Antigua - Globeblogging

An anxious day at Lake Atitlan

Day 10; A long bus ride to Lake Atitlan

I’m awake well before my alarm. Since tossing and turning doesn’t seem conducive to getting back to sleep I figure I’ll just get up.

When I emerge from the room there is a line of people going into the dining room for breakfast. I know I have to pay for breakfast here but otherwise have no clue whats going on. I ask a girl standing in line what the arrangements for breakfast are, she just shrugs and says no idea. So I join the end of the line and dish myself up some scrambled eggs from the waiting hot tray. With no seats in the room I take my plate and sit on the couch outside. Before too long one of the staff is pointing and gesturing me back into the room while talking in Spanish.

In the dining room I am shown to a seat that’s been stuck at the end of a long table. There is no one in my group here. No one speaks to me and I feel decidedly out of place. Glancing around the room most of them appear to be wearing the same shirt. It dawns on me I appear to have crashed some other groups breakfast. This is confirmed when I walk past the reception desk and the attendant asks me if I am with Intrepid. He tells me my group doesn’t have breakfast included and asks me to pay. I hand over my $6 US (so wasn’t worth it) and ask what time Fernando’s opens, he tells me 7am.

Its 6.55am so I set off down the street and grab two takeaway coffees. It’s Ruth’s birthday but I cant find any pastry shops open to get her something tasty. A coffee will have to do.

We’re outside waiting for our shuttle pickup to Atitlan before 8am as instructed. But…Guatemalan time. By the time 8.45 rolled around I was uneasy and ready to bail on the whole idea. I had no sooner turned to Ruth and said ‘at what point do we give up and go do something else for the day’ than the shuttle van bumped along around the corner.

Given my propensity for motion sickness I always sit as close to the front as I can so I nab the first available seat. It is more like three quarters of a seat, and located next to a couple who feel a periodic urge to noisily show their affections for each other. Ruth is somewhere up the back deep in boisterous conversation with some fellow travelers of various accents. It seems people mostly go to Lake Atitlan to spend a few days. The father of one guy on the bus has a house there, so he is descending with a few people he met at a hostel. I wonder about the wisdom of this venture in a day, especially with our tour departing Antigua at 4am the following morning. That does nothing to help my unease.

With nothing to do except observe the countryside and the driver and listen to grabs of conversation from the back it is a very long two hour trip.

Our first glimpses of Lake Atitlan come as the van comes around a corner and commences a winding journey to the bottom. Crystal clear it reflects the mountains positioned around it to the sky, each bend bringing it back into view as we wind lower down the mountain towards the town of Panajachel. The van weaves and turns through crowded streets lined with market stalls filled with local wares. Later inspection reveals them to be more of the same, just stamped with the name of a different town. One of the Spanish speaking passengers tells Ruth that the driver says our pickup point is a travel agency beginning with X. I vaguely remember passing it.

When the van door opens just after 11am a number of people are crowding the door. I step through and stand off to the side to wait for Ruth. She gets off the bus and is immediately engaged in conversation with one of the men who was waiting at the door. She walks off beside him. He tells her, and me following behind, that this is the pickup point for the shuttle back to Antigua. He leads us through streets down to the water. I follow a couple of metres behind, wondering why Ruth is going with this guy and who he is. She explained later that she hadn’t seen him waiting at the van door and had thought he was a fellow passenger being helpful.

The whole confusion was largely our own creation. Unlike most of the other things we had planned and done, we are woefully and inadequately prepared for this adventure to Atitlan. Hence we were unprepared with the knowledge needed to prevent being taken advantage of. After our experience with organised tours in Mexico City we had declined the organised tour which departed Antigua at 5.30am in favour of taking the shuttle and doing our own thing. Hindsight is such a wonderful thing.

So this guy starts talking about us getting on his boat. I stop him with ‘hang on a second, who are you?’ He explains he is a local guide and comprehension dawns – he’s rustling up business for himself. So we tell him which villages we are interested in going to. He explains the times involved in journeys across the lake and says he’ll take us for one hundred. I’m not entirely comfortable with the idea but we’ve come here to experience the area so we agree and follow him to his boat. Just as we are about to hop on I ask him to clarify which currency the price is in. Turns out its $100 US, which neither Ruth or I have. We tell him we don’t have that money and leave.

