Be sure to read 1 and 2 first!
DAY SEVEN:
Panajachel is the biggest tourist hub on Lake Atitlán. Lake Atitlán is a popular Guatemalan destination, it’s stunningly beautiful, and it’s got “lake towns” scattered all around it. My site, Santa Clara La Laguna, has ‘laguna’ in it’s name but it is not on the water at all. We can see the lake if you go to some of the lookouts, but when you are walking around town, you see only mountains and roads. I always tell people “Santa Clara es un poco retirado del agua” (it’s a little removed from the lake) because Guatemalans and foreigners, and other volunteers alike, do not often realize this. They imagine I am living a hop and a skip from one of the most famous lakes in Central America, maybe the world, but it’s a distance. Not to mention that lake towns usually have more resources because of the influx of tourism who pay in valuable currencies, and quite a presence of non-profit organizations (of which Santa Clara has none). Lake towns also have exciting restaurants, real coffee cafes (this is clutch for me) and fun bars, places to grab a beer or dance. Santa Clara is truly a pueblo different from many lake towns.
I was pleased that my parents seemed to like Panajachel. Our room was small, in my opinion, for the money we paid, but they seemed comfortable. Before you know it, another volunteer and dear friend Eunice was in our room. Her parents also had a trip planned and they were, completely coincidentally, staying in the room right above us! Eunice and her parents are extremely kind and generous, and they invited us to dinner. Eunice’s dad apparently said: “This man is a pastor? I should take him to dinner.”
We chose a menu with a wide variety of options called Las Chinitas. My first ever meal in Pana was at Las Chinitas. Eunice told my parents when she came to our room: “My mom will act like she cannot speak English. This is false” and we laughed. But true as predicted, Sang (Mrs. Cho) spoke in Korean to her daughter and Eunice translated: “She said she had a dream that Elvis Presley proposed to her.” I was a bit anxious about where the conversation might lead, my dad an evangelical pastor, Jay (Mr. Cho) is very passionately evangelical, and Eunice and I fall on various vistas of the religion spectrum (I would say that they are two different places, as I identify as agnostic and she identifies as Christian but with a much different tone than Evangelicalism, as far as I understand). To be honest, she and I very rarely discuss religion. My dad and Mr. Cho were a different story. But the food was tasty, the environment was very relaxed and we laughed often.
I seized up when my mom picked up one of the crafts that the young children sell. If you touch it, and you’re not really interested, they become even more insistent that you buy it. It makes me feel bad to waste their time when I am not interested so I do not make eye contact or speak, or touch anything. I know this sounds rude but it is the fastest way to get the point across that I will not be buying any wares. I live here, I am not traveling. Of course, my mom was traveling and it was fine. But ultimately she did not buy the item and then the little kid waited in vain. The child labor in Pana is the most intense around the lake and it’s hard to see. As young as boys at age 5 carry their wooden boxes and do shoe-shining “Shoeshine” they say. Sometimes I am wearing sandals, I don’t know how those are shined, or tennis shoes, but they still ask because once I say “No gracias” they ask directly for money. Sometimes I give them 5Q. I feel torn because I am supporting their working on the streets by giving them money. But I also feel bad not giving them money. So I don’t know what to do.
We had a calm evening, my parents were asleep very early and I wasn’t tired. The internet signal didn’t reach our room and I was frustrated as usual. You pay lots of money for a nice hotel in one of the biggest tourist attractions in the country, and you still can’t count on modern comforts.
DAY EIGHT:
On Monday morning, my host mom and host sister came to the lake and we met up with them for lunch. The ride is about 2 hours from Santa Clara, 75 minutes on a passenger bus and 15 minutes more on a camioneta, a large school bus from the US turned public bus. First my mom wanted to go shopping, so Clara and my host mom helped get them a good price. We invited them, which in this country, means that we pay for everything. We bought them some gifts that my host mom eyed on the street, chocolate-covered fruit.. My mom bought a Christmas ornament as a recuerdo, my dad wanted painted magnets, we bought my cousin (who bought me a travel backpack, shout out to Julie!) a pair of earrings of lapis lazuli (they told me it was jade, I learned later it wasn’t), a woven blouse for my sister in the States and a small painting for my mom. We also got two necklaces for friends in the States and with this we had no more space in the bags. We were sending home 10 pounds of coffee, roasted by my host family, so packing would already be creative. My sister ordered boots during her visit, for herself and my B-I-L Chris, and I also had those to send home in their bags.
