Mayan Market?

The market we visited today is like nothing I have ever seen. The colors were stunning and the sheer volume of woven goods was completely overwhelming. And... I bought a belt. That´s it. What struck me was that booth after booth was selling all of the same items, but they were all ¨hand woven¨ and all of the stones in the jewelry were ¨from Guatemala.¨ How dumb exactly do I look? I´m going to go to a market that is a bit smaller and with actual local goods that are hand made by the artists selling them. It seems that is the only way I can ensure that the artist is getting the money and not some factory. The experience was still fun. I paid too much for my belt, but how can $4 be too much? The bartering thing does not come naturally to me.

Tomorrow will be the beginning of another week at school. It has to be working because I found myself translating for the group of English speaking friends who were with me at the market. Hopefully this week will be equally as fruitful, but first I´m going to enjoy another dinner with the English speakers tonight in a little restaurant that overlooks the lake. A glass of red wine is in order after yesterday´s adventure, which included paddling accross the lake in waves bigger than I usually kayak in on the Pacific to get to a small town on the other side. It was glorious for me, but unfortuatley we got split up a bit and some of the others did not enjoy the experience 

as much. I had the very important job of keeping the cameras dry (what idiot brings their camera on a trip like that? Oh, me, and the lady who capsized... glad I took her bag for her!) so I felt a bit bad about paddling away from everyone. But in the one moment where I got slightly distracted because I thought I saw a shark fin (forgot where I was I guess) a good sized wave came over and filled the boat. Never turn your back on the ocean, or lake in this case. So I paddled fiercely to the shore and helped the others find the way after the cameras were safe and sound, while our guide escorted one kayaker back to town. The instructor in us never sleeps.

I hung my head in shame as the local men loaded our five kayaks into the shuttle boat and we hopped in and rode home like that, 

with boat bows popping out of every window and me gripping onto the one on the roof so we wouldn´t lose it. Gringo move, or what? Too bad I cannot upload that picture. There are many observations I´ve been making about the Americans traveling here, but the one that bothers me a lot is the lack of spacial

 awareness. Every time an American moves, it seems like he or she is bumping into someone, blocking the path, or whacking an old Mayan lady carrying a load on her back with something dangling from their backpack. And they don´t even notice it. We have a lot of space in the US, I guess. Well, cheers to all of your Sundays!