Lago Atitlan

July 11, 2010

This weekend we visited the towns of Santiago and Panajachel, both on the shores of Lake Atitlán. The lake is beautiful, completely beyond description, in the most non-cliché way possible. It is absolutely gorgeous, in an absolutely non-Kansas way. Kansas has its wheat fields, its ruler-straight roads, its grain elevators, and its wonderful farming culture. Lake Atitlán and the surrounding area has a huge, beautiful lake surrounded on all sides by rounded mountains, completely covered in trees and tiny “campesinos,” where families use terraces to their best effect, and grow a huge variety of vegetables in an impossibly small space. Atitlán has several different Mayan cultures, each with their distinctive dress and language. Santiago contains the largest population of indigenous Tzutuhil, but across the lake in Panajachel are the indigenous Cakchiquel, and twenty miles up the road lives still another group of Maya, and all of them are completely different from the Q’iche that we met in Chichicastenango. The cultural diversity is astounding.

We visited Panajachel on Sunday morning, and wandered through the market. At this point in our trip, the only difference between the markets are in the names of the towns on the woven bracelets and in the styles of guipiles (women’s traditional blouses) available for sale. The vast majority of Guatemalan (or indeed, Latin American) markets are the same. There are a couple of simple rules for all of them:

1 1. It is best to not look or act like a tourist. Inquiring loudly about an object in English is the surest way to look like a tourist. So is blond hair, blue eyes, pale (and/or sunburnt) skin, and a large camera. Unfortunately, I am stuck with the last four characteristics.

2 2. Don’t look interested in anything unless you actually plan to seriously consider purchasing it. Pointing at merchandise is a strict no-no. If a vendor begins to show you their merchandise, decide as soon as possible whether or not you really want it, as to avoid a long and awkward trail of “no, gracias, no, gracias, si, es muy bonito, pero no quiero” (no thank you, no thank you, yes, it’s very pretty, but I don’t want it) as you try to make a hasty but graceful exit.

Gringo spotting” is also a really fun game. Gringo spotting entails trying to spot the most obviously obnoxious tourist in the whole market. Whether it’s the inappropriately dressed young American teenage girl (short denim skirt, belly-baring top, flip-flops, Paris Hilton sunglasses), the church mission group (every last one wearing homologous, brightly colored t-shirts with cute Spanish slogans or Bible verses), the vacationing family (the parents, loud and sunburnt, the mother wearing a tank top [not what the designer had in mind], the father wearing a “Gallo” t-shirt, dragging their whining son behind them, taking rude, personal-space invading photos of “the locals,” and inquiring in loud English [for better comprehension, obviously] “how much does this cost?”), gringo spotting is a good way to pass the time, and a great way to see the most stereotypical American culture.

We learn tomorrow what our service placements will be. We’re all a little stressed over it – we leave in a week, and have only a vague idea of what our destinations will be. That also means that the “school” portion of our summer is almost over, and we’re pretty happy about that – we’re getting just a tad bit burnt out on classes. Unfortunately, every class has at least one fairly good-sized project due in the next five days, and we’re all scrambling to finish them in time and still do the topic justice. We’ve also been pretty nostalgic, remembering when we first all met each other, the first time we met our host families, “that one time when…”, and the fact that many of us will probably not see each other again, despite the fact that we have all grown so close over the past 6 weeks through our shared experiences. It’ll be a pretty charged week, I think. Very full. Of everything.