Skipjack Joe - 4-23-2005 at 02:02 AM
I was reading my baja and mainland travel journal last night and came across this entry that brought a smile.
December 13, 1983
My first impression of him was that he was the "Fitzcaraldo of Lago Atitlan". I never did find out his name. We met him at the lakeside hamlet of San
Antonio Papolo. He introduced himself to Vera at the cathedral steps in a heavy German accent and invited us to rest on the terrace of his hotel. The
hotel, we discovered, was to be a 30 room building of which 10 rooms had taken him 10 years to build. It was a beautiful structure cut directly into
granite cliffs by the water with Indian hands. He modestly claimed it to be the finest building at the Lake.
He was a thin short man with a roundish head that sat on top of a vulnerable neck. He had blond matted hair and clear blue eyes that squinted below a
furrowed brow. He was clearly an intelligent man. He said that Walesa would be wise to reject the Nobel peace prize and reminded us that Hitler had
been nominated for it at one time. When we told him that we were of Russian descent he spoke of Stalin's study of linguistics (he found that
hilarious) and of Sholokhov's forgery.
But he was generally happy here in this small town. "They are good people", he stated, "as long as you don't require complex work from them. Simple,
repeated, old tasks they do very well - but for anything else they are imbeciles." He was particularly angry today because his worker had ruined one
drainage pipe by cutting it too short and then proceded to misunderstand his directions and destroy a second one by cutting it to the size of the
first.
The villagers regarded him with peculiarity but were familiar and accustomed to his presence. Small boys laughed behind his back and exploded
firecrackers on his porches when he was not around.
He related a recent incident to show the destructiveness of the Indians. "A toilet flush handle had been broken and I had to travel all over to find
another one like it", he started and displayed the mentioned handle. " 'Don Pedro has one and will sell it for a good price', I was told. Individual
parts are hard to get here and I was offered complete toilets."
"I found Don Pedro in a prestigious store and he asked $50 for a complete American brand toilet. He held a hammer in one hand. I told him that I
needed only the handle. Suddenly he swung the hammer at the porceline toilet and smashed it to bits. He removed the handle from the rubble and asked
$2 for it. I immediately realized that I was dealing with a crook and bought one". He had Vera and me reeling with laughter.
He complained about the lack of business he got at San Antonio. I told him that he should advertise more, especially at Panajachel. He said that he
wasn't crazy. "The people will think I am rich and come after me with guns".
Why did he live in this isolated corner of the world surrounded by Indians and reached by only a dirt road? He replied that he was a stubborn old man
who would finish this project despite the odds. I wasn't satisfied with the answer.