Guat's Emala With You?

Take me down to Guatemala City where the sky is brown and the rats are pretty, take me home! 

No, no, we didn't go to Guatemala City. We were rescued from that fate. Christian, world traveler, saved us from my bright idea to go to from the Tapachula border crossing (the miserable border town we got stuck at last year when the mudslides slid...) to Guatemala City to renew my visa. Why? Because it's "ugly, and dirty, and dangerous, and you're not going there." So Uncle Christian made a new itinerary for us, which involved Lake Atitlan and Antigua, and then he was spirited away back to England. Later, I saw on the Lonely Planet website that Guatemala City was voted the #1 Least Favorite Place by travelers.

We left from San Cristobal around 8 am. Considering there are no bathrooms on the shuttles, and my aforementioned gastrointestinal discomfort, I plotted to endure by fasting and popping anti-diarrhea pills. As young European guy after young European guy boarded our shuttle, I realized this was potentially going to be the most mortifying journey of my life. It took about 4.5 hours to get from San Cristobal to the Cuauhtemoc (La Mesilla) border crossing, and 6 hours to Panajachel. And it all passed without incident! Plop plop, fizz fizz, oh what a relief it is to not shame yourself in front of strangers.

As you can see, the roads in Guatemala are almost as good as in Mexico. Actually, save bits like the below, the roads were quite nice. Hardly any gaping crevasses and only sporadic chicken suicide attempts.

By the time we glimpsed Lake Atitlan, we had become fast friends with our shuttlemates, who had no idea what they were doing in Guatemala either. So we all bonded together over our ignorance and over Steve, the only one of us who knew what he was doing. He was German, he had plans, he had maps, he had Lonely Planet: Guatemala...the latest edition! Ooooooh.

Lake Atitlan is actually a collapsed volcano surrounded by three other volcanoes, which I assume will eventually collapse and become lakes as well, and then Lonely Planet will have to update their guides, and Steve will have to buy the latest edition.

 Wim (Belgium), Hasan (Alemania), Chelsea, Bronnie, Steve (Deutschland)

There are many things to love about Wim and Hasan, but what I love most can been seen above. They're huge. Look! I look small. I look...short. Hasan's grandparents are from Montenegro, which is apparently where the tallest people on earth are, and consequently where I'll be travelling to audition for the next season of Who Wants to Marry a Giant? There are things we love about Steve too, but mostly we love him for his gargantuan mind, and ability to memorize boat schedules.

We spent the day in Panajachel, where there was splendid things we had been missing, like homemade ginger ale and authentic curries. The next day we took a boat to San Pedro, and after splashing around in the collapsed volcano, discovered more things to rejoice over, like a natural health store that was some sort of Henry's/Trader Joe's oasis. Le sigh. I could only afford to buy Grapefruit Seed Extract, which killed whatever was trying to kill me, and brought me back among the living.

Peanut, Bronnie's travelling companion. I think he's been to more countries than I have. He was very well behaved the whole trip, but insisted on having his picture taken.Wim also had a teddy bear travelling companion, Alfonso, but he had partied too hard the night before and had to stay at the hostel. 

The laundry service in San Pedro was superb. In fact, one laundry mat had a sign outside that said "YOUR CLOTHES WILL SMELL NICE." They obviously know how to sell to backpackers. Also, over lunch it was revealed that Hasan and Wim were similarly afflicted by debilitating diarrhea, and had we had all been secretly popping Immodium and the like trying to stay alive. From that point on it was a free-for-all of toilet-related jokes and discussions.

 Our secret anti-diarrheal stashes.

The next day, Bronnie and I took a boat to San Marcos, poked around looking for breakfast but only found a restaurant that looked like a garage sale/animal sanctuary, so we skipped out and headed back to Panajachel. We got a tuk tuk around town doing last minute things, then it was off to Antigua. 

 Antigua! A land flowing with milk, and honey, and...

GREAT SCOTT WHAT IS THIS FOUNTAIN????

Ahem. Antigua was nice, a colonial town that reminded us a lot of San Cristobal. But all the breast-fountains in the world couldn't make us forget that we were tired, and we would have to take frequent breaks to lean against decaying churches to catch our breath. 

We did get the bright idea to rent bicycles in town. Which was half demented and half brilliant, demented because the roads are made of  highly spaced apart cobblestones, brilliant because we got to fly through the streets and use muscles that had been in hibernation for some time. 

In fact, we were told about a look out point with a monument just outside of town, on top of a hill that we were advised to walk our bikes up or carry the bikes up stairs if we couldn't make it. Hah. Telling the Destroyer and the Machine to push their bikes up a hill is like waving a red flag in front of a bull. We had to stop several times, and I had a sudden-onset hyperventilation attack half way through, but we made it.

We were greeted by this sign in German, which I'm pretty sure says, "Why are you so sweaty? Come on...Get your act together, fatty." But of course, my German is rusty.

 There he was! Some guy! Riding his steed with great dignity!

 And there I was! Some thing! Mounting my bike with great difficulty!

I actually don't know if I was getting on or off. Or if I was trying to do a Captain Morgan thing. I showed this picture to a Dutch girl in our hostel, and she started laughing even harder than I was. "You are like man!" she said. Thank you, my sweet Netherlandish friend.

Anyway, we were pretty beat after the bike ride. Not that the bikes collapsed in a heap in the background are a giveaway. Although I staged a coup toward the end of the trip and tried to go off by myself to go on a volcano camping trip, the universe realigned itself so that Friday after dinner, crepes, and a few frenzied dances to Don Omar I too was on a bus heading back for Puerto. 24 bus hours later we arrived back, just in time for the meeting.

We took another tuk tuk in Antigua, maybe you can get the sense of just how cobbly the cobblestones were.

Probably no updates for a while, but the next time I do I will likely have had some special visitors. Verrrrrry special indeed. MY MOM AND DAD AND PAUL AND TARA ARE COMING IN TWO WEEKS IS THIS NOT THE BEST NEWS EVER?