It’s not long before another boat owner is chasing us down to get our business. Again he quotes an extortionate price to the islands we want to visit. He quotes a reduced amount of $75 US to go to the villages that would have been included in the tour if we’d taken it. He also tells us we’ve missed the public boat. So if we want to do anything on the lake hiring a boat seems to be our only option.

I tell him we need to discuss it and we walk away. We have been walking only a few moments when he catches us again. This time he offers to take the two of us for the $75, which he brings down even further to 500 Quetzals. I still feel uneasy and my mind is racing ahead to all of the things that can go wrong. But we haven’t come all this way on our last day in Antigua to do nothing either so Ruth and I exchange an uncertain glance, and we agree.

His name is Daniel and it is his boat. But he’s sending us off with his brother, who it transpires speaks not a word of English. Daniel asks for his payment. I am deeply mistrustful so tell him we will pay half now and half when we are safely returned to the port. He doesn’t like it much, but he agrees and Ruth hands him 300 Quetzals. There is no way I am going to end up stranded on the other side of the lake with them demanding more money to take me back across. This is the best strategy I could come up with.

**The colourful streets of Santa Catarina**

Now don’t get me wrong, Lake Atitlan and its surrounds are very pretty. Had I had the luxury of more time and better preparation my experience would probably have been a different one. The first town he took us to was Santa Catarina, which pretty enough given its bright colours and designs painted all over the buildings. We took a wander through an artists gallery and strolled along the stalls selling the same tourist stuff we’d seen everywhere else, despite the women sitting on the ground weaving. The patterns used are largely the same it seems. Then our allotted 25 minutes was up (that one had been hard to convey, I had only learned the numbers to twenty. I eventually typed the number in my phone calculator.) and then we were off to the next one.

The town around the next corner, San Antonio Palopo, was lacking the colour, and in some cases structural integrity of those in Santa Catarina. They appear more like the temporary villages seen in Africa erected with corrugated iron and whatever materials happen to be available. We are not enthused about being here and I think I manage to agree with our driver we will be back in 15 minutes. As we disembark the boat a pre-teen boy is chattering away at us. But he disappears when he realises we aren’t going to pay him to take us anywhere. Probably a deal struck with the local boat owners. I survey the nearby water to satisfy myself there are other boat options available should we be abandoned here.

**Local women washing clothes in the lake**

We wander up the street and take some photos of the lake. 15 minutes later we’re waiting on the dock to leave again. Our driver manages to say ‘ceramic factory’ and points up the hill. This rings a bell, I remember hearing there was a ceramics factory somewhere on the lake. I have no intention of lugging ceramics across four countries and I want to be back to the town where our bus back to Antigua departs. ‘Panajachel’ I say and he points some more. ‘Panajachel’ I say again and he eventually nods and says ‘ok’

All up we’ve paid about $68 US for the two of us to have a boat ride on Lake Atitlan for approximately 90 minutes with someone who couldn’t tell us anything about where we were. We’ve handed over all the Quetzals the both of us have. It probably wasn’t all that bad, but we both feel ripped off by the experience. Still, we’re on dry land again and in the town where the shuttle picks us up.

All I want to do by this time is have a meal and a cocktail or three. We end up at hotel Posado de Don Rodrigo, which is the pickup point according to our ticket. There is quite a pleasant view over Lake Atitlan and we kill most of the time until the shuttle there. We do attempt to find the travel agency the first driver said was the pickup point to no avail. A woman with excellent English at another agency confirmed we should wait at the place stated on our ticket and that we should be there early because they wouldn’t wait for us.

The shuttle arrived early with the driver asking for me by name. The most relaxed I felt all day was taking my seat on that bus! Due to traffic we had a slightly longer trip home. We arrived, exhausted, just before 7pm with the prospect of repacking ahead of us.

