Atitlan, my dream land
Guatemala: It was in December 1974 that I first set foot on a piece of land at the shores of Lake Atitlan. It is nestled in the folds of the towering Volcano San Pedro, it can only be reached by boat or cayuco (native term for wooden canoes), this stretch of land is called Chitinamit or Chuitinamit.
There are no roads, no electricity, no neighbors and no tourists. Back in 74 there where still Pock ducks, now extinguished. An abundances of "tull" provided space for ducks and other water birds to nest and reproduce. They would swim out early in the morning, proudly showing off their offspring. A big variety of song birds, water birds, fish and insects made it a nature's paradise.
In front, on the other shore of the lake, the town of Santiago Atitlan looked like a nativity scene. Early in the morning the motors of the corn mills could be heard and the smoke rose form the houses where the tortillas where prepared for the day. The little city was covered in mysterious mist.
The fisherman in their cayucos where out on the lake before dawn, barely visible in the early morning light.
The lake was very still at dawn, a silver mirror that changed its magical colors constantly. It seemed that this little world was holding its breath, waiting to exhale.
It was my favorite time of the day, I was covered in a blanket, a cup of coffee in my hands, sitting at our wobbly makeshift dock and just looked. I always felt I had not enough eyes to see everything, enough ears to listen, enough seconds to observe every changing shade of color, every ripple in the water. I felt this urgency of drinking it all in and keep it as a treasure inside forever, because maybe tomorrow it would no longer be there.
It is a magical place, and my sense of wonder has no changed in over 34 years of going back.
When I am wary and tired of the world, when my hearth has been broken, when my spirit is lost, I can always go back to my refuge and be healed. It is a sanctuary for my soul and it makes me certain that a God (whatever name you may call him) is present in everything surrounding us.
This little place was bought by my parents for their children. It was piece of land full of rocks and sand with two trees. Everybody thought they where crazy, why buy a piece of rock? But they saw the beauty of it and the potential.
Since that day, my parents, my mother especially, turned that little piece of nothing into a paradise, a refuge for their children. The one safe place on earth, where all our worries and fears can disappear, where we can feel at home. And we can always come back.
Atitlan is magic, Atitlan is beauty, Atitlan is life, Atitlan is history, and Atitlan is in my soul.
Photos: Ignacio de Wit
