Our hotel owners are in the States attending to a dire illness and they have left us in the care of their very young son from El Salvador and his very young wife who was shy for about thirty minutes and quickly turned into the boss of me. I paid twenty quetzals to take a picture, I only should have paid ten. I paid a hundred quetzals for a beautifully woven blouse and belt, turns out it was used (probably from a dead person, said she) and I paid double what I should have. I shouldn't speak to the native women (they don't like it) and I should always wear a hat.
Much to her dismay, I went out hatless and spent the morning squatting with the ladies doing laundry on the shore in front of our hotel. Their young children stayed close by, and their school aged children wandered over during recess to heft laundry, wipe a baby's nose or whatever. The gel pens and small pads I gave them were a big hit, though sadly it seemed as though even the second graders couldn't read simple words. The kids here speak their native language from birth and attend school taught in Spanish. School is compulsory until sixth grade, but many don't attend at all.
These two little girls belong to the mama with two tons of wet laundry on her head. The eldest was very proud to tell me her huipil was store bought, not handmade. I remember feeling the same at her age. She was very bright and chatty, once I took her picture (with permission) she requested to be allowed to take one of me. She told me they have running water in their home, but her mama prefers to use the lake like the old days.
We took an intown walkabout this afternoon up very narrow and steep alleyways. This young lady was anxious for me to sit with her while she wove so she could tell me about how she made enough from her weavings to be able to send her daughter to school in Panajachel. She's making a cinta or belt, from her handmade thread and loom. Pretty amazing to see how fast she worked (and talked).
We spent a noisy evening on the patio. There is a futbol game going on tonight so lot's of activity going on all around us. Up the hill the church is blasting mass from great big loudspeakers. The kids are screeching up and down the street below, expertly dribbling their balls on very uneven pavimiento. A storm is rolling in, I hope it doesn't spoil the fun.
Today's moment of nature is brought to you by Spiriva HandiHaler. We're at Lake Atitlan where the sound of waves gently slapping the bottom of the boats will lull you into a stupor if you're not careful.
Much to her dismay, I went out hatless and spent the morning squatting with the ladies doing laundry on the shore in front of our hotel. Their young children stayed close by, and their school aged children wandered over during recess to heft laundry, wipe a baby's nose or whatever. The gel pens and small pads I gave them were a big hit, though sadly it seemed as though even the second graders couldn't read simple words. The kids here speak their native language from birth and attend school taught in Spanish. School is compulsory until sixth grade, but many don't attend at all.
We took an intown walkabout this afternoon up very narrow and steep alleyways. This young lady was anxious for me to sit with her while she wove so she could tell me about how she made enough from her weavings to be able to send her daughter to school in Panajachel. She's making a cinta or belt, from her handmade thread and loom. Pretty amazing to see how fast she worked (and talked).
Today's moment of nature is brought to you by Spiriva HandiHaler. We're at Lake Atitlan where the sound of waves gently slapping the bottom of the boats will lull you into a stupor if you're not careful.
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