Lake Atitlán (Ah-teat-LAN) lies nestled a mile high in the Western Highlands of Guatemala and holds a very special place in Mayan religion and folklore. The Maya believe that it’s the "umbilicus of the mother earth," and in it lies the opening to the underworld, from which all souls emerge at birth and where they return upon physical death. The lake lies in the crater of an extinct volcano, with the dormant volcanoes of Tolimán (Tol-lee-MAHN), San Pedro, and Atitlán rising sharply from its shores. Adding to the lake’s mystery is the fact that no surface streams flow into or out of it. Lake Atitlán looks as if it rose directly from the mouth of the volcano at its fiery conclusion, and in fact is fed solely by underground springs within the crater.

Until recently, I never saw the actual depth of the lake printed, but rather came across curiosity-invoking comments such as "in excess of 1000 feet." National Geographic appeared to fuel the myth of this being a bottomless lake and thus the opening to the underworld while doing research for a story on the lake in the 1940s. Using the most sophisticated equipment available at the time, they were unable to determine the lake’s depth, and word is that they couldn’t find the absolute bottom. They estimated the depth to be "up to 1,500 feet" in the article. Apparently someone has now determined a bottom, and according to the Guatemala Tourist Guide the lake’s official depth is 1,119 feet (341 meters.)

The paved road to Lake Atitlán rises and falls over and over as it winds through the mountains, ending at the town of Panajachel (PAH-na-ha-CHEL), often called just "Pana", and the lake. I guess when I think of the crater of a volcano, I’m thinking of something roughly the size of a football stadium. But this lake is huge for a volcanic lake at 150 square miles of surface water, capped with its three volcanoes , which were staring right at me as I quickly boarded the last ferry of the day to Santiago. The sunset was about to begin, and the lake is famous for these wonders.

I settled in on the ferry as it pulled out from the dock. As I looked around me, I could see the entire crater making this lake, and the three 10,000-foot dormant volcanoes around it suddenly seem puny in comparison. Right on cue the lighting director turned up the crimson in the clouds, and it caused the mountains around the lake to take on a deep indigo color. These folks sure know how to welcome a person, I thought to myself. I couldn’t have scripted it any better.

A road connecting a number of Indian villages circles the lake. Santiago Atitlán is one of them, and lies directly across the lake from Pana on the south shore. The easiest access is by boat however, whether it’s public ferry, private motorboat, or a fishermen’s dugout canoe, called a cayuco. Regardless of transport method, entering town is like taking a giant step back in time. Indigenous women (who prefer this term to Indian) stoop by the water’s edge washing clothes in the lake. Men and boys work gathering firewood and picking coffee beans. The roads are mostly unpaved, though this is changing rapidly as cars become more prevalent. Today it’s still mostly pickup trucks, all acting as unofficial taxis for tourists and locals alike.

I went to Santiago specifically to meet the Tzutujil (Zoo-too-EEL) tribe of Mayan descendants living there. Guatemala has an indigenous population of approximately fifty percent, but in Santiago it’s ninety-five percent. White folks stick out like flashing Christmas ornaments. Why I felt such a strong calling is hard to say. I’ve been attracted to Mayan history for decades. In recent years, the travails of their modern-day descendants have horrified me. I was also hoping to learn more about their current religious beliefs. Mayan religion became a passion of mine when I read the Popal Vuh, or ancient Mayan bible, some years back. The similarities to the modern Christian Bible are stunning, and the Maya reportedly "wrote" theirs before the time of Christ. (The written language didn’t exist until much later, so timing can be argued if you’re so inclined.)

Catholicism was initially forced on the Maya after the Spanish conquest in the sixteenth century. Since none of the indigenous people spoke Spanish or Latin, and virtually none of the Spanish bothered to learn the local language, there was very little communication between the two groups. The Maya merely changed the names and dates of their religious deities and celebrations to comply with those of Catholicism. Since the native population went through the motions of being Catholic and observed their holidays, they were Catholic as far as the Spanish were concerned and peace was maintained. Today there are several different religions practiced in Santiago: traditional Mayan known as costumbre, Catholic, and Evangelical. The Evangelical is the newest of these, and is apparently similar to Evangelical faiths in the United States. Several of their services were held while I was in town, all outside with large speakers broadcasting the service to the entire village.

