March 14, 2009 Festival Atitlan

I slept in late, didn’t really want to do anything. But we couldn’t do nothing. We decided our break was over, payday was yesterday, and things are generally okay. Joe met a guy named Tim when he was down here, and he was part of a music festival in Santiago, the biggest town on the lake: today. But I didn’t really feel like doing anything.
So we walked down to the dock, figuring we’d just go to San Pedro, get some breakfast and use some slightly faster internets, but then the boat was there – with our brilliant-smiling sunglasses-wearing homeboy. His name is Henry. And his boat was going to Santiago with a bunch of tourists, nice people. So we jumped on and took the journey across the lake.
He ended up going to the festival too, Festival Atitlan. It was in a medium-sized clearing, completely blanketed in orange pine needles and sheltered by small hills and trees. At first we just focused on getting some food, an egg burrito (I’m still getting used to spicy!) but then we bumped into Henry again and he invited us to sit with him nestled in these rocks near the back. It seemed like the cool kids table in the cafeteria, and throughout the day people would meander back and greet Henry happily with hand slaps and fist bumps.
Since Henry was driving the boat today, he took off to go get some more people and make some more money and while he was gone we got some falafel, mojitos and watched the show. The first act we caught were dancers in what I assume were traditional Mayan costumes, wooden masks painted like animals and body paint. It was beautiful and the drums, flutes and singing were very moving.
Then there were several dance troupes from around the lake, and they were all fun to watch. Remember how I said I had yet to see women pulling down the big jobs? Well we saw some ladies playing music and they were STUNNING. A fine chica from Costa Rica got up on stage with just her and her electric guitar and played about six songs – gorgeous songs – including “No Woman, No Cry” by Bob Marley:



After her set, we saw her walking around and I was surprised to see that she was no more than 5’4” – on stage she looked 7’ tall! But she was very beautiful and had a cool tattoo on her back. I’ll get her name from Sal’s recordings, Carmen, I think.
There was a bluegrass band that played “Man of Constant Sorrow” and Sal laughed, “Didn’t think I’d hear that out here!” And then they joked about how their female singer was from a town in Georgia so small no one could possibly have ever heard of it, but Sal had! They were fun. There were dancing girls and they dragged the local children out to dance like they were at a hoedown, it was funny.
Then an entire band of ladies played, Sal got some sound clips and I’ll try to put them up. All ladies – percussion, guitars, they kept switching up the instruments and different voices came up but it was amazing. Then they sang a song for “las mujers”! It was awesome. Sometime around then Henry came back and we recognized certain hell-raisin’ habits about him. He disappeared for a moment and returned with beer, another moment and returned with a pretty girl (and her friend). It was funny - he always had that bright smile on his face.
It’d be kind of weird to say to someone, “Hey, you’ve just met and befriended two of the sweetest people on this planet.” But he did (that’s us, we’re sweet).
Sal and I each had a mojito and two beers, smoked a little and watched all the crazies. Sal climbed a tree and got a bird’s eye view (he’s adorable). Dancing girls, and lots of children were running around. Tons of baby boomers were there, people who had made permanent careers it seems, of being hippies. One guy was dressed in positively costume-quality hippie gear and I saw him praying to a rock nearby with floppy dancing and such. It made me giggle. And women in loose flowing blouses would shake their wrists like belly dancers when they saw each other and hug. And, like at most festivals in the world, there were crews of kids who travel from place to place, whose dreadlocks made me jealous, and one girl had a t-shirt covered in prints and stickers. My favorite read: “Champion Mustache Rider”. Again, I giggled for minutes and minutes.
At one point the announcer (Roberto, I believe) made an announcement, “I just want to warn you, there’s going to be some pot brownies going around and just…. know that they’re very strong. We don’t have anything to do with making or selling them, but they’re there and… you’ve been warned. You’re on your own.” Haha! I didn’t see any brownies, though.
We ran into Tim, the guy Joe had met and he seemed like your typical old hippie. Plays a 12-string guitar, seemed like he might have an uptight side. He told us that we should stay overnight to see the good stuff, and sure enough set up beyond the hill behind us were tents and camps, people were staying all weekend. But Sal and I decided that was crazy. We took off just before sunset, as a real rock n’ roll band was playing. I know rock n’ roll is very versatile but these guys had it going on, three men with a heavy blues foundation and that psychedelic guitar… they played The Rolling Stones, Cream and other classics that made Sal and me grin from ear to ear.
We had to negotiate a private boat to San Marcos for 200Q. On our way home we got some more beers and some snack foods, then we watched Star Trek: TNG with our dinner of rice, beans, quesadillas and vegetables and went to bed happy.
I’m not usually one for crowds, but this festival was just the right size. Maybe one or two hundred people, it got more crowded as the day stretched on. But no assholes, it seems like assholes don’t make it up to this altitude (except yuppie tourists). One stage, only about four food options (most vegetarian friendly) and plenty of booze, it just hit the spot. It was a good opportunity to remind myself what this new phase of our lives means. It’s not that we have a new home here at the Casa Blanca, and it’s not that we’re homeless travelers. This part of our lives is about how Sal and I have been blessed: we take our home with us wherever we go. Home is where your heart is and my heart is with Sal, so I’m at home wherever he is. It’s perfect.