Guatemala Blog #3 — Bryce Arrives: Airport Chaos, “Mommy Is Waiting,” & The Road to Antigua
The day Bryce finally landed in Guatemala — airport chaos, hugs, cocktails, and the road to Antigua. Buckle up.
I woke up excited — today was the day my best friend, Bryce was finally arriving in Guatemala!
We hadn’t seen each other in roughly five years, thanks to living in different countries, different time zones, and the whole life thing. But we talked constantly on Skype, so seeing him in person again felt surreal.
His flight was supposed to land in the morning, but when I checked the status before leaving the hostel, I saw he was delayed by an hour. Not a problem — it actually gave me time to get ready and mentally prepare for the chaos I suspected the airport would be.
The hostel receptionist ordered an Uber for me — and off I went.
The Uber driver spoke a little English, so we chatted the whole way. I mentioned I’d be picking up a friend at the airport and then heading to Antigua, but I didn’t know how we’d be getting there yet. He just smiled and said:
“I’ll take you. Cheaper than the app. No Uber.”
Honestly? That sounded perfect. I asked for a price and thought it was reasonable. I told him we’d confirm once Bryce landed.
When we arrived at the airport… it was chaos.
People everywhere, luggage everywhere, shouting, honking — peak Central America airport energy.
And then, I stood there proudly holding this sign:
“Bryce, Mommy is Waiting”
…with little cocktail doodles all around it, because that’s our sense of humour.
We have a long-running joke that I’m basically his mother when we drink, because I always make sure he gets home safe.
He absolutely loved the sign.
His favourite part? All the tiny different cocktail drawings.
Finding each other took nearly thirty minutes — thank goodness for the airport’s free Wi-Fi, or we would’ve missed each other completely. We were Skyping back and forth trying to describe landmarks like:
“I’m next to… a column? And a man eating chips?”
“I see fifteen columns and forty men eating chips!”
Eventually he spotted me, sign held high, and we had one of those dramatic “WHOAAA GIRL!!!” reunion moments.
Bryce had only a carry-on, so we were able to leave quickly.
Me, proudly holding my masterpiece of a sign, ready for a dramatic airport reunion worthy of reality TV.
The Uber That Wasn’t an Uber
The same driver who dropped me at the airport earlier was still parked outside when I walked out. He waved like we were already friends.
And my giant blue backpack?
Still sitting safely in his trunk — exactly where I left it.
So technically… the decision was already made for us.
Before I even got out of the car earlier, the driver had offered to take both of us to Antigua off the app for cheaper than Uber. I told him I needed to check with Bryce first.
Now that Bryce was finally with me, I asked him to double-check the Uber price on his phone. Sure enough — the driver was cheaper.
So we just tossed Bryce’s carry-on into the trunk beside my backpack, got back in, and that was that.
No new Uber, no hassle. Just us, our luggage, and a driver who already knew the plan.
Bryce may have been… slightly tipsy.
Apparently the woman sitting next to him on the plane offered him free booze, and after only two hours of sleep before a three-hour drive to the airport, he didn’t say no.
Classic Bryce.
We spent the entire drive talking — not even looking out the windows. Five years of friendship to catch up on in one hour. The scenery flew by without us noticing a single thing.
Then suddenly the road changed underneath us.
Cobblestone.
We looked outside, confused:
“Wait… are we in Antigua already?”
“Did we miss all the views?”
Yes. Yes we did.
But Antigua makes an entrance either way — colourful walls, volcanoes watching from the distance, colonial buildings, and that perfect old-town charm.
We had officially arrived.
Bryce and I chatted the entire ride — zero awareness of where we were — until the cobblestones hit and we were like… oh. We’re in Antigua.
Tropicana Hostel — Our Party Base for Bryce’s Birthday
Tropicana Hostel was Bryce’s pick. Weeks earlier, we’d researched it together — something affordable, central, and with party vibes since we planned to celebrate his birthday on November 4. It checked all the boxes.
When we arrived, though, it was surprisingly calm. Plenty of travellers, yes, but not the loud, wild, music-blasting chaos we expected. Because of Covid, “party hostel” didn’t mean shots and chaos — it meant a room full of backpackers minding their own business.
We had booked a 10-bed dorm, but somehow lucked into the little hidden nook off to the side — a tiny room-within-a-room that felt like our own private space, even though it technically wasn’t.