Our (my) restaurant of choice, Mr. John’s had a special of two burgers for the price of one on Mondays. I myself had eaten said burger and found it to be excellent a month before. We ordered 6 and ate up. I noticed my host mom waiting because, while she always eats with her hands at home, tortillas are like a spoon anyhow, she knows that eating out at a restaurant calls for different table manners. When we all picked up our burgers, my host mom and Clara picked up theirs. It was so sweet because, even though I was translating every single word shared between them, they seemed so happy to all be together (especially my host sister and host mom for getting to know my parents). Also Guatemala is just so warm and open that hosting with open arms is very important. My host sister told me she felt bad for not being able to speak English with her parents. I told her: You shouldn’t feel bad! They are in your country. They should feel bad for not being able to speak Spanish! (I mean, if anyone is meant to feel bad in this situation). I will say that when my dad picked up the Spanish-English dictionary when we were in Santa Clara, taking off his glasses and sticking his nose almost to the pages, I was impressed by his curiosity. My dad is closer to 70 than 60 and he still has a willingness to learn something foreign. During the alfombra set-up, I heard him outside commenting to Clara, “Bonitos Flores” But he said it like floor with an US English ‘r’ so she didn’t understand. I smiled to myself inside, cooking eggs or whatever I was doing.
It didn’t occur to me that I needed to tell my boss I was not going to be in Santa Clara to give my class! Last year, the week after Semana Santa we didn’t have classes. I thought it might be the case this year so I sort of forgot. Then 2 hours before the class I got her on the phone and apologized. “It’s that my parents are here!” Parent visits always get a pass in this country because family reasons are always understood and pardoned. At least in the campo.
After we finished lunch, all very full, we walked back down to the water to take pictures. On the way back up to the bus stop, we dropped my dad off at the hotel as his back was giving him problems, and there my host mom and host sister hugged him goodbye. Then my mom and I walked back up Calle Santander with them, close to the bus stop, ordered two hamburgers (because we needed to send Abuelita something from Pana! and 2×1, so obvi…) and we said our goodbyes. Clara said: “You tell your family, in whatever moment anyone wants to come visit Guatemala, cousins, anyone, they always have a place to stay with us.” I translated and my mom expressed her gratitude. There were more words shared between them, typical palabras de despedida style, and my host mom went to hug my mom and said: “What is your name?” which made me laugh so much. It was so honest, she couldn’t remember. And my mom and I walked back home. I felt like someone from the world translating committee owed me a medal.
We got home, mom rested and dad and I picked up pasta for her. We waited 30 minutes and I had to rescue the frozen yogurt employee from my dad who was trying to speak to her in English. “I just wanted to know if there was sugar in it..” We took the pasta back to Mom and Dad and I found a happy hour bar that was no longer serving happy hour, but we ordered two drinks and began to watch the game from our pick of all of the TVs at Pana Rock Café. The game was a final of March Madness. I of course knew nothing about it not only because sports aren’t really my thing but for the other obvious reason.
Eunice came to our room and brought us fruit (always with offerings in hand, that lovely one) and my mom and she chatted about her time in the EMS as a volunteer firefighter. She is so cool. She told us some crazy stories and I was gawking at her strength, which she downplays even though I am certain I could never do what she did. I was glad that my parents got to experience Eunice because our trips only aligned by coincidence and normally we live very far apart (about 6 hours on 4 different buses).
DAY EIGHT/ THE LAST:
On our last morning I can’t remember what we did in the morning except I think my mom had some stomach issues and Dad and I wasn’t sure which outing we should have picked. We ate breakfast at the hotel and it wasn’t long before it was afternoon. The weather was already risky, and we could not find good times to go to San Pedro. If we wanted to take a public bus, we would have to wait close to an hour, which I had to extract this information from the bus sales guys because they wanted us to take a private bus right away. Eventually they told us we could wait an hour. We found an unsatisfying, empty restaurant on the water where it began to get very windy and chilly. The lake wasn’t at all reaching it’s beautiful potential, as I was hoping for a relaxing, island-like vibe that the lake can often summon. But this was choppy water, chilly air and wind. We decided not to take a boat ride that afternoon and enjoyed the view of the lake from the restaurant. We paid 40Q for a shrimp stuffed avocado, which cost more than each of our individual plates, and I was frustrated with the weather and with Pana.
