ATM

Antigua presented plenty of opportunities for us to use ATMs to replenish our cash. Lake Atitlan, on the other hand, has very few ATMs, and there were no machines in the tiny community of Jaibolito where we were staying. Since our cash was about depleted, we had no choice but to take a trip into Panajachel.

Panajachel is the town at the edge of the lake where we first arrived. The name is derived from the Kaqchikel language and roughly translates as "place of the Matasanos." Matasano is a fruit tree native to the lake region, and is credited with an array of curative powers. Panajachel is the center for the tourist trade of the area, as it provides a port for visitors crossing the lake to visit other towns and villages.

We caught a boat from our dock in Jaibolito back to Panajachel, and headed straight to the DF (Despensa Familiar) which was in actuality the local Walmart. Although it assumes a different name, and has yet another name in Guatemala City, the store still has the WalMart logo and the fine print clearly indicates it is a Walmart. We were advised to use the ATMs at the DF because they are the safest machines in the area. Many of the ATMs, we were told, are rigged so that people can capture the account numbers and passwords of users. The DF also provided armed guards to keep people from tampering with them.

After successfully acquiring the cash we thought we needed for the rest of the week, we walked down the main street which was lined end to end with vendors. We had hoped to escape the persistent street vendors when we left Antigua, but they were out in full force here, and more determined than ever.

Panajachel street market

Restaurants were plentiful and the workers were just as determined to entice tourists into their parlors as the vendors were to sell their wares. As we found out later, they often worked together. We were successfully enticed into an Italian restaurant and ordered pizza and no sooner than we had ordered, several street vendors were invited in to make their pitch. We were a captive audience, and the girls refused to leave. In fact, they appeared to be a distraction as the cook made a quick run to the market to buy the ingredients for the pizzas we had just ordered.

While we managed to get out with full bellies and no purchases from the vendors at our table, we soon discovered we had eaten at one of the more expensive places. That was the beginning of our money woes.
The vendors were thick and ready for a sale or two, or three, or more. There really were some good deals and some good products, and we did buy. Even a purchase did not relax the vulturous vendors, and the same people we just bought from only pressed that much harder for an additional sale. One girl followed us the entire length of the street and just wouldn't accept no for an answer. She showed us the same items repeatedly for about 20 minutes and refused to leave our side. By the time we reached the end of the street, which was quite long, we quickly switched directions and finally out maneuvered the small yet determined vendor.

A few vendors at the street market

When we had a free moment to review our purchases and count our remaining money, we found we had spent almost the entire amount we had just withdrawn that was supposed to last us the week. Back to the DF we went for another withdrawal. We picked up a few groceries while there, and took a TukTuk back to the dock which helped us avoid all the pesky vendors.

Mayan girl on the boat

The boat ride back didn't turn out to be much of a reprieve. Our best guess was that the small water craft was designed to seat 18 people, and possibly a few more of the tiny framed locals. Sandwiched like Guatemalan sardines, we counted 36 for the return trip. The water was choppy and the motor was taxed to carry the oversized load. The heavy boat sat so low in the water that we couldn't help but take on some water from the spray. A tarp was pulled over the front of the seating area to keep the people in that part from getting drenched, yet water still managed to make its way in. We listened to the whine of the struggling motor and looked for possible exits should the boat succumb to the weight and the waves. We decided that for safety's sake we should count life preservers and make a claim for the most accessible; there were only 13.

We were exhausted upon returning to our guest house, yet grateful for having arrived safely. After our breathing returned to normal, we pulled out our purchases. Due to the blur of the vendors and the rush of clothes, tapestries and jewelry shoved into our faces, we realized that we weren't even sure what we bought. We were a bit eager to actually see all of what we purchased on our outing.

Falling Water

Our Friday at Lake Atitlan began with an upscale breakfast at our host's restaurant. We were joined by a (temporarily) local man who had only been in the area for six months. Aaron and his wife were from Colorado, but were on a two year trek through Central and South America. He had done a month of exploratory hiking throughout the mountains surrounding the lake, then in order to earn money to support their travels, started a business of taking visitors on hikes around the area. We decided to secure Aaron's services to lead us on an afternoon adventure to see some of the mountain views, which included a cascading creek and large hidden waterfall.

Our hike started at the little village of Jaibolito and followed a tiny but well traveled trail up the side of the mountain. Beautiful vistas began to unfold immediately. In just a few minutes of hiking we were able to view the lake and surrounding mountains from a new and exciting vantage point. This was not Six Flags or Disneyland - there were no guard rails or precautionary signs posted. The trail was rugged and narrow and often followed along the edge of steep and foreboding precipices. We couldn't help but wonder if one of the local family ancestors was a billy goat, but one thing was for certain - ours was not! The lake itself is approximately 5000 feet above sea level, and our hike took us a good deal higher.

