Discovering Panajachel, Guatemala

Gringos Locos (the name says it all) on Calle de los Arboles

How exciting it was to move to Panajachel, Guatemala for several reasons. Number one, San Antonio Palópo, the village we were leaving and Panajachel are only 12 km apart. I am so tired of crossing borders, that moving to Pana (as it is known locally) was a breeze. Of course, we'd amassed more stuff than anticipated so we took two vehicles to get there. I rode in a tuk-tuk with all the boxes and my partner took public transportation (back of a pick-up) from the church.

Panajachel is the most bustling of the villages surrounding Lake Atitlan with a population of approximately 15,000 people who consist of The Kaqchiquel and Tz'utujil Maya - mostly from surrounding villages, Ladinos and Gringos who run the businesses plus a heavy dollop of tourists thrown in the mix. As soon as you drive across the bridge spanning the river (Rio Panajachel) there's a marked difference between the tranquility of San Antonio Palópo and the bustle and traffic of Pana. The noise is palpable. Fortunately, our casita is situated in Barrio Norte which is a ten minute walk north of the market, far enough from the madding crowd to be palatable. If I had to live in the center of town, I'm pretty sure I wouldn't have moved here. It's that crazy!

View of our complex from my front door.

Cable TV, WiFi, a normal sized fridge with a separate freezer, an oven, hot water on-demand, places to walk, pizza and neighborhood bars (order dependent on my mood) were the things I missed and the reason we moved from the country to the city, so to speak.The first week in my new place I felt like a kid in a candy store.

WHAT I'VE FOUND IN PANAJACHEL SO FAR

• I love the market here. It reminds me of Toronto. Before moving here I wasn't aware of the covered part. Inside is where the meat and fish is sold. I haven't had fresh fish since coming to Guatemala and now I can. There were small shrimp, crabs and patin (a local minnow recipe) and I think the fishermen were also selling black bass, but I can't be sure.

Beef Butcher at the market

• And, there were butchers everywhere. I found pork, lamb, and beef. In the supermarket here (Despensa Familiar) you can't get much more than hamburger and chicken, so this was a treat. I'm amazed that I hadn't found this before but better late than never.

• The vegetable market is awesome and so inexpensive. There are some things you just can't find - lemons for instance, but for the most part you won't be disappointed. And of course, there are vegetables I've never seen before. I can't wait to try something new.

La Palapa Bar on Calle Principal

• I wouldn't be me if I didn't find a decent watering hole to patronize and La Palapa on Calle Principal has become (by default) the bar of choice. I've never been there at night but I know they have live music and it's packed. I'm more of a day person when the patrons are local, the beer is cheap and the food is good. Saturday’s world famous BBQ with Smokin’ Joe who serves the best ribs, steaks and filet mignon this side of Memphis is not to be missed. The atmosphere is relaxed, the beer is cheap, the dogs are friendly.

The Church of St. Francis of Assisi

• The Church of St. Francis of Assisi is located beside the market and just off Calle Principal in the center of town. Aside from being beautiful colonial architecture - it was built circa 1731 by the Franciscans, the courtyard is spacious and virtually empty every time I've been there. It's a lovely place to sit and catch your breath!

 • Calle Santander is the main tourist drag where all the hawkers sell their wares. It's loud, colorful and full of people. The myriad hotels, restaurants and clothing shops make my head spin. Undoubtedly, if you are in the market for a piece of Guatemalan weaving or a new purse or scarf, you can find it here - not dirt cheap but at a decent price. I have my eye on a beautifully made woven cloth and leather purse for Q530 (US $70) and that's before we haggle! 

Best buys are woven products. Exceptional craftmanship at decent prices.

What makes me uncomfortable on this street are the ubiquitous "shoeshine boys" who approach me and beg for money. They should be in school but I suppose they are more valuable to the family out on Santander trying to make a couple of Quetzales. There is so much poverty here and even if all the gringos who live here aren't wealthy, we have a darn sight more than a lot of people here. I carry a pocket of small change when I walk around in town. What else does one do? They can't shoeshine my flip-flops.

• One third of the way down Santander in a small open shopping plaza there's a delightful second-hand English-language book shop (The Book Store) with a very eclectic selection and they give half the cost of the book back upon return. Digging that!

• Also on Santander are my two favorite cafés: Café Loco for Lattes, but more importantly the best message board in town where you will find everything from apartments to jobs to bikes for sale. 

• Further down Calle Santander, near the post office, there's Café Asawa-Ko where I go for good coffee and the best cheesecake and apple pie in town.

• And speaking of Post Offices - El Correo de Guatemala is my best friend. If it weren't for these very diligent people, I wouldn't have a business. It was such a relief to find a reliable mail system after the nightmare of Mexico. Decent international delivery times, free tracking and reasonable rates make me (and my customers) a happy camper.

Well, that's all for now. Soon I'll explore the beach area and let you know.

Cheers!

Featured Work:

Just a sample of the new pieces in my Paper Prezzies shop. 

