Landed in Panachajel, close to Lake Atitlan. The lake area is a popular destination for tourists and all the different Mayan communities live close to and around this lake. Panachajel, where we are, is crowded with foreigners, especially white people and has some interesting store fronts. We get to the restaurant called Casablanca which has pictures of Bogart and Bergman but also a motley of photographs of Mayan women, abstract art and some pictures of Hindu gods and goddesses added for good measure. There is even a painting of Mother Teresa hung on the walls around us already crowded with different pictures. The food is delicious and we learn that the owner is from North America, what else?! We are close to Santander street and plan to come back in the evening for food at Bombay cafe( I have already checked out Lonely Planet for some restaurant suggestions) and some shopping. They have ‘tuk-tuks’ here; what we in India would call’autos’. Simba takes us to our hotel through a bumpy, gravelly road to a beautiful hotel on the lake called Hotel Atitlan. The gardens are absolutely gorgeous and I see a couple in the garden who need someone to take their pictures. Simba leaves us to remind us to be ready in the morning for a boat ride on the lake. My husband is waiting to shop at the big gift store right there in the hotel and takes me in.
Posts Tagged ‘guatemala’
Guatemala diaries:to lake Atitlan
March 26, 2013Guatemala diaries: leaving Chichicastenango for Solola market:
March 26, 2013
Simba is a very interesting guide; he looks like a guero(white man) but is very connected to the Mayan people. He calls himself a ladino, which means half Mayan and half white. Apparently, his grandfather was an American, who came to Guatemala and had a Mayan mistress whom he abandoned and went back to USA. I think that must have made Simba bitter about his white ancestry and maybe makes him closer to the Mayan traditions. Whatever the reasons, he is fascinated with the curanderos ( loosely called witchdoctors in English, but it is more like alternative medicine) of Guatemala that I mentioned in my first two posts. having grown up in India, I am very familiar with this whole world of alternative cures and medicines. The sweet woman , Raji, who takes care of my sister’s house and dog in India follows these traditions. When her son has problems with mental health, she prefers going to somebody and ask for advice instead of going to a psychiatrist.
So we follow Simba up the hill to see the colorful gravestones in the cemetery. There is even a gravestone with the Virgin of Guadalupe ( the dark-skinned Mary of Mexico) There are smoke-covered dark areas where the Mayans have obviously used incense, candles and rum offerings to their gods, a prefect blend of local beliefs with the Catholic tradition. We leave Chichicastenango to go onwards to Lake Atitlan . On the way, we stop at another colorful market at Solola to see dark- colored chayotes, vegetables, chillies and fish. Here there is more colorful attire, more Mayan groups from different parts around the lake.
Guatemala diaries:Chichi contd
March 25, 2013Before dinner that evening( where we are the only two served by our waiter,Juan, dressed in 16th century style attire) we go to the bar area to talk to the gentleman at the bar. He is a small man with glasses and speaks English and Spanish, but tells me that he is Mayan and speaks Quiche. His mayan name is Loo with an accent on the ‘oo’ sound that abruptly ends, kind of hard for me to say! What a charming room and adjoining rooms! We discover an ancient typewriter in one of the rooms and paintings by early 19th century Guatemalan artists called Garabito andAlfredo Suarez. We discover a computer as well in that room and quickly check messages.
Loo is very friendly and talks about the German American who started this Inn. (There is a faded black and white picture of the gentelman, early 50’s rendition. Most hotels in Guatemala seem to be owned by Americans who must have come here early on in the 20th century) He mentions that tourism is low right now( pretty obvious since we seem to be the only people around)I ask him about buying stuff at the market and he states that it is a good place to bargain and buy beautiful hand embroidered ‘huipiles’, the blouse the women wear. I regret in my mind the fact that I missed a chance that evening buying one of those by bargaining too hard, feel like a tightwad not having bought something from that woman.
Juan comes and puts firewood and lights the fireplace. We go to bed with several layers shivering and I, for once, wear my shawl tightly wrapped around in the morning to have a look at the beautiful birds chirping while my husband grumbles about the cold, cold night. Before Simba arrives, we have breakfast and walk up and down the undulating, cobblestoned streets as the vendors come in and out cleaning up after the Sunday market.
guatemala diaries4: on the road to Chichi
March 22, 2013It is Sunday morning and we get ready to meet our new guide at 7. Simba( I have to call him that,with his blond mane and big body, he reminds me of a mighty lion) greets us at the front and we get into the van. He is both our driver and guide. Simba stops at a hotel in Zona viva to pick up two women who would be with us for half the trip.
Simba talks all the way. We first stopped at a coffee processing plant and talk to a lady who explains the process and let us try the coffee there which is delicious. Then we get on the road again, winding roads; it feels like I am in the hills in India and also makes me feel a little sick. When I do sneak a peak outside,the view is breathtaking and Simba points out some volcanoes as well in the distance. Many hair-pin bends later we stop to eat lunch. I see a woman making tortillas; she takes a lime size dough from her pan of ‘masa’ and just pats it in her palms and she puts( a slightly thicker version than the corn tortillas I have seen in the supermarkets in Chicago)the tortilla on a hot concave base and cooks it. We try and our efforts are pitiful; they either tear up or are tinier versions of hers. She must think we are inept cooks! Lunch is good and filling: lots of warm thick tortillas with beans and cheese and a cup of hot chocolate to wash it all down.
Back on the bus with my eyes mostly closed with more twists and turns as we go up mountains. We see lots and lots of women wearing colored skirts and beautifully embroidered blouses. Simba tells us that based on the style of their skirts and blouses one can tell which group of Mayans they belong to since there are over 20 different Mayan languages and groups in and around Lake Atitlan and surrounding areas. We finally arrive at Chichicastenango to the Sunday market where many Mayan families would be selling their wares in between the two churches, El Calvario and Santo Domingo. On the way we stop at some trees growing along the sides of the road and pick up orange-colored beans.
