Santiago Atitlan, Guatemala

Santiago Atitlan is amazing. Stepping off the boat, I felt as if I was entering Guatemala for the first time. An indigenous school girl hoisted me and my heavy backpack off the rocking boat and onto the slick dock. This area is over 50% indigenous, and is still thriving with culture. All of the women here wear their traditional trajes, woven skirts with thick woven or beaded belts and poncho like blouse embroidered with flowers and birds. Many of the men even wear the traje here, which I haven’t seen in Antigua. The men’s traje is a little more simple, with stripped, pajama like shorts and a sash.

(A photo of an indigenous boat man in Lago Atitlan)

Getting off the boat there are the typical runners and taxi drivers. One indigenous man wearing purple shorts seems to be the head honcho of them all. He asked us if we wanted everything in the books; cheap hostel, restaurants, crafts, good prices, marijuana, everything. Wade and I ran away.

The main street is riddled with tourist shops selling beautiful, hand-made indigenous arts and crafts. It is eye candy. Bright colors, exotic shapes, woven clothing, leather hats, stone sculptures, oil paintings of the volcanoes and the lake, and shiny beaded jewelry. It all sits next to the street tempting tourists with the enticing brilliance and low prices. The women sit in their stalls with gold teethed grins, embroidering p’ots, and beckoning the passer-buyer.

Even my ears were overloaded by the town. Here they do not speak Spanish as their first language. The first language is a Mayan dialect. It has thick, harsh sounds, like snarls and spitting strung together in a clacking rhythm. I was amazed even that many people do not even speak Spanish. A few attempts at conversation with the indigenous women and I learned that, because they did not have formal education, only spoke their native tongue. I love hearing new languages.

(A photo of an indigenous Mayan women selling jewelry and beaded necklaces in Santiago, Guatemala)

People in this village are extremely friendly. Every little old lady and wrinkled old man is brimming with toothless smiles. The women are a bit too shy to say, “Buenos Dias,” but they always offer a timid smile. The shyness only makes them seem more appealing and affable. Maybe they don’t speak because they are always carrying huge baskets or bags on top of their heads. Maybe speaking will make them fall off. I really do not know how they can balance such huge loads on their heads in the first place. It has so affected their walk that they glide so smoothly along the pavement that you hardly even see them lift their feet.

I like this pueblo, and I am glad to finally be finding the richness of Guatemala.

(Photo of the street and indigenous women in Santiago Atitlan, Guatemala)