A sunny Saturday by the lake

PANAJACHEL — There was Maria down by the lake, selling her mouth-watering specialty: Salvadorean pupusas.

Wow. It sure was great to be back in “Pana,” as the locals call it. This tourist town alongside the northeastern edge of Lake Atitlán is a warm, colorful place to visit. Five years ago, when I first came to work at Viña, I used to have to take the winding 20-minute bus ride down the hill to Panajachel to check and send email.

That’s how I got to know Maria.

Take a seat under a patio umbrella overlooking the lake, the sunshine and the lanchas transporting tourists hither and yon, and you’ll forget any troubles of the last week.

My morning got busy early as I had to meet Viña’s administrator at the office to collect some more Scripture players called “Proclaimers,” described in my Feb. 24 entry. My Canadian friend, Greg, had contracted with a lancha operator in Santiago, across Lake Atitlán, to take his team of about 10 people on a tour around the lake, stopping in at the little villages, including Pana. We coordinated our travels by phone and managed to meet by the lakeshore for the transfer. I brought him three more players, and he was happy to distribute them. More about that soon.

Panajachel’s long main street to the lake, Calle Santander, is lined with diversions: restaurants, banks, bars, long-haired, dred-locked hippies young and old, taco carts, colorful hand-made textiles and short, beautiful Mayan women displaying their brilliantly colored huipils (blouses), eagerly trying to make a sale. It’s easy to understand how gringos get attached to this place. Panajachel is about 2,000 feet lower elevation than where I live — still nearly a mile high, however — and quite a few degrees warmer.

Ana, a friend from the capital (three hours bus-ride away) was coming out to meet me and spend the day in Pana. Osbaldo, the teen-aged son of my good friends, Leo and Irma, joined me and rode down the hill on the chicken bus with me.

First, Osbaldo and I stopped in at Crossroads Cafe to visit smiling Mike, who knows more about coffee than Buck Star. Thank goodness, he knows which beans to buy down here and how to roast them because his coffee is fantastic! His wife, a South Africa native, had baked some delicious cookie bars with chocolate chips, coconut and walnuts. Wow, what a treat! I hadn’t had anything like that in months it seemed.

After meeting Greg and watching with amusement as aggressive textile sellers flocked to a large group of elderly tourists, disembarking from a large boat, we walked up to Maria’s pupusa stand. I wasn’t sure when Ana would arrive from Guatemala City, and she didn’t answer her phone. “What to do?” I said, looking at my watch. It was past 12:30. Well, of course, there was only one to do: eat pupusas!

Maria was her cheerful, smiling self, although she says business has been slow. Customers have been scarcer than mangos on beanstalks. She remembered me, and apparently had been asking Leo and Irma about me for a while after my last visit. She has known Osbaldo’s parents for many years.

As her own children were growing up, Maria began selling snacks out of her home to help make ends meet. Pupusas quickly became the favorite, and eventually she bought a small, secure shack. Her Kaqchiquel husband, Jacinto, is a masseuse and works at a large hotel in Pana. Apparently, he is quite talented. For many years, he flew to Italy to give massages to vacationers along the beaches there. I haven’t asked Maria how long she’s sold pupusas, but I’ve heard it’s nearly 20 years.

If you haven’t eaten a pupusa, they’re basically made of the same cornmeal — called “masa” in Spanish — as are corn tortillas and tamales. The Salvadorean twist requires the maker to fill it with meat, chicharrón (pig skin — a favorite!), cheese or refried beans — or some combination of these — and then pat it flat like a tortilla and fry it in a small amount of oil.

Pupusas are served with a tomato sauce poured over them and jalapeño peppers on the side to your liking, along with “repollo,” something a bit like German sauerkraut — a vinagery cabbage and carrot salad.

Ana didn’t make it in time for pupusas. Her loss.

(Note: Some of the names in this story have been changed to protect the innocent.)