I wanted to return to Atitlan because the last time I was there, all sorts of magic was present and happened. But just as you can't step into the same river twice, an experience reflects a particular point in spacetime when you are in a certain place in yourself, and those you are with converge into the spontaneous creation of that magic. Lago Atitlan, while stunningly beautiful, felt a little less vibrant this time around. I had changed, quite a lot. San Marcos had changed, too - like so many places I'd visited before, it had grown bigger, more touristy, more commodified and lost some of that special quality I had found there previously. Maybe part of it was also because after almost a year of traveling around the world, we were just already full, saturated with worldly stimulation. Still, a lot happened there. I shaved my head. We decided to slow down the pace of travel, and to find a place where we could go into a deep chill. We also started talking about what to do next with our lives. Were we going to keep traveling? Buy a hotel on Lake Atitlan and settle there or somewhere else in Latin America? Or head back to Canada, where our families and friends were?