Because the hotel we ended up at in Antigua was comparatively posh, and because I booked the shuttle to San Pedro through the hotel, and because I was fairly certain that a conversation took place between the hotel receptionist, the shuttle driver, and myself about being taken directly to a hotel in San Pedro, I naively assumed I would be traveling grown-up class, not backpacker class.
My assumption was only vaguely challenged when, 30 minutes later, the shuttle was crammed with backpackers. In four hours or so we got to Panajachel, the main town on Lago (Lake) Atitlán, where everyone else in the van was going. I figured we were going to drop them off and then continue on to San Pedro, until the driver stopped at the top of a dark path leading to the dock, and said “San Pedro.” I attempted to compose the sentence, “But you are supposed to drive me there!” in Spanish. He replied, “No. Take the boat.” “But my guide book says the last boat to San Pedro is at 6:00, and it’s 8:00.” He got out of the car and disappeared down the path. A few minutes later he returned. “There’s a boat.” “But it’s dark and scary and I don’t want to go by myself!” So in the third fortunate incident in the past 2 days, 2 British guys, Ollie and Guy, said they too were going to go to San Pedro, and then 2 American girls, Cait and Elisia, said they were planning to go the next day, but as long as there was a boat they’d go now. So luckily, again, I wasn’t alone. We squeezed in to the tiny boat and put-putted around the lake in the dark, dropping passengers off at each village, until finally we got to San Pedro.
We were greeted at the dock by a man wanting to take us to his hotel. We told him the name of the hotel we wanted to go to, and he replied, “That’s my hotel!” So we followed him as he helped push Guy’s bicycle up the steep road. Upon arriving at the hotel, the proprietor told us it was full. Our guide shrugged his shoulders and tried to get us to follow him again. We declined, found ourselves 2 rooms at the hotel next door, and then went to a restaurant for dinner. Not long after sitting down, our guide approached and asked for money for helping Guy with his bicycle. Guy had already given him some money. He wouldn’t desist. We were getting a little freaked out. Eventually he left our table and resigned himself to moaning loudly in the corner. This was equally disconcerting, but at least he was far away. We relaxed over dinner and Gallo. And thus past my first night in San Pedro.