Simba drops the two women at their hotel. It is a charming place with cockatoos, macaws and beautiful trailing vines and plants everywhere. Our hotel Mayan Inn is 
smaller but similar. Our room is tiled, has a fireplace with rugs and two beds. It is chilly already and I know we will cover ourselves with layers of blankets and need the fireplace started.
Guatemala diaries:3
March 20, 2013I realized that my posts are not chronological. So let me start from the beginning. As I mentioned earlier, we had sufficient warning as we picked up our bags from a young woman who lives half the time in Guatemala and the other half in Miami. As we walked out and I was successful in warding off anyone who spoke to me in English by responding in Spanish, we saw our driver ( carrying our name and tour company). Marcelo chattered all the way and I noticed some big buildings. We were staying at Barcelo (Westin chain) close to Zona viva ( Zone 10) the safer zone. The hotel was beautiful and the young man attending to incoming cars assured us we could walk around till 6pm. We stepped outside gingerly and saw ( what else) a Macdonald’s. Reassured by a fast food chain close by we walked towards Zone 10 where most of the tourist crowd was housed in several hotels we could see. The crossroads near the hotel was pretty with a big jacaranda tree in bloom. Lots of little shops lined the sides of the street and we peeped in to look at the wonderful brightly colored textiles. We quickly returned to our hotel. That was our first glimpse of the capital.We were leaving early morning for Chichicastenango, for the Sunday market and we would probably see more exciting handicrafts there.
Guatemala diaries :2
March 20, 2013When I first read about Rio Dulce I wondered why a river was considered sweet; probably it looks beautiful, I thought to myself. Early morning on our fifth or sixth day in Gautemala, our guide hustled us to Amatique Bay to take a ride on Rio Dulce. He had not prepared me for the fact that we had to start at Amatique Bay on the Caribbean Sea. Just as we sat in the small boat with the nine of us ( two people to sit on each bench) Arty( that’s my name for him)the guide, casually mentioned,” Oh the Caribbean sea will be a bit rough but once we get to the river we will be fine!” He did not mention how long ( or maybe by then I was too paralyzed with fear to hear him say that; did I forget to mention that I am terrified of boat rides since I feel sick even on the passenger seat of a car?) or how rough.
Well we got on the boat with life-jackets on ( did I mention that I am helpless in water?) and for a while as the driver got the boat going we moved slowly. Then he speeded up and each time we hit a wave( the water had these tiny waves in them) we moved up and came down. It was terrifying for me and I closed my eyes and held on to the seat in front of me. My hands were tensing on the seat and I kept saying words in Tamil in an undertone. Then I started counting in my head: one-thousand and one, one thousand and two……. this is my way of passing minutes since my husband sweetly informed me that it would take an hour to cross the sea. For a while( I would say’while’ equalled about fifteen minutes) I did not see or feel anything around me except the water splashing on me. But suddenly, I thought of all those people who had plied their boats on this sea taking goods back and forth for centuries,they probably had smaller boats those days, what kind of attire did they wear then? Did they speak different languages? How did the spanish communicate with the mayans? I could actually look at the water around me, see the distant shore on the left of me and even say ” Whoa!” like the other passengers each time the boat rocked up and down. I was ready to ask Arty some questions and the first one was, ” Why was the river called sweet? Is it because it is calmer than this sea?” ” Not really, I think the Spanish carried sugar cane from the Caribbean to the ports to carry them across to their country. That is where that name came.” responded Arty with a laugh. By then I was fine with the rocking and stopped holding on to the front seat telling myself that if I died, we would all die together.
The hour passed by without my counting every second of it. Soon I could see brown pelicans and gulls skimming near the water, looking for fish. I knew we were close to the shore. “Livingston!’ said Arty as we craned our necks to look at the red 
roofed houses and green foliage dotting the shore.
Guatemala Diaries
March 18, 2013Just came back from Guatemala, or Guate like they say there. ( Looked at t-shirts that say”Guats up?” or “Guat happened in Gaute?” or something crazy like that) As we started to pick up our baggage we were warned to be careful in Guatemala. I hear this in every new place I go to. I visit India every year and if I did not dress completely like the Indians there but hang around in Western clothes and spoke with an American accent I would have to be wary. I do code- switching as soon as I get in line to get my passport stamped, I bob my head according to the custom there and start mixing Tamil generously with my English. The size of my dot on my forehead increases and once I go to my city Chennai, I wear saris most of the time. Nobody even suspects that I am an NRI( non-resident Indian) except when they see my oversize bags at the airport every time I come and leave!
Ok, this does not work for us in Guatemala. Even though I speak good Spanish, I am carrying a camera and shooting pictures. I am definitely a tourist, it is written large on my face! So I stick with the tourists and have a guide with us. One of the first things that amazes me are the churches. The Spanish came to Guate with their Dominican, Franciscan and Merced missionaries. As a writer, I am tempted to start a historical fiction about the period they came( 1520s) and the way the Mayan Indians have blended their own earlier beliefs with the Catholic beliefs. They have an extra apostle, called San Simon( saint Simon) or Maximon who drinks rum and smokes cigars. They have offerings of rum to him and come to him via shamaans or curanderos to cure them of ills in their lives. They collect orange-colored beans and tell the story of their future lives by arranging and rearranging those beans. These beans grow all along the way to Chichicastenango where you see colorfully clothed Mayan woman selling beautifully embroidered ‘huipiles’ and mats. Near Lake Atitlan there are over 24 different indigenous Mayan languages and varying attire.
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