Lago Atitlan Adventure

Last week, I decided it was time for one last big adventure before school started.  I knew that our short-term volunteers were going to be celebrating New Years at Santa Cruz La Laguna and I also knew that the lovely Vaughn family from Fox Island had started a nonprofit in San Juan La Laguna and their partner lived there, as did the girls that my parents sponsor to go to school.  What I did not know is how much water is in my blood.  It gives me so much life.

This time in Guatemala has been the longest stretch of time since I was about 12 to go without kayaking or boating. Between that and the pool in town being closed for the holidays, I have felt like I was shriveling up.  Fortunately, in Atitlan, to get to any location, you are required to take a lancha – a boat that has a lot of people in it and stops at random unknown stops (much like the buses in the city).  The lanchas also have various prices: some for locals, some for frequent visitors, and some for the new-bees.  I fell in the latter category and no matter what I did to pay less, the fact that they had a monopoly over transportation (aka my business could not be taken elsewhere) always won.  Once Juli and I got them down 5 quetzales, but we were still paying double over normal. Ah vey! 

So, anyways, I got to Panajachel on the bus and decided to check it out (and by check it out, I don’t mean go shopping because that’s the primary thing you can do on the Pana streets).  I went ziplining!  It was me, myself, and I, and I was put in a group with a French family.  The guides and I became friends as we hiked up the trails and over the suspension bridges through some of the prettiest greenery I have seen in my life.  Once we got pretty high up, we began the ziplining joy. It consisted of 8 tracks – all of different lengths and speeds and all traversing the canyon looking at a waterfall, the lake, and the gorgeous canyon that was formed by volcanic eruption. It was so pretty!!!  

Check out the monkey!

 After ziplining, I began working my way to San Juan.  I caught a lancha and headed over across the lake feeling the spray on my face and realizing that water has to be a part of my life when I “grow up” (when does that happen?).  We dropped off all the tourists in San Pedro and one lady and I headed over to San Juan.  Talking to her, a nurse who was bringing a new bike to her husband home (it was in pieces wrapped in newspaper on the boat… very intriguing), and then befriending the artists at the dock while I waited for Benedicto, the Vaughn’s friend, to come pick me up, I also realized that small towns have to be a part of my life “when I grow up” as well.  The lack of pollution, the fact that we waved everywhere we went because we knew the people, and the insistence from the people on the streets when I went out to get dinner and said I was from Xela that San Juan is safe and if I have problems just tell them, made San Juan my new favorite place… ever. 

Then, there was the hiking!  San Juan, like many great places in Central America, has a cross up on a hill overlooking the town.  I decided I wanted to hike up to it.  One of my favorite bible verses this year is “Come to me, all you who are weary and carrying heavy burdens, and I will give you rest.” Matthew 11:28.  Due to my love of high energy lifestyle and habitual ignoring of tiredness (that I’m sure most of you have noticed before), I often struggle with this verse.  I really like it – it is really reassuring when I’m especially struggling, but I know that my relationship with Christ can include rest when I’m not crashing and overwhelmed by sadness and frustration.  Hiking up to crosses on top of hills gives this life to me because suddenly the weary and heavy burden of carrying my bible and journal (and water, and first aid kit, and…) up a hill to this cross just so I can sit at the base of it is really powerful for me.  It’s a visual representation of going to Christ with my weariness and seeking his rest.

The cross was GORGEOUS!  However, my excitement for adventure was not appeased so I continued on my way up the hill to La Nariz (The Nose).  It didn’t look very far… I thought I could do it in 30 min-1hr.  I was a bit wrong, but it was totally worth it.  From there, I could see Santa Maria (the volcano by my house), Volcan Agua (the volcano where we lived in Antigua), and the smoke coming out of Fuego (Antigua’s active volcano) in addition to the entire lake and the volcanoes framing the lake itself.  SO PRETTY!  I met my new friend Juan up there – his job is to sit up there and make sure tourists behave… not a bad job! 

And the girls!  They were great!  We got to go visit both of them and see their houses and I gave them some art supplies as a Christmas gift.  They both live with multiple generations and a handful of siblings in rooms that are down these narrow alleys that you just assume breaks in the building.  No, it’s the “path” to these “houses”.  One of the girls has a house that is about 3x9 meters.  In the front is the corner for the Latrine as well as the stove for cooking and heat and a bunch of wood to go in it. In the back is where everyone sleeps.  Seeing these houses and the layout, I now understand why familial rape is so common in indigenous families; there’s no place to go.

