Panajachel, Lake Atitlan

The almost -visible volcano across the lake from Panajachel, Lake Atitlan.

Pana, as it's called, is the largest and most accessible of the towns ringing the lake. The lake is about 8 miles from north to south, and about 15 miles from east to west. The lake was formed when the volcanos erupted, all the earth shifted, and the land that is now the lake sank. There is no outlet for the water, other than evaporation and a little seepage. The lake is totally surrounded by volcanos and mountains. The Pan American Highway runs about 25 miles north of the lake, on the other side of the mountains. The trip from Antigua was a beautiful drive, particularly when we turned off the Pan Am highway. We're traveling with a Canadian man who bought a house in Pana about 15 years ago, and spends part of his winters there. He's a font of info about the country. There is also an Argentine woman traveling alone; a college student from TX on a whirlwind tour; a young couple from Tunisia with excellent english. The trip goes quickly, with all the interesting tales of travel.

We learn that the lake is about 9 feet higher than normal, due to the heavy rains last August. There is no beach in Pana, even though I've read the beach here is nice. Piers are strangely temporary looking: the boards from the old piers were torn up to reuse on hastily built, higher piers. Nothing is wasted here. There is no one on the streets when we arrive in Pana, pop. 20,000. The tourist zone is by the lake, bordered on the east by a river. The indigenous people live up the mountainside. The tourist businesses and services are all close to the lake. We find a room at Mario's rooms, just at the uphill edge of the tourist area.

There is a road east from Pana, connecting two other small villages, but no road west. The road on the south side of the lake does not extend to Pana. We understand that walking on those roads is not recommended because of reports of bandits. Everyone uses the lanchas, small boats that run regularly, stopping at each village or dock.


The sheep, part of the creche (it's not King's Day yet) greet us inside the door of our hotel. It's quiet here, our room is downstairs at the back of a crowded garden. Pretty. Hot water. I'm happy.




















We dump our packs in our room, and walk by the lake. We haven't eaten yet, and stop long enough to have a bowl of soup, and continue to explore the town. I think the economy is very dependent on tourists buying things, but the street vendors are not too pushy. The streets are very quiet. The only vehicular traffic is the little tuk tuks. The streets are too narrow, mostly, for cars.

The mercado and church, usually the center of town is up the hill, and by the time we find it, we are the objects of curiosity. I'm guessing that not many tourists come up this far.

For dinner, we stop in one of the restaurants on Calle Santander, the main tourist street. We stop becuase we hear a man singing, accompanying himself. Tim, a retired lawyer from the west coast, has lived here for several years, and owns a house on the lake. Impossible to buy property here now, he says, the tourists have discovered the waterfront property. We have a good dinner, a great visit with Tim, and walk back out on the street. Pana is not our kind of town, we'll move on tomorrow, to one of the villages south and west of here.