Lago de Atitlan

Originally uploaded by lauraespence.

Just returned from a weekend trip to Lago de Atitlan. The lake is one of the deepest in the world, and is said to have formed after a volcano collapsed. Today, the dormant volcanoes that are found around the lake actually used to exist inside the original (massive) volcano. The lake culture is now split between bohemian villages (of gringos who settled there decades ago and never left) and ancient Mayan civilizations that continue to live off the land.

Kevin and I caught a chicken bus on Friday afternoon, hoping to make it to the lake in time to catch a lancha (launch boat) to the village of Santa Cruz before service stopped for the evening.

Chicken bus drivers are famous for packing on 4 people to a seat and driving like they were trained on a NASCAR track. In turn, passengers are generally thankful for whatever space can be managed, and learn to position themselves accordingly. During our bus ride, we talked to a charming Mayan teenager for hours, sharing (among other things) our theory that passengers on chicken buses are like trained monkeys.

That theory was later proven when we made a tight connection in Sololá. One of the helpers on the bus opened up the back door while the bus was pulling away and pulled us in. There was, of course, no room for us to sit down, so as the bus was barreling through its descent to the lake towns, we were bending it like Beckham, trying to hold on for dear life while laughing hysterically. It is a new sport Kev has deemed "Guat surfing" and it is pretty much like riding a rollercoaster without the stabilizing mechanisms.

Beautiful as the lake is during the day, I actually found it more beautiful at night. The moon seems electric and the volcanoes surrounding the lake seem even more massive. On the mountainsides, you see sprinkling of lights in the small towns that reminded me a lot Italy's Amalfi Coast. The Iguana hotel where we stayed had no electricity, and I cannot remember the last time I slept without hearing a single outside distraction.

Saturday we went rented a double kayak to venture to a remote snorkeling location (during which time Kev was very patient with my singing of the Pocahontas soundtrack...because he sang over me, for the most part). The snorkel spot was along one of the fault lines, and you could dive down the stick your hands in the sand that is still hot from the previous volcanic activity.

Dinners at the Iguana are served community-style. Everyone packs around a huge table and eats amazing meals the Mayan women prepare. Saturday nights, they host a huge dress up party (which can only be compared to fancy dress parties in England). Women dress like men, men dress like women, and I dressed like a raging idiot in a polyester yellow and black jumpsuit I found in the Iguana's "dress up closet." The event is legendary around the lake, and people come in from all corners to join in on the festivities.

That night, we were joined by a freelance journalist from the BBC and The Guardian named Martin. We talked to him all night, comparing perceptions of Central America and bonding on all things...well, everything (including Rufus Wainwright). He's ab fab, as they say.

Too many amazing experiences to count, too many amazing stories to share. If you are ever within a 500-km radius of Guatemala, make the trip to the lake. It's magic.