p.s. Also no one to mess up his creation!

Joseph headed back to our little local hotel on the side of the hill while I continued soaking up the ambience of the day. Usually he says when we part, ” Don’t get into any trouble!” Unfortunately he forgot to say it this day. Passing an inviting looking Hostel I dropped by to have a look. After seeing the rooms I stopped by the bathroom before heading back to the market, continuing my motto: “Never Pass a Good Bathroom.” When I tried to leave the bathroom the door was locked/jammed/whatever! Finding myself in a real oh sh-t situation I first recounted some of the horrible bathrooms I had visited while traveling and this one was ‘not so bad’. For this I was thankful – trust me. Breathe! I fussed with the door, banged it, kicked it. Then I yelled for help! My pleas fell on deaf ears. I crawled up on the rickety toilet and stuck my head out the little window – yelling, “Could some one help me – ‘ayudame’?” in English and Spanish. To my surprise the formerly empty courtyard was now full of over 20 French tourists. I kept yelling and someone finally went to get the manager. He came to my rescue saying, “Oh this door, it sticks all the time.” The usual, “Sorry!” but tough luck scenario.

When I was a teenager I came to a very freeing point in my existence. I realized I really didn’t care what people thought of me. Needing to ‘walk my talk’ I took a deep breathe as I stood at the top of the stairs, with the group of French tourists staring at this crazy American with noses in the air, reeking of disdain. I put out my arms, like a scene in the movie “Rockie”, started laughing, and the crowd broke into applause. Funny how humor can change the mood and after 10 years of travel we are used to playing the clown. Skip the encores please!

Heading to the infamous lake we spent a couple of nights in Solola. Seeing zero tourists in two days we were treated to an authentic look at weekly market life in Guatemala minus clicking shutters.

Lake Atitlan is the jewel of the Guatemalan highlands. “It floats in the sky, a mile above sea level, relying on 3 majestic volcanoes to hold gravity at bay”. Atitlan is a Mayan word that translates as “the place where the rainbow gets its colors”. Were the bright traditional Guatemalan costumes inspired by the lovely, vibrant natural surroundings? Lake Atitlan draws you in and holds you in a trance, forgetting time and space. Very different tiny communities dot the shore, many accessible only by boat.

Panajachel is the large tourist town, a 750 year old pueblo of about 13,000, mostly Cakchiquel, Tz’utujil , Mayas and a community of foreigners from every corner of the globe, living inside the Mayan rainbow. With everyone speaking different languages or dialects the Mayans have learned to get along and communicate with different cultures beyond words for thousands of years. Friendly, quick to laugh, these accepting yet shy folks make everyone feel welcome, especially if you buy a small item they have made to sell. This isn’t a prosperous country and walking into many of the villages is taking a step back in time. Fields are full of corn, women are preparing tortillas from hand ground ‘maiz’ over a wood fire, and the town square is a buzz with people sharing stories.

We chose to go to 2 villages only accessible by boat. There is a charm that remains before the onslaught of cars and buses belching black smoke. Santa Cruz La Laguna consists of 2 small ‘hospedajes’ or hostels along the lake shore and a steep winding road to the upper poor but lively town on the hill. Staying along the shore we had the hotel to ourselves, relaxing in the private garden and walking along the lake. All the backpackers piled in next door in a buzz of activity, making us glad we could afford the extra $5 a night for serenity. We found a local family home/cafe around the corner and cooked our curries and pastas, teaching Mama how to prepare items for her newly inspired vegetarian menu.

Catching a morning boat before the waves got bigger, we arrived 40 minutes later in San Marcos. What a ‘trip’! This village was hippy haven. Every sort, shape, and age of man, woman, and child donning tie-dye and dread-locks, from the world over, did yoga, ate and socialized in the pleasant surroundings. Living side by side with the locals it was fun to see mingling of cultures and to see a deja vu of young newly freed spirits. I wonder what the locals think of the hippie ‘uniforms’? When in a situation like San Marcos it is important to get out and actually get to know the local people. Just hanging in pods of friends and other travelers isn’t what traveling is all about. You can do that at home. We spent one day going to Santiago by boat to take in their Sunday market. Breathtaking embroidery and traditional costumes lined the market and town square.

As with every visitor to the lake it was hard to tear ourselves away. Seeing the frost on the pumpkins we decided to break free of the cold mountainous tourist route and headed strait east to Rio Dulce and the Caribbean coast. The town is a hodgepodge of trucks and motorcycles and the waterfront is dotted with bars filled with foreigners and their yachts, waiting out the hurricane season. The ‘Rio’ itself is very sweet with miles of waterways, backwaters and islands. The crumbling town of Livingston, a settlement of former slaves on the coast, hours along the river, is a good target for exploration and fresh local meals. We also caught a small bus to Finca Pairiso, the local ‘aguas calientes’ or hot springs. An enjoyable hike, swim then slather of the mud with healing mineral qualities, we caught the local bus back to town relaxed, refreshed and healed! We met a wonderful doctor when getting off the bus and she invited us to stay at her lodge, accessible by boat only. Since the usual cabins were taken she let us stay in one of the families homes along the water. This magnificent creation from local materials and finely decorated was a unexpected surprise in our ever changing life on the road. From hut to mansion and back again.

Heading back to the capitol, Guatemala City, we enjoyed many pleasant days with our new family at Hotel San Martin. We walked daily to the center plaza to sit, have a fresh coconut, buy fruit and just soak up the history. The ‘bad boy’ drug lord reputation has abated a bit. As with most colonial cities the police keep the central area safe for tourists but you must ask before venturing into unsafe neighborhoods.

The Magnum Opus! The market downtown next to the plaza was nothing less that spectacular and it makes my mouth water to think of the variety of food we found in the little stalls. Mountains of vegetables, miles of textiles and sweet fruits tempt you at every turn. After tasting as many vegan delicacies as we could find we would walk back down the 6th Ave walking mall to see what entertainment was playing that day. Food, music and fun. Simple pleasures are life’s treasures on the road.

And so it goes…………………………………..Next flying off to our last continent this time around: South America. Well short of Antarctica that is. We love penguins but for now it’s not worth getting sea sick on rough seas, freezing what butt I have off and paying exorbitant prices. Maybe some day. Until next month Keep Smiling and remember our actions speak louder than our words. We are glad you stopped by. Thanks for dropping us a note once in a while! Take care!