Lake Atitlán – Day 1: The Navel of the World
LAKE ATITLÁN
Day 1: The Navel of the World
October 12, 2022
An eight-hour, uneventful ride on a microbus through the most gorgeous roads along the Sierra Madre mountain range of Guatemala took me to one of the country’s greatest attractions — Lake Atitlán.
The word Atitlán comes from the Nahuatl language and means “the place where the rainbow gets its colours,” while the local Kaqchikel and Tz’utujil Mayan groups refer to it as the “bellybutton of the world.” It’s a volcanic lake nestled between three volcanoes – the active Atitlán and Tolimán, and the extinct San Pedro – spanning around eighteen by six kilometres, with a depth of 325 metres, making it the deepest lake in Guatemala.
Perhaps the coolest fact about this lake is that its basin is a caldera formed after the ultra-Plinian eruption of the Los Chocoyos volcano around 84,000 years ago. Continued volcanic activity later gave rise to the three volcanoes we see today. The rich volcanic soil surrounding the lake and hillsides supports the agriculture of various crops, which is crucial to the villagers living around the lake. Apart from that, the lake serves a vital role for them, providing water for drinking, cooking, and even bathing.
Eleven towns are found around the lake, where Mayan culture is still very much alive today. Often compared to the stunning Lake Como in Italy – albeit with volcanoes in the background – the local population seems dwarfed by the vast number of tourists visiting the lake every day. It’s especially popular with backpackers, with some towns in particular drawing a more hippie kind of crowd.
Catching Up
After sundown, I had finally managed to arrive at Panajachel – a town on the northern shore of Atitlán. I was lucky enough to board the last ferry that would make the trip to San Pedro La Laguna – a nearby town I’d be spending a couple of days in.
Much to my surprise, I recognised a familiar face the second I got on board. It was Natalie – one of the El Mirador family members! Seeing her felt like meeting up with a long-lost friend – even though it had been less than a week since we had said our goodbyes. That said, we had the best excuse to go for a drink and catch up. In fact, the second we arrived, that’s exactly what we did. It felt so, so refreshing speaking in English – especially to someone with whom I didn’t have to start the conversation from scratch. I mean really, that part must be the most annoying of all. By that time, it felt like my introduction speech was the same, word for word, on every occasion. This is how it would always go:
- Stranger: So, where are you from?
- Me: Malta!
- Stranger: Where’s that?
- Me: A tiny island south of Italy.
- Stranger: Ah, so you’re Italian!
- Me: We’re actually an independent country.
- Stranger: Well, never heard about it.
- Me: Don’t worry, almost no one has.
- Stranger: So how many people live there?
- Me: Around half a million.
- Stranger: Oooh, it must be small then!
- Me: Yeah, well, that’s actually a lot of people for Malta!
- Stranger: I see…
- Me: Yep.
- Stranger: Is it touristic there?
- Me: Yep, lots of beaches, churches, temples…
- Stranger: What kind of temples?!
- Me: Prehistoric ones – the oldest in Europe!
- Stranger: Cool, cool. So what do you eat?
- Me: Uuuhm… Rabbit? Fish? Pasta?
- Stranger: Rabbit, no way!
- Me: It’s not that uncommon.
- Stranger: If you say so.
- Me: What else would you like to know?
- Stranger: What language do you speak?
- Me: Maltese and English.
- Stranger: WHAT?! What’s Maltanese?!
- Me: It’s a mix of Arabic, Latin, and English.
- Stranger: That is so cool!
- Me:
Always, every single time, multiple times a day. Sometimes it’d be in English, sometimes in Spanish. But always the same conversation. Some would then ask me more questions about Maltese or about how I’d come to learn Spanish or a thousand other questions which I had come to respond to almost instinctively without even thinking. And then the conversation shifts onto either my work or my journey:
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- Stranger: So how long are you travelling for?
- Me: Around eight months – give or take.
- Stranger: No way! And where are you visiting?
- Me: Central America!
- Stranger: Oh wow. Where did you start?
- Me: Mexico, and working my way to Panama.
- Stranger: Nice!
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Most backpackers would either be doing the same thing or the same thing in reverse. Back when I had first started out, I felt special. So, so special. Back home, there’s usually one doctor every year who quits their job or runs out their work contract to go on a gap year. This year, it was me. One doctor out of hundreds. You do kinda feel special!
But when you’re on the road? Anything but. Everyone’s kinda doing the same thing. Most people I encountered had gone through the same routes I went through or would be going there soon enough, with me following in their footsteps. They all seemed to be using Polarsteps to track their journeys (especially the Dutch), LifeStraw water bottles to filter their H2O, Anker power banks to stay connected, Beats by Dr Dre to keep the beat going, and The North Face gear as a sponsor (all brand names are the property of their respective owners). Of course, this isn’t to say that it takes away any of the privilege and beauty of such a trip. In fact, I had come to appreciate the fact that I’m not doing this alone. I could share my experience with people who would actually relate to it!
But yeah, it does get pretty annoying having to repeat everything all over. Which is why meeting up with Nat felt a bit like I was seeing an old friend. No introductions – just small talk, a couple of Gallos, and some chit-chat. She told me all about what she had done since our trek a week before. She’d gone directly to San Pedro from Flores and was taking Spanish classes there whilst staying with a host family. In the meantime, she’d been going around all the towns – something I wouldn’t have enough time to do.
Winding Down
Exhausted after a long day on the road, wet from the ferry ride, and slightly tipsy after a couple of beers, I made my way to the hostel.
Without any research at all, I booked my stay at the first place that popped up on Booking. Turns out, the town of San Pedro is also known as the backpacker central of Atitlán – where most go to party and drink their livers away. Whereas I’m usually the wild, party-animal kinda guy back home, when I travel, I tend to cram so much into my days that I leave my nights just for sleeping (and the occasional extracurricular activity, which I probably shouldn’t advertise here). I guess you could say that for some people, the night is not young, Nicki.
Which is why I wouldn’t particularly recommend this place for anyone who goes to bed before midnight — unless they’re the heaviest of sleepers. Especially not after a long day of travelling and before a sunrise hike the next morning. I was this close to being a total boomer and yell at them to keep it down.
