The village of San Marcos, also known as Lake Atitlán's "hippie village", has a weird vibe to it. I'm not really sure how to explain it, but something didn't feel right. The spiritual world is a funny one, one in which I used as a crutch for some time. I've met a few individuals along my personal journey who live in that world, preaching one thing, then acting differently once the curtain is dropped. I took a lot of good out of my time spent in that realm though, but now find myself slowly circling back to some things I had given up for some period of time. That's not to say you still won't find me indulging in the healing aspects of a sound bowl session, burning sage after a long stressful day, meditating in the middle of the forest, or finding comfort in a long sweat session, but let's face reality, the only person that's ever gonna heal yourself, is yourself.
OK, let's get back to why I was here!
I arrived in San Marcos with a better understanding of how to succesfully navigate the Lake Atitlán transit system, otherwise known as, packed like sardines into the lancha. As I made my way off of the dock, a narrow street lined with smoothie cafes, vendors, and shops with opportunities to practice yoga and partake in reiki sessions all came in to view. No stranger to these practices I smiled, because I remember what they had once provided for me. The tightly lined corridor ended, and I stepped out onto the main street, greeted with an array of street food and juice carts. Having partaken in the Aztec two-step during my previous trip through Honduras, I was a little leery on trying out the food. Instead I roamed around the village with my camera by my side.
A colorful array of colors could be seen through-out the architecture. Street murals adorning many of the walls, I personally found the town to be more scenic, then anything else. Had I decided to dive into the spiritual community a little more closely, I'm sure I would've found out that San Marcos lived up to the hype. Regardless, I continued my way around the village. The photographic capture below caught my eye for two reasons. 1.) The colors and art of the outdoor theater were strikingly vivid, and 2.) if you look closely enough you'll see a man sleeping on the stage. My compassion runs deeply, for those who may have no other place to find shelter.
My walk would continue uphill as I made my way west around the village. The day was getting hotter, and my sweaty ass was beginning to drip. I passed a young girl on the street maybe in her early twenties who smiled at me. I smiled and waved back, internally laughing to myself saying, "yep Ry, you once again have managed to find yourself amongst the very youthful backpacking population." Why wasn't I doing this twenty years ago? Because back then I wouldn't have appreciated any of this, like I do so now.
I'd eventually make my way back towards the dock, as by mid afternoon, my hunger was starting to build. I wasn't really in the mood for anything heavy, so I stopped by the smoothie shop. A pretty Mayan girl invited me in and I tried my very best to order in Spanish, but once again my brain was moving to fast to converse. We managed though, and I was treated to a delicious peanut butter / chocolate shake con leche. As I headed towards the lancha I heard a cat call whistle coming from one of the cafes. I'm pretty sure it was directed at me, because no-one else was walking by. My curiosity didn't get the best of me, and if I'm being honest ladies, it's gonna take a hell of lot more than a cat whistle to engage me in a conversation. I headed back to my B&B and enjoyed another quiet evening, reflecting on the day. I wrote down this note in the house journal: "Mi casa en el cielo … As a writer sometimes words take a back seat to the actual moment that I get to experience. I can’t begin to express the amount of silence and solitude that exists in moments like this. Maybe tomorrow I’ll force myself to interact with people, because a majority of the time, the noises are too over-whelming to handle. For an individual like myself I walk a fine line of wanting to be included, and wanting to be left alone."
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Continue to my day spent in San Pedro, Lake Atitlàn by clicking on the link: HERE
Read about my first day visiting Lake Atitlán and the village of Jaibalito, by clicking the link: HERE
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To browse my current inventory of repurposed barn wood framed photographs, click the link: HERE
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