First post, 3 weeks in. There's some catching up to do. I'm gonna go ahead and start with the "Where?" for the first post.
Guatemala is quite a country. Living here at the Iguana Perdida on Lake Atitlán, it's pretty difficult to relate to the warnings regarding the country that appear on the U.S. State Department webpage, which almost discouraged me from coming just a few weeks ago. The locals do speak of violence in certain regions of the country, but here on the lake there is a rhythm of tranquility that seems to impose an irresistible peace on those around it. You can practically watch this happening in newcomers to the hostel - it happens with comedic regularity. They show up, stressed from travel to check in for a night or two, drop their bags in their rooms, and come down to sit and look out at the lake for a while. Within 20 minutes, they have taken in the Lake, discussed amongst themselves, and decided with cathartic sureness that they should come up to the bar and see about extending their stay by a few nights, sometimes longer. When they find out it's possible, something that looks a lot like relief registers on their faces. Happens all the time. Maybe the Lake can take all the credit, but I think there is something about the Iguana itself that completes the haven and invites people to forget their complicated itineraries and just relax for a few days. So it's in the context of this atmosphere that I have been living, working, and making friends.
The hostel itself is just recently a waterfront property on the Lake, since the water level has been rising so quickly in the past few years. Apparently, this is typical - historically, the level of the lake has varied by more than 35 meters. By one local's measurements (Jeanne), it has risen by about a meter in the last 2 years. In any case, the hostel is safe for the immediate future, and the narrow street that once ran in front of it is now replaced by docks and boats.
Most of my volunteering is done behind the bar in the restaurant area, which boasts a pretty spectacular view. Three majestic volcanoes rise opposite the hostel/hotel, and their tops are almost perpetually disappearing into perfect little ring clouds that are actually "fuego," or smoke from the volcanoes. At night, there are incredible lightning storms over the volcanoes that have not been accompanied by rain or thunder once in my 3 weeks here. I'm not sure why this happens, but it's pretty amazing to sit and watch.
Other than that, my exploring has been contained to the hilly/mountainous paths and towns ringing the lake, including (so far) Panajachel, Paxanax (x's are pronounced sh), Santa Cruz La Laguna (where the Iguana Perdida is), Jaibalito, Tsununá, and San Marcos.
I know the stories are what people really want to hear, but I'm hoping that this first post will give some context to the stories that I'll be typing up and sharing soon.
Thanks for reading!
-Jeremy
Guatemala is quite a country. Living here at the Iguana Perdida on Lake Atitlán, it's pretty difficult to relate to the warnings regarding the country that appear on the U.S. State Department webpage, which almost discouraged me from coming just a few weeks ago. The locals do speak of violence in certain regions of the country, but here on the lake there is a rhythm of tranquility that seems to impose an irresistible peace on those around it. You can practically watch this happening in newcomers to the hostel - it happens with comedic regularity. They show up, stressed from travel to check in for a night or two, drop their bags in their rooms, and come down to sit and look out at the lake for a while. Within 20 minutes, they have taken in the Lake, discussed amongst themselves, and decided with cathartic sureness that they should come up to the bar and see about extending their stay by a few nights, sometimes longer. When they find out it's possible, something that looks a lot like relief registers on their faces. Happens all the time. Maybe the Lake can take all the credit, but I think there is something about the Iguana itself that completes the haven and invites people to forget their complicated itineraries and just relax for a few days. So it's in the context of this atmosphere that I have been living, working, and making friends.
The hostel itself is just recently a waterfront property on the Lake, since the water level has been rising so quickly in the past few years. Apparently, this is typical - historically, the level of the lake has varied by more than 35 meters. By one local's measurements (Jeanne), it has risen by about a meter in the last 2 years. In any case, the hostel is safe for the immediate future, and the narrow street that once ran in front of it is now replaced by docks and boats.
Most of my volunteering is done behind the bar in the restaurant area, which boasts a pretty spectacular view. Three majestic volcanoes rise opposite the hostel/hotel, and their tops are almost perpetually disappearing into perfect little ring clouds that are actually "fuego," or smoke from the volcanoes. At night, there are incredible lightning storms over the volcanoes that have not been accompanied by rain or thunder once in my 3 weeks here. I'm not sure why this happens, but it's pretty amazing to sit and watch.
Other than that, my exploring has been contained to the hilly/mountainous paths and towns ringing the lake, including (so far) Panajachel, Paxanax (x's are pronounced sh), Santa Cruz La Laguna (where the Iguana Perdida is), Jaibalito, Tsununá, and San Marcos.
I know the stories are what people really want to hear, but I'm hoping that this first post will give some context to the stories that I'll be typing up and sharing soon.
Thanks for reading!
-Jeremy
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