Santiago and San Pedro de Atitlan

The next morning we got up late for us (9am) and had the slowest breakfast in our lives (but soo good) on top of a travel agency. Two spoons in the sugar bowl and twice the wrong table we finally received our very complete breakfast of pancakes, eggs with bacon, fruit salad, and toast (all on the same plate!).

We ate happily and listened to some guy trying to sell tabloids out of a tuc-tuc and fantiscised about buying our own while sipping our watery coffee. Its weird that some of the best coffee in the world comes from this lake region, and all they serve here is this watery concoction that tastes more like weak tea than coffee.


We then took the 11:30 boat to Santiago de Atitlan, and after a glorious 30 mintues of gliding accross the lake we reached our destination. There, as soon as we stepped off the boat we were approached by a 65 year old man which was blind in one eye, offering us everything from a hotel room to some weed. Well, we were interested in a tour to the Mirador up the mountain, and a visit to the Shamuna (A wooden figure smoking a cigar, which apparently is good luck).

We left our backpacks at this 'Guide''s house and started our ascent to the Mirador. We passed through the whole village, then next to the dirt street rural houses and straight through maize fields and coffee plantations. He very eagerly pointed out the spot where a huge landslide occured last year, which took most of the houses in its path with it, including a plot of our guide's land. We passed hunched over indiginous people, with what looked like a forest on their backs, as well as wide eyed children on the side of the road.


Luckily a pickup offered us a ride(and we eagerly accepted), and so we were sped up to the mirador just when a sea of clouds was rolling in from behind the mountain. We were able to catch glimpses of the view of the lake and volcano below, between the billowing clounds sweeping passed us.

On our way back to town we passed corrugated tin houses, where everyone was sitting, drying corn or weaving their colorful clothing. The Shamuna was more than a bit tacky, with a very electronic 'Jingle Bells' playing in the background and fruit hung from the ceiling. This guy goes to a different family every year, with visitors usually donating cigarettes or some rum to the statue in return for good fortune.



Starving, we socffed down a lunch of fried chicken and limonada and then took the last boat to our resting place, San Pedro de Atitlan. There we passed the opening day of the local swimming pool (with live blues band and all) on the way to another San Francisco hotel, which was half as expensive as the first (2.5 USD a night) and twice as nice, with a big colorful room, a kitchen, garden terrace, and even warm water (oh, the luxury!). And did I mention amazing views of the lake? We never want to leave.