San Antonio Palópo Creature House

The other week I was laying on the couch at night reading a book in light so dim I had to squint to keep from reading the same sentences over and over. I may be short on light and sight but there's nothing wrong with my peripheral vision especially since we were rat infested in Cozumel. I can now see the slightest movement around me. By the bare bulb in the kitchen I saw a flutter and took a quick look around. Just a bug. No biggie. Then I saw another and literally before I could count to ten the whole kitchen was filled with these ethereal-looking brown winged flying ants. That's as close to a description as I could come up with. 

Actually they were quite lovely looking. They weren't scary like flying palmettos and they didn't make any noise - barely a whisper as I started having to dodge the suckers - there were so many of them. Then, to my utter amazement, they started dropping like flies. Dying right under my nose. I swear I wasn't swatting them. It was the weirdest thing. Except for the huge number of them I wasn't bothered so I didn't wake my partner (unlike the rat incident) to help get rid of them with me. But I told him the next morning while I was sweeping away literally hundreds of brown wings from the kitchen floor and we wondered why these bugs had been suicide bombing all over the cottage.

Finally, days later I put two and two together. We have termites! In a flash I remembered the piles of wood particles which I used to clean from the window sills years ago in my Mother's trailer in Clearwater, FL before it come crashing down around her and the same piles I clean up here. When I Googled termites I found out that these pests have a five year life cycle. Cripes, they live longer than hamsters and guinea pigs. And… they weren't dying - I just found wings, not many body parts. They shed their wings in their reproductive cycle.

Fortunately this house is made from hand hewn rock from the side of the very beautiful mountain that I live upon and there's no danger of us falling into Lake Atitlan any time too soon. The house is not made of wood. However these creatures are eating into the wood trim and widow casings so I suppose we have to get fumigated. Until then the termites and I share the dim light in the kitchen nightly. I did think of collecting the wings - they look like small flower petals. Ideas for bowls? Well, I nixed that one. People think I'm odd enough as it is.

Ants

Speaking of odd. I know I have too much time on my hands but some things are fascinating and I spent a good twenty minutes last Tuesday afternoon watching six ants carry a huge (relatively speaking) dead bee from one side of my roof top patio to the other. I already know where they nest. It's in a crack on the outside wall of the house and so I knew where they were headed. I was curious to see whether six ants could maneuver the giant beast all the way home. It was incredible. Up the wall and down the other side they went. When they got to the crack it was like watching the perfect 3-point turn. The perfect parking job. They marched the critter a little further than the opening where they had room to turn around. Then they carried the bee in backwards without hesitation. I'm sure the queen or whatever had a great meal. Hats off to ants.

Birds

OK, I'm on a roll. I have a bird story. For the last month there has been this small sparrow-looking bird (I don't know about birds) who visits my kitchen french doors twice a day. She flutters up against the glass repeatedly as if she wants to come in. I'm assuming she sees her reflection in the glass in the morning sun but what about when she does it in the late afternoon? I've tried to take pictures of her but I'm never quick enough. The other day I was in and out of the kitchen doors and left them open and in she flew - scared herself silly no doubt. I quickly left so she could find her way out without me adding to the problem. It didn't really deter her. She's still coming back.

Ah, but I do have the quintessentially perfect bird story. When I was a child living with my Mother in Basingstoke, England we had a budgie who I named Jo Jo. My Mum used to sit for hours teaching that bird to talk. He was a lovely soul and quite kind to an inquisitive and sometimes not so gentle five-year-old -- me. We lived in the upper half of a duplex and one day I was in the garden and Mum was at the top of the stairs with Jo Jo on her shoulder. Not thinking, I called to him and he swooped down and out the door he went. My bird flew away. I saw him sitting at the top of the tree in the garden for a day or two and then he disappeared. I was heartbroken. A week or so later our mailman knocked on our door. Out of his mailbag he produced a very healthy-looking Jo Jo. Apparently the bird was found in a bush down the street by said mailman. Mum had taught the bird how to say his name and address and Jo Jo had repeated it to the mailman who picked him up and promptly returned him to us. Jo Jo Connelly, 12 Chester Place. True story.

The Blue Whippet - finished sculpture.

Humorous gay sculpture. An aging drag queen sits at the glamour mirror and gazes into space as he puts on red lipstick and remembers his "glory days" as the late, great Marilyn Monroe while his cigarette threatens to burn the tablecloth. The sequined gown and platinum blond wig that hang off the back of the chair have seen better days. On a lighter note, the budgie glares at "The Blue Whippet" who is dragging the grey tablecloth, tiffany lamp, blue ashtray filled with butts and the contents of the makeup basket crashing to the red shag carpet below in his attempt to grab the spotlight. View on Etsy; http://etsy.me/1GznA8H

Living in San Antonio Palopo

Months ago when my Mexican visa was about to expire and I needed to leave the country, I looked at Guatemala as a possible place to live. I found an ad on Craigslist for a little cottage at an affordable rent on a lake in the mountains. I promptly emailed the owner but never heard back. It seemed too good to be true anyway, so I forgot all about it. In June when our apartment in Playa del Carmen was rapidly falling apart (leaky roof, broken A/C and Microwave, intermittent hot water and internet) and we wanted to move I just happened to look at Guatemala again and spied the same ad on Craigslist for the country cottage. This time I got a response. The landlords, who live six months of the year in England, and I worked out a few details by email and I agreed to take residency as of August 1st.

