Panajachel, Lake Atitlan and Chichicastenango

The day trip around the lake was over. The weather was not conducive to photography. It was a boat ride from one city to another on the shores of the lake, each city much like the other. My travelling companions made up for it. An attractive forty year old intellectual property attorney who worked just hard enough to make enough money for another protracted trip and a German American woman, a professor of applied linguistics in Arizona made for great conversation.


The guide book said that Chichicastenango was world famous and the largest Mayan market in the world. Oh, hell, why not make a day trip of it. The market is only open on Thursday and Sunday. Saturday I booked transportation from Panajachel to Chichi, the fare was $8 USD but at the charged exchange rate of 8.6 Quetzales to the dollar (I was buying dollars so this was a bad rate) it worked out to Q43. Why do I go into these prices all the time you ask? Well, people that travel want to know. Some people travel for a month on less than $600. I couldn't do it but, it is done.

I went back to my hotel and tried to get a room for another night, but they were full. I was the only guest the night before. I walked the main street and found room at Volcanes where after a brief negotiation I got my room for Q200 about one third of the asking price.

At seven the alarm on my new cell phone woke me up. I packed my bags and headed down to a small restaurant. Shortly after arriving the woman from the tour company came up and told me that rather than meet me at the hotel as promised I should wait for the bus at the office in fifteen minutes. The hotel is but 50 meters from the office I didn't understand why she would track me down through town rather than just stick with the plan. I rushed the cook, rushed through breakfast. Eggs were Q26, coffee was Q5. 26 + 5 = 31 plus 10% = 34. I handed the guy a fifty. He pulled out a pad and wrote slowly twoooo, siiiiix, zeeeero, zeero. Fiiive, zeeero, zeeero.
Zeero plus zeero is zeero. Zeero plus zeero is zeero. Five plus six is eleven. Write down the one, carry the one. Two plus one is three. Write down the three. Circle the three add it to thirty one. Two minutes later he concluded that my bill was Q34. He dispatched the water to run down the street to make change for my bill. Nobody has any money. Ten minutes later I gave up, grabbed my bags and went out into the street. The waiter showed up and handed me my change.

At eight o'clock exactly I showed up a the tour company. Ok, where is the van? It is coming soon. Vans came and went. More vans came and went. I walked up to a van and handed the driver my ticket. He shook his head. Wrong company. I went back to the travel agency, where is this van you were in such a hurry to get me into? Another phone call, a long talk on a radio. Ten more minutes. Finally the guy who had rejected me called out to me... "Jaime?", I handed him the same ticket he had rejected earlier and boarded the van.

An hour later we were in Chichi. The usual dance trying to get off the bus, the doors blocked by people hawking hotels. I just needed a secure place for my bags. I asked the driver, he waved somebody over who walked me a few blocks down the street. We walked past some steel doors into the alcove of a large apartment building and the man ran off to get a woman. She unlocked a door and I placed my bags in the room and paid her the requested Q20. I took careful note of the location and asked the man what I asked for to find this place again. Hotel San Thomas, kitty corner was a place everybody knew.



The market was filled with the same fabrics, bags, masks, trinkets, miscellaneous crap for sale everywhere. I wanted to see what the Mayans were buying, not look at a bunch of souvenirs. Finally I walked down an aisle and found the real market. Mayans were coming at me in all directions; there was no where to walk, everybody just shoved their way through. The top of most of the heads only came to my sternum. Strange soups, chicken feet, the real deal. Finally I ended up at the base of the steps of the church. My fanny pack was unzipped, both compartments fully exposed. Passport, pens, flashlight, prescription sunglasses, spare batteries... I didn't notice anything missing. A woman was cooking blue tortillas. I asked what they were made of and was told "maiz negro" black corn. Huhh, she put her hand into a bowl taking out a chunk of dough and started to pat it flat, I started to dance to her clapping, she laughed, a dutch girl behind me laughed; I took her hand and we danced, more people joined in. The Guatemalan tortilla pat dance.

By noon I was done, but the next ride out of town was at two. I found the Hotel San Thomas and waved to the professor who was sipping some coffee but she ignored me. After walking the length of the courtyard past the macaws and parrots I turned around and started to head out. The professor waved at me, I sat down and we chatted. Finally it was time to go. I headed back to get my bags. Ok, here is the door, now where is the lady with the key? A quick "Necissito mi equipaje" and the the woman appeared on the balcony three stores up. She spoke to a little guy who was walking in off the street. The guy opened the door. Now the room contained eight back packs. Help yourself. I took the two that were mine wondering how many had come and gone before me and opted to only take there bags.

Two hours later I was back in Antigua. I returned to Mediterreano where I was warmly greeted by the two girls who run the front desk. A guy sitting at a table facebooking (is that a verb) looked over at me as they pecked me on the cheek and said "I didn't get that service." I told him I had been here before. He said he had too, but nobody was kissing him. Oh, well.

It turned out that a plastic bag with four spare camera batteries were no longer in my fanny pack. At least I had the one in the camera and the charger was still in my backpack. There was some good stuff in the fanny pack I don't think the batteries are going to do anybody any good.