I’d come to Antigua (the city in Guatemala, not the Caribbean island) because my 6 month visa for Mexico was up, so I’d need to leave the country for at least a few days before I’d be allowed back in. On paper, Antigua seemed like the perfect place to spend that time, mainly because it was close to the Acatenango Volcano.
I’d heard about Acatenango from so many people. It’s one of the best volcanoes to hike because it gives you a perfect view of its neighbour, Fuego, which is constantly erupting – something I desperately wanted to see with my own eyes. I also wanted to hike Pacaya, another volcano where you can roast marshmallows over a volcanic steam vent – totally a touristy thing, but totally something I still wanted to experience.
So I decided I’d spend almost a month in Antigua – which would give me time to hike both volcanoes as well as do some more exploring and hopefully learn about local Mayan culture. I’d planned to work extra hours the first few weeks, then take my last week off and spend it at Lake Atitlan, where I’d switch off from the outside world, read a bunch of books, and spend a long time swimming.
It’d be a nice, quiet month, I thought. I planned to make writing my novel a priority, and decided I’d spend my evenings after work going to various cafes and writing from there. And hopefully I’d get to know lots of locals and learn more about Mayan culture, and maybe even take some textiles classes.
Yea…that’s not how things happened.
Part 1: In which I had the worst sleep of my life, was shocked by the price of yoghurt, and wondered if I should give up on trying to write a novel
You can read a lot about a place – and I’d read a lot about Antigua – but even if you think you know what it’s like, nothing really prepares you for what it’s actually like.
Here’s the thing nobody mentioned: Antigua is full of people from the United States. The locals have been priced out almost completely. You’ll see locals there, but mostly as employees in the stores and other businesses. Almost all of them have to bus in from 30-60min away, and bus right out as soon as they’re done with work.
In fact, if you didn’t know where you were, you might not realise you were in Guatemala. On the streets, most of the people walking around were either US immigrants or foreign tourists, usually really well dressed. It made me super uncomfortable because it felt like the actual Guatemalans were here just to serve the foreigners. It didn’t feel like their town. There was no graffiti, no activism, no messiness in general. The streets were quiet – no dancing in the parks here – with hardly any street food. Don’t get me wrong, it was pretty – full of historical buildings, both colonial and baroque in architecture, arranged in a perfect grid and connected by charming cobblestone streets. It just felt a little soulless.
Besides, Antigua is expensive. I went to the supermarket and picked up a tub of Greek yoghurt before putting it down again when I realised the price was equivalent to AU$9. I very quickly gave up on the idea of sitting and writing at cafes when I realised how much that was going to cost me.
Instead I decided to try writing from my AirBnB. It had a gorgeous inner courtyard with a lush garden, and an excitable Scottish terrier, Toby, who spent a lot of time curled up by my side. The host, Blake, cooked us large breakfasts every morning with homemade banana bread and coffee accompanying dishes like an egg and potato breakfast scramble garnished with freshly picked herbs from the garden.
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But it had its downsides. In the evenings I’d go to use the shared shower and the water would be piercingly cold. After a few days I learned that there was a special trick to it: there was only one tap, but you had to turn it open the whole way, wait a while, and then turn it down, and that would turn the hot water on. But even when I did that, the water would only get lukewarm, not actually hot, and the drain was clogged so my cold/lukewarm shower would also be flooding. Not so much fun.
And my room, which had large, translucent windows that filled it so prettily with sunlight during the day, had no curtains or blinds to block out the light during the nights. My walls were paper thin so that I could hear almost every conversation other guests had in the courtyard, as well as every loud bus and truck that went past the main road outside.
But by far the worst thing was the 3 bronze church bells from the Iglesia de San Francisco, right across the street from us. Their loud peals would wake me up every morning at 6am, and occasionally also at 4am. On a few occasions the bells would also ring at 12am and 2am. Each time they’d ring again and again, averaging something like 13 peals of the bell. The first time I heard them I thought it was a fire alarm because it was so loud and clanging and repetitive.
It ruined my sleep. Yes, theoretically I could have worn an eye mask and ear plugs, but I have sensitive ears and both eye masks and ear plugs cause me so much discomfort that I never manage to sleep with them on.
Forget writing a novel. Forget getting much of anything done, really. I was so tired all the time. I had a few hours in the day in which I could be productive, and I had to use them for work. The rest of the day I could barely keep my eyes open. I wasn’t great at talking to people either, because I could barely concentrate and I’ll talk about was how much I hated church bells. I was grumpy and exhausted and lonely, and I felt terrible about myself because I hadn’t managed to get any writing done – or much of anything else that I’d wanted to do. It sucked.