I got photos developed that morning and it took 45 minutes. You know one of those places where you can hook up your USB and get your photos. Nothing is ever that fast here so my mom sat patiently and waited. I can’t develop pictures in Santa Clara so I had to do it then. They were pictures from our trip that I wanted to give to my host family, send to Adrienne my sister, and send with the coffee beans.
We went back to the hotel so I could print off their boarding passes, the internet giving me trouble, and it eventually got worked out. I went to my room and cried. I felt my raw heart being ripped at by chuchos, the chuchos being the fact that my parents would leave the next day. I hate saying goodbye to them, this trip was so special and sweet, and we had gone to fun and (more comfortable than Santa Clara) places that I would also say goodbye to. There’s something about having my parents close, not because we are all of the same mind or don’t have our disagreements, but because they are the two people who brought me to life and made my life possible, it’s like my body knows when they are close. And when they leave I feel like I am all on my own again. My mom stayed downstairs and organized her phone apps. My dad was walking around Calle Santander (I think) and I was just upstairs wiping snot from my nose and feeling all of the emotions. Eventually my dad came up, saw that I was crying, and sent my mom up. He brought me a beer and some peanuts.
We decided to go to Circus Bar for dinner, we got more money out of the ATM, and we spent 400Q on dinner (around 55USD). It’s more than we spent on any other meal. The pasta was so delicious, the wine was nice (wine isn’t much of a thing in Guatemala, it’s more of a liquor or Gallo place). And while my mom got annoyed with me when I didn’t pose correctly and sort of checked out toward the end of dinner, I knew that we were all probably a little bit tired and that I didn’t want that to bother me.
Thankfully my favorite little hole-in-the-wall bar was open and my dad reclined himself along the cushions propped on pallet wood. My mom said she just wanted a margarita and I slumped my shoulders: “This is a mixology bar! This is an experience.” I was so relieved because the bartender, Jezar (Hey-Zar) speaks English. A lot of people who live in Panajachel speak English because they are either from Guatemala City or grew up around the ex-pats that troll Pana. My dad on the other hand wanted to tell him what his signature cocktail contains, all ingredients and portions. He lifted his hand: “Okay, I drink a Sex and the City. It’s one shot of…” and I had to retreat into myself because my mom ordered a margarita and my dad was giving the mixology bartender a recipe. I ordered something sweet-and-sour with rum in it and removed myself from the bar as quickly as possible. We quietly sipped our drinks, my mom’s had a weird flavor as I convinced her to order something else and Jezar produced a fresh-juiced tamarind cocktail. Tamarind is a flavor that is just not for everyone, I don’t know how to describe the flavor. Neither of my parents really drink given these low-calorie, all-natural, no-sugar lifestyles but I very much enjoyed my beverage. We went back to the room and finished preparing our bags. I bought them some road snacks, more water for their transit, and we planned to be up at 5:30am.
The next day it was goodbye. I sent them on the early shuttle (surprised that it arrived BEFORE 5am) and retreated to a cafe and made it back to site by the evening. I had so much blogging to catch up on before I could even begin to write about this visit, and I wanted coffee and internet much more than I wanted to go to Santa Clara. I got home, I ate dinner with my host family and I went to sleep. I don’t think I got out of bed until very late the next morning, but I did make it to school in the afternoon to give my charlas in Paquip, beginning sexual health.
And like that my parents were gone and I was still in rural Guatemala, rooster crows, cow poop on the road and evangelical music carrying into the night.
There’s no way to “adjust” to your visitors being gone, except for sleep and crying. It’s just a part of it, normally after 3 days I am back to normal but it’s really tough sometimes.
Thanks Mom and Dad for coming to Guatemala! You are both simply the best!
