Lake Atitlan, Guatemala has two seasons: rainy and dry. The dry season is also known as the high season because that is when the lake becomes somewhat overtaken by tourists, which is not a surprise since tourism plays a large role in the economy of Guatemala. From November until March, Lake Atitlan has practically no rain, and average temperatures of highs in the low 80s and lows in the mid-50s.  Then add in the beautiful lake, sunny blue skies, breathtaking sunsets, lush gardens, and volcanos and in the right places on the lake, you are in paradise. 

The other season is the rainy season, which runs from April until mid to late October. Temperatures are similar with highs in the mid-80s and lows around 60°F. During the rainy season, the mornings are typically dry and the afternoons and evenings tend to be very wet. Some days that means heavy rain for a couple of hours and other days it means steady rain starting in the early afternoon and extending well into the evening. 

So why the heck does this matter? Well, because we came to Guatemala on June 4, which should be well into the rainy season given the typical trends. However, when we arrived on a road that I was pretty confident was going to result in our death, things were very dry. To be honest, it was kind of nice. It’s much easier to walk around a new town and try to figure out basic things like where in the world do I buy toilet paper, milk, and eggs when it’s not a torrential downpour. 

We were staying in an Airbnb that was located very close (about a 3-minute walk) to Mia’s school as well as the main area of San Marcos. The house was small and only consisted of a small kitchen, living room, and bathroom, and upstairs in the loft was a bedroom. Too small for me and Mia? Absolutely. But we can do anything for a month, right? Plus, right outside our front door was a beautiful garden, hammock, table and chairs, and a huge locked gate so we felt immensely safe. 

Anyway, one day after I took Mia to school I was sitting outside on a cushion at a low wooden table attempting to get my brain to focus on working on something (anything at this point) when the gardener greeted me and we struck up a conversation. And by striking up a conversation I mean we did the typical Spanish greetings and then I had to use a fuckton of contextual clues to piece together everything else he was saying. Thankfully this sweet man realized that I was in over my head and decided to start explaining to me the current situation of not having enough rain by literally saying “agua” (water) and pointing to the sky. I clearly should have paid a lot more attention in my Spanish classes in college. 

So I sat there actually quite impressed with my ability to understand what he was saying and being able to respond enough in broken Spanish that he understood what I was trying to say. It was during this conversation that I learned that the locals were having a really, really hard time due to the lack of rain. He patiently explained to me that everything (their livelihood, food, etc.) depended on the rain during the rainy season and that they had very, very, very little rain. I could see the pain in his face and his eyes. I expressed a deep understanding and pointed up to the sky and made prayer motions with my hand making it clear that I would pray for the rain. He thanked me with his eyes and a gentle smile and then left me to get back to my “work.” I managed to stare at my laptop screen feeling beyond overwhelmed and having no idea exactly what I needed at that moment to help me feel better, but I knew that the interaction with him was a gift for both of us. And then I prayed for the rain. 

That night the Mayan gods listened and it rained! Like torrential downpour rain. And this is when I learned another important lesson about the rainy season in Lake Atitlan. There. Are. So. Many. Bugs. 

Okay, let me explain. 

It’s Like The Birds But With Termites

Think of the Alfred Hitchcock movie The Birds. If you haven’t seen it, then just imagine an old movie with horrid graphics and therefore basically pixelated birds attacking people! I am not shitting you, the entire movie is about that and it’s a bit terrifying, to say the least. Well, here Mia and I are hanging out in our small Airbnb while she chats with her friends online and watches some random kid videos (boy am I glad we brought her headphones with us) and I am trying to figure out the quickest way possible to get us into a long term house that has two bedrooms with doors that close (and lock…kidding…but only kind of). 

We have all the windows open (the lake also does not have AC and heat because it’s not needed, but opening windows to help with airflow is pretty damn important) and are enjoying the calming sounds of the rain (my nervous system was rejoicing) and the cooler temperatures. Great, right? Um yeah until we were full-on attacked by what I later found out were flying fucking termites! Termites FLY people. And the worst part? When you touch them their wings fall the fuck off their backs and then you are left surrounded by wings everywhere and you have no damn clue where the bugs themselves went because they magically disappear. 

So again, I am talking about Alfred Hitchcock-style attacks! There were, I kid you not, over 50 flying termites swarming us and our “lights,” which included the light from Mia’s tablet and my cell phone. In an instant, I am swatting (unknowingly my swatting was removing them of their wings and therefore their ability to get the hell out of our house) and Mia is rightfully coming completely unglued as she screams and cries but refuses to drop her tablet and leave it to its own devices (pun intended) because she views that damn thing as sacred. The result? They are now following HER because she’s holding onto their light source. I rushed to shut the door to keep the other terrorists out and went into trying to kill (aka touch and therefore dewing) the little rascals while Mia screamed bloody murder and I am pretty sure wanted to immediately burn the entire house to the ground. 

Now, the worst part (okay maybe 2nd worst part) about this story is that all of this took place over the couch that Mia was supposed to be sleeping on that night. Once the doors were shut, the lights turned on so I could fully survey the damage, and Mia was calmer and distracted again by her tablet, I looked around and saw that there were wings everywhere. And I mean… everywhere. All over me, all over her couch bed, all over the floor, etc. Unfortunately, I didn’t have a broom, so I swept wings off the couch with a paper towel and onto the rug so that I could then take the rug and empty it of wings outside, all while keeping their best friends from coming in to join the party (worst party of my life). 

Thankfully it was several days later when a new friend of mine informed me that those were termites (disgusting dude) and that when you touch them their wings fall off, because if I had known that at the moment I am pretty sure I would have literally crawled out of my skin and asked God for a new body. 

It was the very next day after a not-so-great night’s sleep thanks to thinking about the wing massacre and the fact that my kid had to sleep there that I realized I am now the Mayan God of Rain (kidding…mostly). 

The next morning after dropping Mia off at school I returned to my position at the table with my laptop staring at the screen like it was magically going to show me all of the answers to my unasked questions. (Have you ever reached the level of overwhelm where your brain just simply doesn’t work anymore? Well, I was there and had been there since before the move due to all the logistics of selling everything you own and moving to a third-world country.) Not too long after I arrived, along came my new gardener friend. (I suck at names. He told me it at least twice. I legit forgot. It’s not personal. I still deeply appreciate you mi amigo.) Immediately he pointed to me and then pointed to the sky and said “rain” (but in Spanish). His smile was contagious and reached all the way to my heart. He then bowed down to worship me and asked me to never leave the lake. Okay, that last sentence is obviously not true at all, but he did thank me for my prayers for the rain, and let me tell you it has pretty much rained every day since then, so clearly my sincere requests for the rain reached someone with enough power to make shit happen.

You’re welcome, Guatemala.