CHAPTER 9
After all the excitement of Semuc Champey, we were ready for a bit of R&R. We left the high mountains on September 15th, Guatemalan independence day, and drove south to Guatemala City. We hadn’t planned on staying in the capital, or even stopping for that matter, but we figured that since it was a major holiday there might be something interesting going on, so we decided to drive through the heart of the city to take a look.
We weren’t that impressed. It was big, crowded, hot, and dirty, and it seemed like they hadn’t realized it was their independence day. There were a lot of people in the main plaza, and we did see one marching band, but it was nothing like we had expected. Where were the flags, and banners, and fireworks? Maybe they had forgotten to celebrate, or maybe they just didn’t care, but they showed about as much interest as we do for some obscure holiday like Constitution Day (which is on September 17th if you were wondering. I didn’t even know that this holiday existed till about 5 minutes ago). Indeed, they show more national pride on the day of a soccer match then they did for their independence day.
The one cool thing we did find was an honest to goodness, real life, Taco Bell. I know, I know. You are wondering why we would subject ourselves to what is, admittedly, in normal circumstances very questionable food. But after driving all the way through Mexico, and eating all the various local dishes, you might be surprised to learn that none of them are truly Mexican! At least as Mexican as that little TV chihuahua would lead you to believe. I had been waiting a long time for a good Mexican (read “American”) burrito like what we have at home, and after we crossed into Belize I had given up hope. They say absence makes the heart (or stomach in my case) grow fonder, so settling for a mediocre T-bell bean burrito and chicken gordita was just enough to satisfy my craving. It’s funny, because at home we rarely eat out at fast food, like McDonalds or Taco Bell (in fact this was the first Taco Bell Kacey had eaten since she was a girl and her dad would take her), but when you are on the road, trying to experience the local culture and cuisine, and being continually forced to lower your expectations about cleanliness and quality of the food, seeing a billboard advertising a big juicy quarter pounder with cheese can really make your mouth water. Now, I’m not saying that McDonalds is either clean or has quality, but at least you know what you are getting. I am also not saying that all the local food is gross, some is really tasty. But in reality, a lot of it is gross, and an occasional stop at an American staple like McDonalds is just what you need to convince your stomach to keep trusting you.
After going back up to the counter to order a 2nd bean burrito for the road, we left the dusty capital behind, and drove west into the mountains as the sun was setting. We arrived to Panajachel (Pana for short) on the shores of Lago Atitlan after dark and found a nice family run hotel at the end of a quiet ally. When we woke up in the morning, we couldn’t believe our eyes. Looking out from the balcony, the huge lake was ringed by high green mountains, and two enormous volcanoes dominated the view. Yet again, Guatemala provided us with another fairy tale setting.
We spent our time in Pana walking through the streets looking at all the cheap handicrafts for sale, relaxing on the hotel balcony enjoying the view, and exploring the neighboring lake towns by bicycle and water taxi. Pana is a quiet, peaceful city, mostly visited by backpackers and local Guatemalans, and is still relatively cheap. But word of the beauty of the lake has leaked out, and the virus of tourism is taken hold. Fancier restaurants and hotels are popping up, and big posh houses are being built on the cliffs between the lake side villages. I’m sure it will never lose its charm, but if you want to see it without spending an arm and a leg, my advice would be to go soon!
After leaving the shores of the lake, we had one more place in Guatemala we wanted to see. Antigua Guatemala was the former capital of the country, but was destroyed by an earthquake in the 1700’s. They moved the capital to the present day Guatemala City, and old Antigua was effectively abandoned. Over the years though, people moved back and restored the colonial buildings to their former glory. Now the city is one cobbled street after another of colorful houses and cool shops and restaurants, and in true Guatemalan fashion, the whole scene is shadowed by a towering volcano. A bit more expensive than Panajachel, and more inviting to tourists, we found it was just the right mix of local charm and modern convenience.
With all these volcanoes around, we thought it was high time that we should get to the top of one and see what all the fuss was about. It turns out that most of them are dormant though, and we wanted to see some lava- so we signed up for a tour to Volcan Picaya. Normally we would drive ourselves, because usually most of what you are paying for in these types of tours is the transportation, but we had come to understand the Guatemalan road sign standards, which is, no road signs at all, and if we wanted to get there with any hope of summiting before dark, we were going to have to go with a guide. When we got in the tour van, it was full of backpackers- Australians, English, Germans, Israelis and Argentineans. We were the only Americans, which was actually what we found to be the norm in most places.
After a 2 hour drive up a winding mountain road, we got the trail head. We bought walking sticks from a swarm of jabbering children for 3 quetzals each (about $0.35), and started up the muddy path through the jungle. It was a cloudy overcast day, and as we walked higher a heavy fog set in. After about an hour of steep hiking, we emerged from the trees to a barren black expanse of fine soot and large lava pumice stones. It was quite an eerie feeling, being surrounded by dense fog with only a few dozen yards visibility, and utter quiet except for the crunching pumice beneath our boots- it felt like we were on the moon or something.
The path disappeared and we were forced to scramble over huge piles of still hot rocks, steam escaping from the cracks and crevasses- at first I thought we had been duped by the kids at the entrance, but the walking sticks definitely came in handy now: some rocks were so hot you would burn your hand if you touched them, and they seemed to crumble and shift under your weight unexpectedly, so the sticks were a good tool to have. As we climbed higher, we could hear a faint clinking sound, almost like the breaking of some fragile glass, or perhaps similar to the sound that would be made if you dumped out a box of Christmas ornaments on the ground. The fog, that was in actuality a cloud blanketing the top of the mountain, suddenly lifted, leaving us wide eyed staring at the hill above us. A fiery mound of glowing rock was slowly tumbling down the volcano towards us. I had imagined that lava would look more like a flowing river of molasses, but this was like a pile of chunky dirt being pushed by a giant bulldozer. The chunks were fiery red hot, and each about the size of a basketball. As the bulldozer of lava inched its way down the mountain, anything exposed to the air would start to cool and turn into black pumice. As chunks from the top would tumble down the face of the pile, the light pumice stones would crush against one another, causing the breaking glass sound that we couldn’t identify.
The view from the top of Volcan Picaya was a spectacular, and a fitting end to our time in Guatemala. The next day we loaded up the truck and drove south, headed to El Salvador, and the good surf that awaited us there.
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