My advice if you intend to visit Lake Atitlan is to do your research and be prepared. If you’re only thinking about a day trip you’re probably better off on the organised tour.

You can find out more about things to do in Lake Atitlan and Antigua here.

You can find some options for booking a more organised Atitlan experience with some tours below. You can also read about my experience hiking Volcan Pacaya.

From bean to cup; a story of a coffee bean

Day 9: Filadelfia coffee plantation

I am thankful for investing time into packing my bags last night, this morning all that remains is my pyjamas, toiletries and the contents of the rooms lockbox which will go in my small pack anyway.

Ruth still isn’t well poor thing, so I enjoy the final included breakfast alone. We join our Intrepid tour this evening so we will be leaving the comforts of Hotel Candelaria for a hotel in town. I haven’t worked out how we’re getting there yet.

I set off early on the direct route into town, noting the turn I had missed the previous day, with the intention of finalising our tickets for our trip to Lake Atitlan tomorrow and booking a chocolate workshop for the afternoon. However all I actually have time to do is drop off laundry and finalise Atitlan, with a smidge of time left to pop by Fernando’s for a coffee before digging out my map to locate the pickup point for the coffee tour.

Naturally I needn’t have worried, as with every other pickup this trip they run on their own schedule of time and are twenty-five minutes late. Checkout is 1pm and the travel agency told me the coffee tour is an hour so I’m not concerned.

Now for anyone who doesn’t know me, it is probably pretty evident by now that I love my coffee. For anyone who missed the memo let me hold up a neon sign for you.

I love coffee!

I’m a two cup per day minimum, more if I’m not working or actually need to sleep at a sensible time. My morning doesn’t begin without coffee and I don’t drink the crap stuff. Unless I am desperate and there is nothing else available. Consuming coffee is the service I do everyone around me.

Hence it’s no real surprise that given the chance I want to go to a coffee plantation.

But enough about me…

A coffee journey

A vehicle something like an African safari bus finally arrives to collect me and proceeds to bump along the Antiguan streets. It is a short trip to the coffee plantation in the next town. We soon pull up to the entrance of a grand sprawling estate that resembles something straight out of a movie. We trundle in through the gates and along the dirt driveway, stopping in front of a building housing a restaurant, gift shop and reception where a few of the passengers from my bus are handing over money. An attendant fastens a band around my wrist when I show my ticket. A man who turns out to be our guide ushers us back onto the bus, which he drives along the dirt roads of the property. We climb down when we stop in front of large bushes weighed down with berries.

Where does coffee come from?

Coffee beans are found within the berries of certain species of the Coffea plant, native to the African continent. The finest quality of the species is Arabica, which originated in Ethiopia and is the species almost exclusively grown in Guatemala. Coffee is one of Guatemala’s primary exports and it is 9th in the world for exporting coffee. Coffee is grown across the majority of the country, and Antigua is probably the best known of Guatemala’s coffee growing regions.

Filadelfia coffee plantation grows three types of Arabica Coffee beans on an expansive property.

The life cycle of coffee

Picking coffee

The hero of our story begins life as a berry on the green Coffea bush, shaded by the branches of the Australian Native Grevillea tree. The large Grevillea trees stand between groups of the Arabica bushes, their shade protecting the berries from ripening too fast. Harvest runs from November to March, the berries turning a bright red upon ripening. It will take about five years to get a harvest from a bush. Every couple of weeks each section will be re-harvested to get newly ripened berries. Our guide tells us to each pick two red berries from the bushes nearby and I select the two reddest I can find. Our guide walks by our outstretched hands, inspecting our efforts seriously. He tells us we can all show up for work as pickers the next morning.

He demonstrates how to hold the berries in our fists and squeeze them against each other to pop the seed from the flesh of the berry. The berry juice runs across my palm as mine dutifully pop out of their fruity protection. He explains that the berries are always picked in the morning and de-husked the same afternoon, as the flesh will ferment the bean if it is left on. He tells us to put the seed in our mouths and I find it to be surprisingly sweet. This is the layer of membrane that sits over the coffee bean, which is hard between my teeth. Under the membrane is a husk that needs to dry before it can be removed. I am unable to scrape it off with my teeth or fingernail.

