Guatemala in Four Days

At the end of last summer, my friend Hailey and I floated the idea of picking the three cheapest destinations to fly to from Texas and just going for a long weekend. We looked it up on Skyscanner, a website I swear by for cheap tickets and our top three choices were Costa Rica, Mexico and Guatemala. We decided that Costa Rica was a bit too touristy and Mexico too nearby, so we booked Guatemala without any expectations.

On August 2nd we flew into Guatemala City, which was only a two hour flight from Houston. We didn't know what kind of food there would be or what we would think of the country at all, but we booked two beautiful Airbnb's which minimal research showed were inexpensive and surrounded by natural beauty. We rented a car through the airport and planned to drive first to Lake Atitlan which was a three hour drive north from Guatemala City and then to the Spanish colonial town of Antigua. Both destinations were surrounded by volcanos and the pictures looked stunning.

When we arrived we realized rather quickly that no one spoke much English, even at the airport it was extremely difficult to be understood or have a conversation. The basic high school Spanish I had picked up surprised me at how useful it was finally being. I was speaking with more vocabulary than I thought I knew and it got us friendly smiles and the basics: "Tienes dos cafe de casa, con leche, por favor?"

We rented the car successfully but it took a bit longer than we expected. Things happen at a much slower pace in Guatemala, than in the western world. And we began having to recalibrate our expectations. For instance, the traffic getting out of the city was nearly as abysmal as the pollution, so that we had to stop at a drive through pharmacy with armed guards and get gas masks, which we were only able to communicate by miming it to the lady at the window.

It was at this point, as we were zig-zagging our way through the myriad of colorful buses and taxi cabs in the hazy boulevards that Hailey said,

"You know, when you see situations like this and you think about climate change expectations, you realize it is going to be much harder for these cities to change their infrastructure for the climate. They have clearly been sold America's old buses from decades before, and all of that unchecked exhaust isn't funneling out of the city."

Hailey was emphatic and a look around at the streets was enough to see her meaning. The west needs to set an example for countries like Guatemala on how to model climate change innovations, but we need to do more than that. We need to help these countries by providing them with better, safer equipment and exports because what's good for Guatemala is also good for us.

Once we finally made it out of the city, however, the air pollution cleared up as we drove higher into the lush jungly hills. The dwellings alongside the road towards Lake Atitlan were basic but colorful and we were surprised to notice how many people still wore traditional, hand woven dress. We saw many more women than we did men wandering around and we sadly found out later that this was due to the country having been at civil war for so long, that a whole generation of young men were basically wiped out.

We stopped along the route at a hillside restaurant where we ordered large portions of beans and rice, and Hailey got chicken which came blacked and grilled, still sizzling. It was very good and wholesome, somehow. The only other people there were a couple in their mid-20s who seemed to be on a date, she was wearing a pink floral skirt.

We drove up further into the hills until we reached the outskirts of the mountain towns surrounding Guatemala's most stunning lake. Lake Atitlan is one of the most beautiful lakes in the Americas and a breathtaking view from any vantage point. The lake is over 50 square miles and dotted by idyllic, traditional, and adventure-friendly communities lining its hills and harbors. Hailey and I drove through a sudden and intense rain storm through the hill-side town where our first Airbnb was booked. It was a villa that overlooked the lake with a large terrace. It was already dark by the time we found the driveway and we had to run through the rain, slopping up a muddy hill higher and higher away from our rental car. I was completely soaked through by the time we reached the first outer door to the property compound.

An American woman answered the door and led us up to our private apartment at the top of the converted space. It was at the top of the villa, in the roof where the rain was thunderous on the tin roof. She had left out little tomatoes, herbs, garlic and an onion for us with pasta in case we hadn't had time to get anything from the store (we only had beers and chocolate, as it was). She left us alone with our fireplace, hammocks, and all glass walls to a view of the night over the lake that we couldn't see except when violently illuminated by bright lightening.

The next morning the rain had cleared and a calm mist settled over the lake which the dawn slowly ebbed away. We woke up to a spectacular new world outside the terrace windows.

That morning we spent many hours sipping coffee and lying with books on the lounging chairs with indigenous blankets draping us. There were a few eggs left by the Airbnb host as well, so I was able to make us a simple breakfast of soft boiled eggs. As the day warmed, we gradually got ready and went to explore the town and lake.

We headed down to the harbor, in order to eat some street food and catch a boat to the other side of the lake in order to go zip-lining. It was my first time zip-lining and it was exhilarating to be hanging so high up by a single cord. The boats were crowded with locals and tourists, but mostly locals who mostly wore traditional dress, especially the women.

There were some American expats and people who had taken up residence from other parts of the world without any intention of leaving. Every where I travel in the world, I find pockets of "ex-pats" and part of me is envious of the life, especially if you're making a western salary and living for a fraction of the price. But at whose expense?

The American woman who owned the converted Airbnb we were staying in told us that the locals had only recently started putting collars on their dogs after expats kept "rescuing" other people's dogs. But many families needed the dogs, and it didn't occur to them to keep them disease free or neatly groomed when the dog's main purpose was to keep away rodents from the home or keep predators from the family livestock. Stories like this one highlight the naivety and entitlement of western expats everywhere. I think if I ever choose to live in a developing nation, I'll need to first ask myself "what value am I able to bring to this community? In what ways am I being self-serving?" etc.

We also ran into a group of missionaries while we were zip-lining who asked us how we chose to come to Guatemala, and we said "we just found cheap flights and booked it." This seemed to disconcert them, possibly because they considered Guatemala a very unstable and dangerous place. This makes me reflect on whether it is worse to travel to a place you know nothing about on a whim or else travel as a missionary who expects the country conditions to be abject poverty, dangerous and in need of a Christian face lift. Is this cynical and off-mark? Maybe. I've never been a missionary, but I also am so glad we chose to come to Guatemala.

After Lake Atitlan, we drove a few hours to the Spanish colonial town of Antigua, which was breathtakingly charming. We found specialist chocolatiers, colorful restaurants and bars, and towering volcanoes that framed the town and the valleys. In Antigua, we went out to a rum bar, had excellent food on an exciting cobblestoned street that was lined with all the best nightlife.There were some interesting museums and galleries to explore throughout the town and even daily, fresh rose peddlers who will sell you a dozen of the reddest roses for about a dollar.