Occasionally the trail would flatten out and be quite easy and safe, and sometimes we climbed on what seemed to be almost vertical rocky cliffs. Our guide was careful and considerate, giving us periodic moments of rest after particularly challenging climbs. We were also given many opportunities to stop and take pictures of the impressive beauty surrounding us.

Due to the unexpected and unseasonal rain the day before, the mountains were particularly fragrant. The smell of lemongrass and fresh green vegetation permeated the air. It was delightful and refreshing.

Many of the steep hillsides were used for crops. We frequently encountered corn and coffee plants. Due to the incredibly steep angles, planting and harvesting looked like it could be quite a treacherous undertaking. Most of these almost vertical fields had no designated path and were not terraced. It was a wonder how they managed to farm them.

Mountainside showing large square patches where crops are grown

We took a break from our hike at a beautiful hillside hotel and restaurant called Los Lomas De Tzununa. We sat on a long and narrow porch and had fresh pineapple juice and chips with guacamole and refried beans, while still taking in the magnificent vistas.

Our hike resumed, this time heading down toward the village of Tzununa. We were coached on proper behavior not to photograph the locals without their permission, and on how to say a greeting in Kaqchikel. Our enthusiastic guide loudly greeted the locals with a Shka g'er, which roughly translates as hello, followed by another phrase, Utz' swatch, which means 'how're you today?', to which the locals responded Utz (good). The short dialog ended with a ma'tiosh (thank you). Whether it was our guide's odd pronunciation or the surprise of seeing an obviously non-local person attempt to speak their language, the greeting never failed to produce smiles and giggles from the villagers.

The mountain town of Tzununa, where we started our climb to the waterfall

The village was built along a stream which flowed from the mountain. Our destination was at the top of the stream where a 30 foot waterfall cascaded within a concealed alcove. As we started up the hill, the clouds gathered for another unseasonal downpour. We took refuge under the awning of an uninhabited building to wait out the deluge. We resumed our uphill journey before the rain completely stopped, but this afforded us a cooler ascent.

We completed the journey to the waterfall following the stream bed, switching back and forth across the flowing water. We passed several homes of villagers, including one home of an expat from the US who ran a small organic vegetable farm with a few animals such as goats and rabbits. We continued our watery climb and scrambled up boulders until we reached our prize: a thin but beautiful waterfall. We rested, snacked a bit and took photographs before returning to the bottom of the stream and back to the lake.

A return trip back on the same mountainside trail was definitely not an option at this point since we were all exhausted, and besides, sundown was quickly approaching. From the Tzununa dock we caught a local water taxi back to Jaibolito to have a much needed meal at a small rustic restaurant called Han's place, which is THE local hangout for tourists and expats.

Lake Atitlan

Our first full day at Lake Atitlan began with a steady recuperation from the prior days food poisoning. The area is remote yet gorgeous. Being submerged in the pristine tropical setting was calming and restorative for us. After an energizing breakfast we began to explore our surroundings.

Lake Atitlan holds the title of the deepest lake in Central America. Originally formed by volcanic activity, it is an enormous caldera flanked by massive cliffs and three classic coned volcanos. All three volcanos can be captured in one photograph, which makes for breathtaking vistas. The area has often been noted as one of, if not THE most beautiful lake in the world.

View of a volcano from the pool at Club Ven Aca

Several villages are located along the shore of the lake, the largest being Santiago, which is located on the south side near the base of one of the volcanoes. The most visited and easiest to access is Panajachel. The primary road into the basin leads to Pana (as the locals call it for short) and boats can be taken from there to all the other communities. Pana's primary source of income today is tourism, and has a large number of places for shopping as well as the largest number of hotels and restaurants in the basin.

Our house

Many of the villages can only be accessed by boat, including the small village of Jaibolito, which is right next to where we are staying. Our apartment is actually one of three homes on an area known as Club Ven Aca. Two of the homes are private residences, and the third is available as a short term rental. The Club has a public restaurant at the edge of the water, and serves some of the best cuisine in the area. Tables placed around an infinity pool and hot tub are in a picturesque setting with the three volcanoes in perfect view across the lake. Our two-story house sits in the back of the perfectly manicured property overlooking a well stocked vegetable garden. Our view from the front upper deck peeks over the two private residences and directly faces the lake and volcanos. The other three sides face vegetation rich cliffs which are full of a wide assortment of fruit trees including papaya, avocado and banana. We are surrounded by a grove of lush beauty. Gilligan's Island has nothing on this place.

