Guatemala #2, Lake Atitlan

After my first week in Guatemala, I have already noticed my spanish improving. But were I to master all the languages of the world, I would still lack the words to describe the beauty of Lake Atitlan. The shimmering blue water filled the basin as if the surrounding volcanoes had stretched their hands deep into the heart of the earth and scooped it up to give life to the land, and the serenity of the valley was so delicate that I felt at any moment the hills would spread their fingers and let that same water sink back into the depths. Above all this, clouds of every shape and size chased each other across an azul sky in harmony with the trees dancing in the wind along the shore. A symphony had come to life before my eyes, and I could do naught but stare.

As I sat there at the edge of the lake, I was reminded of all the times I had sat in similar fashion before the ocean. Those moments have always seemed to remind me of the shear vastness of the natural world around me. But this lake, nestled in the highlands of Guatemala amongst volcanoes that seemed to spring up from the flat fertile ground instantaneously into soaring peaks, evoked in me instead a sense of the powerful majesty of creation. I was a servant kneeling in awe before my king. Coming from a country where it often feels like everyone is in a race to conquer nature, I enjoyed this blunt reminder of the power of their foe.

Still, we humans are a determined lot, and I would only be telling half of the story if I failed to mention the bustling villages that had taken root where they could around the lake. My breif trip only allowed me the luxury of visiting one of them, so I wont make assumptions about the others, but Panajachel felt familiar the moment I stepped off of the bus. The colorful locals mingled seamlessely with the inevitable plethora of tourists that were drawn there, and this conglomorate of cultures immediately reminded me of many parts of Los Angeles where I grew up. Despite the obvious contrast with their natural surroundings, the ramshackle buildings of the village fit in with them surprisingly well. I could easily imagine that instead of being built they had simply grown in with the trees, a gift from the land to all those who worked its soil.

Unfortunately, for a place such as this, 1000 words are worth a mere drop of water in the deep, cool lake. Like all things beautiful, it must be felt, and could never be perfectly described. However, I felt compelled to try, and I hope I have been able to share even a small part of what I found at Lake Atitlan.