Part 2: In which I make a friend, join a gym, and hike up a volcano
Anything becomes more bearable if you have a friend to help you through it. And in my second week in Antigua, I made one – Suzanne, another guest at my AirBnB.
My sleep was still awful. I still felt terrible for not managing to write anything. But now I had someone who I clicked with, and that brightened my mood. We’d drink wine and get dinner together and talk about feminism and Mayan beliefs (which Suzanne, who works for a not-for-profit that operates in Guatemala, knew a lot about).
I’d also joined a gym, La Fabrica, where I got discounted membership because they had a deal with my co-working space, Impact Hub. At first it was hard to get myself to go to the gym because I was so tired, but after I managed to drag myself there a few times, the endorphins made it easier. La Fabrica was probably my favorite thing in Antigua, actually. The trainers there were so friendly, and would come around and say hello and kiss you on the cheeks and ask you how you’d been. The general vibe of the place was so welcoming and accepting and just fun. And going to the gym made me feel like I had a little more energy and a little more motivation.
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So, feeling a little better, I made more of an effort with Antigua. One morning I woke up early and ran to Cerro de la Cruz, a lookout point from which you get a great view of the city and of the Agua and Fuego volcanoes rising up behind it. It was a bit tenuous running on the cobblestones, but everything was so peaceful at that hour, and the only other people around were other runners.
I went for a bunch of other runs while I was there, and each time I’d discover something different and interesting. Running is such a great way to explore a city because everything feels close by and small and easy to get to. My favourite run was to the Convento la Recoleccion. There were no signs explaining its history, but it was a large set of ruins without any barriers, which you could walk through and climb all over.
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Another day I walked over to Caoba farms – which I actually regretted doing because it was so hot and dusty and there was no shade for a lot of the way there. I definitely should have gotten an Uber. But once I managed the trek there, I felt relaxed and inspired enough to sit down with a coffee and some farm-to-table baba ganoush and actually get some writing done.
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I did a cooking class at La Tortilla, where I learned to make Pepian, the Guatemalan national dish, and ran into Diego, a friend of Amy’s who I’d hung out with back in CDMX. He and his girlfriend Katherine were here doing Workaway, which was how he ended up being the translator at my cooking class. I did the class with two French girls and a couple of glasses of wine, and got to take so much food home with me that I was set for my next 3 meals. Unfortunately, I also cut my left pinkie finger right at the tip, quite deeply, while chopping carrots. I wasn’t sure what was worse – the pain (it stung quite strongly), or the embarrassment.
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And of course, I did Acatenango. It was…. not as amazing as I’d hoped. I went with Wicho & Charlie’s and didn’t tell them about all the food I couldn’t eat, so I ended up having to skip the packed lunch for fear it would make me run to the toilet – of which there were none along the hike. And then when we finally got to base camp, the fog rolled in and completely blocked out Fuego. The weather was so bad that they wouldn’t even let us walk to Fuego for safety reasons.
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We huddled around the fire at base camp until late in the night, determined to keep an eye on Fuego and hoping that the weather might clear up at some point. It didn’t, but every now and then, only for about 30 seconds at a time, the clouds would move away from Fuego at the same time it was erupting, and we managed to see it a full handful of times.
The next morning, the guides told us there was no point summiting Acatenango, but some of the guys in my group insisted. I wasn’t keen on going since the guides said we wouldn’t see anything, but I cave easily when faced with enough peer pressure, so when the other guys kept telling me I should go, I eventually gave up and went along. And I’m so glad I did because that final hike was so painful and cold and hard, but once we got to the summit, it was magical. We got a great view of Fuego and the sunrise was like something out of a painting, streaks of purple and pink filling the sky and then slowly brightening to blue.
If you decide to do Acatenango, I’d recommend going with OX instead of Wicho & Charlie’s. Wicho & Charlies had no toilets, which would have been fine if the area around base camp was wooded, but it wasn’t – there were just campsites and trails, and no designated area for ‘taking care of business’ – so you were basically going out in the open and hoping nobody looked your way. They also split our group in half at base camp, and wouldn’t let us mix – which sucked when we’d spent all day hiking together. The other group weren’t even allowed to summit. One of my AirBnB-mates went with OX and he said it was much better (and that their campsite did have toilets).
Part 3: In which I moved to a new AirBnB, ate some really good food, and finally felt settled
I’d booked my first AirBnB for only 2 weeks, which turned out to be such a blessing. Moving between AirBnBs is annoying, but my new AirBnB was literally around the corner from my gym and coworking space, so was far more convenient.
