Lake Time

Lake Atitlan or Lago Atitlan, as it is more commonly known in these parts, is absolutely beautiful.  It is set between three volcanoes, which are called Atitlan, Toliman and San Pedro.  The space where the lake is now, used to be filled with boiling magma.  I am reassured that this no longer is the case, as a boat trip on bubbling, oozing, sweltering magma would have been quite uncomfortable.  There have been a lot of eruptions over the years, but none recently.  The last one was in 1835.  There certainly wasn't one today.  If there had been, I wouldn't be sitting on this hotel balcony sipping cafe con leche, blogging and listening to the happy sounds of Atitlan town at this precise moment. 

Volcanoes.  Don't you just love 'em? I remember learning about them at school, with Miss Cook, I think, in Year 8.  We also learnt about them in Year 9, but I spent most of the time I should have been in Year 9 geography at the orthodontist, having my front teeth gently coaxed into my mouth using all sorts of fantastic contraptions.  My front teeth used to enter the room half an hour before the rest of me.  It was like having a giant house rabbit around.  I owe my life to that orthodontist.  But enough about all that, let's get back to the volcano lessons I do remember.  We drew pretty cross-sections of them, showing all the different rock types - like the Ignatious rock (who later founded the Jesuits) and the Iraenean rock (some sort of theodicy, I believe); we made models of the volcanoes with layers of corrugated card; we recreated explosions where magma and llama flowed out - (can you tell that I'm not a geologist?) But actually seeing volcanoes in the flesh, well - the rock - is something else.  They are utterly spectacular.  If you have never seen a real volcano, I think you should.  Find out where they are, then go visit.  There is something called the Pacific Ring of Fire, created by the tectonic plates and their mates.  But don't go if they are erupting as they wreak havoc.

Manuel and his trusty boat mate took us across the lake in their boat.  We sped through the lake, at great speed, spending the day at various co-operatives, including a delightful textile co-operative which receives funding from USAID, amongst others.  We learnt all about the process of producing the threads, dying the threads, then weaving them into all sorts of objects and designs.  Many of the places which are of interest to visitors are run by co-operatives, and we also visited a local artist's co-operative.  These types of establishment benefit the whole population and are beneficial as they enable people to contribute to the community as a whole.  That's what Manuel said.  He also said that as a result of tourism, 90% of the homes in this area have their own sewerage systems, which is unheardof in the 'Global South' (which used to be called the 'Developing World'. 

I'm not sure how all the traders survive though.  We passed hundreds of stalls today, all selling remarkably similar items - woven goods, wooden goods, masks, bags, pens, jewellery, key-rings, huge tapestries, bags; some people purchased all sorts of things, which is great.  I bought a tiny beaded frog wearing a Santa hat, which I am going to give to my Dad because he collects frogs.  An old Guatemalan lady followed me around; I was teaching her to say the names of the things she was selling in English - 'ferg, buy ferg'; 'frog, it's a frog'; there were also 'pergs', otherwise know as 'pigs' and 'pingin', which was in fact, 'penguin'.  Pronounciation was awkward because she didn't have very many teeth.  She would have benefited from intensive orthodontics some years ago.

We passed a ferretaria and I wanted to go in and buy a ferret.  The others weren't so keen.  I was disappointed.  I was even more disappointed when I found out that a ferretaria sells hardware, rather than ferrets.  Saying that though, I'm not sure how I would have got it home.  Can you take a ferret as hand luggage? I'm not sure. It would probably have to go into quarantine anyway.  Ferret.  What a great word.

When we were at the weaving place, Manuel explained that weaving is what the women do, because they can go to the co-operative, collect the raw materials they need, then take them home and weave, whilst looking after their children, whilst their husbands can get drunk, because many men here are, apparently, alcoholics.  When you are a weaver, there is no annual leave.  There is no holiday pay, sick pay, or maternity pay.  It's weave, or nothing.  And the men are out drinking.  What a depressing situation Manuel described.  One which doesn't demonstrate very much gender equality.  But this is what he said, and it's not for me to criticise, but it doesn't quite seem right.  But is it cultural? Societal? The way it's always been? None of this makes it ok.  There is a very long way to go when it comes to gender equality here. 

This is a place of paradox.  There are toothless women selling beaded frogs and tiny children selling chewing gum, then there are breezy rooftop restaurants with complimentary wi fi.  What a curious world this is. 

Our final stop on the boat was in Santiago, where the locals make money by, amongst other things, weaving any name you want, onto a pen, in the colours of your choice.  This simple but highly effective souvenir was appreciated by the group, who brought many of these pens.  So if you are expecting a souvenir, expect a pen with your name on it!

Back at the hotel, I played table tennis with Zoe (sorry Andy, I can't find the two dots!) - it was a closely fought match, made more challenging because the ball was in fact, a golf ball rather than a ping-pong ball.  After this, I went for a dip in the pool, which was very refreshing in this balmy heat.

We are shortly heading back to Helena's place for an omelette and beer.  Jesus will be there.  It'll be like the Second Coming.

Then we are all meeting up for a farewell drink as tomorrow, we say goodbye to the Guatemala 1 group who are returning to the UK in time for work on Monday morning.  The remaining 14 of us are flying up to the heart of the Aztec kingdom in Tikal, where we understand that we will be staying in a swamp.  I'll let you know tomorrow.