Walkway between La Iguana Perdida and neighboring property, Santa Cruz, Lake Atitlan, Guatemala. April 2016.
Time to say goodbye to Lake Atitlan and return to Antigua.
Public dock, Panajachel, Lake Atitlan, Guatemala. April 2016.
Upon disembarking at the Panajachel dock, I meandered up toward my bus pick-up, taking a different route than I'd used when I arrived at Lake Atitlan a few days before. By chance, I came across a street that one might call the Golden Kilometer of artisan tables, where vendors sold their jewelry, polished stones, leather work, etc. I saw some items that interested me, but they were beyond my budget. There were more than a few nomadic expats selling their wares.
I arrived very early for the bus departure, so I walked over to a cafe down the road, and asked the staff if they could boil a couple of eggs for me. They were happy to do so and even peeled them and put them in a coffee cup with a lid so they'd be bus-ride sturdy. With some of my left-over German bread, they were perfect bus food.
A little bit of Panajachel from my chicken bus back to Antigua below. If you get motion sickness, you might want to take a Dramamine before watching.
The bus trip back to Antigua was uneventful. However, I did have the opportunity to notice again the curious motels I'd seen on the way to Lake Atitlan.
The motels boasted extravagant names of love and queens and romance. Quite outside the box of social conservatism that one associates with Guatemala. More on this later.
Santa Elena Church, Santa Cruz, Lake Atitlan, Guatemala. April 2016.
Ah, so many churches to walk into in the world. Can one ever tire of visiting churches?
Yes.
I think maybe historic houses of worship in destination lands are like fast food, in a way. Low-hanging cultural fruit, one on every corner, easy to enter. And we can feel culturally virtuous upon visiting same. But even a diet of fast food wears, tasty though it may be.
Decades ago, a brother and I traveled together to Western Europe. If we saw a church, pretty much, we went inside. History! Art! Architecture! But there came a point when we agreed that we did not care to enter even one more Romanesque, Gothic, or any other 'esque or 'ic for the duration of our trip. And we did not.
In Caucasus Georgia, I also reached my fill, to the disappointment of my hostess, Neli, who wished me to appreciate the unique historical, architectural, or spiritual nuances that each and every Georgian church possessed.
But I had not yet reached the saturation point in Guatemala when I visited Santa Cruz, so when I saw the doors to the Santa Elena Church open, I went in, of course.
Santa Elena Church, Santa Cruz, Lake Atitlan, Guatemala. April 2016.
Santa Elena Church, Santa Cruz, Lake Atitlan, Guatemala. April 2016.
Santa Elena Church, Santa Cruz, Lake Atitlan, Guatemala. April 2016.
Santa Elena Church, Santa Cruz, Lake Atitlan, Guatemala. April 2016.
Santa Elena Church, Santa Cruz, Lake Atitlan, Guatemala. April 2016.
Santa Elena Church, Santa Cruz, Lake Atitlan, Guatemala. April 2016.
Santa Elena Church, Santa Cruz, Lake Atitlan, Guatemala. April 2016.
I didn't do much in Santa Cruz other than visit the church and the café. There was a small farmer's market happening in a building off the square, and I bought some fruit.
Santa Cruz' village center is up high from the public dock. The road to the village is steep. In the photo above, do you see the multi-story yellow structure? That's the artisanal and culinary arts school. That's our destination.
Let's take that walk up the hill, using the yellow vocational school as our focus.
Santa Cruz, Lake Atitlan, Guatemala. April 2016.
Santa Cruz, Lake Atitlan, Guatemala. April 2016.
Looking down toward the dock, we see a tuk-tuk tuk-tukking up the hill.
Santa Cruz, Lake Atitlan, Guatemala. April 2016.
Santa Cruz, Lake Atitlan, Guatemala. April 2016.
We're getting closer.
Santa Cruz, Lake Atitlan, Guatemala. April 2016.
Voilá, we have arrived at the summit.
Cafe Sabor Cruceño, Santa Cruz, Lake Atitlan, Guatemala. April 2016.
Santa Cruz, Lake Atitlan, Guatemala. April 2016.
It's mid-afternoon. We've already had lunch and it's too early for dinner, so we have fresh mango juice. Yum. We enjoy the view. Despite the haze. Which is the curse of my month in Guatemala.
Cafe Sabor Cruceño, Santa Cruz, Lake Atitlan, Guatemala. April 2016.
Cafe Sabor Cruceño, Santa Cruz, Lake Atitlan, Guatemala. April 2016.
Cafe Sabor Cruceño, Santa Cruz, Lake Atitlan, Guatemala. April 2016.
We peek into the yard below and see ... what is that? .... a duck? a chicken? a chuck? ..... sitting atop a dog, which doesn't seem to mind.
