In which Roz and Layla enjoy the countryside by bike, foot, and boat, and Roz sustains a bike injury

By Roz

We headed out for dinner, promising ourselves to resist the lure of the delicious and jolly Mexican place we had been for lunch (Frida's) and agreeing that it was about time we sampled a little rice and beans - in other words, some Guatemalan food.  And so we ended up - with some hesitation - in a small local restaurant. To our amusement / bemusement, rice and beans were strangely absent form the menu, and so we resigned(!) ourselves to starting off with guacamole... Layla showed her continued commitment to local cuisine through ordering a rather dubious sounding vegetarian option which turned out to be potatoes and something brown, with plancha and rice on the side, whilst I went for "typical" Guatemalan cheese fondu. It didn't take us long to demolish these, and we then wandered over to a nice wine bar called El Sabor del Tiempo, photos of which were immediately - and oddly - recognized by friends on Facebook. We then called it a night in anticipation of our bike ride into the valley the next day.  

Awake slightly too early for a holiday, we consoled ourselves by nice waffles up on the roof terrace where we had jacuzzied the night before, looking at the volcanos and hoping that our bike ride wouldn't entail riding up anything so steep. We headed round to the office where to start the bike tour to find only to find that we were to be joined by a third person on the tour, a girl called Alice.  Pleasingly she turned out to be very nice (and even carried a fair amount of our stuff for us, given that our handbags were vigorously discouraged by the bike tour people). We set off through cobblestoned streets which were very pretty if not optimal for cycling. We cycled through villages - including passing a street that had been modeled to look like Jesus' site of cruxifiction (having disappointed the tour guide by telling him that none of us were Catholic). All was going well, despite a steep hill which caused Layla to breathe more deeply than she might have hoped, until disaster struck. Well near disaster. Turning my head to listen to the end of the tour guide's sentence "what you need to know about this trip is...", I fell off my bike. I slammed against a nearby wall and got generally tangled up with my bike.  A few moments of confusion later and it became apparently that I had done something to the muscles in my shoulder / arm and other than that just had a few cuts and grazes. I hate missing out on something fun, so suggested to Layla et al that I take some painkillers and we just press on and see how it went.  It turned out that all was well unless I needed to break or to go uphill (I never realized that I use my arms for going uphill before). This made for a reasonably exciting journey for me.  But the scenery - with the volcanos in the background - was lovely and there is just something fascinating about travelling through the countryside on a bike, getting a small snapshot of local lives. In one village we passed through there was a giant bath in the centre of the village square, where people from miles around came to do their washing.  Well, I say "people" - unsurprisingly I mean women (there was one lone man) and it was somewhat depressing to realize how few people here have running water. 

We stopped at a macadamia nut farm and had quite an interesting time learning about macadamia nuts and how they are farmed. Tasting some nuts - it would have been rude not to - it was striking how different they are from that which we get in either the UK or the US. Much more flavorsome. The experience was somewhat marred by the slightly creepy owner of the farm who insisted on rubbing macadamia nut oil into our hands / arms. But when he put his arm on my injured shoulder and I let out a howl of pain Layla shouted at him in a pleasing - if slightly excessive - fashion. They then had a fun exchange when he said he knew how to fix my arm (by rubbing macadamia oil on it) since he's a paramedic - and Layla responded that he might well be but she was a doctor... (She didn't mention that she's a psychiatrist...) But as I sit here writing this blog now, eating nuts we bought there and drinking a beer, I still can't believe how good the nuts taste.  

As we were about to leave the farm, the tour guide tried to persuade me to get a car home given my arm and they did make me quite anxious with their descriptions of the very bumpy terrain we were about to encounter. I was about to give in - which I loathe doing - when our companion for the day chipped in so encouragingly, telling me she would be happy to walk if my arm got too sore, that my resolve strengthened and off we set. And what a fabulous part of the trip it was. We went through pretty woods and through walking tracks through fields, passing kids playing football and farmers working and villages far from the nearest road.  It felt exceptionally far from home... Stopping off in a village before a final and very significant hill (which I would mention that - despite walking my bike - I was the first to reach the top of) we stopped off in a textile museum and market which was quite fun though as ever Layla and I felt guilty about not buying anything (I dislike acquiring useless things we will never use, but recognize this isn't the right attitude in this scenario) and made it home after our 28 km cycle in time for a late lunch.  

The three of us headed to the nice cafe where we had had key lime pie the day before, and I had beer and clutched ice to my arm (not least in honour of a friend who thinks ice is the solution to all injuries). We had a very pleasant time and then headed back to the hotel for a shower. Post shower, we headed to a cafe to read our books and hope my arm would magically and swiftly heal.  It didn't but both of us managed to terrify ourselves with what we we reading and so headed back to our hotel for another jacuzzi slightly early and in some terror. Post-jacuzzi we headed out to dinner at the Rainbow Cafe (not gay, but instead hippy) which was very pleasant and then met our cycling companion from earlier for a mohito or two in Frida's. A very pleasant evening ensued and then we headed home, all planning to get the 8am shuttle to a place called Panajachel.

Up early again, we had an early breakfast (alas no waffles this time) and then hopped on the shuttle. It was a good journey, through fab scenery. Best of all was our first sighting of Lake Atilan, which Panajachel is on the shore of. The lake was a brilliant blue - looking the colour of the Mediterranean at its best - and the ever present volcanos were as always spectacular. We said goodbye to Alice (who was only visiting for the day) and checked into our hotel and contemplated our plan of action. As ever when in time of doubt, we opted for a very pleasant lunch (no guacamole this time) and then headed off on a hike / walk to another village on the lake shore, a few miles away.

The walk turned out to be lovely - the lake in clear view pretty much all the time, and with pretty hills and so forth. The undulating road started off being crowded with cars, but a couple of kilometers along, there was barely any traffic; just trees, flowers, and sparkling water. We stopped at the first village, Santa Catarina Palopo, for a lemonade and a read of our books at a cafe overlooking the lake, then pressed on to San Antonio. By the time we got there, we were dreaming of taking a boat ride back to Panajachel... But sadly the last ferry had long gone. Faced with the option of a pick up truck, we managed to negotiate chartering a private ferry, and so it was that we cruised back to town, across sparkling blue water, with volcanos on one side, and pretty towns and evidence of our 10km effort on the other. We felt very extravagant (though it was in fact not very expensive), and climbed out, feeling like celebrities. We booked a bike ride for tomorrow and are now sitting on our hotel balcony planning our dinner. And feeling quite full of macadamia nuts...