Loved the lake...

Waiting at the Minerva bus terminal for my chicken bus to leave

Lago Aitlan worth the long, uncomfortable trip to get there

surrounded by volcanoes

Hotel Aaculaax in San Marcos la Laguna

food at Moonfish cafe Yum!

One of many "healing" centres

Pyramids everywhere

astute young business women 

hammocks at hotel

view from the lake

It was great to be near water again

San Pedro pier

snacks on the "business class" bus

San Marcos pier, boat to Panajachel

back at busy Minerva terminal

John L Stevens the 19^th century travel writer called Lago de Aitlan

“the most magnificent spectacle we ever saw”

I wouldn’t go quite that far, but it was worth the uncomfortable hours in various forms of public transport to get there and back.

The lake was formed when a massive volcanic eruption 85,000 years ago caused the earth to collapse and the circular hollow that remained is Lago de Aitlan.

It is surrounded by volcanoes, and a number of small towns cling to hills around its shores. One of these, San Marcos La Laguna is, according to my guide book, a haven for contemporary new-agers and boasts Las Pyramides meditation centre, so I decide to make this my destination, with a stop in San Pedro on the way back.

Armed with the names of a few places for accommodation and with only a small day pack, I set off to catch a collective taxi from my “casa” to the Minerva bus terminal. I have been told which “chicken buses” to catch to get to the lake, and where I have to change and take a small boat, but when I get to the terminal a tout convinces me that I can get a direct bus there, but I will have to wait for an hour. I decide to wait, but I should have known better.

To be fair, the bus was direct, however the journey took nearly 5 hours (instead of the scheduled 2.5) as we had to wait nearly 2 hours for the bus to be full and then when it did eventually get going, it stopped frequently to pick up even more passengers. The last hour or so of the trip was grueling as the road was very steep with huge pot holes and the bus inched along at barely more than walking pace. The scenery was breathtaking and the scene inside the bus was photo worthy but it was impossible to take photos, in part because you had to hold on for dear life, particularly around the hair pin bends, but also because the majority of passengers were Indigenous Maya who do not like photos being taken around them.

I would have liked you to see the driver’s assistant hanging precariously out of the bus door, leaning into the wind like a dog leaning out of a car window, or the bus wall and ceiling plastered with a strange combination of cartoon characters and religious slogans.

I would have liked to you see just how many people were sandwiched into the old school bus. At one point 4 people were jammed into each seat and the aisles were crowded with extra people, every conceivable inch of the bus utilized, and people even hanging out the door.

I was at times standing, others sitting, sometimes barely one cheek on the tiny bit of seat that I could hold on to. For a while I was almost sitting on the driver and an old man was almost sitting in my lap. I could not see outside the bus, in front of me only the bright colours of the hand made multipurpose material that is used as clothing, baby carrier and shopping basket depending on the need.

As uncomfortable (and claustrophobic) as it was at times, it was a great way to get to know locals. My fellow travellers were friendly and helpful and I enjoyed overhearing their conversations (many locals speak Spanish as well as their own languages).

For a while I sat next to a family of 4 (grandmother, her 2 daughters and a granddaughter) who were going to one of the lakeside village for a family outing to celebrate the birthday of one of the sisters. The 37 year old woman had a huge smile on her face, not even the long delays cutting into her day trip could dampen her excitement. She told me she was worried about her daughter who was not doing well at school. I spoke to the young girl and shared some of my snacks with her. She was intelligent and curious and responded shyly to my questions.

The whole family laughed loudly when I began to move and sing along to the salsa music that was blaring from loud-speakers affixed to the front of the bus. If I’d had room I think I would have danced in the aisles!

Eventually we came to the top of yet another mountain and I glimpsed Lago de Aitlan. It was so beautiful to see an expanse of water. I realised just how much I had missed being near the ocean.  

