GT SIX: San Marcos de Laguna, some Antigua

Panajachel is but one of many villages around Lago Atitlan. There were many others, which the book urged us to check out. So we took a launcha (motorboat) to the village of San Marcos, touted as having a "Zen-like atmosphere".

It was not very Zen. It just looked like a slightly nicer village. The dogs were slightly less dusty, and the chickens tended to stay in their yards. I guess compared to the rest of GT, it's about as Zen as it gets. They had some really nice hotels, though. We had dinner at Hotel La Paz, which had mystical Zen music wafting from the kitchen, organic gardens, and a Mayan sauna (basically a small square oven). But we had a very nice meal there, and talked to other travellers-- one of whom was Paul Miller, D.O., who provided an extremely thorough history of osteopathic medicine while trying to feed his 9 yr old son.

Anyways. Not impressed with San Marcos. We liked the lake, though. On a fog-less day, the water is very blue (Charmaine is very impressed by blue water), and the volcanoes made a nice backdrop to the whole tranquil scene.

We leave for Antigua. We really liked Antigua. It's a small colonial town, with cobblestoned streets (pretty, but try driving on them and your butt will hate you), and half-ruined churches. Apparently, the churches were once lavish baroque affairs with ornately painted walls and ceilings. But the spanish had to build them in Antigua, which is smack in the middle of 3 very active volcanoes, and a hotbed of seismic activity. 2 or 3 large devastating earthquakes later, they gave up rebuilding the churches to their former glory, and were content to just rebuild the large hall and alter part. The rest of the ruins are not wasted, though. They just fence it off and charge tourists admission fees to see them.

We went to see the ruins of the Inglesia de San Francisco, which were surprisingly fun to explore. The church was huge! We could clamber up to the second floor of a somewhat intact part of the structure, and see how the rest of the thing had fallen apart. We also went to the museum, which turned out to be a tribute to the priest who founded the church, Hermano Pedro (Brother Pedro). The museum was full of plaques and cards addressed to Hermano Pedro, with much effusive thanks. There was also his robes and stuff in glass displays. One of them was a pair of shorts made of some coarse hemp-like cloth, and I didn't understand much of the accompanying sign, but I made out the words 'Ropa Interiors'.

So. We think they were his underpants.

We've decided that the hallmark of acheivement-in-life is to have people love and honor you so much that when you die, they set up a museum for you and display your underpants.