The berries are used for composting or making coffee jam. The dried membrane is broken up and used as a layer in the stables as an alternative to sawdust. On this plantation nothing is wasted.

We all discard our berries in the dirt of the grove. These ones will not finish life as a cup full of rich brown goodness but perhaps become more bushes themselves.

Washing and sorting coffee beans

Back at the buildings, one of them turns out to be full of machinery and contraptions. One of these sends the beans swirling through channels of water. The water separates the beans from the berry while sorting according to quality. The red berries, good and ripe, will sink to the bottom while the bad or unripe fruit will float. The floating berries are used for lower quality blends of coffee while the red will make the best.

The fruit of the berry is removed by pushing them through a screen, leaving the bean surrounded by the silver skin and the parchment.

Drying Coffee beans

Our hero then spends several days basking in the Guatemalan sun of the Filadelfia Plantation’s courtyard while he dries and staff lovingly rake the lines of beans to ensure they dry thoroughly. They need to be raked every six hours or so to ensure they dry evenly and do not grow mildew. Since it may take up to four weeks for the beans to dry to the required moisture level for the next stage, it is fortunate that harvest season is also the dry season. This is a critical stage of the process as it will effect the quality of the end product. Over dried beans will become brittle and will break in the next stage, while beans that are too moist will be prone to attack from bacteria.

Hulling the coffee beans

Once dry he will join his fellow beans in another machine that removes the last of the fruit from the bean. In the above picture some of the beans have broken free of their husks while drying. The hulling process will leave behind the green bean which is the final product that will get exported or sold to roasters. The farm can also roast their own beans, but only do this for local sale.

By the time we get to the tasting part of the tour it is almost 1. So much for an hour tour! The coffee must be pretty good though, I don’t drink my coffee black but this one was still drinkable.

If you are interested in a tour of Filadelfia Coffee Plantation these can be purchased at any of the number of tourist stands scattered throughout Antigua. As an alternative, Intrepid run a day tour that also incorporates visits to the local markets and some of the local sites. You can book here.

It was after 1.30 by the time I had briskly walked back to our hotel.

I found Ruth packed and ready. No one had told her to leave, and they didn’t seem at all fussed at the lateness when I went to settle the bill. The man at the front desk, who I assume was the owner/manager, asked if we had our transfer organised. I confessed, embarrassed, that we were moving to another hotel, explaining we were commencing an intrepid tour and our accommodation was included. He said he would be happy to take us there if we gave him a moment to get someone to cover him. The new hotel was across town, Ruth wasn’t 100% and we both had bags that weren’t going to be fun on a long walk. I didn’t know how we would get there yet, so I jumped at the generous offer.

He chatted with us on the way, telling us he lived out of town with his wife and daughters. The rent is too expensive for Guatemalans in Antigua, most of them live out of town and travel in. He dropped us at the door of our hotel. If you’re ever looking for a place in Antigua make sure you check out Hotel Candelaria!

I liked that our new hotel put food and water out for Antigua’s many stray dogs. And it was a short walk to Fernando’s. Still, I was glad we hadn’t spent our extra days there.

Ruth was feeling up to some activity so we head to Fernando’s for some lunch and stock up on chocolate and coffee. I am now carrying nearly two kilograms of roasted coffee beans in my pack for the rest of my trip. Not that I can actually make espresso with it when I get back until I’ve bought a new machine. I hope my bag will protect it from the heat and it survives the travels yet to come.

We then take a wander through town aiming for the chocolate museum, where the workshop we have now missed is in progress. Luckily I hadn’t booked the afternoon session, since I was still on a coffee tour. We sample some of the chocolate (not as good as Fernando’s in my opinion) and browse the artisan stands out the back. Most of it looks the same to me, but I do find a lovely soft scarf in my favourite colour that I have been keeping a watch for.

At 6.30 we take a seat in the area laid out for our introductory tour briefing. We are one of the first but one by one the chairs start to fill.