Santa Cruz, Lake Atitlan, Guatemala. April 2016.
I'm sure the neighbors love having tourists peering into their yard every day. Maybe the more polite tourists don't peer.
Santa Cruz, Lake Atitlan, Guatemala. April 2016.
Well, the name of this journal isn't Living Peerless.
Neighborhood market and cafe, Jaibalito, Lake Atitlan, Guatemala. April 2016.
Jaibalito is a village on Lake Atitlan that neighbors Santa Cruz. You can walk between Jaibalito and Santa Cruz or you can take a launch between the two village docks.
My original plan was to walk, and I set out to do just that.
But I allowed myself to listen too closely to my fearful side. On
occasion, tourists experience robberies on the path between one village
and another. My impression was that, as it pertained to the path between
Santa Cruz and Jaibalito, it would *probably* not be an issue.
Years ago, when I was
in my 20s, I did a summer study in Ecuador and Peru. The mother of one
of my fellow students came with her daughter. I don't remember her name,
so I'll call her Dorothy. Dorothy was probably in her 50s. She had
silver hair. Peru at that time was rife with pickpockets who used a
variety of creative ploys to separate you from your valuables. Pickpockets singled Dorothy out for several attempts. In other words,
thieves perceived her as the weak gazelle to be culled from the herd,
simply because of her age. I filed this observation in my memory bank.
It
doesn't matter if I, as now that woman with silver hair, could ward off a theft attempt. What matters is that I might be put in the
position of handling such an assault, when a younger traveler might not, simply
because the perception exists that I am more vulnerable. This is
annoying, but it's a variable that's got to be considered.
Another variable in my intended walk was that I was alone, which I also factored into my risk calculations.
I
think what clinched it for me, though - the decision to take the boat
instead of walking - was when I reached a point in the walk where I was
veering away from the openness of the water and a line of houses, into what seemed secluded woods, and I thought: Dogs. Mean dogs.
Risk management is a balancing act. I talk with my English-language students about the
connotation of some words; where they are on a continuum of similar
meaning. In the vocabulary of risk, I strive to be adventurous yet
prudent. I try to avoid being foolhardy or fearful.
Was
it safe for me to walk from Santa Cruz to Jaibalito? I think it probably
would have been just fine. On this day, however, fearfulness won out.
These negotiations of the mind. They are part of solo travel.
Laundry day in Jaibalito, Lake Atitlan, Guatemala. April 2016.
Lake Atitlan communities are home to both Mayans and to affluent expats or Guatemalans, "affluent" being a relative term. The Mayans are unlikely to have decent access to education, good healthcare and nutrition, and well, many choices in general about their life trajectories.
Shortly after I disembarked from the launch and approached the hamlet from the dock, a local gentleman came up to me and inquired if I was looking to buy property. If so, he would be delighted to assist me in doing so.
At the Jaibalito dock, Lake Atitlan, Guatemala. April 2016.
At the Jaibalito dock, Lake Atitlan, Guatemala. April 2016.
My first stop was at a tiny market and cafe, where I ordered a café con leche, and just sat in a chair while I took things in. I had no agenda in Jaibalito other than to poke around. Oh, and have lunch somewhere.
No, none of these chickens were lunch:
Jaibalito rooster, Lake Atitlan, Guatemala. April 2016.
Jaibalito rooster, Lake Atitlan, Guatemala. April 2016.
Jaibalito hen and chicks, Lake Atitlan, Guatemala. April 2016.
I passed a church as I wended my way upward through the village. The door was open. This must mean I'm invited inside, right?
Renovacion Carisma Catolica Church, Jaibalito, Lake Atitlan, Guatemala. April 2016.
Renovacion Carisma Catolica Church, Jaibalito, Lake Atitlan, Guatemala. April 2016.
Renovacion Carisma Catolica Church, Jaibalito, Lake Atitlan, Guatemala. April 2016.
I did have lunch in Jaibalito, at the Posada Jaibalito. The lunch wasn't remarkable one way or another, but my heart fluttered at the idea of the hearty, homemade German bread offered there. I bought a loaf, in which I indulged over the next day and a half.
The above-pictured chickens provided some entertainment at the Posada, which has a tropical-lush backpacker-y vibe. Meals on wooden tables, which are under a roof, but open on all sides.
I filmed the trip back to Santa Cruz on the launch below:
Below is the view of a bluff that is between Santa Cruz and Jaibalito. This is where I walked part of the way the previous day.
You can see the stilted wooden "boardwalk," as it appears from the lake.
Here is the perspective from the boardwalk itself:
Boardwalk en route between Santa Cruz and Jaibalito, Lake Atitlan, Guatemala. April 2016.
Boardwalk en route between Santa Cruz and Jaibalito, Lake Atitlan, Guatemala. April 2016.