In addition to the poverty that all too prevalent, San Juan, and the lake in general, have the additional problem that there is too much water.  Hurricane Agatha hit this area really hard and then the rains that continued falling throughout the rainy season made the lake rise considerably.   Maria, Benedicto’s wife, said the lake grew in 100-200m in circumference.  So many houses are underwater, the docks were destroyed, and fields were flooded.  I was reading the Rough Guide to Climate Change while I was there, particularly the chapter about how global warming is leading to floods and droughts, and I got really sad.  We, as US citizens, don’t have any idea what we’re doing to the earth when we make decisions about how we use our resources and live our lives.  We sometimes see little parts or have extreme weather, but we don’t see a lake that has virtually no output holding more water than ever before, thus destroying hundreds of houses for people who have no government support or insurance to get new houses so they just silently move uphill.  Guatemala and Central American citizens have no idea as well; many of them can see the effects, but the connection between their broken diesel buses and trash burning with the houses and crops that are being destroyed is unfathomable.

Anyways… that’s food for thought for all of us to chew on, but this blog post isn’t done!  Because I have a whole other location to tell you about – Santa Cruz La Laguna!  We went there with the volunteers to a hostel here, La Iguana Perdida (literally called The Lost Iguana).  Like my hotel in San Juan, it had hammocks. Unlike San Juan, it had lots and lots of gringos and travellers at the beach (not in town… that was classic Mayan and tranquil (yet exhausting because it was built into a steep hill)).  We had a great New Years there with an amazingly organized dance circle where we even had some little Guatemalan boys join us.  Malea, Juli, and I escaped one morning and took out a tandem kayak to paddle and go jump off some rocks.  And I accompanied the group to go investigate San Marcos and San Juan.  All in all, it was really a blast.

My friends and I have made the distinctions in our conversations between being a tourist (usually older people who go on official tours, always with a guide) and being a traveler (usually younger people who want to see the sights of life and go to every place Lonely Planet has ever recommended).  I usually feel as though I’m a traveler, but after going from San Juan to Santa Cruz, I’m beginning to form another distinction: a visitor.  I loved San Juan because I was able to visit someone and get to be a part of their life and culture.  I love that I was welcomed in and for once I wasn’t someone who had a dollar sign on my forehead and therefore a target of scamming and I wasn’t a toy on which to practice cat calls…  it was quite refreshing.

I loved San Juan so much that after the group left Santa Cruz, Juli and I returned.  This time we had a purpose: to measure 47 children for their uniforms for the upcoming school year.  It all went really smoothly and was really powerful to see that many families being able to send their kids to school thanks to the generous donations of people in the States.

Monday morning, Juli and I got up really early because it was my first day back to official work and we were 3 hours away.  We got on the bus and began going up one of the steepest, curviest roads ever.  It was so pretty!  About 10 minutes after leveling out, our bus stopped. After a bunch of confusing conversations, we realized that there was some sort of protest and we were not going to be able to pass.  The bus offered to take people back to the lake, or we could fend for ourselves.  Juli and I opted for the latter and began following a large group of people through the cornfield.  We befriended a Belgium journalist and with the Spanish skills of the three of us put together, in addition to helpful phone conversations with Benedicto, we were able to figure out what was happening.  There was a nationwide Ex-Pac protest where the people who were promised provisions after the Civil War were reminding the government that they still have not received those provisions – 15 years later.  We stood on the side of the highway for about 45 minutes waiting for a bus or some sort of transportation to take us to Xela and as we were standing there, giant trucks used for cargo (open top semi-trucks?) drove by full of people, some in masks, stacked in the truck like cattle or sardines.  It was incredibly sad, powerful, and moving to see all these people committed to the cause yet deep inside knowing that change probably won’t happen.  We have begun an election year which means we have 9 months of campaigning, canvasing, and protests ahead of us.  It is definitely going to be interesting.  I don’t know what needs to happen to help these people be heard, but I sincerely hope that these elections are able to give positive change to the people of this country.  We’ll see…

Oh!  And we did get home.  We got on a bus that was promised to maybe or maybe not make it home.  It was packed with people so we went for the ever-popular back door... unfortunately, the bus started moving before we were in, but with some jumping and thanks for arm strength we made it and I got to work on time!