Lago de Atitlan - view from PanahachelIt is a week now since I got to Lago de Atitlan and the village San Pedro La Laguna.
I discovered that when you stay in one place, and do less things in one day, in a strange way time seems to be moving more quickly, perhaps because the days are more similar to one another.
There is something about this lake, and about San Pedro in particular, that I cannot explain. People come here and can’t bring themselves to leave. Most of them stay much longer than they planed. And when they leave eventually, it’s never because they have had enough. It’s because they force themselves to move on.
There is something so intoxicating about the atmosphere of this peaceful lake, the smiling people, the slow rhythm, the mountains around. I don’t know. It’s like this place has a spell, and once you reach it, you’re immediately caught.
And I was caught as well. A full week has gone by, that is the longest I stayed in one place since the beginning of this trip. People came and went, days passed by, things I planned on doing and didn’t do, things I never thought I would do and ended up doing... And I am still here. And there is something almost uncomfortable in this bizarre serenity. Something quiet and undefined that is quietly crawling inside your veins. Like taking drugs and knowing that you are about to get yourself addicted, that it is bad and dangerous, but you still can’t help it.
As I walk through the narrow muddy alleys of the village back from the Spanish school to my hostel, holding the books in my hand, being greeted by all the people I come across, seeing children going back from school, carrying their baby brothers and sisters with them, or senioras standing at the corner, chatting enthusiastically and laughing a mysterious laugh that only old and wise senioras can have, as I am witnessing this special blend of local people and tourists living in harmony more than any other place I have been to so far - I feel like, Yeh, I can understand why. Why it is so hard to leave this place behind.
This morning was a morning of tears.
Maybe they came because it didn’t stop raining the entire night and was gray and cold. And maybe it was the mystical atmosphere here again. Or the fact that most of my trip is already behind me, and I can’t say that I am still in the beginning anymore. So the thoughts about the home coming and all the things that are waiting for me there are rising like daemons to the front of my consciousness.
True, I still have time. Almost three weeks, which is a whole lot. But somehow, as this journey progresses, time seems to be moving faster and faster.
It’s not time yet to start mourning the end, I know, and so I try to push those thoughts back to the darkest of corners and focus on the here and now. I hope that now, when the sun is shining again, and for the first time in the past 5 days I have some true alone time, I will be able to do that.
And I feel like I am ready to move on. From lazy mornings of long wake ups and big breakfasts, Spanish classes, movie at night and playing cards with the guys, deep meaningful conversations about life, reading books and just doing nothing basically, I feel like moving around, tossing myself into the rush and excitement of new journeys and new places, have the Guatemalan driver throw my muchila on the bus roof, squeeze in between dozens of men, women and children, watch the view pass me by, not know what is expected at the end of the road, getting to a bran new place without knowing anything about it and slowly but surely conquering it, and leaving a piece of me there, just to take a piece of it with me for the next stop...
So, I think that by the end of the two days I have left here, which I plan to spend in complete silence and reflection mode, I will be just about ready to leave.
Costa Rica will be very different. Not sure how yet. I can’t wait to spend some time in those amazing beaches they have there, after spending those last weeks in a cold and wet jungle-like atmosphere. There is so much more that’s waiting out there... and my hunger to absorb it all just grows with each day that goes by.
I discovered that when you stay in one place, and do less things in one day, in a strange way time seems to be moving more quickly, perhaps because the days are more similar to one another.
There is something about this lake, and about San Pedro in particular, that I cannot explain. People come here and can’t bring themselves to leave. Most of them stay much longer than they planed. And when they leave eventually, it’s never because they have had enough. It’s because they force themselves to move on.
There is something so intoxicating about the atmosphere of this peaceful lake, the smiling people, the slow rhythm, the mountains around. I don’t know. It’s like this place has a spell, and once you reach it, you’re immediately caught.
And I was caught as well. A full week has gone by, that is the longest I stayed in one place since the beginning of this trip. People came and went, days passed by, things I planned on doing and didn’t do, things I never thought I would do and ended up doing... And I am still here. And there is something almost uncomfortable in this bizarre serenity. Something quiet and undefined that is quietly crawling inside your veins. Like taking drugs and knowing that you are about to get yourself addicted, that it is bad and dangerous, but you still can’t help it.
As I walk through the narrow muddy alleys of the village back from the Spanish school to my hostel, holding the books in my hand, being greeted by all the people I come across, seeing children going back from school, carrying their baby brothers and sisters with them, or senioras standing at the corner, chatting enthusiastically and laughing a mysterious laugh that only old and wise senioras can have, as I am witnessing this special blend of local people and tourists living in harmony more than any other place I have been to so far - I feel like, Yeh, I can understand why. Why it is so hard to leave this place behind.
This morning was a morning of tears.
Maybe they came because it didn’t stop raining the entire night and was gray and cold. And maybe it was the mystical atmosphere here again. Or the fact that most of my trip is already behind me, and I can’t say that I am still in the beginning anymore. So the thoughts about the home coming and all the things that are waiting for me there are rising like daemons to the front of my consciousness.
True, I still have time. Almost three weeks, which is a whole lot. But somehow, as this journey progresses, time seems to be moving faster and faster.
It’s not time yet to start mourning the end, I know, and so I try to push those thoughts back to the darkest of corners and focus on the here and now. I hope that now, when the sun is shining again, and for the first time in the past 5 days I have some true alone time, I will be able to do that.
And I feel like I am ready to move on. From lazy mornings of long wake ups and big breakfasts, Spanish classes, movie at night and playing cards with the guys, deep meaningful conversations about life, reading books and just doing nothing basically, I feel like moving around, tossing myself into the rush and excitement of new journeys and new places, have the Guatemalan driver throw my muchila on the bus roof, squeeze in between dozens of men, women and children, watch the view pass me by, not know what is expected at the end of the road, getting to a bran new place without knowing anything about it and slowly but surely conquering it, and leaving a piece of me there, just to take a piece of it with me for the next stop...
So, I think that by the end of the two days I have left here, which I plan to spend in complete silence and reflection mode, I will be just about ready to leave.
Costa Rica will be very different. Not sure how yet. I can’t wait to spend some time in those amazing beaches they have there, after spending those last weeks in a cold and wet jungle-like atmosphere. There is so much more that’s waiting out there... and my hunger to absorb it all just grows with each day that goes by.
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