There are eleven of us all up. Mostly Australian, one older Swiss-German woman, one woman from France and an English woman. Of the Australians we are mostly teachers. Our guide is a Guatemalan woman. And there is a single, solitary man, although he doesn’t seem overly bothered by that fact!

After our briefing we head out for a group dinner and I see the first salsa dancing since leaving Mexico. I smile remembering my early days learning to dance listening to the lesson going on in the next room. As we leave to head back to our hotel I can see experienced dancers on the floor.

You can check out more tours and activities for Antigua below, including a couple of options for coffee plantation tours. You can also read about my experience hiking Volcan Pacaya and my visit to Lake Atitlan.

A Pacaya Volcano Tour; a Volcano Pacaya hike

Day 8; An Antigua Volcano Hike

There appear to be no discernible road rules on the cobblestone streets of Antigua. Or at least, none obvious to a foreigner such as myself. Right of way appears to be straight, at intersections vehicles seem to take a gap when it comes. The town is busy today. Cars queue to turn down streets and pedestrians wait for a pause to dart between them. They dodge the motorbikes, sometimes carrying three people, also seeking the gaps to weave between. Honking the horn appears to be the signal to indicate someone can go through.

The rides in cars and shuttles are equally hair raising. Few people seem to wear seatbelts, when they are even present to wear. You cant help thinking if there’s an accident you’ll be a goner. But I haven’t seen an accident yet. Despite the way they drive, the chaos seems to work for them.

I am on my own this morning. It is sadly Ruth’s turn to be unwell due to the dinner she had without me. She has gone back to the hotel to rest in the hope of being up to the Pacaya Volcano tour which we have booked for this afternoon.

I have also booked myself into a tour of a coffee plantation for tomorrow. The travel agent has given me the best map I’ve seen yet and I am miraculously able to find my way around with it. If you come to Antigua do yourself a favour and get one of these first up! I’ve actually been able to intentionally find the chocolate museum. This took me past the first actual bottle shop I’ve seen and a store selling soaps so divine they smell good enough to eat. I’ve bought a bottle of rose Moscato (since they don’t seem to do sparkling wines here) for this evenings volcano viewing and a couple of soaps, though I’m not sure whether these will be gifts or I’ll hold onto them. I find Central Plaza which Antigua’s streets are designed around.

I don’t have time for messing around finding something for lunch so I head back to familiar Fernando’s. While attempting to locate Ruth’s direct route back to the hotel I get lost, again. Not having the time to go wrong I backtracked and flagged down a motorcycle taxi, bumping and bouncing all the way back to the hotel. I arrived with 20 minutes to spare before the scheduled volcano pickup.

Ruth has been lying down all morning but valiantly rallies to come along. We are waiting out the front of our hotel as directed ten minutes ahead of schedule. Naturally the pickup is on Guatemalan time and well behind schedule. Given our experience with tour pickups in Mexico City I ring the agency to confirm the booking. The bus pulls up about two minutes later.

It’s not very full but as is often the case this is just one of the pickup buses and we have to change to a final one. The next is overfull and I end up on the dicky seat folded out from the second-last row. It is woefully lopsided and I spent the next hour and a half sitting at an awkward angle, trying to brace my body to stay as straight as possible. Naturally there are no seatbelts!

A Volcano Pacaya hike

When we get to the Pacaya volcano we pay another fifty Quetzals to enter the park, this goes towards maintenance of facilities. The Guatemalan government declared 5,489 acres National Park in 1963. While the trails in this part are safe, it is not permitted to traverse them without a guide. Horses stand around with men holding their heads, repeatedly offering us a ride up. It is fresh but not unpleasantly so, and the hike will keep us warm.

Ruth unfortunately has to turn back a short time into the climb, as despite her hopes she hadn’t really been any better. She had told me on the bus not to wait for her, so once I have managed to communicate with someone who tells me she is safe I push on.

The walk is three and a half kilometres each way. I’m no stranger to a challenging hike, and I train with seven kilometre runs, but this was a completely different matter entirely, which I can only put down to the altitude. We were only ascending three hundred metres from our starting point, but that was already 2300m above sea level!