The bus left me on top of a hill and the driver motioned San Marco was straight ahead. A group of young tuk tuk drivers yelled taxi and I didn’t bother to negotiate the exorbitant (by local standards) fare he demanded. Expertly he guided the 3 wheeler down the hill and deposited me at the “centro”. I followed a pathway down towards the water, glad I did not have luggage and found Aaculaax. http://www.aaculaax.com

a hotel made of recycled material that a friend had recommended.

   

I booked a cheap room (without a view) and set out to explore the village. Immediately there was something about the place I did not like. Perhaps it was the labyrinth like streets that I kept getting lost in, perhaps it was the zombie like people I came across at the meditation centre, or maybe I just tapped into all the chaotic energy of the dozens of alternative lifestylers, ex pats healers, masseurs and artists who have made San Marcos home.  

I decided to have a massage as all the “energy” was stressing me out, but even that was disappointing.

I just wanted a massage, a moderate kneading of my tense muscles with some aromatic oil. What I got was a cross between acupuncture, Thai massage which I dislike (I do not like being walked on by cold feet or stretched into ungainly and uncomfortable positions) and what was it with the heavy breathing?? I felt like I was a woman in labour being urged to breathe through contractions!

Afterwards I made my way unsteadily back to the hotel determined to leave on the first boat in the morning and decided to lie in one of the hammocks in the garden. A young woman lying in one of the hammocks greeted me and told me she absolutely loved the place because of its energy. She also told me she had left her family in Israel and followed a “guru” called John to Edmondson Canada. I managed to hold my tongue for a while, but eventually just couldn’t be silent. Surprisingly in spite of the fact that I made it clear that I didn’t think much of gurus, she invited me to join her for dinner.

It was an interesting end to a strange day. The Fe restaurant was surprisingly good although the Fish Masala I had, as a delicious as it was, was probably much too rich for me given the pretty  bland food I have been eating lately and I did have a rather upset stomach the next day!

As soon as we sat down there was huge downpour and a young girl who I had spoken to earlier sought refuge in the restaurant. I met Evangela on the pier when I arrived. She was selling chocolates for 10 quetzals (about 1 dollar) to tourists. She told me she attended school every morning until 12 but then worked until about 6. It was about 7.30pm and she was on her way home about a 25 minute walk away. For every chocolate bar she sold, she earned 1 quetzal (about 10 cents). Her dream was to become an English teacher. She was hungry so we shared our food with her and eventually she left to walk home. I marveled at how different her life was to other 11 year olds in Australia.

I slept well in my single bed, my usual alarm clock (barking dogs) woke me at about 5.30am and I decided to go for a walk to the top of the hill behind the hotel.

The ground was still very soggy from the downpour the night before and

a few times on the way up I lost my footing but the view from the top was worth it. For a few moments on top of that hill I experienced real peace.

Determined to find another way down, I made my way through thick foliage following the sound of a small boat. At one point I lost my balance and slid down part of the hill on my back, a small shrub that I grabbed on to breaking my fall. I was not hurt, just a little shaken and my “back up” reading glasses were missing from my head. Miraculously I found them half buried in the leafy undergrowth some distance away!

The hill on the way down was dotted with locked up houses, hidden from view and reached via many steep steps. Strangely there was no sign of life. I was glad to finally emerge back onto a central pathway.  

The hot shower back at the hotel washed away the mud that was caked on my arms and legs and after a breakfast on the terrace I set off to catch a “lancha” to San Pedro.

The ride on the lake to Pana where I had to catch a bus was the highlight of the trip. I closed my eyes and listened to the hum of the small motor, breathed in fresh air and felt the vibration of the small boat as it chugged across the lake past proud volcanoes and small villages carrying us safely to the other side.

There I said goodbye to the 2 girls I met who worked for Habit for Humanity, Guatemala. http://www.habitat.org/intl/lac/86.aspx

(They told me they loved their work but they were both stressed and were interested in learning how to meditate, so I gave them a quick lesson on the boat!)

I waited on the side of the road with a couple of locals and a few minutes later I was back on a chicken bus bound for Xela, my home for just a few more days.

hasta luego
Mon x