Inside the nook was:
a bunk bed
a single bed tucked into the corner
one small window
and a staircase that literally led to a locked door and nowhere else (our “Budget Narnia Portal”)
The best part?
We basically had it to ourselves.
Well… mostly.
There was one girl assigned to the bunk above mine. She was like a friendly ghost — we’d hear her come and go, but we almost never saw her. She never bothered us, and honestly it kind of added to the charm of the nook: our own little hideaway with a silent mystery roommate.
It wasn’t fancy, but it was perfect — quiet, cozy, and tucked away just enough to feel like our little home base in Antigua.
We dropped our bags, looked at each other, and both said the same thing:
“Food first.”
Forgot to take a picture of our cozy nook… but not the Tropicana sign. Priorities, right?
First Mission: Food. Second Mission: Booze.
Once we’d admired our accidental “private room upgrade,” our stomachs reminded us that excitement + travel = immediate hunger.
We headed straight to the hostel restaurant — which was upstairs on the rooftop. The view was stunning: tiled rooftops, colourful buildings, volcanoes in the distance, and the perfect chill air of Antigua. It was the ideal place to sit, breathe, and realize we were finally traveling together again.
The food was great — simple, filling, exactly what we needed after a long travel morning.
But once we ate, the next mission was clear:
Rum.
And Gatorade.
Yes… Gatorade.
I learned the “rum + Gatorade” trick in Belize, and now I swear by it. It sounds questionable, but it’s actually delicious and keeps you hydrated while you’re also dehydrating yourself — a chaotic balance, but it works.
Bryce was skeptical.
Then he tried it.
Then he became a believer.
We wandered around Antigua’s cobblestones, found a grocery store, and stocked up with:
a bottle of rum
multiple flavours of Gatorade (for scientific testing)
snacks for later
We loaded our drinks right in the store parking lot like the classy adults we are, shook everything up, and headed out to explore Antigua… slightly buzzed and very proud of ourselves.
Rooftop cocktails, volcano views, and that perfect pre-lunch glow — the calm before we hit Antigua’s streets.
Exploring Antigua (aka Rum + Gatorade Adventures Begin)
Armed with our freshly mixed rum-and-Gatorade bottles, we wandered into the cobblestone streets of Antigua like two overexcited gremlins set loose.
It was both of our first time in Antigua.
Every corner felt magical.
Every volcano view made us stop and say, “OH MY GOD — LOOK!”
We wandered through town, stopping constantly to take photos of:
ruined churches
colourful buildings
courtyards and arches
anywhere Bryce pointed at while slightly tipsy
Antigua just had that energy — vibrant, warm, a little chaotic, and completely addictive.
Eventually, we started making our way back toward the hostel.
That’s when we found it: a small rooftop bar tucked above a side street, glowing in the late afternoon light.
We looked at each other and instantly had the same thought:
“Why not?”
So up we went.
From the top, Antigua stretched out beneath us — red-tiled roofs, church domes, and a volcano dominating the skyline. It was one of those views that makes you stop talking for a moment just to take it in.
We ordered a drink, clinked glasses, and let the “first-day-in-Antigua” magic sink in.
Eventually we had to head back to Tropicana, because…
It was time to get ready to PARTY.
One minute we were taking photos every few steps, the next we were sipping drinks on a rooftop we stumbled across. Zero plans, full vibes.
Getting Ready to Party
Back at the hostel, Bryce wandered up the mysterious little staircase in our nook to see where it led.
It led nowhere.
Literally nowhere.
The door at the top was locked — aggressively locked — but Bryce was determined, so he climbed all the way up… drunk.
And then he couldn’t get back down.
I recorded the whole thing because I knew Future JD and Future Bryce would want this memory.
He tried to step down the first stair.
Failed.
Tried again.
Failed harder.
Finally, he just sat on his butt and slid down one stair at a time like a toddler learning gravity.
We still laugh about it to this day. Sometimes I’ll randomly say:
“Remember that one time you forgot how stairs worked?”
And Bryce will roll his eyes because he knows exactly which night I mean.
Once we recovered from the stair debacle, we took showers, put on makeup, turned the music up on my computer, and headed to the bar to see what Antigua nightlife looked like.
Tropicana was quiet, but that didn’t stop us. We had a couple drinks to warm up before deciding where to go next.
