Antigua Caught Me By Surprise

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June 7—18, 2022

The transition from smooth, paved roads to cobble-stoned streets and low-hanging colonial buildings occurred almost as soon as the van I’d been riding in from Guatemala City had crossed within Antigua’s city limits. I didn’t even have to ask the driver if we’d arrived. I felt it instead.

A few riders in the car and I were excitedly sharing our first impressions between eager sips of the new surroundings through the window - the volcano views were striking and the city streets were reminiscent, for a few of us at least, of San Cristobal de las Casas in Mexico. I couldn’t wipe the smile off my face as we bumpily rolled along, dropping each passenger off at their hostel or hotel in town.

Once settled into my own humble abode at Posada Maya on the edges of town, it was time to explore my new surroundings on foot. I targeted the central plaza, or the Plaza Mayor as it’s called, as I imagined it was likely a good spot to get a feel for the city’s energy. I also knew I’d probably find an ATM there to load my wallet up with Quetzales, the local currency in Guatemala.

Sure enough, the plaza was abuzz when I arrived. There were ice cream carts on every corner, a beautiful fountain anchoring the plaza’s center, and magnificent governmental buildings skirting the edges with their pedestrian portales offering some shelter from the rain that seemed imminent. I did a lap, stopping to take photos of whatever happened to catch my eye, the row of birds of paradise against the white-washed cathedral being one.

From the plaza, I made my way to the famous Santa Catalina Arch that, on a clear day (and this was not), perfectly frames Volcan Agua in the distance. Seeing the arch, for whatever reason, triggered that now very familiar sense of inner joy that just floods my entire system, the one I’ve felt before shortly after arriving to places like Cusco, Cartagena, and Oaxaca. This is what I live for, experiencing new sights and scenes and cultures, and here I am getting to do it once again.

Continuing my stroll around town, I stumbled across a place called La Casa de las Sopas that fit the bill perfectly for an early dinner. It looked local enough and had a menu of various Guatemalan soups in what had the air of a hole-in-the-wall eatery stuck in time. I went with something called hilachas, a shredded beef stew made with a base of tomato sauce and various spices. It arrived with a scoop of white rice and avocado garnish alongside a still steaming basket of tortillas hidden under the folds of a gorgeous textile cloth.

This was Day 1 in Antigua. What followed over the next 13 days was beyond my wildest imagination. After one night of travel day recuperation at Posada Maya, I moved over to a hostel called Yellow House, my preferred way to stay when traveling solo for the sheer social opportunities that are almost guaranteed.

At Yellow House, I met my dormmates, a girl named Melissa from Montana who had made the most of a few days break from PT school to squeeze in a two-week trip to El Salvador and Guatemala and a guy named Alex from Toronto who has been traveling the length of Central America on his motorcycle. We hit it off right away and within a few hours, I was talked into booking the 2-day hike up Acatenango, something Melissa was thinking of doing and something Alex had just returned from, his sleepy eyes and still wet backpack’s contents giving away more clues than his words about what exactly this hike might entail.

The hostel itself was cozy, with a rooftop terrace that showcased the frequent smokestack coming out of Volcan Fuego nearby and a multi-course breakfast that included eggs made-to-order, beans, potatoes tossed with red pepper, roasted tomatoes dripping with olive oil and herbs, and usually french toast or tamales. That terrace became more than my volcano-viewing and breakfast headquarters. It was my “home office” over the course of those next three days at Yellow House. Or at least when I wasn’t busy checking out all of the cafes in town and falling in love with the flavor of Guatemalan coffee.

This became my daily flow at Yellow House: wake up, join the other other hostel guests for breakfast on the terrace, follow that up with some journaling, then maybe a morning outing in town, then lunch, followed by an afternoon at a different cafe than the day before to get some work done, then dinner at whatever place caught my eye that day, and socializing with my dormmates until bedtime.

By the end of my second day at Yellow House, I’d decided I was for sure going to do the Acatenango hike. I booked it for that weekend and, in retrospect am so glad I did. Had I gone with Melissa on the Thursday departure, I’d have dealt with a whole lot more rain and clouds than I did, plus I wouldn’t have had her post-hike advice on what to pack and expect for my own experience, something she spilled with me the night before my hike over tacos and cimarronas (soda water with lime and salt) at a really great spot called La Taquiza Antigua.

Saturday morning came, and ready or not, it was time for my Acatenango experience. I was fully prepared for a rainy and bone-chilling two days on the side of a cloudy volcano, extra pairs of clothes, a poncho I had just bought, and far too many extra socks, in my pack. I can’t say I was thrilled for the discomfort I’d signed up for, but there was no backing out now. I’d also made friends with another girl in my room named Emily from England who happened to be on the same tour as me. We were in it together, come what may.

The van arrived at 9am and we were off and bumping down the cobble-stoned streets, picking up the rest of our group of 13. We made one stop en route to pick up the extra coats, gloves, and hats the tour company was providing us, items that looked like a collection from lost and found. Of the motley mix of pre-loved coats, I grabbed the fluffiest, even though it was made for someone ten sizes bigger than me.

At the trailhead, everyone in the group very wisely rented a walking stick for 5 Quetzales, a game-changer and we didn’t even know it at the time. The ascent was pure vertical for four hours straight, not a single downhill and only a few stretches of semi-flat ground. We took plenty of breaks along the way thank goodness, including one to eat our lunch of fried chicken, rice, a roll, and salad.

By the time we reached basecamp, we were all thoroughly wiped. We claimed our sleeping bags in the tarp tent. I somehow snagged the warmest spot, right in the middle of a row of five. Our guides went off to seek out some dry wood for a fire, while we split off into groups and chatted until nightfall.