I tried to break only when the guide stopped but as we got higher I had no choice but to stop more frequently just to catch my breath, my lungs heaving to get enough air into them to push my body on. There were spectacular photo opportunities for Agua volcano part way up. As we neared the top my breath fogged with the plunging temperature and I felt cold in my t-shirt. It was a huge relief to walk over the last rise and see the fences marking the perimeter of the top.

**Volcan Agua – this is my favourite photo of my whole trip!**

The top of Pacaya Volcano

Unfortunately, we were now in the clouds and couldn’t see a thing! And it was freezing cold! There was no evidence of the promised sunset. Check out this post catching the sunset and checking out Pacaya’s lava in clearer weather.

We were led down another hill to a jagged black landscape I have seen before, in New Zealand. Our guide tells us this is the lava flow from the 2014 eruption. The rocks are sharp, and shiny in places, and the group carefully clambers over it posing for photos.

We were led to a part of the lava flow where heat still rises from the ground, and offered sticks and marshmallows. I leapt at the chance for a sugar hit more than anything, not having had time for snacks beforehand, and not having anything in my bag. We all genuinely attempted it, rotating our sticks around the fissure but the best I achieved was a slightly gooey outer.

By this time the light was disappearing. I don’t see well at night and I hadn’t brought my glasses. I was anxious to start the climb down.

The journey does go quicker, but before too long I was forced to flick on the torchlight of my phone to light my way. Even in daylight care would have been required, as the ground slipped and dirt slid away from under our feet. The dark added a whole other degree of difficulty. I reflected that this was probably not the most sensible thing I had ever done. The whole way down I tried not to think about what might happen if I fell. A view of the lights of San Vicente glowing against the darkened sky rewarded us towards the bottom. Back at the bus I make sure I am on board in time to get a stable seat. Ruth has spent the duration huddled in the rangers room watching TV in Spanish.

Clearly, I made it in one piece, my legs shaking from the exertion and sweat pouring off me despite the cold. This was my second volcano hike, the first being Greece, and it was a dramatically different experience. I can honestly say it was one of the most physically challenging things I have ever put my body through. It was all I could do to muster the energy to pack when we got back to our hotel around 8pm. There was no chance Ruth and I would be drinking that wine!

Finding Fernando; the best coffee in Antigua Guatemala

Day 7: Antigua

Our first full day in Antigua brought us the chance to walk the streets in daylight and really see the detail of the town. And what a curious place it is.

There are stretches of stone walls, often coloured and broken only by carved wooden doors. The ornate doors conceal expansive interiors built around centre courtyards filled with greenery and water features. The street frontage gives no clues to the beauty protected within. Every window has bars on the outside. Some residents have made the bars decorative by hanging baskets of flowers, adding splashes of colour against the stones.

The cobblestone streets are incredibly rough, it would be asking for a broken ankle to attempt walking in heels. I am thankful for my comfy sneakers, though even they occasionally stumble. It’s a wonder cars have any suspension left, especially given the way some of them drive. There are fairly modern cars, motorbikes and motorised scooters. Older style open tray utes pass us filled with adult passengers casually leaning back against the cab.

Cobblestone streets on the outskirts of town

The town is designed in a grid around a central plaza. Within its immediate square all the streets running North to South have the same name as do those running East to West. Numbers differentiate the parallel streets, such as 3rd Avenida Norte. You would expect this design to make it easy to navigate. Instead it forms a maze within which it is incredibly easy to get completely twisted around. We walked the same street three times thinking we hadn’t been down there yet. Adding to the confusion, outside of the centre grid the streets do not conform to the design, making our hotel challenging to locate. Galileo’s offline map functionality has been a saviour. Searching for particular stores we discover the numbering of properties on the streets is consistently out by one from the online address. But we’ve thus far found everything we’ve looked for.

Periodically we come across tiny little general stores filled with merchandise of all descriptions. The seller is often sitting behind bars. We even pass a few stores with an armed guard posted out the front, cradling a shotgun of sorts while keeping a watchful eye on the street.

