When the writer Huxely first see eyes on Lake Atitlan, he boldly affirmed that it was the most beautiful lake in the world. It cannot have been an easy choice, for Guatemala possesses a constellation of lakes and lagoons of spectacular beauty. It was in the generous waters of many of them that the fascinating Mayan culture originated.

Evening draws in over Lake Atilan. Three majestic volcanoes are reflected in its waters. The sun hides while the owner of the hotel that takes its name from the name, an energetic American woman , shows the exquisite gardens she has tended for more than thirty years. A delicate perfume surrounds rose bushes, tropical plants and beds of heliconia, those strange flowers which look like aliens in a dead faint. Night falls as we sip a pina colada in the refined atmosphere of the hotel’s elegant lounges. Tomorrow, we begin our journey to the mythical lakes of Guatemala.
An almost religious silence accompanies the spectacle of the rising sun, which caresses the pinnacles of the volcanoes and the tongues of wooded land protruding into the waters of the lake. We are awaited for a visit to some of the villages in the area, many of which have names of apostles or evangelists, like Santiago, San Pedro and San Juan. The rocking of the boat, gentle at first, turns into serious pitching and rolling in the middle of the lake. The legend goes that a Kaqchikel prince fell in love with a Tzutujil princess and snatched her away. The Tzutujil soldiers chased them and eventually caught up. And arrow destined for him hit the princess instead, and she died in his arms. The lake was formed by the prince’s tears. The old people of the area still say that their spirits come up to the surface to dance, causing the waves and whirlpools which ruffle the surface of the lake each day.
 Legends apart, Lake Atitlan has a depth of 333 meters, and many of the offerings and artifacts of the Mayan tribes who inhabited its shores have been found inside it. We sail from village to village discovering their colorful handicrafts, traditions and churches, where Catholic imagery is intermingled with local syncretism. Standing out amidst virgins and saints dressed in vivid colors, for instance, is the figure of Maximon, a Mayan holy man with offering of alcohol and food.
Mansion with private jetties spring up among jacarandas and bougainvilleas, forming a powerful contrast with the indigenous villages where life goes on as it has done for centuries.
In San Antonio Palopò surrounded by terraced onion fields, the washerwomen scrub their typical indigo costumes with stones, releasing the dye into the turquoise waters.
After leaving the [departamento] od Sololà, to which Atitla belongs, the journey continues to El Petén, which hides some of the most incredible Mayan ruins on the entire continent. As the plane flies over pastures and jungle, dead straight roads can occasionally be glimpsed through the abundant mist. Unexpectedly, the portentous Lake Petén Itzà, the “Sorcerors’ Lake”, makes its appearance. Islets and strips of meadow like fingers pointing into the water from a prelude to the island of Flores, a jewel set in the middle of lake. When we cross the bridge which joins the island to the lakeshore, we come across a group of houses painted in the most improbable color combinations. The church of Santa Elena is the only white building rising haughtily above this higgledy-piggledy rainbow. It is Sunday, and nothing can be heard but the thunderous voice of the archbishop in the church, which is packed with parishioners in their Sunday best.
Little boats silently ply the waters of the lake, and cormorants dry their feathers in the sun. Only 13 kilometers away is Ixpan Pajul a nature reserve with over 200 plant species and about 180 varieties of animal.
After swaying across very long rope bridges and discovering families of monkeys dozing in the trees, our guide invites us to share in the incredible experience of canopying. It consist of climbing a tree to height of several meters and then, equipped with a harness, hurling oneself along a wire over a vault of leaves and branches. Flying like a bird reveals the surprising prospect of the part of forests and jungles that is normally hidden – the treetops facing sky.
The day has been a long and exciting on. Dusk approaches. The sun seems to be  liquefied in the lake water, turning everything it touches the gold. Mares graze with their foals beside them, and peasant take their last dip of the day in the lake.
Today we visit the beautiful acropolis of Yaxhà. Shortly before arriving, we see the lagoons of Sacnab and Yaxhà, sacred to the tribes on their shores. They are still very special today, since they are inhabited by number of endangered species such as autochthonous crocodiles, the white turtle, and a fish with the evocative scientific name of Petenia splendida.
When we reach the acropolis, the deafening howls of the monkeys give way somewhat to the buzzing of hummingbirds. We talk thought a series of mounds, discovering that they are temples covered by trees with enormous roots, until reach a pyramid upon a vast platform.
Climbing up the wooden steps on the outside of the pyramid is an exhausting but wondrous exercise that brings the traveler to a spectacular view over Lake Yahxa and the all devouring jungle.
Ever since our rrival, we have been hearing about Lake Izabal, the large in the country. With a magnitude of 48 kilometers by 20, some parts of it are out of sight of the shore, giving the impression of sailing on the sea. We search among it mangroves swamps for its most emblematic inhabitant, the manatee.
This cross between a seal and a dolphin was taken in olden times to be a mermaid, but we are not lucky enough to see one today. In the lush tropical forest, however, we have spotted pelicans and other exotic birds, as well as a large number of noisy monkeys.
The castle of San Felipe, built in the Spaniards as protection against pirates, evokes bygone days of treasure and buccaneers.
The finishing touch is a visit to Unite Nation Park on a hill near Guatemala City. It overlooks the tranquil and jade-colored  Lake Amatitlan, whose name means “City of Letters”. Like Lake Calderas and the sacred lagoon of the volcano Chicabal, where Mayan ritual are still carried out, Amititlan is an old volcanic dual crater, which accounts for its curious figure of eight shape.
From this height, the shores of Amatitlan are covered with what looks like foam, but are in fact little white villages. Daperting from them are pleasure craft which glide gently across the lake, just as the red cable car moves slowly across the green mountainside.