The Loss of San Juan: A Village Transformed by Tourism
For travelers planning to visit Guatemala, let me take you back to a time when San Juan La Laguna was a small, peaceful Mayan village. It was a place dotted with local artisan shops—coffee, chocolate, art, honey, and weaving—all genuinely crafted by the hands of Mayan families.
A bakery once sold chocolate cream-filled donuts that locals and visitors alike treasured. A few simple restaurants served traditional meals, and life moved at its own rhythm.
The mirador above the village featured a single cross, a solemn memorial for the tragic accident in 2000 that claimed many lives from both San Juan and San Pedro.
At the base of the hill, there was a quiet boat dock, unassuming and functional. As you walked up the hill, there were no umbrellas strung above the streets, no garish signs.
The Loss of San Juan
But today, San Juan is unrecognizable. Tourism, once a blessing for artisans and their families, has reshaped the village. The locals are now pushed aside, replaced by the demands of mass tourism.
The Loss of San Juan
The small boat dock is no more. In its place is a sprawling dock complex designed to deliver the influx of weekend visitors.
Walking up the hill today, I barely recognize it. The charm of the simple path I once loved is buried beneath an unbroken line of shops, most selling the same generic wares: fake plastic palm hats, mass-produced “Mayan” souvenirs, and art shops that mimic but do not honor the culture. Coffee shops, bars, and restaurants now dominate, many owned by outsiders, offering little authenticity.
At the top of the hill, where the main road intersects, I am greeted by fleets of tuk-tuks. Drivers eagerly offer rides to the mirador or to visit local artisans—artisans who, heartbreakingly, are forced to pay fees to these drivers just to have tourists brought to them.
The mirador has changed too. You now have to pay Q30 to walk up the mountain. The path leads to more bars and vendors selling trinkets. The view is still breathtaking, but the soul of the place feels overshadowed by commerce. The cross remains, a quiet witness to the transformation of the village below.
The historical church? It’s now a parking lot for shuttle buses. The donut shop I loved is gone. Nicholas Pop, one of San Juan’s renowned leather artisans, has disappeared along with many other local treasures.