The town is full of ruins, seemingly the remnants of a time gone by. We later learn they were damaged by an earthquake and left in states of disrepair.

The coffee in Antigua is renowned. So it is unsurprising that it seems there are several coffee shops and cafes on every street. There is one I have read raved about in every review, a place called Fernando’s. I am determined to try the best in town, so we pass them all in favour of finding Fernando’s.

When we come upon it on the corner of two streets, the doors stand open inviting us within. We step up to the counter but instead a waiter with a bright smile ushers us through the store to tables in the centre courtyard. A waiter brings us menus in English and we excitedly order what will be our first Latte in a week. In a quaint touch the front page of the menu introduces Misha, the resident cat, as being the one to see to relieve any worries or stress. I spot her lounging on a chair in the sun. The waiter eating his breakfast nearby tells us she loves the attention from people and we should feel free to say hello.

An older gentleman comes over and greets us with a kiss on the cheek like old friends. This is Fernando. In perfect English he thanks us for visiting and hopes we enjoy it. We comment on Misha’s presence and he looks over at her with a fond smile, “she’s my boss” he says.

Our coffees arrive and Fernando bids us farewell to drink them, hoping we enjoy them.

I am taking a moment to pause for effect…

The coffee is out of this world, like seriously good. I tell Ruth I am taking some home and ask the breakfasting waiter which of the bags on sale I am drinking. He tells me it is their finest one, the bags sell for 75 Quetzals, which comes to just over $13 Australian for about 450g. He asks us where we are from and nods knowingly when we tell him, “you are coffee snobs in Australia” he grins. We order another coffee and he tells us it is his opinion that their chocolate is even better. An inspection of the store shelves reveal flavours of cinnamon, cardamon and coffee, and even lavender. We try some samples as we leave and I walk out with three blocks and a promise to see them tomorrow.

Restaurants are also plentiful, we’ll clearly have no shortage of choice for food. Hotels are another regular sight, the tourist industry in Antigua appears to be booming.

Tourist agents are another common sight, one had been helpful in pointing us to the laundry that morning. After our coffee fix at Fernando’s we returned there to enquire as to the tour options available. We book in to hike Volcan Pacayo tomorrow. I would have loved to do the Acatenango hike, but I discovered once we got here that it’s a tough overnight climb. We don’t have the gear for an overnight hike, and we can’t fit it into our time in Antigua. Hence we are making do with the half day Pacayo trip. I am adding Acatenango to my bucket list instead. Spending the night watching Fuegos erupt from the peak of Acatenango is raved about by all as an amazing experience.

We had passed a number of day-spas on our wanders through town, but we went in search of the one I found recommended online. They couldn’t fit us in together so I took the first session and Ruth the next one, and had a lovely relaxing massage. I can recommend Healing Hands; one hour will set you back 250 Quetzals, or about $43 Australian.

I have stupidly not put painkillers in the bag I am carrying and unfortunately the migraine I had been fighting all day would stay at bay no longer. I returned straight to the hotel to call it a night, leaving Ruth to her own devices after her massage. I’ve recovered somewhat by the time she returns, and bound up the stairs in the hope of seeing a Fuegos eruption. I have to wait for a while, but I am finally rewarded with the sight of glowing lava spilling down the volcano.

Antigua; Courtyards and Cobblestones

Day 6; Mexico City to Antigua, Guatemala

I am so terribly excited to get to Antigua. I picked our hotel specifically because you can see one of the volcanoes erupting from the rooftop terrace! We’ll be there for three nights, before we move to another hotel in Antigua for the start of the tour and another two nights. The hotel used by the tour had mixed reviews. I had elected to choose our own hotel for the additional nights. Besides…Volcanoes! And I hear the coffee is amazing!

But first…more flying!

Back to Mexico City airport

The hotel called a taxi for us, slightly more expensive than the one we’d taken there from the airport. We’d considered an Uber but ruled it out given all the ones we had taken had been small vehicles, and we weren’t confident of getting one with space for our luggage. The guaranteed larger vehicles cost more than a taxi.

