rest of the bus journey – quite possibly the wildest, most reckless, uncomfortable bus ride I have ever had, as those who were lucky enough to be seated played an involuntary game of corners around every long bend (of which there were many) while those standing up (including me) were flung around the bus) – to think about what I had to do now, which was to get more cash, cancel my cards, and think about a safe place to send my replacement cards.
The first problem of which was easily solved – it’s a good thing that I have a couple of New Zealand credit cards that weren’t in my wallet which allowed me to withdraw cash at the next bus changeover in Los Encuentros and continue my journey. Without them, I would have been in a
San Pedro La Laguna
View of the town on the boat in. real pickle – stranded in the shithole town that is Los Encuentros with no money and no way of getting any more money. I honestly still don’t know what I would’ve done. I would’ve had to beg for generosity from someone or the other. As it was, I would be getting charged an arm and a leg for withdrawing cash from my credit card – but better than being left high and dry for sure.
So since the goal of getting these chicken buses was to save myself US$7, it is fair to say that the result was a complete disaster.
Once in Panajachel and once I had taken a bus packed with old gringoes – which managed to be comforting and annoying at the same time (how good a photo do you think you can take on a moving bus FFS!) – I took a motorboat (no, not like that) across to San Pedro La Laguna, which is one of the “villages” of the shores of Lago de Atitlan. There was a bit of swell on the lake, much like there was on
Lago de Nicaragua, and there was a local guy on the boat who was completely shitfaced; slurring
Lago de Atitlan From San Pedro
Looking across the misty lake from a pier in San Pedro La Laguna. all his words, not making any sense, and barely being able to sit up let alone stand up – which made disembarking the boat rather amusing – he threatened several times to vomit on my backpack, which really would’ve provided the icing on the cake given everything I had been through that day. As it was, he spat on my bag – from poor aim rather than from any malicious intent – but it really would’ve been the last thing I needed.
Going across the lake, it was overcast with low cloud and mist all around, which I don’t think presented the lake in all its glory.
I then checked into what was the only reputable hostel that I knew of in San Pedro – there was limited choice on Hostelworld – which was called Zoola, and was run by an Israeli. As a result, the hostel seemed to be almost exclusively occupied with Israelis – large groups of Israelis.
I have met some really nice people from Israel and the majority of the people I met
while I was there were some of the friendliest I have ever met. But for some reason, all of the groups who were at this
Zoola Hostel
Funky dining/drinking/chill-out area at Zoola Hostel in San Pedro La Laguna. hostel were young, unfriendly, rude, selfish, messy, arrogant, and had a complete lack of self-awareness and a complete lack of respect for others. And unfortunately, this isn't the first time I have had this from a group of Israelis - it's happened before and other travellers I have met have similar stories. There is something about large groups of Israelis travelling abroad.
Having learnt a bit about the close-mindedness and conservatism of Judaism, perhaps this and the fact that Israel as a country has a lot of enemies affects the attitudes of Israeli youngsters and how they behave outside of their own country.
As it was, my existence barely seemed to be acknowledged at the hostel by my fellow guests apart from a few suspicious stares and non-responses to my attempts to engage.
Luckily however, there was Adar, one Israeli guy who was really nice and that I managed to befriend along with his French friends Larissa and Leo. I also managed to get talking with Maggie – an English girl who was in my dorm all the way back in
Quito(!) – and Mathilde, a French girl who was also in my dorm.
It really was a shame about the atmosphere at Zoola, because the actual hostel – which
Alleys Of San Pedro
There are some cute streets in the 'party village' of San Pedro La Laguna. is also a restaurant complete with a pool and a lakeside bar – was a really funky place.
The town of San Pedro itself has its pretty parts but it isn’t the prettiest. The lake however, is gorgeous and along with Larissa, Mathilde and Maggie, we hit the water on our kayaks. It was a fun if tiring paddle across the lake but the beaches that we kayaked to on the other side weren’t the greatest. It was also cloudy and not overly warm, so the lake again wasn’t looking its best and the conditions weren’t very conducive for swimming either.
San Pedro is also known as the party town on Lago de Atitlan – and so along with Michael, a German guy also in our dorm who had met Mathilde earlier on in Antigua, all the non-Israelis in the hostel we decided we’d have a few drinks that night.
Zoola’s happy hour – perhaps it should be called “happy day”, since the ‘happy hour’ goes from 4pm-11pm – means that you get a free shot with every beer you buy. How generous is that? So four beers later, I was hammered.
