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Lago de Atitlan
When I began researching the country of Guatemala, Lago Atitlan was consistently listed as a, Must See - A place of extraordinary beauty and local tradition. But the more tourists I encountered who visited her shores, the more I realized the hype might not live up to the reality. There was one way to find out, Vmonos a Lago Atitlan! Bumping and winding our way through the Guatemalan hill country, we finally reached her famed shorestoo bad we could hardly see them. Arriving under a gloomy sky, the lakes beauty was drastically undercut and with it, my first impression of Lago Atitlan.

Jumping into a small motorboat, we embarked on the 45-minute voyage from Panajachelto San Pedro la Laguna, a charming lakeside village with backpacker appeal. Irish pubs, English breakfasts, Jewish kosher meals, and burger and fries on commandoh yea, it was backpacker all right. A product of entrepreneurial expats, the once modest streets are now covered in advertisements, unattractive overhead power wires, and lines of red tuk-tuks awaited their tourist transportation turn. (FYI the tourist zone of San Pedro is tinywalk for gosh sakes!)

Determined to discover what the San Pedro hype was all about, we set off on our own city tour. Not even 15 paces in, we were greeted by the unofficial San Pedro welcoming committeethe banana bread senoras. Carrying large wicker baskets full of their famed banana bread, along with assortments of other sweet rolls and cookies, Clay and I just couldnt restrain - you could say banana bread is our kryptonite. Purchasing more then our stomachs could handle, we waddled off the main drag and onto a narrow inland alleyway where we discovered, you guessed it, more food!! Now I like to eat but this was silly. More restaurants, bars and menus then most streets in New York. How they all stay in business is beyond me.

Frustrated by the lack of culture or local interaction, a citywide surrender was foreseeable when, lo and behold, we stumbled upon a gateway to the heart

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of San Pedro. A wide back street climbing behind the tourist center, led to the pulse of local life. A large white cathedral rose in the city square while a vibrant market bumped and grooved nearby. A variety of local fried chicken and taco vendors also lined the streets along with groups of school kids giggling as they passed. The local attire was a site in itself. Known as traje, the women dressed in colorful striped skirts, laced blouses, and attractive woven fajas (sashes), while the men sported gaucho attire, complete with woven ponchos and quintessential cowboy hats.

Another interesting find, hairdressers offering cuts for 14 Quetzales ($2)! Why not, I thoughtfamous last words. Sitting down in the rickety chair, the woman asked in Spanish how I wanted my cut. I simply said 1 inch off with layers. Before I knew it, the child grade, orange handled scissors were slicing through inches of my doomed hair. Una pulgada (One Inch), I yelped!! But it was too late. The damage was done. Offering a reluctant smile I suffered through the rest of the slaughter before paying my money and running for safety. Oh well, win some you lose some.

The next morning greeted us with glorious rays of sunshine and a cloudless blue sky! Flinging open the balcony door, the beauty of Lake Atitlan was finally before me. Green hills relaxed between rocky shores and jagged peaks with a sapphire lake reflecting it all. The waters seemed so clean and refreshing, beckoning for a morning swim but the warnings rang out in my head. DO NOT SWIM! Cautioned about the rubbish and sewage runoff polluting the waters, I concluded the floaties would not be the kind I once used as a child.

If our first day had not been plagued by bad weather, we would have enjoyed a long hike into the hills but instead we could only gaze on the impressive peaks until our mid-day departure. Lying in our balcony hammock, I lazed the morning away. Playing my wooden drum thingamajig (an impulse market purchase), I thumped my own little tune while soaking in the Atitlan sun.

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I set out to formulate my own opinions on this famed lake and instead return torn. I only visited one village, the most backpacker of them all, so the culture and tradition were less then desired. I was also, thanks to Mother Nature, unable to enjoy the spectacular surrounds with a hearty hike. What I did discover, however, was the heart of San Pedro la Laguna. A community of vibrant, generous people who smiled often and laughed even more. * For those of you considering a trip, I would highly recommend visiting the smaller, less commercialized villages. My great friend Alison has traveled to Atitlans shores numerous times, assisting in community development and working with orphaned children, and offers unparalleled knowledge and suggestions. If you, or anyone you know, is considering a trip or volunteer work, I would be happy to put you in touch! Buen Viaje!!

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