Lago de Atitlan
First full day on Lake Atitlan in San Pedro. Arriving by boat from Panajachel in the rain makes this sunny day really nice. Staying in San Juan, the little town 1 km away from San Pedro. San Pedro is a major travelers town. Lots of gringos wandering around. Lots of support for travelers.
Soon as I set my pack down at little way up the hill from the dock a gringo in black got up from the table a few buildings down. He clearly had me pegged for something. He got up a little too quickly, his face showing a mixture of greed and desparation. He had to wait his turn to approach me as another tout was already working me for a ride up the hill to the town center or to a good hotel or any number of other attractions of the town.
Once the way was clear the man in black approached. Long, unwashed hair dangling, head hanging, he looked at me sideways asking for a cigarette. He then launched into the traditional greeting of the tout: Where are you from? I know a great hotel. I can walk you there.
I told him I was from Guatemala, that I had a place to stay and walked away.
I dread coming to places like this. I actually feared landing at the dock. Heavily traveled areas always feel more dangerous. The travelers are mostly who scare me. This gringo for example seemed more desparate and prone to thievery or deception than the touts striking up business.
And so I made my way to the language school, on foot, and then to San Juan, in the back of a pickup, where the pace of life and presence of tourists is slower.
Pictures of Atitlan may be in short supply as I left my camera in Lilian's car yesterday. I'm really, really bummed.
Soon as I set my pack down at little way up the hill from the dock a gringo in black got up from the table a few buildings down. He clearly had me pegged for something. He got up a little too quickly, his face showing a mixture of greed and desparation. He had to wait his turn to approach me as another tout was already working me for a ride up the hill to the town center or to a good hotel or any number of other attractions of the town.
Once the way was clear the man in black approached. Long, unwashed hair dangling, head hanging, he looked at me sideways asking for a cigarette. He then launched into the traditional greeting of the tout: Where are you from? I know a great hotel. I can walk you there.
I told him I was from Guatemala, that I had a place to stay and walked away.
I dread coming to places like this. I actually feared landing at the dock. Heavily traveled areas always feel more dangerous. The travelers are mostly who scare me. This gringo for example seemed more desparate and prone to thievery or deception than the touts striking up business.
And so I made my way to the language school, on foot, and then to San Juan, in the back of a pickup, where the pace of life and presence of tourists is slower.
Pictures of Atitlan may be in short supply as I left my camera in Lilian's car yesterday. I'm really, really bummed.
posted by Michael at 11:45 AM
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