lake atitlan

After more than two hours of driving, we arrived at Lake Atitlán. The Spanish teacher I met while climbing the volcano happened to be here. The two of us took a two-hour drive from Lake Atitlán to Chichicastenango to visit the largest local market here. There are only Thursdays and Only available on Sunday. This big market is really not so big. There are small markets in the big market, and even smaller markets in the small market. You will get lost after wandering for half a day. This big market mainly sells handicrafts. Here you can see all kinds of colorful textiles, colorful large murals with local characteristics, fresh seasonal fruits and vegetables, handmade tortillas and French fries. chicken. From time to time, you can see a particularly emotional, high-spirited, and talented peddler selling some kind of healing ointment, attracting a large crowd of onlookers. There is also a street selling pets. In front of the cathedral here, there are many people who sell flowers to worship and pray. Because I was wearing shorts, I was not allowed to visit the church. Local women wear distinctive local aboriginal costumes, and they also have their own local language.

On the way to the big market, I chatted with the Spanish teacher and asked him why he had lived and worked in Latin America for 7 years and suddenly decided to return to the United States 8 years ago. Only then did he learn that his younger brother, who was one and a half years younger, suddenly died of a sudden illness 7 years ago. He decided to move back to be closer to his parents. In the same year, his father also died of a sudden illness, so he decided to stay and take care of his mother. He said his brother was his best friend and had a great influence on his life. Although younger than him, his younger brother went to study in several countries and learned several languages when he was in college. It was his brother who opened the door to his travels. After he returned to the United States, he went to the high school he and his younger brother had attended as a Spanish teacher. His younger brother was also a teacher at this school before his death, teaching music. He said that as he traveled the world and taught in high school, he felt like he was extending the life of his brother, whom he would be proud of if he was still alive. He also said that traveling helped him get out of the shadow of losing his younger brother and father in the same year, made him realize the fragility and preciousness of life, and continued to fulfill his younger brother's unrealized wish to travel around the world.

Then we talked about his conversation with the tour guide who took us to climb the volcano a few days ago. He said that the tour guide who took us to climb the volcano for two days and one night only earned $40. He took two tours a week, and most of the money was earned by the travel agency. Even with tips, it was still not much. Five or six years ago, he worked hard to save 8,000 U.S. dollars and handed them over to the person in charge of illegally entering the United States. He took a group of them and spent a month crossing Mexico, crossing rivers and deserts and risking their lives to illegally enter the United States. I worked on a farm in Iowa to make money, and sent them home to my wife and children to support my family. But after working for two or three years, suddenly one day the US Immigration Service took some of their money, and they were jailed for several months. deported to Guatemala. He said that now he started saving money to prepare to enter illegally again, and now he needs 10,000 US dollars. Although I risked my life, I made much more money in the United States than here. I could give my family a better life, but I also sacrificed the time with my family. During the years when my two children grew up He is not here. I heard that many Guatemalans will illegally enter the United States to work for their livelihood. The other two tour guides are only fifteen or sixteen years old. They have been volcano climbing guides since they were ten years old. Hearing the experience of these local people will feel very sad, and he cherishes his own life even more. Compared with them, what is there to complain about! ?

After returning from the big market, I went to Santa Catarina Palopó, a small town not far from Panajachel. There are colorful houses here, and even the cemetery is colorful, as if celebrating the splendor of life. I heard that the small towns around Lake Atitlán had a power outage all day long. I took a boat to the family hotel in San Pedro, another small town on the other side of the lake at 6 o’clock. Because of the power outage, many restaurants were closed. The boss told me that there are many streets next to the park. The stalls should still be open as usual. When I went out, the whole town was dark, and those street vendors were cooking with flashlights or emergency lights. On the way back to the hotel, I suddenly heard someone calling my name. I took a closer look and realized it was the hotel owner. He got back to the hotel before I did, and when I went upstairs, he was helping me install the emergency lights on the patio outside my room, which was much better. I didn't call until eight or nine in the evening. The next morning, you can see the great lake from the terrace of the room, and you can see particularly exquisite murals related to its aboriginal culture in the streets and alleys of San Pedro town.

