Check out our pics: Guatemala_Lake Atitlan_Tikal
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Trip to Lake Atitlan
Based on many recommendations, San Marcos, one of the many villages along the shores of Lake Atitlan, was the place to practice yoga and pursue spiritual development against an amazing backdrop: a large clear blue lake beneath several towering volcanoes.
We set off for the five-hour “two-hour” bus ride to San Marcos along with 18 other passengers in a mini van built for twelve. Having several extra hours at our disposal, sitting in various positions of discomfort we had time to contemplate the importance of choosing one’s seat for long journeys in this ubiquitous form of transportation. (see figure 1. below)
The majority of seats come with no leg room and no seatbelt as standard. Two of these seats are next to windows where you can at least breathe fresh air. Considering leg room, there are three seats behind the driver, two of which have a hair more room if you don’t mind resting your feet above your waist, and one with a lot more room but at the cost of a metal pole as a back support. Finally, the two front seats next to the driver come with leg room, the only two seatbelts, fresh air, and a good view. However, if you choose either of these options, in the event of a head-on collision you will be killed instantly (if not from the on-coming vehicle, then by the 15 human missiles behind you).
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When we weren’t thinking about seat choice we were thinking about ways to keep the driver awake. Fifteen minutes into our journey Tracy turns to me and mouths “How do you say ‘WAKE UP immediately, you’ll KILL US ALL’ in Spanish?” After hours of intense back seat driving, with Tracy on amber alert, monitoring the driver’s every eyelid move, we finally arrive in San Marcos in the dark. Fortunately we find a lovely clean room with adjoining bathroom within 5 minutes of arrival. It cost more per night than our budget, but we decided to create a “first night” rule. (first night anywhere doesn’t need to be within budget). The only teensy negative was the giant spider on the shower wall and the slight electrocution I received upon touching the shower head. Then we decided to venture out to find a restaurant. Even though the winding paths leading down to the lake were unlit and we navigated by headlamp, Tracy could already tell that this place was ‘magical’. After bumping around in the dark we find a lovely restaurant owned by a guy with a French accent. The same guy that checked us into our room… we had somehow, in our circuitous route, come back to our hotel. Anyway, we felt pretty happy with ourselves having secured a place to stay, a non-cold shower and a lovely, cozy, fire lit restaurant. As we sipped our margaritas I couldn’t help overhearing the following snippets of the conversations around us:
“So, are you here to travel spiritually, or are you just spiritual and here traveling?”
“I believe there were 2 Jesus’ and 2 Mary’s”
“I simply ask the Universe”
“There ARE no real dogs in the States, man, sure, they LOOK like dogs, but they’re not living a dog lifestyle.”
The next morning, we went to enquire about yoga classes. We were quite excited about finally getting some down dog action, but our enthusiasm was gradually quashed in our attempts to find a class. While Tracy was teaching the locals how to make her coffee, I happened to spy a yoga class in ‘action’ in a nearby garden. From my position behind a giant leaf it was clear to me that this was no Ashtanga yoga (where you actually move your body). This was ‘hold-a-serious-face-for-as-long-as-you-can” yoga. Still, undaunted, after Tracy was caffeinated, we set off for the Pyramid garden to find another yoga class. There was a notice board with info about different classes, but nothing about yoga. I decided to ask the human being sitting on a bench nearby. She looked at me like I had shit on her foot, but reluctantly looked up from her novel long enough to inform us we needed to go to the Pyramid Meditation building across the path. We arrived there just as a meditation class was coming out. Clearly our timing was bad, after so much self-absorption I think they found it difficult to relate to others. My smile felt very out of place. One of the teachers finally acknowledged our presence and explained to us that the yoga classes were part of a much bigger spiritual picture and proceeded to make us feel like trolls for only having asked about the yoga part of it. We decided it wasn’t for us.
After having scoped out the entire village, we decided to take a boat to San Pedro across the water. We went directly to a travel agent to find out about climbing the Volcano. We arranged a guide for the following day. When we arrived the next day, there was no one to meet us. However, an older gentleman with highly polished shoes was keen to take our voucher and pretended to be our guide. Unfortunately, he was unable to keep up with us and frequently suggested we take a taxi to the park entrance. Finally, on the verge of a heart attack, he called out to us to stop walking and said if we paid him a tip he could arrange for another guide at the park entrance. Since it is highly recommended not to go off the beaten track anywhere in Guatemala without security or a guide, and it was clear he would never make it to the top, we agreed.
At the park entrance we met our tattooed, gold toothed, machete-wielding guide and he immediately informed us that if we didn't make it to the top that would be fine. He stopped every five minutes to tell us how poor the people were in the area and how he struggled to pay for school books for his kids. He reiterated that tourists find it hard to make it to the top of the volcano because they are used to sitting in offices all day. I really wanted to go to the top, but the effects of altitude along with a serious dose of ‘traveler’s issues’ had left me with the energy of a wilted celery stick, so to his delight we only made it half way. We returned pronto to Antigua to arrange our next trip.
Trip to Mayan ruins of Tikal
Took the ‘luxury’ overnight bus to Tikal. Nothing eventful. Tracy broke her rib falling back onto the hard plastic arm rest. Arrived in Flores before sunrise and took a tuk tuk to a guest house recommended by lonely planet. Travel Tip: Never agree to take a room in the dark. On daylight inspection it was effing manky (horribly dirty), to use a Scottish term. We left as soon as we could for the Tikal ruins. When we returned we booked into another hotel and we were almost crying with delight over the 600 count sheets and the towels and the little soaps and the real, not electrocution type, hot shower. The room almost became the highlight of our trip... but not quite. Tikal was wonderful. Not just for the ruins themselves, but for the jungle setting and all the animals we saw. There weren’t many tourists there at all and we often had the place to ourselves, well, us and the howler monkeys etc. It felt great to be out in nature and surrounded by beauty.More faffing about in Antigua
Back in Antigua we attempted to plan our trip. “What do you want to do?” “I don’t know, what do you want to do?” I would read the Danger and Annoyances sections and scan the lists of crappy accommodations in Lonely Planet and not want to go anywhere but Paris or some kind of gated resort. Tracy researched online, ‘Hey Ing, we can live in the jungle for two weeks with this alcoholic guy and see all SORTS of animals, we’d just have to pick up sleeping bags and a vat of bug repellent, doesn’t that sound awesome?” Planning can be very tiring.
Fortunately we also managed to squeeze a bit of culture into our days, by going to many of the museums in Antigua. One of the funnier moments was when we visited a workshop where they were in the process of restoring old paintings. Suddenly Tracy became enlivened and from nowhere pulled out enough Spanish to declare that "Oh, yeah I can see that the original skin color is a reddish hue, whereas you have painted with a much yellower tone". I tried my best to repair the damage by quickly pointing to another painting across the room and making some random comment.
Probably the most interesting site we visited was Las Cappucinas, the ruins of a nunnery. There was a cool white room like the inside of a shell that the nuns used to sing in, which had really fun acoustics. I only tested out the sound with a couple of “ooohs” as there were other tourists there at the time. I really wanted to stay until we were alone to hear what “The Wind Beneath My Wings” sounded like in this space. However, Tracy, my intended audience, had already read my mind and had escaped the room. I eventually found her in the nun’s sleeping quarters. These consisted of about 19 rooms in a concentric arrangement around a center circle. Perhaps as a result of her real estate days, Tracy had gone into every one of them approximating square footage and gauging how well appointed each room was for light and view of the garden. She was quite firm on which room was the best and was prepared to sell it to me by the time I caught up with her.
From Antigua we went to Guatemala City and flew to Lima, Peru....
