From South Louisiana to Arkansas, on the way to Missouri. October 2017.
I can love someone but still break up.
Airbnb, I loved you, but we're finished.
You had my email address. You had my phone number. At our multiple rendezous, you had my credit card number. You had my photo.
But all of a sudden these weren't enough. You wanted government photo ID. You wanted a new photo. And then another. It didn't matter that I had a sterling track record of good references from past hosts.
Yet you want me to put all this juicy data in one convenient spot for hackers: photo, government photo ID (!), credit card, phone number, email?!
You haven't been hacked yet? Sweetie, it's only a matter of time. Or it's already happened, only you don't know it yet. Or haven't told us yet.
And it's not as if the sick man who shot and killed so many people in Las Vegas would have been stopped by your new requirements. Remember him? The guy who booked lodging through Airbnb?
What you're doing is, in fact, irresponsible, because in the name of security theater (like TSA confiscating my new tube of toothpaste), you're exposing all of your Airbnb hosts and renters to inevitable hacking.
I grieve for the loss of our years-long relationship, but you're just too risky for me.
Room, La Iguana Perdida, Santa Cruz, Lake Atitlan, Guatemala. April 2016.
When I looked at the "lake view" from my La Iguana Perdida room, I laughed. Not in a derisive way. In an appreciative, cosmic-joke kind of way. It was like when I sat down on the bed the first time in the Al Uruba Hotel, hidden away in a corner of the Gold Souk in Dubai, and I burst out laughing from the absurdity of discovering that my "mattress," regardless of the fact that it was wrapped in fabric, was surely a table top.
Room, La Iguana Perdida, Santa Cruz, Lake Atitlan, Guatemala. April 2016.
So anyway, yes, I had a lake view, visible when I stood up and slid my gaze across the corrugated tin roof. I liked it.
Let me show you around the rest of the room:
Room, La Iguana Perdida, Santa Cruz, Lake Atitlan, Guatemala. April 2016.
Room, La Iguana Perdida, Santa Cruz, Lake Atitlan, Guatemala. April 2016.
Room, La Iguana Perdida, Santa Cruz, Lake Atitlan, Guatemala. April 2016.
I liked the shelving and the generous door hooks. At the head of my bed were a lamp, an electrial outlet, and a shelf. The hostel provided the blue towels on the shelf.
For $10, I was very happy, indeed.
As mentioned previously, my main regret was to not have brought a small electric kettle with me so I could enjoy coffee whenever I wanted, instead of having to wait til the restaurant opened at 8 a.m.
There was one interesting incident that occurred in my room. One night, while I lay in bed reading, it came to my consciousness that my bed seemed to be swaying ever so gently and sporadically. It was so slight to almost be my imagination, but no, it was real. Was it my neighbors, having sex? Rather quietly, I'd say, but with enough oomph to cause some movement on the stilted building? Or was it an earthquake, certainly common enough in Guatemala? At a certain point, I did hear a sound that might have signaled a climactic finish... or which could have been a tectonic sigh.
View from La Iguana Perdida, Santa Cruz, Lake Atitlan, Guatemala. April 2016.
La Iguana Perdida offers accommodations for just about any tourist budget, from $6 per night for a bed in a dorm, to $47-61 for a luxury suite (depending on number of people in the suite). I chose the private room with shared bath at about $10.
I'm unsure how to categorize La Iguana Perdida. It has sleeping rooms, yes, with tastes for the hostel crowd and the private cabin crowd. Plus a restaurant and a bar. And auxiliary businesses such as scuba diving, language lessons, local artisanal instruction, tours, and spa services. Maybe I'll call it a resort.
La Iguana Perdida (LIP from now on) offers pleasant spaces where you can just be.
View from La Iguana Perdida, Santa Cruz, Lake Atitlan, Guatemala. April 2016.
Pleasantly doing nothing at La Iguana Perdida, Santa Cruz, Lake Atitlan, Guatemala. April 2016.
There is a comfortable library or low-conversation space in a room off the restaurant/bar.
There are chairs with cushions that line a stone pathway, with a line of flowering shrubs between you and the lake, where you can sit and drink your coffee or tea, and just watch the lake, the comings and goings of launches and people, the movement of clouds across the volcanoes.
There are tables and chairs in the restaurant proper and in the covered veranda that invite community chat or board games or dining.
There's an open patio with a firepit and chairs just outside the restaurant/bar.
LIP seems to attract readers, based on my observations of fellow guests during my stay.
There is no wifi. However it is possible to use one of the wired resort computers, in a room designed for this, for a small fee.
The LIP staff are friendly and helpful. I received prompt and useful replies to my email queries before I booked my room and before I arrived at the resort.
View from La Iguana Perdida, Santa Cruz, Lake Atitlan, Guatemala. April 2016.
The original owner of the resort - way back before anyone would call it a resort - is now an elder gent, and he lives on the premises full time, I believe. You can often find him in the evenings sitting on one of the chairs on the open patio that has the fire pit.
In my experience, the food offered by the restaurant was pretty, but not particularly memorable. It did have a satisfactory boxed red table wine. The coffee was unobjectionable.
A lunch at La Iguana Perdida, Santa Cruz, Lake Atitlan, Guatemala. April 2016.
The hot in the "hot showers" was unreliable during my stay, and there was a bit of a trick to turn them on and find the sweet spot for hot.
A shower at La Iguana Perdida, Santa Cruz, Lake Atitlan, Guatemala. April 2016.
The lack of wifi and the disloyal hot showers weren't all that bothersome. What hurt me to the quick was that there was no access to coffee before 8 a.m. Ouch. It would have been helpful to have a little electric kettle with me.
Overall, LIP is a good place to go to be easy in the world for awhile while pleasantly avoiding doing much.
