Day 4

Today it was hot out. It was the first fully clear day with no clouds in the sky, and at this altitude, a 75-degree day felt more like 85. I visited a café that came highly recommended for its sandwiches, salads, and juices. It’s a popular spot for remote workers, and seeing people on laptops almost made me forget it was Monday. I sat on the terrace for a while and ended up with a slightly burnt nose, but the views were worth it. Because most buildings in Antigua are fairly low, all you really need for a great view of the surrounding mountains is a second-floor terrace.

I decided this would be a slow day, and I needed it. I didn’t leave the hostel until 11:30am, then stayed at the café for two full hours, soaking everything in and sipping an incredible chia hibiscus lemonade. But by the afternoon, I had a mission: visit some church ruins.

There are so many of them here because of the many earthquakes that have affected the city over time. After the devastating Santa Marta earthquakes of 1773 severely damaged Antigua, Guatemala’s capital was officially moved to what is now Guatemala City in 1776. Many monumental buildings were left standing in ruins rather than rebuilt. What began as abandonment eventually became preservation, and today those ruins, along with the city’s colonial layout, are a big part of why Antigua is recognized as a UNESCO World Heritage site.

The ruins I visited were those of the Iglesia y Convento de la Recolección, which was one of the largest churches in Antigua before being destroyed by the 1773 earthquake. As soon as I arrived, it took my breath away. It was hauntingly beautiful, and I was completely alone (which was equally creepy and incredible). I walked slowly through the site, trying to imagine what it must have once been. I was so impressed by how well it has been preserved. The photos below really speak for themselves.

That evening, I invited my two dorm mates out for a drink. They’re both such interesting people, and I felt like I’d known them for years. Spending time together felt effortless. One of them told me stories about working in Antarctica for several summers in a row, and I was completely fascinated. They invited me to visit them in Seattle, and I fully plan on taking them up on it.

These are the kinds of friendships I feel like I can only make when I’m traveling alone, and I’m kind of obsessed.

Day 5

Today was the first day I felt a little melancholy. I knew it would come eventually, but it was still hard when it did. The excitement was wearing off slightly, and on top of that I started to feel a bit sick. I walked into a café, nursed a cup of tea, and spent the morning drinking a lot of water. Later that afternoon, I would be hiking Pacaya Volcano, so I knew I needed to restore my health as much as possible beforehand.

I headed back to the hostel to rest on the roof. Up there, I met a girl who had just arrived from the airport and was reading a book on the terrace. She had the same wide-eyed excitement I felt five days ago. Her name is Brinley—she’s an artist who works at an art gallery in LA and is originally from New Orleans. We talked for about an hour, and she completely distracted me from my sadness. It was healing. She’s mainly here to do the famous overnight hike up Acatenango and is nervous but equally excited to do it on New Year’s Day, which feels like such an incredible way to start the year.

I had originally planned to do that hike too, but I backed out at the last minute. I realized it wasn’t meant for me right now. The planning and training for what many say is one of the most difficult hikes of their lives was stressing me out. I don’t do long, overnight backpacking hikes, and while I know watching lava erupt from Fuego Volcano would be incredible, I just wasn’t feeling ready for the challenge. Doing a solo backpacking trip through Guatemala (my first real solo trip) already felt like enough of a stretch.

Instead, I decided to hike Pacaya: a shorter, three-hour volcano hike at sunset where you roast marshmallows over hot, steaming rocks. That felt much more my vibe: wholesome and just challenging enough. Pacaya is about an hour and a half from Antigua. At 2pm, I boarded a minivan with a small group of people, winding through mountain towns as we climbed higher and higher. The views alone were stunning with rolling hills, open fields, and the volcanoes that loom over Antigua slowly growing closer.

There was a very interesting family on our bus: a couple traveling with their 10-year-old son. They explained they’ve been traveling by van through Central and South America for a full year. They converted a minibus into a mobile home, left Toronto in September, and drove all the way to Guatemala, stopping and exploring along the way. They had just finished Mexico and were headed to countries like Costa Rica, Nicaragua, and Belize. Eventually, they plan to ship the bus to southern Argentina and travel north through South America. I asked if they could adopt me. What an incredible experience for that kid! Though I couldn’t help but wonder if it gets lonely. His mom explained that he misses his friends a lot, which makes total sense.

I didn’t know what to expect from the hike itself. Some people said it was easy, others said it was hard. All I knew was that the altitude would get to me, and it did. I was huffing and puffing the entire way up, walking steadily and taking breaks whenever my heart felt like it was pounding out of my chest, desperate for oxygen. Along the way, men with horses kept calling out, “¿Un taxi?” No thanks. I was not interested in riding an overworked horse up the volcano.

Just as it started to feel truly difficult, we reached the top at the edge of the crater. We were completely in the clouds, and it felt magical. It was windy and cold, and the clouds were blocking the sun, which made me worry we wouldn’t get much of a sunset. From there, we hiked down into the crater over volcanic rock toward the steaming hot stones where lava flows beneath the surface. That’s where we roasted marshmallows. It was a little campy, but still very cool to say I did.

Then, as we rounded a corner, the clouds opened up. The sun revealed itself, setting over Guatemala City in the distance. I couldn’t take enough pictures. It was breathtaking. The melancholy I felt that morning suddenly felt like it belonged to another lifetime. I was completely flooded with emotion, watching the sky put on such an incredible show.

The hike down was in the dark, guided only by the light of our phones. Along the way, I talked with a woman from the Netherlands. We reflected on the heaviness of the past year and our hopes for more lightness in the next. She asked what it was like living in the US during the Trump presidency, and she shared that her government recently advised citizens to pack a go-bag in case of war. It struck me how frightening it must be to live so close to Russia. I’ve never had to worry about invasion or war, and it reminded me how much I take that for granted.

We also talked about the privilege of solo travel and how rare and special it really is. She told me I’d become addicted to it. I have a feeling she might be right.

Church Ruins and Volcano Hike

Cooking Pepián