With the tent up and our bags safely inside, we past our host on our way out and had him let us out the gate. He didnt have much to say in regards to what there was to explore in the area. It seemed as if he actually hadnt left his little compound in a while.
Once we were out, we made our way down the dirt path and once we hit the main road, made a B-line directly for the lake. If i remember right, we literally closed our eyes and picked a little town on the other side that we wanted to visit. Our destination...Santiago Atitlan. We arrived on the water just as one of the boats was ready to take off. we haggled our price and payed off the guide who had somehow wrangled his way into helping us find a boat. We boarded a shabby whit powerboat with wooden benches that were packed full of other Guatemalans. If I remember correctly, we were the only out of towners on this ferry. For the next twenty minutes or so, we soaked up the views of the forrested mountains that surrounded the starkly blue and clear lake. The only real depressing part of this voyage was that the lake was heavily polluted. Bags of chips, soda bottles and much more seemed to be floating beside us as if they played a valued part of the ecosystem. It was probably a far cry from the view that Aldous Huxley soaked up so many years ago, but it was still humbling and inspiring. The passengers on the boat conversed at very low levels and for the most part, the trip was pleasure on the eyes more than any other sense.
When we docked, we hopped out on the opposite side of the lake and began the trek uphill through all the little vendors and merchants. I ended up purchasing a little man purse that i planned on using for my future teaching days. little did i know at that point that those teaching days would be very short. We stopped from time to time in some of the art shops and checked out what the local painters were selling. From somebody who nothing about art, all i can say is that most of the pieces were extremely detailed and vibrant. The local artists there definitely push eachother creatively and professionally.
We walked the streets of this very small village for a while and quickly found that there wasnt much to do in the general area. We resolved to head back to panajachel, but as we were making our way back to the water, we passed a hole in the wall shop with a faded and weathered sign above it that read "cafe organico". Both Anne and I appreciate a good cup of central american organic coffee so we stepped on in. Inside, there was a group of about five people having what looked like a business meeting. Spread sheets were out, papers were strewn all over the tiny desk space, but more importantly, it didnt look like there was a single drop of coffee in the joint. No espresso machine, no cash register... it very clearly wasnt a cafe at all. One of the men came over to us and asked us what we needed. We responded with questions about the sign and what was going on here. As it turned out, the group that was meeting was a farming and marketing co-op. They grow their own organic coffee in the mountains of Santiago Atitlan and distribute it to select places and to select buyers throughout Guatemala. After seeing that we found this very interesting, they asked us if we would like to go on a tour to which we obliged.
We wait for a few minutes as one of the men goes to get a truck and we he arrived at the shop, Anne and I along with a few other co-op partners hopped in the bed. We were off. We drove for about another ten minutes deep into the mountains hanging on to the metal railing cage that was constructed in the bed of the truck. This mode of travel is also very popular for the Guatemalans and looked like a lot of fun so we were pretty excited going on this little adventure with them.
Eventually they pull over to the side of the road, everybody hops out, crosses the street and starts hiking up a shrubby hill. about a minute later, our leader stopped because we had arrived at the orchard. This was one of many spots along the mountain where coffee trees had been planted. I had never seen a coffee tree before, or even a bean unroasted so when i plucked the little red berry looking bean from the branch and stripped it of its husk, i was pleased to see a tan and moist little bean at the center. They then told us to suck on the bean and notice how sweet it is before it is dried and roasted. They are sweet. not very sweet, but pretty different from the beans that I am used to. For the next half hour or so, they gave us a tour of that orchard and told us about their co-op. I unfortunately can't remember the details of it all but it seemed like they were doing a truly good thing for their country and were clearly very proud of it.
After hiking around a little more, we boarded the truck and headed back into town. We thanked them for the tour and Anne bought some coffee from them and then we decided it was time to head back to Panajachel. We boarded another ferry, soaked up the prestige of Atitlan one more time and hopped back on to solid land. The sun was going down so we hit up the open air market and picked up some vegetables and tortillas to make some dinner. We made it back to our campsite at dark and this time only rang the bell once as not to upset our host. He came a few minutes later and let us in.
Unfortunatley once again, it is too late and I am too tired to keep going. Until next time.
No comments:
Post a Comment