Guatemala: Day Two
(Will you be patient with me if these posts take weeks?) It’s another senior season of BUSY. My first baby boy is about to graduate and I cannot allow myself to spend too much time pondering that just yet. And, if you’re counting, that leaves only TWO kids in high school. Our numbers game is weird lately.
Back to Guatemala though ….
You read about the first day here. I promise I won’t do an eight day play by play. Well, I don’t PROMISE. But – we’ll see.
When we left Antigua to make the second part of our journey to where our main stay would be at San Juan La Laguna, we had the gift of having Eduardo as our driver again. Same driver. Different bus. (This go round was a vintage VW.) Eduardo is a champion driver because those roads and curves and traffic and construction and steep edges were no joke. I’m talking HOURS long, landslides blocking the road unexpectedly or the pavement simply torn out and Eduardo just handling it all.
Here’s an extra special part of our drive that day. Eduardo brought along a front seat passenger. His mother Hilda. She was dear and she had never left Antigua before to visit Lake Atitlan. (It’s a gorgeous lake at the base of the volcanoes where many communities – including San Jaun – all border. I think all of the lake communities are named for the disciples.) So Hilda had her view of Lake Atitlan with one of her sons and she was able to witness his prowess at driving. Honestly, I was on the edge of tears that entire ride as I watched Eduardo have such joy in introducing his mother to the lake. Here was a grown man, the father of three kids, taking happy selfies with his mom on a new adventure!
When we reached Panajachel at the lake’s edge, we said goodbye to Hilda and Eduardo and then our luggage was tossed on the top of a boat – was it strapped down? we don’t know! – and off on the lake we went! It was incredible. I watched Bergen and Piper stare across the lake, bounce along with the waves and take it all in – every glorious second.
Our lunch was at a luxury hotel halfway across the lake – La Casa del Mundo at Jardin de Sol. If Fredy was trying to wow us with this particular lunch stop – he DID! I know I talked too much about the beauty there but it was other worldly. Like – how on earth is one place so beautiful???
If you ever want a secluded and private little vacation or honeymoon – this is the spot. Pure beauty at every level. Dr. Suess trees. Extravagant flowers. Hammocks hidden all over. The music of crashing waves.
My meal was crisp fish sticks rolled in sesame seeds and truly the best watermelon smoothie I have ever tasted.
Bergen and I ran up and down all the steps on all the levels to peer at each shady hammock spot and ohh and ahh over every corner.
After lunch we took the boat back to our community for the week – San Juan – and made it to our hotel. Wonderfully charming with fantastic views and hammocks and a covered porch, Eco Hotel Uxlabi was the perfect home base. (Three beds again in a spacious room!)
After settling in, we headed to a local evening church service with Fredy and his family. It was the church’s 45th anniversary and seeing an entire stage full of kids dressed alike and singing joyfully was delightful. After the service we walked through town to Fredy and Chica’s home where they generously prepared our entire team a meal – something that would happen often during the week and something we not only never took for granted but also something we were so impressed with. Every single dish was delicious. (Sunday night there was also hot chocolate and sweet bread.)
That night we rode home in Tuk Tuks – my new favorite mode of transportation. (My first Tuk Tuk ride was also the ride I decided I wanted to drive one of the small vehicles.)
During the church service, completely in Spanish, I bummed a receipt from Ann Lee and a pen from Hannah and jotted down a few thoughts while they were fresh …
I can’t understand the majority of the words being spoken tonight.
A bit of high school Spanish, some vocabulary words, are poking their way through.
I definitely understand the tune of “no turning back, no turning back” being sung.
So I don’t know the words, but I see so much else I do understand.
I watch a mother tilt her infant daughter in a way I’m intimately familiar with.
Muscle memory.
Even though my last nursing baby turns fourteen this spring.
Her friend instinctively shifts in her seat beside her,
positions the scarf around her shoulders,
sheltering and covering,
offering support and camaraderie in one simple gesture.
That’s what I recognize.
That’s what I know.
A language no words are needed to translate.