Our transfer to the airport was smooth and we found our check in counter after a long walk through the airport terminal. The attendant asked for my immigration form, which I had been handed upon entry into Mexico. My heart accelerated as panic kicked in. I was certain it hadn’t been given back to me. I located it safely in my document wallet next to my passport where organised me had placed it.

After offloading the bags we continued through the terminal, stopping off to use a bathroom. Now I wouldn’t normally go into details of such ablutions, but what happened in that bathroom has scarred me for years to come.

There were two cubicles. A step elevated the toilet in the right cubicle from the floor. Bizarrely this was for disabled use. Go figure. I hung my bags on the hook on the back of the door. Ruth immediately left the other cubicle, saying ‘I think that one is blocked’ to someone.

The toilet bowls in this part of the world aren’t the same as in Australia, the bowl is more elongated and the water level is much higher.

So I heard a flush from the next cubicle, and the unmistakeable sound of water flowing into an already full bowl, and then running over. I looked down at a rapidly spreading pool of water flowing under the door between the cubicles, bringing with it human waste of various form. ‘Oh my god’ I uttered with revulsion, thankful for the step upon which my feet rested and the hook that held my bags.

The entire cubicle was flooded a short time later. My saving grace, and that of the people soon to share a plane with me, was it had not yet gone under the door. From my step I was able to stretch to get my bags and put them over my shoulders, open the door and leap over the water to the safety of the dry tiles beyond.

We fled.

The rest of the visit to Mexico airport was uneventful, with patchy wi-fi (for me anyway) we waited for our plane. There isn’t a lot of choice for airlines so we flew Interjet, a local Mexican airline. While it was certainly a no-frills flight, I found I had more space than I had on our American Airlines flight to Mexico.

First glimpses of Guatemala

With impressive efficiency we are walking out of Guatemala City airport within thirty minutes of our plane landing. Our transfer driver is standing on the other side of a fence holding a sign with my name. We load on up and are on our way to get our first look at Guatemala.

The evidence of western influence abounds, advertisements for Pepsi (they like their sugary soda drinks here) and fast food chains on the side of the road, and on the road itself. It seems a higher proportion of the cars here are in better condition than in Mexico City, or are higher end vehicles. Toyota’s seem prevalent and motorbikes also appear highly common.

It took a little under an hour to get to Antigua and the change in the road once we enter the town was immediate. The streets were entirely cobblestone. We bump along at a much slower pace until we pull up to our hotel. The driver gets out and rings the bell.

Like most places here we soon find out, the exterior door of the Hotel Candelaria where we will spend our first three nights remains locked.

Courtyards and cobblestones

The main courtyard of our charming hotel

The doors open to the interior of the hotel, a reception area beside an interior courtyard filled with plants and a flowing fountain. The building was a square shape, built around the courtyard, and concealed by an exterior of plain stone walls. The two floors above are the same design. Railings fringe the edge of the hallways the rooms open onto, and there is open sky above the centre courtyard. The final set of railings lines a rooftop terrace. Our room is on the ground floor, with two double beds and a bathroom. It also has a wardrobe, dressing table and chair along the wall. A set of double doors opens onto a corner courtyard with another room on the other side.

I bound up the stairs to the rooftop while Ruth takes the opportunity to lie down.

From the rooftop terrace I can see three volcanoes that look over the town. I learn they are Agua, Acatenango and Fuego. Fuego sits beside Acatenango and is still active, periodically shooting small eruptions of smoke and molten stones into the sky. While I watch it sends up another plume of smoke. In the daylight I can’t see whether molten rock went with it.

My first view of Volcan Agua from the hotel roof

By the time we venture out in search of food darkness has set in. The hotel recommends a location to look for dinner since the hotel doesn’t serve it. Outside the safety of the hotel walls the streets of Antigua were dark. I was uneasy in a new place. The most well-lit option was in the direction recommended by the hotel attendant. Before too long we came to the Hotel San Domingo complete with a lovely rooftop terrace. I enjoyed a tasty bit of steak and a Pina Colada or two. Not knowing the area we happily headed back to our rooms and bed.

Tag: Antigua