On the bus from Guatemala City to Lake Atitlan, we had a stopover in Antigua. As I walked around I noticed a man with a shirt that read, “We’re lost boys,” each word stacked on the next, so it read as a bit of a koan to me. Was it a declaration of being lost, or a statement of identity?
When I reboarded the bus to the Lake, I was sitting right next to that man. We became fast friends as travelers can, and I learned that he is Steve, who is originally from the UK and has been living in Columbia for 15 years. Over the next couple of days we wandered the small towns around the lake together. Over conversations about global politics, ecology, and many far less lofty subjects as we explored first San Juan by tuktuk, then San Marcos and Panajachel by foot.
In San Juan, we negotiated a parade and then a very steep hill through a market where we stopped to speak to a man selling healing herbs balanced in open bags on the ground. He explained that the earth can heal us, and that these are some of the local plants who can help.
In San Marcos, we passed through Shangri La — not just the state of mind — and saw posters for yoga/personal branding retreats lead by men in linen and top knots, their personal brand apparently “spiritual.” We had what we both agreed was one of the best cups of coffee at Moonfish.
The easiest way to travel between the small towns around the lake is by lancha, small blue fiberglass boats with covered seating areas. They skip across the waves and slap down on the other side over the hum of the motor.
The ride from San Marcos to Panajachel took about 40 minutes, and once there we walked down Calle Santander, the long stretch of tourist road with hand made, woven shawls and bracelets, fried plantains, and people with tiny tables selling roasted nuts and fruit. After the small streets and towns of San Juan and San Marcos, Panajachel felt like a big city. Tuktuks, mopeds, and cars zoomed around over the sounds of people hawking their wares and greeting one another.
Steve is a great traveling buddy for his hilarious one liners — he had me in tears at the restaurant in San Marcos with his way of putting things. One night in San Pedro, we wandered onto the beach by the lake and sat and talked as we guessed what cities we could see by the night lights. At that time, we discussed teaching, a career we had both done, and I had just quit weeks before. He reminded me how terrible that job is, and helped me realize that I have other options as I look forward to this new life I was starting.
He now runs Eco Reserva Waka Willka in Columbia. He headed off to Mexico, then Jamaica, to continue his adventures.
I’m grateful for the moment where our paths crossed to share some first moments at Lake Atítlan. At times we seemed to be lost boys, children playfully tripping through the adult world. At other times we were just lost, finding our way through the labyrinth of these new towns. Both readings were true.