View of the lake from our balcony window

A Bad Wrap

(This entry penned by Trevor. It may not be suitable for the faint of heart or at least those prone to a queasy stomach)

Leaving Antigua was met with mixed emotions. We arrived, we learned, we adjusted - We had conquered! Moving to another city required us to start all over again. We were mostly packed the night before so we anticipated an easy departure. Mark woke early, as he did several times before, and had hot coffee and tea ready, and was preparing to use up the rest of our groceries on vegetarian omelets. Although prearranged plans were in motion, there were new issues underway for which we had not adequately prepared. Apparently as we were fast asleep and enraptured with sweet dreams of a vacation in paradise, Montezuma, disguised as the sand man, crept in and gave us a wallop we won't soon forget.

Mark was the first to notice, and consequently his omelets ended up a little runny, and I don't mean the eggs. While Bryan and I were trying to finish off the last of the eggs, juice and tortillas, Mark was hard at work using up the remaining toilet paper. As an act of sheer mercy, which can only help to prove the existence of God, Mark completely dried up just moments before our driver appeared to begin our three hour journey to our next destination, Lake Atitlan.

The highway was modern and well paved, but the small villages and towns looked like they were straight out of Old Mexico. Homes and businesses seemed mostly constructed out of concrete bricks and brightly painted. Many structures were incomplete and small stores of bamboo and grass roofs were dispersed throughout. There was a lot of traffic and surprisingly enough, a good percentage of the vehicles appeared to be relatively new. Gas was approximately $4, and was sold by the gallon instead of the liter.

Throughout the drive we were constantly ascending higher into the mountains. As we reached the crest, we entered a town that wound around narrow streets and steep hillsides. To me it seemed like a latino version of Eureka Springs, but without the quaint atmosphere and charm. This was more of a typical Guatemalan village, filled with perros, peddlers and pedestrians.

Descending toward Lake Atitlan

The road unexpectedly took a sharp plunge, and for the next 30 minutes we descend toward the lake. The road was only two lanes and in the process of being repaved, so the construction added to our time. The road snaked steeply down the mountainside and eventually ended at the small lakeside village of Panajachel. We then transferred from the van into a speedboat, which whisked us across the lake to our destination, Club Ven Aca. We checked into our domicile then went directly to the restaurant. By this time Mark and I were both feeling a bit uncomfortable, and we had hoped a good meal would help. We were served fish tacos which looked and smelled wonderful, but no sooner than we started eating it became a race back to the apartment and into the bathroom.

Arriving by boat to Club Ven Aca

The next 18 hours proved to be a constant marathon of unimaginable discomfort. In stark contrast to our previous apartment, our new facility had only one bathroom instead of three. There were no pharmacies nearby for medicine and no stores for necessities. Mark and I were taking turns perching on the commode then on our knees staring into it and then back to sitting, and again back on our knees, and occasionally requiring both positions simultaneously. When one of us showed a momentary lapse in production the other immediately took over so as to keep things moving. I had delirious visions of being handcuffed to Colonel Sanders while Ronald McDonald dipped us back and forth in a vat of rancid oil.

Mark and I temporarily shared the bed closest to the bathroom since the location of the next available bed would have assured disaster when the inopportune moment struck. Bryan was fortunate and did not partake in this ancient Central American tradition with us. Instead, he worked overtime with attempts to soothe our misery while keeping the bathroom stocked. He brought us occasional green tea or bites of fruit which went down gratefully but were speedily met with eviction.

The night crept along as we continued our regular devotion with the local porcelain pot between moments of helplessness on the sweat laden bed. By morning we were both completely exhausted. We lay motionless as Bryan tried to determine if we had survived the night and to what extent. With no small degree of effort, we made our way to the restaurant, managed to keep down our breakfast, and began our recovery back to the realm of the upright.

Thinking back as to what likely initiated our traumatic adventure, the only thing that Mark and I ate that Bryan didn't was from McDonald's. Bryan ate a McPollo (chicken) burger while Mark and I split a McChicken wrap, since they were so large. I remember at the time thinking how it was just slathered in mayo. It's ironic that we are more than a thousand miles away from home and eating in dirty little local hangouts with no trouble and then end up getting deathly ill from a McDonald's. I assure you that darn clown was no fun at all!

It's a Wrap

As our first week in Guatemala came to a close, so did our time in the mysterious walled city of Antigua. After a week we were feeling pretty much at home. The apartment was beautiful, the people were friendly, and most things we needed were close at hand. Grocery stores and pharmacies were within walking distance, numerous restaurants were on every block, and plenty of ATM machines were available when we needed more cash. We also learned which areas to avoid to escape the street vendors, and found where the best ice cream shops were.

