All and sundry passed through Panajachel towards the lake. Panajachel was the thin end of the funnel, where souls lingered before onward journeys to lakeside languor. Like Purgatory.
Below: Sunset on the promenade - pretty, but you can't see the flies.
One cannot always have too much of a good thing. Time reveals all things which are not of God in their rancid nakedness. The transit from Jaibalito to Panajachel took one from the masterful composure of Monet to the distressing grostesque of Goya. Jaibalito existed in permanent portraiture. Panajachel, on the other hand, was restive, refractory blur - an endless parade of tooting tuk-tuks and harlequin souvenir stalls. It was all the more remarkable for its almost comically startling contrast. We share four observations from our short stint in Panajachel.
Below: tuk-tuks, souvenirs and the basis of the entire lacustrine ecology - tourists.
We already recounted how a tout attempted brazenly to rip us off before our boat ride to Jaibalito. The boatsman who stood next to him all the while, and who we saw was a very helpful man, did not even bat an eyelid. Living off the alluvial bounty of gringos that enrich these shores has become established fact.
Below: while some have no scruples, others have no scraps.
Frequent shoppers would know how quoted prices are almost always wildly inflated. The knives are always out - but we didn't expect to have slashed the price of one particularly colourful tablerunner down to an eighth of what was quoted. Mary thought me too timid a bargainer. She expected, probably rightly, that if we had held on to our guns we would be able to purchase the piece at half the price we paid for it.
Below: the Tinamit Maya, an outdoor crafts market where guile is as valuable a resource as the greenback.
2. Fever pitch
The shopping in Panajachel fascinated us - not so much for the range of products on offer but for the lengths to which many merchants tried to sell their wares. A ceramic chess set pitting feathered Mayan warriors against burnished Spanish foes caught our eye, though eventually we were unwilling to pay the US$70 demanded for it. With a glint in his eye, the determined shopowner tried to barter the chess set for my watch. We weren't sure if it was an elaborate joke.
So shop encounters invariably become attritional battle of wits. Sometimes the zeal to sell drives out all the wit in a shopowner. I was entranced by a painted sculpture of a Mayan warrior. The shopowner sensed my approbation, and disregarding Mary's disapproval stepped brusquely between Mary and I to commence his sales pitch. Within minutes we left without buying.
Mary shrugged off any further entreaty on my part to turn back. Well, he couldn't locate the neck that turned the head, she snorted. Ultimately, our over-enthusiastic shopowner was spurned because he failed to win over my chief negotiator.
After Panajachel, we had an additional day in Antigua before flying back to Boston. It was our last new stop in Latin America. We had our fair share of the good, the bad and the funny. We may shake our heads and wag our fingers at deeds of questionable morality. But who are we to complain? The plain and simple truth is, we paid to come. We chose to come.
Below: behold, the neck which turns my head.
3. The commodification of just about everything
Mayan culture has received a considerable boost from the revenue brought to Atitlan by growing tourist interest and numbers. While this has sustained a cultural revival from the dark days of the civil war, the new value which the country has just begun to appreciate in its native people also bestows upon all things - even humanity - a price tag. Shoeshine boys, who I thought I'd only see in period dramas, patrol the streets with eyes glued to the ground. They saw only shoes, not those who wore them. My flip-flops disappointed a handful who immediately turned away to look for more polished customers.
Below (from top to bottom): Setting up shop before the heavenly gate - what are souls worth?; so I'm spurned for more polished customers by shoeshine boys, I wonder why.
4. Jenna's menagerie
At a neat little corner of Panajachel, Jenna runs a Bed and Breakfast together with her workshop and gallery where she displays both her own artwork and others' on consignment. A refurbished yurt in the yard provided a touch of luxury, though we opted for simple, cosy and inexpensive rooms where creaking floorboards announced every single movement. She has also raised an unlikely company of two cats and three dogs, the curious rapport between them the source of much fascination.
Below: Samson, one of Jenna's delightful duo of cats. I must emphasise that no animals were hurt in the photography below.
After Panajachel, we had an additional day in Antigua before flying back to Boston. It was our last new stop in Latin America. We had our fair share of the good, the bad and the funny. We may shake our heads and wag our fingers at deeds of questionable morality. But who are we to complain? The plain and simple truth is, we paid to come. We chose to come.
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