Antigua, etc.

We arrived in Antigua after a couple of decent but uneventful nights camped in various places between Nebaj and the old capital city. We stayed one night camped (and, after our backpacking trip when we needed showers, one night in the hotel rooms) at another of these self-proclaimed eco-hotels. This one, the lovely Boxbolandia, boasted of no nature whatsoever, unless you counted the dozens of pet bunnies running about the garden. There also was a water park of sorts – poured concrete filled from a creek, perhaps – and really nice staff who treated us as though we were the only guests there (which we were). In fact, when we returned for our hotel room after having been away backpacking for a few days, they greeted us warmly, seemingly pleased that the resident hobos had returned, and invited us to enjoy our old camping spot once again.

Then, due to a certain torsion bar situation that Chuck described, we also stopped in a place called Santa Cruz Quiche, a medium sized city serving as the capital of the region going by the same name. We camped at a little place that may or may not have been a sex motel. But even if it was, the owners, a Mayan family, could not have been more charming. They toured the rattlevan, invited us to enjoy the private pine forest that fell away behind their establishment, wonderfully dotted with Mayan prayer sites, and generally made us feel at home in their driveway.

And then, perhaps a day or so behind our nonexistent "schedule," we pulled up into Antigua. (Not, however, before taking our first real wrong turn of the trip and driving two hours out of our way on a rough dirt road and therefore opting not to tackle accomodations in Antigua so late in the evening and choosing a horse farm for our campsite instead.)

Antigua is a charmer to be sure, and we took full advantage. Broad, colonial streets with multi-colored one-story buildings, interrupted by the ruins of centuries-old churches and convents.  It’s a perfect town for wandering. 

It’s also a perfect town for eating, and we took full advantage of that, too. 

Now, the food’s been pretty okay during our trip for the most part, but Antigua totally knocks it out of the park. We actually ate at the same restaurant, a little place called Hector’s, twice – it was that good. And we also ate a meal in a French bistro (we’re allowed to do that now that we’ve been traveling for two months) and, over dessert, had a draw-off. 

You have all seen photos of the rattlevan, so I’ll let you be the judge: Mine is better, right? (I kid; it’s pretty clear which of us went to design school.)

My Effort

The Winning Sketch

We also took advantage of the tourist infrastructure to jump a shuttle bus and join a group hiking up the Volcano Pacayo, an active beast of a thing whose last major eruption, in 2010, buried more than 300 homes and closed the international airport for five days. 

Turns out it was a good thing we went with the group, as the normal tourist sendero (trail) wasn’t passable.  Our guide (whose own home was destroyed in the 2010 eruption) explained that the new park administration wasn’t popular and that neighboring land owners had taken it upon themselves to make the trail difficult in a number of ways. Good to know, I’m sure.  So, we went up the other side of the mountain.

A brief climb across broken-down lava most of the way to the summit, where we stopped and roasted the marshmallows our guide had brought for that purpose right on the lava. (“For shame,” our guide joked with his friend, another park ranger, “you don’t have a pack, and you don’t even bring marshmallows for the tourists! For shame!”)
   


And then we headed down again, to some really amazing views.

We camped in Antigua at a strange and wonderful place: the tourist police parking lot. The size of a city block, the lot is on the grounds of an old hospital and an even older hotel, both of which have been reduced to ruins that essentially close in the open field in the middle. The police are totally welcoming (and guard the gate with shotguns all night) and the place is free: perfect. 

Our first night or two, we had the place to ourselves. We flattered ourselves that we were a rare breed, the Guatemala RV-er, since we hadn’t seen anyone else doing it for the past five or six weeks. But, slowly and steadily, the campsite grew in numbers. At one point, when we were back again after trying to leave for the beach (a mostly boring story about Chimaltenango and car problems), the campsite consisted of the following, in order of appearance: (1) a rattlevan with two American hobos and their dog; (2) two friendly young Quebecois hippie dudes in a VW van who are trying to make ends meet by selling hemp jewelry and juggling; (3) a young surfer couple from Vancouver who are finally and reluctantly making their way back North after spending a month surfing in El Salvador; (4) a retired Swiss couple who have been on the road for more than 500 days; and (5) a Belgian couple and their three little blonde kids, enjoying their year (!!) of maternity and paternity leave after the birth of their most recent. Not a bad assortment.

After Antigua, we spent a really good few days in a place called Hawaii, Guatemala -- days worthy of their own blog post -- and now we're at the surfer mecca of El Tunco, El Salvador, slowly on our way to Nicaragua.  

Next up, maybe, a post about Awful Border Officials Who Look Like Kenny Powers from Eastbound and Down (mullet included).