Learning to Walk in Antigua

We would have given Antigua, that lovely colonial predecessor of the chaotic concrete behemoth that calls itself Guatemala City, no more than a derisory glance if Mary hadn't slipped in El Salvador. And if paranoia had prevailed. Antigua ticked all the boxes that raised alarm. It was Central American, Guatemalan and attracted hordes of tourists (us being one of them). According to our original itinerary, Antigua was a means to different ends - towards the treehouse we reserved at Earth Lodge in the neighbouring village of Jocotenango, then towards Guatemala's second city Quetzaltenango to climb Volcan Santa Maria, and finally towards the airport on the last day of our Central American leg. Even after four full days' rest, treehouses and volcanoes were squarely out of the question. And so we stayed four nights in Antigua instead.

Below: adding colour to lifeless stone at the ruined Catedral de Santiago.

Having arranged for a door-to-door shuttle from Copan, we were nearly dumped in the centre of town by its irresponsible driver. Sitting tight after everybody else had alighted and Daniel's (who owns Chez Daniel, our Antigua accommodation) intervention saved us from being stranded. However, it didn't take Antigua very long to charm Mary - we hadn't even stepped into the old town proper yet. Chez Daniel being booked out, Daniel arranged for us to spend the first night at the Hostal Las Marias. This was a typical colonial house in Antigua - artfully decorated and tastefully furnished, with high roofs and a spacious, verdant courtyard overflowing with flowers.

Above: A wall full of wooden masks at the Hostal Las Marias, where we spent our first night, and its flora-festooned courtyard.

Below: studied neglect adds character to another courtyard found typically in Spanish colonial houses, this one was in the middle of a souvenir shop.

Daniel picked us up the morning after we arrived, to head back to Chez Daniel. While Mary ogled at the cavernous bathroom (bigger even than some rooms we paid more for), Daniel gave me a whirlwind tour of the town highlights. He marked with a pen an eminently walkable rectangle on a map, name-dropping cathedrals, ruins and eateries. In yet another mortal triumph over curiosity, our first tentative sightseeing steps in four days only took us as far as the nearest eating recommendation. Rainbow Cafe would have been less than ten minutes away on good walking feet. We arrived after thirty arduous minutes, as hobbling transmogrified cobblestone into brimstone.

Below (top to bottom): Mary sipping happily on her iced mint tea at the Rainbow Cafe; a window within a window, at Samsara, an Indian vegetarian restaurant close to the southwestern edge of the town centre.

All of Spanish Central America, from Chiapas in what is now southern Mexico to Costa Rica, was once ruled from this elegant city. But the city, the location of which has moved twice within the vicinity, was always built on both precarious ground and the sufferance of its sleeping volcanoes (which entailed stirring volcano views at every turn, more on that in the next post). It was no stranger to fire and brimstone, which its tumbled masonry recall even if many of its inhabitants today do not. A 1541 mudslide consumed the city and claimed the life of its governess Beatriz de la Cueva (her husband Pedro de Alvarado was earlier conqueror of the Mayan highlands). Earthquakes in 1717 and 1773 leveled the city on successive occasions. Officials decided to move the capital to present-day Guatemala City after the latter earthquakes, and Antigua never regained its prominence. Tourist arrivals today outnumber its 35,000 inhabitants, a little more than half its population at its height in the mid-eighteenth century.

Above (top to bottom): the Palace of the Captain-General, on the Parque Central, once the seat of the colonial government of all Spanish Central America; walking past abandonment on the streets of Antigua.

Below: Earth's wrath leaves the Catedral de Santiago without a roof.

Antigua, in Daniel's words, has enough to occupy us for two weeks, though we didn't set out to visit all the sights. The by now familiar grid system meant it wasn't easy to get lost. Our pace was necessarily slower, unhurried ambling punctuated by long breaks in cafés and cathedrals. The city's position as Guatemala's tourist capital also invited a roaring trade in souvenirs. Apart from a multitude of souvenir shops splashed with the psychedelic hues of Mayan fabric, there were groups of itinerant Mayan peddlers clad in the same colourful garb which they tried to sell.

Above: The baroque facade of La Merced, a cathedral to the north of town built by the Order of the Blessed Virgin Mary of Mercy. Members of this religious order founded in the eastern Spanish kingdom of Aragon in the early thirteenth century worked for the redemption of Christian captives caught up in the tumult of the Reconquista in that time. Right next to the cathedral, the bust of Bartolome de las Casas (immediately above), Protector of the Indians who spoke up tirelessly for the rights of the indigenous population when the Reconquista arrived on American shores, seems well-placed in this context.

Below: The Church of San Francisco, on the southeastern part of town. The entrance below leads directly to the tomb of Brother Peter of St Joseph Betancur. Canonized by Pope John Paul II and popularly known as "the St Francis of the Americas", he worked amongst the poor, African slaves and indigenous amongst them, raising funds and establishing hospitals, shelters and schools. His tomb is a popular site of local veneration.

Two Mayan girls passed us at the Arco de Santa Catalina and shouted sayonara before breaking out in giggles. My reply in Hokkien (which I thought approximated most closely Japanese) while mustering my sweetest smile only served to renew their sale offers. Well, at least sayonara meant something - in Morocco men rattled off Japanese brand names and hurled them at us.

Below: never a colourless moment on the streets of Antigua; counting arches at Parque Central as dusk falls.

Antigua felt safer than we feared. But we played it safe, never wandering beyond the town centre and generally getting off the streets before evening. Our journey from El Salvador thus far had been one of rising prices, commensurate with an increase in both tourist numbers and matching infrastructural development. Things couldn't get any more touristy. So we thought, until we got to the Lake.