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Travel Writers: The rising cloud over Santiago Atitlan By Anthony Mahemoff

Location: San Pedro, Guatemala, Central America

Dedicated to the people and beauty of Santiago Atitlan.

If you were to ask anyone that has journeyed to Lake Atitlan in Guatemala, Santiago Atitlan would certainly not be on the list of must-sees. San Pedro's night-life and sunrise volcano climbs and San Marcos' calm, meditative mood hold the prominent reputation.

Santiago Atitlan sits at the base of Volcan Toliman and has been tailored to facilitate large tour groups on half-day tours across the lake from Panajachel. The main street is lined with restaurants and stalls selling colourful scarfs, hacky-sacks, bracelets and all the eye-catching, wallet-harvesting wares that the locals can produce. Old ladies stand unmoving, faces expressionless, for that postcard 'I've been to Guatemala' snap. Little boys park themselves at the dock, feeble dirty hands outstretched pleading for coins.

Upon my arrival on the rickety, damp-odoured lancha at Santiago Antitlan I am greeted by Shisho who takes me to Hotel Chinim-Ya. A quiet, basic place but it was a roof and had hot water. Ventures beyond the town's centre and into the back streets were more often than not thwarted by ferocious dogs. Here, the little boys are more than happy to lend a hand, or rather, foot, to calm the rowdy dogs and walk with you, guiding for a quetzal or two.

In one of my aimless wanderings I am greeted by Shisho. A man of at least 80 years, scarred hands and deep furrows in his brow. For a very small fee he offers his son's guiding services into El Mirador, the cloud forest of Volcan Toliman.

At six o'clock, Francisco and I, head up the much littered path with just the faint morning sunlight. The misty, delicate cloud drifts above, only allowing the faintest traces of sunlight though. As we continue the steep rocky path the amount of rubbish lining the track subsides with glimpses of coffee and corn fields.

We reach the plateau and navigate expertly through the maze of towering corn with the strengthening sunlight sparkling off the dewy green leaves. The light cloud meanders up the valley and dissolves before our eyes. The view from the top is stunning. In front, the miniature town sits beneath the swaying corn plateau, beside the lake, across which the huge volcan San Pedro proudly stands. Behind us, loom two enormous volcanoes, including the cloud-capped peak of Volcan Toliman.

We sit back in the sunlight, sharing a bag full of the strange local fruit - a green apricot. We watch from above the ant-like farmers, young and old, commence their day's toil, manoeuvring through the corn fields. Francisco recounts the hardship endured by his town, how tourism was dreamed to bring a flow of dollars but all it has brought is segregation and a abandonment of their traditions and culture. He suppresses his tears as he describes how his own son spends his afternoons begging at the dock. He owns a general store that adequately provides for and feeds his family, but his son has a passion for kites and begs for the money to purchase the supplies he needs to craft his daily kite.

The money from my trip into el mirador will go towards a feast and a bucket-full of fireworks for the upcoming arrival of the Pope to Guatemala City for the canonization of Hermano Pedro.

As much as Francisco regretted how reliant his town had become on the tourist dollar he realised there was no turning back, so long as those lanchas full of wallets and cameras kept floating into the dock.

That afternoon I met up with Francisco again. We went down to the lakes edge away from the dock, where we met his son, smiling and playing with his kite for the day, named Rosalita. We flew his kite, dived off the dilapidated pier and swam in the clear, refreshing lake. That evening I was invited to dinner at their house where their warm welcomes and friendly nature continued unwaveringly.

Text © Anthony Mahemoff 2005, All Rights Reserved.