I arranged for the only English, Spanish, and Tzutujil speaking woman I knew of in Santiago to act as my guide and interpreter while I was in town. She was native born and raised, then spent many years in the United States with her husband, who was a shaman and felt his life was in danger in Guatemala at that time. She showed me around town, taking me to visit several of the cofradía, or religious brotherhood. Each member of the cofradía has a place in his home for the likeness of a particular saint, whom he is assigned to care for in the coming year. Local shamans, or medicine men, hold public ceremonies in these homes for their constituents throughout the day. Offerings of cigarettes, rum, or cash are given to the saint and his caretaker upon each visit. The air inside the home during a ceremony is thick with the sweetly delicious smell of copal, local incense made from tree resin, and it stung my eyes and dried my throat as we stayed to observe several ceremonies that day.

One of the saints we visited that day is the most notorious of Mayan religious figures. He is Maximón (Ma-shee-MONE), the drinking and smoking deity. Maximón has been revered in Santiago since the mid-nineteenth century and is represented by a three-and-a-half foot wooden statue clothed in colorful scarves. Maximón’s main trait is the enjoyment of vices, and he is reputed to seduce women in town after dark. He’s generally considered a combination of the Mayan god Mam and the apostle Simon Peter. Many other towns of Guatemala have adopted Maximón also and believe he shares traits of Judas Iscariot, the Antichrist, and even Pedro de Alvarado, the Spanish conquistador who conquered Central America under Cortez. My guide referred to him as "Lord of the Middle." Peter Canby in his book The Heart of the Sky—Travels Among the Maya says Maximón is the attraction of opposites: day to night, wet to dry, male to female. Maximón is usually seen with a large cigar in his mouth. On several special occasions, a likeness of Christ and Maximón are marched down the streets side-by-side but are not permitted to face each other. Only during Semana Santa, or Holy Week (Easter), do they face each other in a final confrontation. The Maya see no problem with this dichotomy of good versus evil with the two deities; both represent inseparable parts of the workings of the world. Atitecos (At-tea-TEK-ohs), as the residents of Santiago Atitlán are called, sometimes pray to Maximón for worldly needs.

One of the old Catholic mandates has evolved into a distinguishing and now famous Mayan trait. Presumably to better track and control the locals, the Church insisted that each village weave and wear a style of clothing unique to that village. This developed into a rich tradition and is still followed by many today, though no longer required. The Tzutujil are well known as expert backstrap weavers, an ancient style of weaving where the woman sits on the ground with a strap around her back and connected to the other end of the loom. The Tzutujil wear the most famous "costume" of Guatemala. Men wear knee-high white pants with maroon stripes, fastened with a long colorful waistband, and a long-sleeve shirt. The women wear white wool huipiles (blouses) with maroon and purple vertical stripes, then covered with embroidered bird designs. The cortes (skirts) are a long piece of colorful fabric wrapped around their body. The women’s costume is sometimes topped off with a tocoyal, which is a 20-meter-long piece of fabric that is rolled around the head to simulate a radiant sun. This last part seems to be worn only on special occasions these days. Unless offered a few coins, the Tzutujil don’t like their picture taken because they believe that a picture causes them to lose a piece of their soul. The few coins seem to ease the threat. Some people travel great distances to see this costume. I’m fortunate to have acquired a picture for your perusal.

I left Santiago Atitlán knowing I would return soon. I have to, even if only to better understand the attraction and power that it seems to hold for me. A part of my healing will happen here, I think. I felt like I was home for the very first time again. The last time I experienced this feeling was in Boulder in 1975, and I promptly moved here. (Why don’t I get this feeling when I’m at the beach? I’ve always considered myself part fish, and I love the Yucatan, yet both ‘home’ feelings have come in the mountains at 5,000 feet high. Then again, I learned a long time ago that I’m not really in charge of my life. I just go where I’m led.) Perhaps some more writing will occur by the pristine Lake Atitlan also, which Aldous Huxley called "the most beautiful lake in the world."  

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This page was last updated on 07/14/01 .