When the power went out, I was sitting on the terrace. The tourist in the next room had just checked in and said hello. Later, I found out that he came from a small town very close to the city of Granada in southern Spain. I told him that I was super I love the cities in the south of Spain. We chatted about their food and culture together. We got closer and exchanged contact information. I just woke up early the next morning and received a message from him saying that he would take a bus to the nearby town of Santa Clara and then climb up the mountain to Indian Nose, and asked if I would like to go with me. Originally, I was advised by my Spanish teacher to sign up for a tour group to climb up to watch the sunrise tomorrow morning, but I was too lazy to get up at four o'clock, so I decided to go with this Spanish brother today.

I went to the local market to have breakfast in the morning, and waited for nearly an hour for the bus to come. After arriving, I stopped for more than 20 minutes to wait for more passengers to board the bus before starting. The bus we took is the one in picture 2 below, and we haven’t had a chance to sit on the chicken bus in picture 3. Chicken bus is a characteristic of Guatemala, and it is said that some other Central American countries also have it. This kind of car is transformed from a retired American school bus. The color is extremely bright, and it is very cool and stylish. The reason why it is called chicken bus is because sometimes passengers will be transported by car to transport chickens or some other livestock and poultry. The roof is often filled with boxes, boxes, baskets, etc., which contain flowers, fruits and vegetables, knitwear and other goods. Although I didn’t have the opportunity to personally experience the chicken bus ride, the two Swedish girls in their early 20s sitting in the front while waiting for the bus to drive told us vividly about their adventures on the chicken bus. It is said that they once fell asleep in the car, and were suddenly woken up by the flight attendant to change cars. They grabbed their luggage and rushed to catch the next car. They also saw local passengers climb out of the window to get their luggage or goods on the roof of the car while the car was driving, and jumped off the roof as soon as the car stopped. He also said that sometimes the Kaishan Road chicken bus drives as fast as a roller coaster, and they have to grab the handrails and put their feet on the back of the front seat, otherwise they all have to fly out. One of the girls has just studied Spanish in Mexico for three months, and recently traveled to Guatemala, and now she has to take this bus for more than 20 hours to cross the border with Mexico.

After we got off the bus, we asked the locals about the climbing route of Indian Nose. There is no so-called gate here, and the roads are all casual, but a local person even charged us 7 dollars for the ticket, saying that we must pay the ticket including the guide to take it up. , because they are all private land. The Spanish guy thought it was too expensive, and it was useless to resort to all kinds of bargaining tricks, so he asked a few other locals and found the owner of the commissary. The boss said that her father could take us up there for $4.50 per person. After the transaction, I also wrote a receipt, saying that if someone goes up and asks if I bought the ticket, I will show this. The boss's father is sixty or seventy years old. He took us halfway up and said that you will be there in 20 minutes after climbing up. He told his son that he would wait for us on the top. At the top of the mountain, I met two little Canadian girls. Each of them spent 40 dollars and hired a guide to climb up from the other side for more than three hours. It was almost 10 times our price, and they climbed for more than two hours. , Some foreign tourists are really easy to earn money.

We spent two hours going down the mountain from the other side to San Juan La Laguna, another small town. At the foot of the mountain, we saw a panoramic view of the Indian Nose that had just climbed up. It really looked like the nose of a lying person. After lunch, we entered a textile shop. The locals showed us the whole process of cotton picking, dyeing, and weaving, which was very similar to the alpaca weaving process seen in Peru. The local women worked eight hours a day, and it took a week to weave a scarf by hand. It was really not easy. Before they left, they donated some money to support the local community.

Continuing to wander around in San Juan La Laguna, most of the local women are wearing traditional costumes of their aborigines, colorful hand-woven long skirts and wide belts, which are thick and look very hot. But the local men don't wear any traditional clothes. Chatting with locals, I learned that there are 22 dialects in Guatemala, but 3 of them have disappeared. In the small town near Lake Atitlán, there are three aboriginal dialects, the difference is not too big, and they can understand each other. Spanish is their second language. Except for Spanish, all courses in the school are taught in the local language. In the past few days, I can see local children playing outside at any time. I wonder why they don’t go to school. I learned that due to the limited number of schools and teachers, they have to go to school in two groups in the morning and afternoon, and they only go to school for four hours. No wonder You can always see children on the street, they have so much free time. Passing by the elementary school in Tuliuli, students are running circles in physical education class on the colorful stadium. The school is completely open and there is no gate. The locals also said that the people here mainly rely on tourism for a living, but during the epidemic, there were basically no tourists, and they basically had no source of income. Their lives were very difficult, but it is much better now. The last one is a song and dance performance celebrating the centenary of a local church, which is very festive.