We have returned from an exploratory, tiring, and altogether memorable weekend. After a 3-hour mountainous drive south, we arrived at the 8th wonder of the world Lago Atitlan and the village of Panajachal. The lake is extraordinary. With water over 1,000 feet deep, stretched over hundreds of square kilometers, and resting beneath the majestic peaks of three impressive volcanoes, it provides an atmosphere that is beyond compare. How is it possible that a body of water this size can reside at 8,000 feet above sea level? 
The town in which we stayed, however, offered a dichotomy which was unsettling. Tourist-filled markets and garment, trinket, and wood-working stands line the main street offering opportunities for bartering. The weavings, carvings, and artistry that the locals produce are staggering both in the glorious colors, and in the complexity and care with which each piece is crafted. The guidebooks we have and advice that has been given from previous travelers is that you offer half of what they are asking and then “walk if you do not get it”. While it can be easy to view this haggling as a game, the simple fact is that these people are living on what amounts to dollars a day and that I am dealing with matters of cents in my buying. Added to this is the fact that scurrying about us were children in traditional garb pandering for money and selling anything from chincy beaded key chains to pens with your name embroidered on them. “Please buy so I can go to school”. “I am so hungry, please buy from me”. Pressured by their parents who prod and push their children to “follow the man”, makes for a depressing and disturbing experience. All I wanted to do was give money, or the food on my plate but knew that it was not appropriate to do so.
The majority of my writing has been focusing on the beauty of the land and people and only briefly discussing the poverty and challenge that the people face. Traveling this weekend and seeing the men in the fields, the women carrying impossible loads of scarves and weavings on their heads, and the children begging for fruit and one quetzales ($.13) was over whelming. It seems cliché to compare lifestyles and is something that I am sure happens to most people when exposed to a culture and socioeconomic environment so much different than their own, but it is simply inescapable
Thoughts of taking for granted such things as running water, changes of clothes, school, health, family, transportation, and warmth flooded me as I witness people for whom this list represents luxuries which are merely dreams. Then my mind takes me to what our government and society chooses to waste money on . . . but that is not something I feel like writing about.
While despair and depression could easily sink in if I were to dwell too long on the paucity of opportunities that these children have, watching their smiles, listening to their laughter, and feeling the spirit and vivacity that they have is like a tonic to cure the ills.
Our time in Lago Atitlan included trips to three other villages, and a swim in a portion of the lake in which volcanic steam provides for a incredibly warm, bordering on boiling soak. Evenings were spent enjoying drinks, conversation, and dancing for the younger folk staying at an adjacent hotel. We concluded our sojourn with a trip to Chichicastenagno where thousands of venders sold everything imaginable from colorful silks to squealing swine. And despite two of our travelers getting lost for the better part of an hour, we managed to make our way to our comfortably familiar home in Xela.
The town in which we stayed, however, offered a dichotomy which was unsettling. Tourist-filled markets and garment, trinket, and wood-working stands line the main street offering opportunities for bartering. The weavings, carvings, and artistry that the locals produce are staggering both in the glorious colors, and in the complexity and care with which each piece is crafted. The guidebooks we have and advice that has been given from previous travelers is that you offer half of what they are asking and then “walk if you do not get it”. While it can be easy to view this haggling as a game, the simple fact is that these people are living on what amounts to dollars a day and that I am dealing with matters of cents in my buying. Added to this is the fact that scurrying about us were children in traditional garb pandering for money and selling anything from chincy beaded key chains to pens with your name embroidered on them. “Please buy so I can go to school”. “I am so hungry, please buy from me”. Pressured by their parents who prod and push their children to “follow the man”, makes for a depressing and disturbing experience. All I wanted to do was give money, or the food on my plate but knew that it was not appropriate to do so.The majority of my writing has been focusing on the beauty of the land and people and only briefly discussing the poverty and challenge that the people face. Traveling this weekend and seeing the men in the fields, the women carrying impossible loads of scarves and weavings on their heads, and the children begging for fruit and one quetzales ($.13) was over whelming. It seems cliché to compare lifestyles and is something that I am sure happens to most people when exposed to a culture and socioeconomic environment so much different than their own, but it is simply inescapable
Thoughts of taking for granted such things as running water, changes of clothes, school, health, family, transportation, and warmth flooded me as I witness people for whom this list represents luxuries which are merely dreams. Then my mind takes me to what our government and society chooses to waste money on . . . but that is not something I feel like writing about.
While despair and depression could easily sink in if I were to dwell too long on the paucity of opportunities that these children have, watching their smiles, listening to their laughter, and feeling the spirit and vivacity that they have is like a tonic to cure the ills.Our time in Lago Atitlan included trips to three other villages, and a swim in a portion of the lake in which volcanic steam provides for a incredibly warm, bordering on boiling soak. Evenings were spent enjoying drinks, conversation, and dancing for the younger folk staying at an adjacent hotel. We concluded our sojourn with a trip to Chichicastenagno where thousands of venders sold everything imaginable from colorful silks to squealing swine. And despite two of our travelers getting lost for the better part of an hour, we managed to make our way to our comfortably familiar home in Xela.
It is now back to work, more Spanish lessons, and whatever adventures are yet to be had. Adios . . .
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