To write about the extraordinary and ferocious body of water that is Lake Atitlán, we have to talk about its origin. Each of the twelve lakeside towns has a very distinct culture and way of life, as well as their own origin story for the lake. The most contemporary and scientifically supported explanation is that about 84,000 years ago a massive volcanic eruption known as the Los Chocoyos eruption ejected roughly 300 km³ of ash and pumice, causing the magma chamber beneath the volcano to collapse and form a large depression, or caldera, which later filled with water to create the lake. Then, fish were deposited into the lake by humans and evolution took flight, leaving the lake to be fabulous for fishing today. My preferred story is the ones told by the Mayan communities around the lake, specifically the old abuelas that flip tortillas on the side of the cobblestone streets, stare into your soul, and without greeting you or even knowing you are American, mumble in perfect English, “is America safe with Trump?”, to which you reply, “No.” 

They say that 84,000 years ago there was a beautiful woman who bathed in a small pond near her village. Each day as she washed herself in this pond, the water she was submerged in became more and more enamored with her beauty, obsessed with getting to be the one to clean her. Time went by and sure enough the beautiful woman appeared each day and the pond became more and more infatuated. Then one day she didn’t come. Weeks went by before the beautiful woman came back to the pond, and when she did, she brought a man. She had fallen in love. The water, in a fit of fury and jealously, summoned the wind, and together they grew into an enormous and mighty force, drowning the two lovers and creating the vast lake that is now Lake Atitlán. And every day in the afternoon, when the wind picks up and the lake gets a little choppy, its the reminisce of the fury the water felt from this betrayal. And somewhere under the waves lies the loving couple, the spirit of their love still felt across the lake. This lake carries all the magic of that story. The consistent changes of the wind each afternoon alone make you feel the water’s emotion and evoke the believe that it’s full of culture, history, spirits, secrets and heartbreak.

In the village of Santiago, a Mayan community with a strong local democratic government, this is the story of Lake Atitlan. We were told this story at the top of a cliff in Santiago, overlooking the lake and imagining the little pond it once was. There was a large family staring at us while our guide explained the history. Finally one of the elderly family members approached us asking if his daughter could take a picture with me because she thought I was a princess. At least ten family members whipped out their phones to capture me and the little girl, her name was Reina and she was about 6 or 7. I may be a princess, but Reina was a queen :)

Santiago worked intentionally to preserve Mayan culture, seeming slightly less disrupted by Spanish and Catholic influence. In many of the other towns you could feel Catholicism through the architecture or art, but here the Mayan gods were represented opposed to Jesus, everyone was in traditional dress, and spoke a certain dialect. In some of the other towns we visited there were murals of Jesus and the Mayan gods morphed into one kind of fused religion, and that blend is what most contemporary Guatemalans around the lake embrace and practice today. There are even churches that are half in the old Mayan architectural style and half in a more Spanish Catholic style. One church has a massive painting of a white dude from Oklahoma, known as ‘Padre Alpa’ who was apparently a local hero for protecting the Indigenous population during the Civil War…something about the piece cracked me up because he looked exactly like a white dude from Oklahoma.