We woke up nice and early on our 7th day (in addition to every other day) so that we could take the canoe out on the water before it got too rough. I had forgotten to grab my sunglasses, so I was a bit blinded by the sun, but otherwise, it was perfect. The water was glassy smooth, the weather glorious, and the only sign of life so far were the occasional lancha, birds, and the local fishermen out on their canoes, throwing the line out and quickly scooping out the water coming in through holes in their boats. It was so peaceful. I told Anthony that it made me want to live a simple life like this. I would start a big garden for fresh fruits and vegetables, and he would go out in the mornings and fish, and life would be good. We might have to go into town to a restaurant anytime we wanted wifi, but that’s ok.
Once we started approaching the village of San Juan, we turned back around and went to the house to get ready for the day. We waited for the lancha to take us to San Marcos and stopped at a mini grocery store that sold Claro minutes and data (for cell phones) so that Anthony could buy more data for his phone.
He couldn’t remember his phone number here, so he gave up and started walking away, but the nice Mayan woman asked for his phone, put in some code, and all the information for his SIM card popped up. She said she’d be back and just wandered off with his phone. So my husband, the software developer getting his Masters in Computer Science, was schooled in technology by some young Mayan lady working at a store in Guatemala. It might be awhile before I let him live that one down. While we waited for her to come back, Anthony talked with the boy working the store. Then she walked in with the phone, we paid, and moved on.
We stopped at a really pretty mostly-veg restaurant set within a garden to use the wifi and drink some chai. Once they started cooking lunch, we took part in that as well.
We walked around a little bit so that we could find some more super awesome signs and advertisements.
Then we asked the lancha captain to drop us off in San Juan, which is a small and much less touristy village, made up of 95% Tz’utujil. It is full of women’s textile “cooperatives” and some beautiful art galleries selling paintings of different aspects of the Mayan and Guatemalan culture.
We stopped in some of the shops along the way up the steep road. I bought myself a new Mayan woven dress, and we also bought a new painting. From what I understand, you can pretty much always haggle them down to around 50% of what they are asking, but we just don’t see the point. These people do not have nearly the money we do, so I figured we would make their days by paying their asking price, and as is, my new dress was around $17, and our new painting, which is original and decently sized, was around $45. Here’s a picture of both:
We then caught a tuk tuk, a little 3-wheeled vehicle, over the hill to San Pedro. It was a pleasant enough experience for Anthony, who just conversed with the driver in Spanish the whole time, but I spent most of it feeling pretty certain that either I or my new painting or both would be falling out of the side and down the cliff to the lake when we hit all those deep potholes.
After stopping at the ATM and getting a lemonade, we caught the lancha again back to our dock. The sun was beating down on us pretty hard as we walked all those steps up to our house, so once we got in there, we decided to change into our swimsuits and head right back down. We both jumped in the water to cool off, but it was pretty cold and the waves were starting to pick up. I am not the world’s best swimmer– though I can if it’s necessary– so I was dog paddling against the waves and getting pretty darn exhausted after a minute or two of this.
Feeling plenty cooled off, we hopped back up on the dock and hung out there, reading for awhile.
We decided to stay in and cook for once, so I made some spaghetti (the easiest possible meal to make when traveling, I think), after which we went out to our terrace and started a fire again. So then we sat there, living the good life. We sipped wine and listened to the waves and the fireworks (it’s a festival day for a local saint) and generally just pretended we were royalty while the fire roared in front of us.
