George Poulos

Hi!

Ooh, I’m excited about this one.

I spent February 7th to March 8th of this year (2026) in Guatemala—specifically San Marcos La Laguna on Lake Atitlán (with occasional visits via boat to surrounding villages)—and it was a magical and mystical and fantastical trip in so many capacities.

Every time people ask me about the trip, I choke on my words—that’s how special it was. But I’m going to do my best in this post to write about my experience.

First of all, I didn’t travel to Guatemala just to travel to Guatemala. At least at the time of writing this, I’m really not that type of traveler.

I’m quite content to stay put unless some spiritual purpose pulls me to travel. I generally have no need to take a big trip just because, and in fact, I’m rather resistant to anything that will pull me away from my meditation, work and study routine. While I do get antsy staying in one place sometimes, I really do enjoy feeling stable and grounded. When I really need to get away just to unplug and reset, I’m usually content with the one hour subway ride to Rockaway Beach, where I’ll spend the day meditating on the sand or in the ocean waves, or something like that.

So yes, I was pulled to Guatemala, by what felt like the force of God.

In my particular case, it was primarily a week-long silent meditation retreat that pulled me to book the trip. When I first saw the retreat advertised, by a very special teacher in my life, I knew, like a lightning strike, that I was meant to be there. I booked without hesitation.

That meditation retreat was hosted at Kawoq Forest, a retreat center located in San Marcos La Laguna.

We took the easy six-ish hour direct flight from New York City’s JFK airport, packed with familiar faces from my meditation community in New York, to Guatemala City Airport, followed by a fairly hectic four-ish hour drive over to the lake.

Those mountain roads were crazy—in fact, on my way back to the airport, a couple and their baby sitting behind me were puking for half the ride—but I’ve noticed that since adopting a more minimal yogi diet and lifestyle, I have a pretty strong stomach when it comes to things like that.

I sat in the front seat for the entire ride, practicing my Spanish with the Guatemalan driver, while a group of my peers (I think it was six or seven of us in that van) chatted jubilently in the back.

The retreat center, Kawoq Forest, was absolutely stunning. Pristine, serene, peaceful, jungle vibes. But really, the beauty of the retreat center was just a bonus. I wasn’t there for the retreat center, I was there for the retreat itself. (Though the retreat center, and it’s serene nature, wonderful facilities, and incredible food, certainly did enable us all to more easily go deep in our retreat).

I won’t go too deep into the retreat itself, but it was a “Lam Rim” retreat. “Lam Rim” means steps on the path in Tibetan. The retreat, which for us attendees was completed in total silence, involved multiple meditation sits, yoga classes and Dharma classes every day, plus meals and some free time as well.

It was f***ing awesome, and a total turning point on my spiritual path in multiple capacities.

After the retreat, almost all of the retreatants, and the two teachers, spent a few days in an AirBnB near Santiago to hang out and integrate. That was a really awesome and special part of the experience, too.

And then it was onto the next chapter of the journey. One by one, my fellow retreatants, and our teachers, hopped into vans to take the four hour drive back to the Guatemala City Airport. But I stayed.

I had three more weeks booked at an AirBnB right in the middle of “downtown” San Marcos.

I really had no idea what I was doing when I booked that AirBnB. I feel like it was different—more modern—than what a more typical Guatemala travel experience would be like.

A dear friend of mine actually came to visit me in Guatemala, and she had her own place booked somewhere on the dirt road between San Marcos and Tzununa. We met up and hung out almost every day. Her place was smack in the middle of the jungle close to the lake. You had to walk down a super intense and rather sketchy stone staircase down from the dirt road and hike a bit along the lake in order to get there. It was a beautiful cozy old lake-house cabin—way different from my AirBnB experience, which was more modern and in the “town” section of San Marcos.

Speaking of that friend and her lakeside jungle abode, one of the craziest things happened. One night we were hanging out at her place past sunset, and she locked her keys inside. I saw it happen in slow motion. The door shut, and then immediately a panicked look swept over her face.

Somehow I knew the whole time we would be just fine. These are situations where my years of meditation practice really pays off.

No, but this is actually insane, and you probably won’t believe me when I tell you. We calmly tried absolutely everything we could, one by one. Through the windows, we could see the keys sitting there on the table, taunting us. First we checked all the easily accessible windows. All locked, except one, in the kitchen, which opened a crack, and that’s it. We tracked down the owner of the AirBnB, a sweet old women who lived in a house on the property. We sat on the floor of her abode looking through her giant stash of keys. The spare key to this particular unit was missing.

The owner then lent us a giant metal latter, which I used to climb up to the roof and check the other windows. That was sketchy—and all the windows were locked!

I still wasn’t panicking.

I then found a massive stick of bamboo on the jungle floor. I weaved it through that small crack in the window, and was able to get the end of the bamboo stick to poke the keys, which were sitting there on the little wooden counter-table. We were close.

My friend, then, giddy and excited, came smiling to me with a tiny little metal hook that she found screwed into some wooden beam on the porch, probably used for hanging plants, which I then screwed onto the end of the bamboo stick. With the eye of a tiger and a steady hand, I again weaved the bamboo through the barely-cracked open kitchen window, hooked the keys onto the hook, and carefully threaded the shaky bamboo stick through the probably 7 or 8 foot journey back to the kitchen window, and finally deposited the keys safely into my left hand.

That was a great feeling of relief and satisfaction, one of the best I’ve ever had, when those keys landed safely in my hand. I remember instantly having the thought, “I hope everyone can experience this feeling”. The whole thing felt surreal, like an adventure TV show.

The remainder of my weeks on the lake were magical and mystical too.

Fresh off the retreat afterglow, I stuck to my daily practice, handed flowers to strangers, interwove work with spontaneous swims, cliff-jumps, boat rides to other villages around the lake (Santa Cruz la Laguna was a favorite), meandering barefoot walks, cheap/delicious/healthy food, occasional hand rolled cigarettes, making friends with locals and travelers, yoga classes…

The night before my flight back to New York was such a special day. Suitcase full of gifts for friends and family back home, eyes holding back tears, I walked the streets of San Marcos.

And what I found as I walked those streets one last time was…

Friendship. Togetherness. Easeful openness. Love. Humanity. Home.

You see, in a village so small, it’s not long before you start getting to know… everybody.

My eyes get watery eyed, as they look into the distance and the memories come flooding in, when I think of my special time in San Marcos.

Until my next time on the Lake,
George Poulos