It was also on a quiet back street, far away from any churches, and had thick curtains on the windows – so I finally had a good sleep. And the showers had properly hot water.
This was one of those AirBnBs that had lots of guests. So was my first one, really, but that one had mostly older guests, and most of them kept to themselves. Here, everyone seemed to be solo travellers, so it was far more social and welcoming. You could always find someone to go for dinner with (or dancing with, on weekends). ‘Home life’, such as it was, was looking up.
So was ‘work life’. My coworking space, Impact Hub, had been very full when I started, but nobody seemed to talk to each other. But now, because of Coronavirus concerns (Coronavirus still hadn’t come to Guatemala, but people were worried and various countries were telling their citizens to return home), heaps of the other coworkers had left. With fewer people, everyone started talking more (and more of the good seats became available). One of the things I particularly enjoyed was eating paches on Thursdays, which a local woman would cook and sell for 5Q a piece. Paches are a local Guatemalan food – they’re like tamales but instead of masa, they use potato.
In fact, I was enjoying the food in general. I’d found this charming little Guatemalan owned French restaurant, Le Comedor, and went there repeatedly. I loved the atmosphere – polished wooden tables in a little room with red walls covered in art, soft cafe music playing in the background, and only 7 things on the menu. I’d feel so creative there, and would while away the time before and after my meal writing in my notebook. They were only open from 12-4 each arvo, but their food was almost fine-dining quality, and only about $12AUD – or $15AUD if you got dessert (which I usually did).
Then in the evenings, I’d usually go to Rincon Tipico, this little local place where all the meals were around $7-$8AUD. This place was famous for its chicken, which everyone raved about. I’m not a huge fan of roast chicken (except for the skin, which I love) because I often find it a bit plain, and sometimes a little dry, but I agreed to go there with two of my AirBnB-mates and give it a chance. The chicken’s cooked on a spit with some really nice seasoning, and underneath are a pile of potatoes that get cooked in the chicken drippings. They serve you the chicken and potatoes with some coleslaw and oh my, all of it is wonderful. I don’t know what their secret is, but I was hooked and went back there almost every day.
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So life was good, finally. I was getting enough sleep, eating good food, enjoying being at work and at home. I still didn’t love Antigua the way I loved all the places I’d visited in Mexico, but I was starting to find pockets of it that were pretty cool – like Rainbow Cafe. I went to an open mic night there which was so chilled and so much fun. A lot of people would join in with whoever was performing – just picking up their instruments and playing along – and, like a lot of other audience members, I enjoyed singing along loudly to every song.
Part 4: In which things started to get real
But just as I was starting to feel settled and comfortable, everything changed – because of the Coronavirus.
Up till this point, the Coronavirus wasn’t a problem that directly affected me. It hadn’t yet reached Mexico when I’d been there, and it still hadn’t reached Guatemala. But as the first case of Coronavirus was detected in Guatemala, the government acted quickly. The trek I’d been meant to go on to the Pacaya volcano? Cancelled. There was a rave I was meant to go to as well – also cancelled. In fact, all public gatherings and events were cancelled.
Almost overnight, Antigua turned into a bit of a ghost town. Streets were empty. Most locals were wearing face masks. The AirBnB that I was meant to stay in after Lake Atitlan cancelled my booking. Things were suddenly tense and strange. I thought about leaving early, and tried to change my flight, but all the earlier flights with my carrier were sold out.
I figured my flight was just a week away anyway. Surely nothing big would change in that time. And I still really wanted to have that relaxing week at Lake Atitlan.
It didn’t happen. 3 days after that first Coronavirus case was detected, the government closed the borders – which included closing the airports – and implemented a bunch of other strict measures. I managed to get out – with a fair deal of stress and trouble – and made my way through Mexico, into the US, and hightailed it back to Australia. But I’ll write all about that in my next blog post.
I still don’t know how I feel about Antigua. Did I love it? Absolutely not. But I didn’t hate it either. I think it just wasn’t the kind of experience I was after on this trip. It’s a great place to visit on a vacation if you just want to have fun. It’s a less great place to visit if you want to immerse yourself in Guatemalan culture and get to know the locals.
I am glad I went there, but if I could do it over I’d spent less time in Antigua, and go to Lake Atitlan instead. But I can’t do it over, and I’m glad that I was fortunate enough to visit and have all the experiences I had – and that when the Coronavirus situation got serious, I was able to get out and come back home safely. At the very least, I can say that it was definitely an interesting experience.
The Way of the Potato 