In our first week of eating in restaurants, we never ate at the same place twice. Besides traditional Guatemalan cuisine, we also found and enjoyed Italian, US, Thai, Japanese and even Middle Eastern food. One restaurant near our apartment was owned by a man from Oregon. In the front of his restaurant he had a store which sold an assortment of US goods including a line of products from Trader Joes.

Tuk-Tuk

During the day, the city streets were bustling. Tuk-Tuks filled the streets and seemed to be a primary form of transportation, although there were plenty of automobiles and even some brave souls cautiously maneuvering the cobblestone streets on bicycles. After the sun would set, traffic mostly came to a halt except in the area right around the city square. It seemed that most of Antigua's night life consisted of sleeping, except for the frequent blasting of fireworks and the sound of a tolling bell at all hours. We were told that the fireworks were probably a part of wedding celebrations, and the bell could be a call to mass. Mass at four in the morning? What devotion!

The mornings were particularly beautiful; each one like a postcard with beautiful blue skies and perfectly placed puffy white clouds rolling across the tops of the volcanos. Birds chirping playfully and the scent of flowers blowing through the windows created the perfect start to each day. The only exception to the morning bliss was a couple of frisky pigeons that woke us every morning with banging and thumping on the metal rooftop.

Morning view from our bedroom window

Internet accessibility has revolutionized the city by connecting it not only to the world, but also to each other. It truly is a case of old mixed with new for a beneficial outcome. But as available as internet is in the city, our apartment was obviously not one of the chosen spots. The connection was strongest in the stairwell so consequently we all spent adequate amounts of time together on the stairs.

Accessing the internet in the apartment stairwell

As our final night in the city arrived, we were busy packing and preparing for our move on the following morning. Not wanting to spend too much time out, we opted for a fast food dinner at the local McDonalds. In keeping with the Antigua norm, there were no protruding signs and we never even saw it until we were in the doorway.
Once inside, it was gorgeous with a large multi level courtyard with flowers and fountains. The interior was landscaped beautifully and equalled some of the more expensive restaurants in the city. For the most part, the menu looked like ours in the States and the prices were very comparable.
One difference we saw was that all sandwiches came as a meal deal with no option for a burger only. So, like it or not, you get fries and a drink. Also, besides the usual apple pie they also offered pineapple and cream cheese fried pies. What could be more fitting to wrap up the week than have a chicken wrap? It was three times as large as ones back home, which is not necessarily a good thing (as mentioned in an upcoming blog entry: A Bad Wrap).

Mark/Trevor/Bryan on a mountain overlooking Antigua

Walls & Doors

Our first impression of Antigua was that it entirely consisted of only walls and cobblestone streets. As we spent time walking through the city we started noticing the wide array and variance of the walls and doors. Walls were routinely painted bright colors and frequently outlined with colorful plants and flowers; the natural wear and weathering highlighting them as accents. The doorways and entrances to the homes and business were certainly unique and we soon realized we had found a treasure trove of art.

Money Matters

The Resplendent Quetzal

What can be more indicative of another culture besides language and currency? The language of Guatemala is Spanish, that's an easy guess. But what about the currency? We were not familiar with it, and in fact, our first currency converter app for the iPhone didn't even have it as an option nor did we see it as an option at the currency conversion booth at the airport. We had no choice but to wing it.

The Guatemalan currency is called the Quetzal, named after the national bird, the Resplendent Quetzal. In ancient Mayan culture, the quetzal bird's tail feathers were used as currency.

Similar to the dollar, the quetzal is divided into 100 cents, or centavos. The centavos comes in coins while the whole quetzals are paper bills the same size as our US dollars, yet in various colors. The older bills have a feel very similar to our dollars while the newer bills feel very much like plastic. The coins are either gold or silver and greatly vary in size. The smallest we found is the 5 centavos which is smaller than our dime, and the 1 centavos, about the size of our 50 cent piece. The coins don't seem to be used as much as paper money and it was three days before we saw our first coin.
As of this writing, the conversion rate is approximately Q7.7 for $1 so trying to calculate the cost of things is not always direct or easy. At our first breakfast, we were presented a check for a straightforward Q120 while the waiter stood by for the payment. The three of us hovered over the check as if we were trying to decipher a secret code. We guessed, divided, calculated and added, and then with uncertainty did it again. Still unsure of the tip, which we later found out was always 10%, we started over-figuring in both dollars and quetzals. It must have been quite a dialogue going on inside that waiter's head watching as if we were trying to iron out the whole country's financial trouble. Whatever he though, it must have ended with "crazy gringos". We soon improved on our payment methods and decided it is sometimes best to pay up front and do the figuring back at the apartment. Fortunately, in a pinch we found that most places would accept American dollars too.