Home at last in San Marcos La Laguna, Guatemala

Pat at Lake Atitlan

Pat on the deck of our home on Lake Atitlan

Time. Where has it gone?

We spent a relaxing, fun Christmas in Charlottesville with our entire family (including the featured addition, our new grandson, Jack Patrick). For my gift, I allowed myself not to worry about this blog.

The family time was perfect; the weather was record breaking warm. Our final day we walked to a brew pub where we sat outside and played inappropriate card games. It was silly fun and made me realize why we had these kids all those years ago.

From there, December 29th, we headed to Cuba for a week. I told Pat, “We should go before it changes.” If you are thinking the same, no rush–any time this century should suffice. Cuba has a tremendous road of recovery ahead of it which won’t complete in my lifetime.

I will be writing about Cuba over the next months. However, I need time and distance to reflect and dissect my thoughts. For now, I’d rather dash to the present, our current home in Guatemala.

After three days in Antigua, Guatemala, we moved to a house in San Marcos on Lake Atitlan. The town is full of those too young to have experienced Haight-Ashbury but still intent on slouching towards Bethlehem.

There are three main groups in the village: The Rastafarians, retired expats, and the Mayan locals. Every morning, the native villagers walk down from the hilltops with loads of avocados, papayas, bananas, and pineapples piled into baskets perched on their heads. They sell these items for a fraction of what lesser quality produce would cost at home. We load our backpacks with all we can carry and live almost exclusively on this food grown in our backyard.

When Pat and I return home, we swim in the lake and lunch on guacamole or pineapple, banana, papaya smoothies. We nap, read, and look at one of the most breathtaking vistas in the world.

The weather is like Colorado. Each day we have awakened to sunshine. Late afternoon, clouds cover the volcano, waves begin to break on the shore, and rain seems imminent. But so far, it hasn’t rained. By evening, the stars shine unimpeded.

At night we sleep in a room with 2 walls of windows looking out to the lake and volcano. The village of San Pedro shimmers in the distance as lights of homes are kept on all night. I lay awake and listen to Mayan fishermen paddling along the shoreline just below us in their handmade rowboats illuminated with a single bulb.

There’s an otherworldliness about it all, simultaneously unsettling and invigorating. At dawn I do yoga on the deck, write in my journal, and eat breakfast. Then Pat and I slouch off in search of our own Bethlehem and to discover what provisions will be available for the day.

We’re settled now, here until March 26th in this place which could be confused, quite easily, with heaven.



Categories: Central America

Tags: , , , , , ,

12 replies

  1. When you leave in the taxi to take you to your next destination – I hope the wheels turn square and you get a bumpy ride all the way to the airport!
    Buenos Dias, from a very soggy and extremely cold UK! (Talk about rubbing it in!)
    🙂

  2. Just read your post. Just a bit envious. But…..oh no……not me…: ) Keep writing! You are a wealth of info for the rest of us!

    >

  3. Wow, that sounds so wonderful!

  4. I sense peacefulness!

  5. Thank you Julie. Good post; laughed out loud at the Cuban observation, I look forward to more details.
    Glad to hear all is well with you and Pat!

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