Wednesday, March 16, 2016

Rings of Saturn; Lake of Atitlan

"As a doctor, who saw disease growing and raging in bodies, he understood mortality better than the flowering of life. To him it seems a miracle that we should last so much as a single of day. There is no antidote, he writes, against the opium of time. The winter sun shows how soon the light fades from the ash, how soon night enfolds us. Hour upon hour is added to the sum. Time itself grows old. Pyramids, arches and obelisks are melting pillars of snow."
-W.G. Sebald, "Rings of Saturn"

I took a short break from Antigua to come over to Lago de Atitlan.  After a few hours in transit and a brieft stint finding accommodation in Panajachel ("Pana"), I arrived to a volcano-lined Lago de Atitlan.

Aldous Huxley wrote of this magnificent lake:

“Lake Como, it seems to me, touches on the limit of permissibly picturesque, but Atitlán is Como with additional embellishments of several immense volcanoes. It really is too much of a good thing.”

I sat out in a cafe on the lake, reading "Rings of Saturn," a recent acquisition from a hippy Allen Quartermain and having a piña colada.

I had long lunch of a wonderful fresh fried fish--served with rice, guacamole, tomato salad and warm tortillas.

I love whole fried fish.  I abandon my fork, and I pìck it apart with my fingers.  I have spent too much time in Africa to waste my time using a fork on a whole fried fish.  I devour it with my fingers, and it tastes so much better.

The white flaky fish was delicious, especially when I took hunks of the fried fish and wrapped it up in the warm tortilla, and rolled it up with raw onion, cucumber, tomato and guacamole.  With a lil dash of salt.

A Cuba Libre to wash it down.

Somewhere a man beat on a xylaphone in a jazzy Caribbean fashion as the lake`s waves crashed, and the wind came cooly in.

And I sit in the courtyard filled with palm of tender young coconut and small green lime trees.  

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