GUATEMALA -5-

LAGO DE ATITLAN           

The staircase leads us to a lovely terrace circled by several rooms, one of which is ours. The moment we step onto the terrace my breath is taken away. Lago de Atitlan is lying before my eyes like a submissive bride (I bet this is a Turkish phrase) with no ripple on her surface; she is definitely asleep. What is around it is surreal. The trio of volcanoes of Atitlan, San Pedro and Ixchimo are circling the beautiful lake making this part of the world indeed a spot out of heaven. I bet it didn’t feel like that when the old volcano that occupied the bed of this lake some couple hundred years ago exploded followed with an implosion that was filled with the juice of the skies and... Valla: a spectacular crater lake that we now enjoy. My Lonely Planet declares, the ashes of that explosion reached all the way to Florida. I feel sorry for the Mayans that must have been perished with the catastrophe. But I also can’t help being mesmerized with this surreal visual feast. “Savor the moment” is a whisper through my lips.

To the right is Volcan San Pedro barely visible, in the backgorund are the other two of the trio

As I am standing before our window, Antonio, the Mayan boy walks in with our luggage as if he returned from picking flowers, no penting whatsoever. It is almost impossible to believe the amount of strength he has in that small body. We appreciate his work, he appreciates the tip Zeyno gives him, to such an extent, in half an hour, when I am still dizzy with the beauty before my eyes, there is a knock on the door. It is Antonio, he is letting us know the dinner is served. A first in any hotel or even B&B I stayed all my life. I wonder if it is his appreciation of the tip or something residual from colonial days. The second evening he is at our door again. We want to believe he simply liked us, mother and daughter and is treating us extra nice. Who knows, he might have a dream of finding an American girl to take him to America, too. Who knows… 

Zeyno made arrangements for us to have dinner at the casa, a fantastic decision, I will discover, verified at each dinner. The dinner table is arranged in such a way, it is one big L shaped family table. People get acquainted as they get seated and learn from one another, share experiences of the day(s), etc. What a brilliant idea. We meet a group of American hikers, who just climbed up to the San Pedro Volcano today. That is our plan for tomorrow. We meet an Israeli couple, the wife a teacher, the husband an IT person. We chat about lots of things from middle-eastern politics to human rights, from child abuse to the limitations in child protection in Israel to their visit to Turkey, on and on and on. When we are ready to collapse to bed and say our good-nights to our fellow diners, I don’t know what surprise the trio has for me upstairs across from our room.

I step out onto the terrace next to our room one more time, the sky is pitch-black. I recall how dramatically quick the sunset was. Over a stretch of 15 minutes or so, fading daylight turned into pitch dark. This must be the tropical/subtropical latitude. What a contrast with what I had experienced in Ireland around the same time of the year where the sun wouldn’t set until 11 pm or so, and even when it did, it never got truly dark to call it “night”, really. And here, now, way past dusk, millions of stars are blinking at me playing peek-a-boo with the scattered feathers of clouds in the sky. Just as I am appreciating this peaceful and gay night show, the scenery changes dramatically.

The volcanoes that were buried in the black of the night all of a sudden light up with a lightening that started somewhere to the north of Volcan Atitlan, their silhouettes outlined against the sky that turns steel blue with an unexpected series of lightening, which moves very swiftly to just behind Atitlan. From that point on, the volcanoes, the non-stop lightening and the clouds outlined by the latter are in an intense, almost violent dance. I have never seen so much lightening back to back in my life. Some are vertical as if Zeus has left Mount Olympus and is now sending his spears onto the earth from over Volcan Atitlan. Some are horizontal, following and outlining the lower border of a cloud hanging over the trio like a holly halo. Sometimes it feels like a vicious snake makes its leap across the sky from one volcano to the other. Some are diagonal as if they don’t know where to go, as if they are the fun-loving little brats of the lightening family. Every lightening that outlines the volcano nearest to it creates a moment of unforgettable grandeur. I can’t move to even think of grabbing my camera and memorialize this show. All I can trust is my visual memory to hold onto this for the years to come. I can now, imagine how the indigenous people of this lake might have generated a wealth of attributions of supernatural powers to this phenomenon that I am witnessing they lived with for many centuries, generation after generation.

We leave the window ajar, the lullaby the lake will sing with its playful dance with the boats and kayaks at the little dock and the rocks below the casa, I know, will sooth me to sleep instantaneously. As I put my head down onto the clean, comfortable pillow, the scent and the sounds of the water below bring back memories of a similar but more intense lullaby that the Atlantic had sung by “El Yunke Mar” on the northeastern coast of Puerto Rico. It was the first time Bill and I had gone to Puerto Rico. We had let some of our planning to adventure. Sure enough, it had paid us beautifully. We found this family run hotel in the local touristic magazine and called them on the way to the coast. I had liked Maria’s voice even on the phone. We were delighted to discover that the little hotel was literally sitting half way in the ocean, Atlantic would thrust itself against the walls of the foundation and the tiny beach with all its force all day and all night long. In that violent thrust, I had found such peace and soothing, closing the window had never been an option. It won’t at casa del mundo, either. The lake will be with me all night long, who knows what dreams its lullaby will bring to me.

This is how far our room is from the water vertically across the steep cliff.


I wake up after a restful sleep very early. Sun is barely up, I catch the lake even more tame than the night before. I walk all around the terrace, around other rooms at the opposite end of it, take in all of the lake. There is a light fog, the lake is almost reaching out up to the clouds. To my left is Panajachal, to the right is San Pedro, where we are going to head soon. Once I complete my tour of the terrace, marval at some of the plants I have never seen in my life, and say Good morning to all three volcanoes, I go down to have a cup of coffee before Zeynep comes down. Antonio is around, we exchange smiles. Breakfast is very healthy in every way with grains, fruit, yogurt, and nuts. We can now take off to explore this beautiful lake.

One of the many unique potted plants hanging in the terrace