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Did you know? That for every resident of Guatemala, there are six dogs wandering about the country? Apparently, Bob Barker´s warnings at the end of each Price is Right episode about spaying and neutering pets have gone virtually unheeded here. Just a tidbit that you can feel free to pass along during those awkward silences at cocktail parties.

While being thrown around like a rag doll on a bus ride to Lake Atitlan, it dawned on me that ¨Chicken¨ buses are so aptly named not for the cargo they carry but for the way in which they are driven. Never do five minutes of a road journey pass by without my life flashing before my eyes, at the mercy of some escaped mental patient who insists on challenging oncoming vehicles in a game of Chicken. I do respect their ability to maximize profits though. Just when you think the bus cannot possibly hold more than three people per seat and an aisle packed with people holding on to any solid foundation they can for dear life, the drivers manage to find more space.

Last weekend´s excursion to Lake Atitlan was certainly worthwhile. Towering above the turquoise-blue lake are three formidable volcanoes, which can be seen clearly if one wakes up for sunrise, otherwise one may miss that sight for the same reason that a tourist in San Francisco often does--fog blankets the area for the rest of the day. Lively markets can be found in just about any lakeside town, especially Panajachel, or ¨Gringotenango¨ (Land of the Gringos, according to locals). While one town is well-known for its plentiful supply of illegal narcotics and attracts a substantial number of wanna-be hippies, I opted for the more tranquil town of San Marcos, best-known for Las Piramides, a patch of land dedicated to enriching the spirit. After a spell in the wooden sauna, with seating for four, I was prepared for an introduction to meditation. At the beginning, the assitant to the master asked if anyone spoke Spanish, and I meekly raised my hand, the only person among twelve to do so and instantly became more tense than I had been before my sauna. Fortunately, translation services consisted of more a vocabulary test than anything else. Inspired by stories of her out-of-body experiences, abilities to talk to the dead, and her seven consecutive years in one room, eating only a modest diet of soups and vegetables, I considered changing my flight and staying for her month-long course that started that day with the beginning of the New Moon. However, I lost my sense of peace there as I attempted to reach my small, pyramid-shaped hut in the dark, blockaded by a corps of barking dogs, leaving me no alternative but to stay with friends in a nearby hotel. Perhaps there are no dogs in Tibet.

That same day, I was wandering alone along the narrow road, joining the towns on the lake, when I was greeted by a little boy, no older than seven. As we shot the breeze for awhile, I was again reminded to appreciate what I have as I often am when traveling in a Third World country. The boy was just getting home from work at around 3:30 on a Saturday afternoon, having started his shift at the restaurant at 6am. However, he didn´t complain. He even offered to show me around a bit, as long as we avoided to cauldron of serpents that he and his brothers narrowly escaped from three times. As tempted as I was to accept his offer, I had to get back for meditation class.

For several nights, I bounced from one new group of people to another. One night as I was enjoying my $7 filet mignon dinner, a Brit in his late-forties motioned me over to join his eclectic group of foreigners and locals. As we shared our stories, he pointed to the cast on his leg and told me how it kept him from donning his wig and performing his rocker routine at the local bars. He passed along his business card which bears includes some contact information and his group´s name, ¨Oral Sex with Doctor Rock--better than in bed with Madonna.¨ Oh the people you meet...

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