Almost on queue, Volcan Fuego began erupting every 10-20 minutes or so, getting increasingly more powerful each time. And now that it was dark, the firey red hues of the lava and rocks it was hurling into the air and down its slopes were visible. It was truly impressive and somewhat concerning given how close we were to it.

At 9pm, nearly everyone in camp decided to do an optional additional hike to a ridge that was even closer to the erupting volcano, a three-hour commitment on steep terrain in the pitch black. I was on the fence whether I’d go or not, as I knew there was a sunrise hike still yet to do and my body was already sore from the ascent to basecamp. At the last second, I joined the hike, feeding over my 200 Quetzales to the guides and borrowing Emily’s headlamp.

We climbed through the dark, every now and then stopping to admire yet another earth-shaking eruption. As we hiked out, we met many groups who were on their way back from the ridge. Despite them telling us there was zero visibility up there, we trudged on anyway.

Sure enough, we made it to the below freezing and windy ridge only to find ourselves in a cloud. The hike to it wasn’t easy, so we all bundled up and gave it a good half hour on the ridgetop, hoping the clouds might clear. They didn’t. It was certainly disheartening. We were all exhausted and didn’t need that extra and fruitless climb, but at the same time there was always a chance it was going to be worth it. We had to try.

As soon as we got back to basecamp, we all hit the pillow, knowing a 4 am wake up for the sunrise hike was just four hours away. Though warm, I couldn’t sleep very well. I tossed and turned all night and could hear the frighteningly loud eruptions from Fuego the entire time.

When the guides did poke their head into our tent at 4am, like I zombie I got up and joined the others for the hike. I went to sleep in my hiking clothes from the day before, too exhausted to change clothes in the dark. What I wasn’t expecting was how difficult this sunrise climb was going to be. The trail was soft, sandy, and incredibly steep. The combination of sore muscles, altitude, and no sleep didn’t result in the most pleasant version of me up the mountain. I almost quit and turned back multiple times.

I’m glad I didn’t, because the views at the top of Acatenango were some of the most spectacular of the entire weekend. Seeing the sunrise as it painted the clouds a beautiful pink and orange hue while the volcanoes stood in an ethereal shadow, just an outline in the scene, save for Fuego that kept periodically erupting. It was life-giving.

On the way back down, something inside of me kicked in, a new well of energy, or maybe just a sense of achievement. This was a lot on the body, but so worth it, and I’d accepted every single challenge thrown my way. I was proud of myself and I felt well rewarded by the views I’d seen. The only thing left was the long and knee-breaking descent back down the mountain.

As soon as we made it down the mountain and back to Antigua, it all caught up to me, the lack of sleep, the body aches. My room at Yellow House wasn’t yet ready for me to check in, so I bee-lined it for the hammock on the terrace and cat napped until it was a few hours later. I went out for one meal and then returned to bed for the rest of the evening. I was so tired, I didn’t even hear my dormmates coming and going from the room that whole evening.

The next day (Monday), I moved to a hostel next door to Yellow House called Maya Papaya. As soon as I got the grand tour, I was thoroughly impressed with the various spaces to hang out, cook, watch a movie, etc. They even told me there would be a coffee and cookies hour at 3pm everyday. I had two nights here, but wished I had more.

In those 48 hours of staying at Maya Papaya, I met yet more like-minded travelers from all over the world. A funny theme kept popping up, and has continued to pop up as I travel through Guatemala is that a lot of people I’m meeting have recently quit their jobs to travel or to change course in life. I met a former teacher who quit to become a computer programmer and finally learn some Spanish. I met a photographer who was told by his company in the Netherlands that he could either come back to the office or be let go, so he quit instead. It was nice to see so many taking the reigns on their life and not settling, despite not necessarily knowing how it all might come together. Been there!

On Tuesday, I went on a free walking tour around Antigua with a guy named Pablo, the sweetest soul. It unfortunately rained on us the entire time, but I got a good introduction to the history and details of Antiguan architecture and finally learned why there were so many abandoned and destroyed churches all over town - one too many earthquakes.

That afternoon I also had a coffee meeting with Chelsea of Heart of Travel at Artista de Cafe. We’d been connected through a friend from Oaxaca (thanks Kay!). I was hoping to do some freelance writing for her while I’m here, but shortly after sitting down with her, the idea was proposed to potentially join the Heart of Travel team as a writer and tour leader. We’ll see what happens with that!

On Wednesday, I checked out of Maya Papaya and moved to their sister hostel called Ojala. It was more like a luxurious boutique hotel than any hostel I’d ever seen or stayed at before, and after my thoroughly satisfying stay at Maya Papaya I was a little bitter about how much less social it seemed.

I spent the morning working in Ojala’s gorgeous and gardened courtyard, grabbed lunch at Amanecer Juice Bar, and then joined up with Pablo, the guide from the free walking tour, yet again, but this time for a free craft village tour. We boarded a chicken bus for San Juan del Obispo to go visit a 100-year-old chocolate shop as well as a winery that makes non-alcoholic fermented fruit and herb-infused drinks that are known to have healing properties.

After San Juan del Obispo, we flagged down one more chicken bus to visit the town of San Pedro Las Huertas where I got to observe traditional life in the villages around Antigua and explore a jade museum. It was a fun afternoon in good company. Back at Ojala, I churned out some more work until dinner time.

I already had a spot picked out for dinner: Antigua Brewing Company. What I didn’t know was who I’d meet or the twist my evening was about to take.

To be continued…

If you’re not already, you can follow my adventure in real time on Instagram @nomapsorfoottracks.