Life in Panajachel improved as soon as I discovered the restaurant I'd heard so much word of mouth about, Cordon Blue. Best food in town at prices that beat all lesser restaurants. The owner, Tom, and several of his friends and regular customers gave me some great advice. I moved to a beautiful hotel, Villa Lupita, for a third of what I had been paying, well removed from the constant hustle of Santander Street.
Friday I joined the gang for a boat trip to Jabalito, a day trip for the rest and a one way for me. This is the most relaxed place I've been within the borders of Guatemala. No market. No hustlers. Chickens, dogs, happy children and avocadoes dropping from trees.
On Tom's advice, I'm at Posada Jabalito now, a great place run by an easy going German gentleman by the name of Hans and I couldn't have done better. Gourmet food at Cordon Blue prices. I have my own little cottage with electricity in a small yard with a gate, very private, for six bucks. Free internet connection included. I haven't been in a big hurry to move along.
It's so quiet here, except for the sound of coffee beans falling from the trees and rattling on my roof at night.
The only other place open for rooms, down along the lakeside path, is the ornate and beautiful Casa del Mundo with stone balconies perfect for jumping in the lake. It only costs six times what I'm paying here. No exaggeration.
Except for the pictures, this has to be the most boring blog entry ever. Very little happens here. The days drift pleasantly by.
I took a hike over the hill to visit the town of Santa Cruz today, one of the few recommended hikes between towns in terms of safety although I was told that one guest had been robbed on that route. It wouldn't have taken a machete or gun to make me fork everything over. The threat of a quick push on some particularly cliffy corner of the trail would have done the trick for me. It's not like I could have run away, not on that steep hillside. There are some real watch-your-step spots along the way. I didn't meet any trouble.
Reading quietly by my cottage a bit before dinner tonight, I heard a knock on the gate. I called out and then little voices started giggling and tiny feet ran off down the street. Some gags are eternal and universal. There was more to it than that. I heard them talking but I didn't realize they were calling out to me. It could have been Spanish or Mayan. I finally realized their ball had bounced over my wall. I looked up from my book and there was a little 6 year old busting a gut laughing as he tried to let himself safely down in the yard. He got his ball and I let him out the easy way through the door.
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