The Beginning of my Guatemalan Adventure

Por fin! After a little over a week of being in Antigua, Guatemala--or ten days to be exact--I am finally starting my blog.

To answer the main question I have gotten so far, yes I am safe and sound. Antigua, in general, is a very safe city, but like any where else you just have to be smart. That means no walking alone too late at night or not carrying more cash than you need.
Antigua is beautiful. I arrived by van, and you can feel the difference the moment you enter the city. Literally. You begin to hop up and down in your seat as the paved roads all of a sudden turn to cobblestone. The view of the city is as captivating as its surroundings. In the city center, the cobblestone roads between colonial buildings paint a picture of the past. But my favorite part are the surrounding mountains, especially when the clouds hover over them. The clouds give it a mystical look, but you always know rain is coming later in the day since its now rainy season.
I had no expectations for my first day. I figured I would be spending most of it alone, walking around and discovering my new home for the next six months. I walked into the entrance of a street market, and a Guatemalan hippy named Larry stopped me to learn to juggle. I told him several times I would not pay for the lesson or the bean bags, and he continued to say he did not want the money. All he wanted to do was teach me to learn to juggle. I semi-mastered juggling two bean bags after 15 minutes, but I could not get three for the life of me, despite Larry’s instructions. “Try again,” he would insist each time I dropped a bag. He had more patience than I did. I gave up after some time and we began to talk.
Larry is, to say the least, an interesting character. He currently has no job. Or as he says, he’s taking a vacation from vacation. Despite his unemployment, he wants to start a nonprofit to help communities to build the projects they think most important. He’s a free spirit who does whatever he wants, without a care in the world what anyone thinks. As a result, he has been essentially disowned by his wealthy family that no longer invites him home for Christmas. But he doesn’t care, he wants absolutely nothing to do with them. He told me this within the first half hour we met.
Since my first day, Larry and I have crossed paths almost every day since. I have noticed he likes to chat it up with foreign women. On my second day, I ran into him talking to a peace corps volunteer. She later told me he stopped her in the street to read her palm. Free of charge, of course.
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I set Friday to be my massive house search day. I had asked a few people questions where I should look for cheap, but safe housing, so my day was spent running to every place I had learned about. I read postings on doors, asked foreigners in the streets where they were staying and if there was anything open, whatever I could do to find something economical.

I felt like I was on a massive chicken hunt. I went to a certain area someone had recommended and asked people if they knew of anything open, and they sent me to a street near by. The families outside told me which houses usually have a room open. They screamed to me when I approached the wrong door, “No, no no! The next one! The next one!” That house was full, so I went across the way to an old couple whose son rented out room. He lived across town. I briskly walked from place to place, trying to find the best deal. At the end of the day, I had an appointment I had made a few days before to look at a place I had heard about through a friend. I decided to live with this family.

The lady I’m renting my room from lives with two younger children and an older boy about 16. I believe they are all related, but I am not completely sure. When I told the four-year old girl my name, she said, “I have two mommies. Mama Chiky and mama Karen.” I don’t think she wasn’t talking about me. Two younger women have stopped by, and I assume one of them is the real Mama Karen.
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Over the weekend I went to the Volcano Pacaya, which is active and erupted in late May this year. The landscape has two contrasting features. Volcanos stand behind green hills that look as if they are guarded by a black barricade, a river of dried lava that just two months ago ran through the grassy area. We hiked through the grass over to the lava. If it weren’t for the familiar background of mountains and trees, it would have felt like we were walking on another planet.
The lava has turned to a massive pile of rocks, so we relied on walking sticks to avoid falling. Although it had hardened, the lava still warmed our feet even through our shoes. Smoke rose from certain areas, making it uncomfortable to breath the thick air. At one point we walked into a huge smoke pile you could barely see the other groups just a few yards away.


Our guide was a young Guatemalan that looked like he couldn’t be older than 17. I was happy running off to experiment with my new DSLR camera, so I caught his speech in spurts. If I understood his Spanish correctly, he told us how sad he was about the recent eruption because of the damage that happened in surrounding towns. He said before the eruption, they incorrectly believed an area on one side of the volcano would be affected, and about 100 children and older citizens died because they could not get away fast enough. Everyone in my group discussed how the news only covered the death of one journalist.

As we wandered further in the lava, our guide showed us certain areas where you could place your stick to create a fire. A group of British girls had come prepared with marshmallows to roast. I’m not sure if lava-roasted marshmallows are my thing, but they excitedly ate and shared their “delightful” treat.


Back in Antigua, I went to a taco restaurant with people who I had met in my group. Six of us devoured a huge taco platter for 6-8 people. It had an assortment of meats, vegetables and sauces that was as big as a table for two. It was a delicious way to rejuvenate our bodies after the hike over Pecaya.


More stories to come soon!