Before I left Mexico I looked up as much information as I could about San Antonio Palopo and the area surrounding Lake Atitlan. San Antonio is one of several villages that flank the shores of Lake Atitlan. The  Cakchiquel Maya are indigenous to the area, but each village has its own tribe (?) that wears their own special huipal colours. My landlord described the village to me as: "San Antonio is a very special place that takes you back 100 years but with all the mod-cons, if you can afford them".

The lake is the second largest in Guatemala, has been around for donkeys years (84,000) and was formed in a crater after a volcanic eruption. It is surrounded by mountains and 3 thickly forested volcanoes, all around 10,000 feet. Atitlan is still considered active. Lake Atitlan is quoted to be "The second most beautiful lake in the world" by Aldous Huxley, one of the pre-eminent intellectuals of his time, whatever that means. He said "It really is too much of a good thing". Which is the first?

How many ways can you say "awesome"? I've been waking up to the view of the lake and volcanoes for a month now and can't ever imagine getting tired of such a vista. One really has to see it to believe it. I sit in the hammock and watch the lake from my rooftop for hours. For one thing, I've calculated that I'm roughly 12 stories above the lake, so I can see a great distance. The fishermen in their dugout canoes take to the water early every morning. I haven't figured out exactly what's going on yet with them because I never see any fish being caught, so I must be missing something. I need to buy a pair of binoculars. We're 5,000 odd feet above sea level so the weather patterns are quite something to witness. The sun at this time of the year creeps over the top of the mountains at around eight o, clock and the whole places lights up and warms up dramatically too. It's quite nippy here when there's no sun. Around ten or so, this huge cloud that looks like a dragon spewing fire (the one from "Paperbag Princess") rolls in from the southern end of the lake between the mountains and hovers for most of the day and just after that the Xocomil wind picks up and creates white caps on the surface of the lake. 

In the afternoon, all is usually sunny and calm. It has rained almost every night since I've been here but not too much during the day. I have a feeling this will all change now with autumn upon us. Sunset happens across the lake about 10km away over Santiago Atitlán, a Tzutujil Mayan village. Every day it looks as though the Gods part the clouds and shine a spotlight down upon the village.

The garden behind the house going down to the lake is spectacular and every day I find something delightful about it. It is a very steep drop to the lake but someone landscaped it perfectly by laying a series of winding stone steps with handrails all the way down. The garden is filled with flowers and fruit trees. I have already eaten avocados and the tastiest limes ever. I have some green bananas waiting to ripen because I was too impatient and picked them too early. There are two very tall trees that have bunches of yellow fruit called Mapil. It's the size and colour of smallish apricots with 5-7 seeds inside. It is delicious. There is mint, lettuce, tomatoes, raspberries, strawberries and oranges that we don't get at home. They are seedless and not sectioned like the oranges I know, but they are sweet and tangy at the same time. Our neighbors to the left and right have corn planted on the side of the mountain. I'm sure I'll discover more in the days to come. Bartollo and Maria, who are the guardians of the property, come and tend to the dozen or so chickens every day. Maria and her family also come to do their clothes wash in the lake a couple of times a week. They carry the rinsed and folded clothes up to the street on their heads. It blows me away how adept they are. Mucho respect. Oh, and I am now burning my trash in the garden, selling my waste aluminum and generally becoming more green - rapidly. Still don't know what to do with the plastic yet.

The village of San Antonio is less than a quarter mile away. Going into town is no problem but coming back is still a bit of a trial for me. It's all uphill! The other day I hitched a ride with the police. They dropped me outside my front door and we all had a good laugh at that.

I know very little about how the town works yet. It's a big mystery to me. There is a church and a market beside it that sells fresh produce seemingly on a daily basis. All the usual veggies and quite a few I have never seen before. There are a lot of tiny stores (tiendas) which sell convenience items and not much more that I can tell. The language barrier is a huge problem for me but it is also a cultural barrier I think. As I said it's all a big mystery, yet.

To buy groceries we take a taxi from a local hotelier Terrazas Del Lago to Panajachel which is 12km around the mountain. The big grocery store Despensia Familiar is owned by non other than Walmart - can you believe it? It looks nothing like Walmart, more like a small WinDixie or Loblaws or the Tesco in Torquay and carries most of what I need except olive oil, cheese, plain yoghurt and anything imported. There are plenty of other specialty shops in "Pana" for those items. I've also found a decent pharmacy. It's very easy to shop here. And the tourist shops which sell the Guatemalan textiles and pottery are phenomenal. More about that later.

If anyone was expecting the A-Z aspect of my blogs I apologize. Life just got more interesting and I've got to tell it like it is!