We end up going to Hostel Fe,
Steep Street
Street leading up from the main dock in San Pedro La Laguna. where Michael knew some more people he had met on his travels and which had more happening, before going to Sublime, a bar with live music and a bit of a dance floor. Neither place was especially full or banging to be completely honest, but it was nevertheless a fun night.
Waking up still drunk and earlier than I had wanted to, Mathilde and Michael managed to twist my arm into joining them for a trip across to San Marcos La Laguna, on the other side of the lake. And it was worth it – this was more like the tranquil, beautiful lakeside retreat that Lago de Atitlan advertises itself to be. San Marcos is also a bit of a hippy retreat, what with all of its ambience, meditation centres and yoga classes. The village is smaller and prettier than Sand Pedro and has a nice, unpretentious vibe to it.
We then followed a fellow backpacker to Casa del Lago, a lakeside hostel that he was going to stay at, to check it out. It was wonderfully set up and we ended up having breakfast there. The sun had come out, the lakeside views were amazing and the food
Casa Del Lago
Fantastic view complete with lakeside yoga platform from our hostel in San Marcos La Laguna. and coffee were a godsend – it all helped our hangovers no end.
We then went to the Cerro Tzankujil, a lakeside park with a short trail along the water and then up to the top of the hill for a view across San Marcos and the lake. With several spots to sit down and chill, relax and chat, that is exactly what Mathilde, Michael and I did that afternoon.
There is also a chance here to test your fear of height with a 7-8m high wooden platform – a “trampoline” – built above the lake from which you could jump into the beautifully refreshing turquoise water of the lake. I hadn’t brought my swimming trunks with me so it was wet undies for the rest of the afternoon. Although it wasn’t the biggest jump I’ve ever done and despite having thought that I’d conquered my fear of height somewhat, there were still a few moments of hesitation before I finally took the plunge.
We topped off an almost perfect day with a lakeside drink in almost perfect surroundings – as my hangover and the irritation caused by my stolen wallet melted away.
Both the hostel and the park really
Volcan San Pedro
View of the volcano looming over the lake. I wasn't about to go and climb this one. showed off why people come to this corner of the earth.
Mixing shots and beer, is never really a good idea, and it leaves you with a hangover that you fear. So I wasn’t really keen on doing a repeat performance for a second night in a row but Mathilde and Michael are good arm-twisters.
We headed straight to Hostel Fe again where we unexpectedly ran into a pub quiz. 1000Q was up for grabs and having just lost my wallet, I could do with replacing some of the money I lost. And I love quizzes – so why not.
It was a pretty easy quiz to be fair, and looking around at the loud crowd around me in differing states of inebriation, I became imbued with a confidence that we could take this out.
And so I proved the quizmaster as I led my team of myself, Mathilde and Michael to a convincing victory with 35/40 questions answered correctly. Having lost my wallet a couple of days earlier, the timing of this win was impeccable as Mathilde and Michael agreed that since I made the biggest contribution to our victory, that I should walk away with the biggest
Pavo Silvestre
Colouful and weird-looking wild turkey that we saw on San Marcos La Laguna. share of the prize – a cool 400Q (US$50), which was a small but welcome replenishment for my ailing bank balance and credit card debt.
We celebrated our win with beers, shots and Cuba libres. It was a successful night for all!
I felt like absolute shit the next day though.
With Michael moving on, Team Alcohooligans was therefore split up and this left Mathilde and I to decide that the best way to try and cure this god-awful hangover was to head back to San Marcos for a detox session hanging out at Casa del Lago.
But what was meant to be a peaceful retreat actually got livelier than expected in the evening with the bar full and live music entertaining the crowd. The community staying here seemed pretty close-knit but unlike Zoola, these were hippies so they were more than willing to try and integrate you into the group. The hippie spirit was in full flow that night.
Unfortunately for us, we were not feeling sociable at all and the last thing I wanted to do was drink again – so we were in bed by 10pm.
It was weird. What we thought was a totally chilled
Posada Schumann
Bar/hotel right on the lake by the dock in San Marcos La Laguna, where we enjoyed a drink. place on our first visit with peacefulness, tranquillity and yoga, turned out to be quite the opposite. I just wanted a place to chill and catch up on a bit of writing but the place got really noisy. And nice as the hippie spirit is, it is still a bit strange to the uninitiated. I’m just not used to giving full-on hugs to strangers I have just met.
But I supposed the scene totally encapsulated what Lago de Atitlan is all about – love, rowdiness, and serenity, all at the same time. It’s all here on Lago de Atitlan.
Hasta luego,
Derek
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cabochick
Andrea
AlcoHooligans!
Loved the chicken bus rendition of event. Sorry you lost your wallet but love your at peace with it attitude, are you sure you are a kiwi? Lol