The journey to and from Panajachel

One of the realities of living in San Marcos is that there are no banks or bank machines here.  There is also limited shopping.  Things here are generally more expensive than anywhere else on the lake - from the hotels to the food; and there are many things you just can´t find.  With San Pedro and Panajachel just across the lake, it´s not generally a big deal . . . one just heads for the dock, and waits the next launch to wherever they feel like going.

I have re-discovered how much I LOVE being out on the water . . .. feeling the wind, and occasionally the spray of the lake, in my hair and face.  My friend Barbara reflected, the first time we crossed together to Pana that I was just glowing.

There are a few things one needs to know about traversing the lake.  Launches run in most directions about every 20 minutes, more or less.  The schedule varies, however, based on a number of factors: the weather, the day of the week, the mood of the drivers, the amount of traffic . . . etc., etc., etc.  This is true also, of the price.  There seems to be a three-tiered price structure.  One price for Guatemalan / Mayan locals of the lake, a slightly higher price for foreigners who have become recognizable residents, and a third, higher, price for tourists.  One must be on their toes not to get price level 4 - "look - a sucker!!" pricing.

From San Marcos, San Pedro is the nearest lake town and is about 10 minutes away by launch (all things being equal).  The trip to Pana is about 25 minutes or so in ideal conditions.  Both have bank machines and shopping.  Pana has far more shopping, and less scary rumours about the bank machines and likelihood of having your card and account frauded by their use.

San Pedro is close enough that returning is fairly straight-forward.  There are only a couple of little docks hidden between San Pedro & San Marcos.  Panajachel is an entirely different matter, which Barbara and I discovered on our first trip over.

First off, arriving in Pana is an experience.  All of the docks around the lake are more than a few years old, and have that slightly unstable feeling.  The pathway from the dock to top of the hill in Pana is a whole other experience.  Because there is some kind of sewage system running between where the dock is and the top of the hill, there is a ´bridge´ (i use this term loosely) that runs up the hill, which you must traverse in order to get to town.  This ´bridge´is constructed much like the docks, but is in sadder shape than any dock I´ve been on so far.  Several of the boards have a level of bounce that is more than a little unnerving, and there are holes and boards with a bit of a shift in them.  I find myself praying deeply each time I must traverse it, while focusing my footsteps on the section of the boards that meet their supporting cross-beams.  I am wide-eyed amazed that despite its decrepit appearance, locals run up and down it with gallons of water, bags, boxes and packages of immense weight and size, and none of them seem the least bit concerned about the likelihood of going through.  I think I´ll continue my prayer practice however.

Pana itself is a bustling lake-side town, with an endless market up the main street, around corners . . . . it seems to go forever.  The colours and smells are amazing, and the vendors range from blasé to down-right pushy.  Some of the most persistent are the children, who will include the guilt-inducing approach of imploring "5Q?  So I can eat tonight??"  It´s hard to know how much is truth, and how much is an effective sales tactic.  (Yes, I bought one of that kid´s little purses that he was selling.)  On Sundays or Tuesdays . . . or something, there is another arts market, which I haven´t yet gone to.  I have, however, been to the produce market and to the little super-market near the bank where I found, much to my glee, gluten-free pasta, rice paper wraps and a bunch of other wonderful food treats for the digestively challenged like myself.

The thing about crossing the lake to get money, groceries, clothing . . . or whatever, however, . . . is that wherever you choose to go, eventually you have to come back. And so it is with Pana, that after an afternoon of shopping . . .. one must return, crossing that scary bridge again, and traipse down to the dock, in search of a launch back to San Marcos.  This is where the trip really gets interesting.  Because, unlike the 20 or 25 minute trip TO Pana . . . the trip back turns out to be just a bit longer.  Sometimes, almost an hour longer, actually.

Because you can´t possibly leave Pana with a launch that is less than full.  And I don´t mean, it´s got all the seats filled.  I mean FULL.  As in, all the benches crammed 4 people across, the front of the launch filled with people, animals, fruit, vegetables, boxes, bags, jugs of water and/or propane, luggage on the roof . . . . folks crammed around the driver at the back.  FULL.   And of course, although there may have been 2 or 3 stops getting to Pana, on the way back you can be sure there will be at least 7, or 10, or more.  The launch will stop at every small town, podunk, private dock, and even at the edge of the beach if they are waved down.  This is rush hour on Lago Atitlan.

And of course, with that many people and that much stuff, the launch can´t go as fast as when it´s more lightly loaded.  In fact, if you´re sitting near the front, you really hope it doesn´t . . . as when the driver gets over-enthusiastic, you end up like I did: soaked . . . from head to toe, right through to my underwear. Yup, that was me, feeling a deep connection with the lake.   We hit a wave, and with the weight and speed of the launch, that little wave became a big one, right over the front of the boat and all down my front.   When I got off that launch-ride I literally had to wring out the jacket I was wearing. 

I´m not sure what I learned from the experience . . . as I still sit at the front . . . but it sure made for a great story!  Mind you, I do make sure to allow myself more time for coming home now, so I don´t miss meditation.