That’s when Bryce worked his magic.
He talked to a guy on an app — naturally — and learned about a secret bar that stayed open late despite the Covid curfew. The instructions were very clear:
If the police show up,
you know nothing.
You say nothing.
You leave.
Perfect. Exactly our vibe.
This was the exact moment Bryce realized the stairs did not, in fact, lead anywhere… and also that he couldn’t walk down them.
The Secret Bar Night — “Why Is Bryce Speaking Cantonese?”
We followed the directions, slipped down a side street, through a random door… and suddenly walked into a dim, crowded bar filled with locals and travellers all pretending to be invisible to the police.
The exact energy you’d expect from a secret bar.
We danced immediately — Bryce was living.
Laughing, swirling, shouting over the music, drinking more rum and coke.
Ten minutes later?
Bryce was asleep on a table.
Out. Gone. Lights off.
I checked on him (Mommy Mode activated), gave him water (for nicer photos later), and then got right back onto the dance floor.
I made friends.
Danced with locals.
Had a full-on mini-party by myself while he snored on a wooden table.
When Bryce gets too drunk, he forgets English and switches entirely to Cantonese.
Everyone was confused.
I was dying laughing.
At midnight, I shook him awake long enough to give him his birthday tequila shot. I handed him water so the pictures would look nice.
He managed it like a champ before half-passing out again.
Eventually, our new friends insisted on giving us a ride back to the hostel. It was one of those “we should NOT be getting into a stranger’s car” moments… but we did. And it was fine. Honestly, it probably took longer to drive than it would’ve taken to walk.
We crashed immediately.
Zero regrets.
A chaotic, ridiculous, iconic pre-birthday night.
Bryce was either jet-lagged, drunk, or both. I partied solo. Zero hesitation.
Bryce’s Actual Birthday — The Struggle
We didn’t wake up until noon.
Not morning.
Noon.
We crawled out of bed like two dehydrated zombies, dragged ourselves upstairs, ate something (I genuinely can’t remember what), and immediately went back to the room because:
We were DYING.
We put on Dune, sat on the bed, and both fell asleep within 15 minutes.
Zero birthday energy.
We survived the whole day doing almost nothing — just occasional sips of water, slow blinking, and the guilty realization that we were supposed to have a full celebration.
Meanwhile, Gabriel (my Guatemalan friend) was supposed to meet us for Bryce’s birthday…
But he never showed because the police pulled him over and confiscated his money for no reason.
Ah yes.
Guatemala.
A place where corruption usually targets locals, not tourists.
By early evening, we looked at each other and knew what came next:
We had to force ourselves to rally.
Neither of us wanted to.
We were still half-dead.
But it was Bryce’s birthday, so we dragged ourselves out again.
We went back to the secret bar — quieter this time — had a couple drinks, tried to pretend we weren’t dying, and then called it a night.
A tragic-but-hilarious birthday.
Not the celebration either of us imagined, but absolutely a memory.
Barely holding it together, but it was Bryce’s birthday… so tequila happened.
The Coffee Plantation Misadventure — Wandering, Complaining & Accidental Sightseeing
The morning after Bryce’s birthday, we finally woke up feeling slightly less like death. Not good… just less dead. It was the first moment in 48 hours where either of us felt capable of doing anything besides napping or drinking Gatorade with rum.
We wanted some kind of adventure — nothing strenuous (absolutely not climbing Acatenango), nothing overly intense, nothing that involved thinking too hard.
So, we decided on a coffee plantation tour.
It sounded easy. Educational. Cute, even.
Leaving Antigua on Foot (Mistake #1)
Instead of taking an Uber like normal humans, we decided to walk.
I, of course, told Bryce:
“It’s just down the road!”
Which, in my world, means absolutely nothing.
We walked toward the outskirts of Antigua, stopping at a viewpoint overlooking the city. It was stunning — volcanoes in the background, the city spread out below — and both of us suddenly turned into excited tourists again, snapping photos like we hadn’t been hungover zombies the day before.
Then we continued walking.
And walking.
And walking.
Straight into local neighbourhoods, down quiet residential streets, through random little side paths, wondering out loud if Google Maps was drunk.
Bryce complained the entire way — dramatically, loudly, theatrically — which only made me laugh harder.
Classic Bryce.
We were basically two sleep-deprived idiots just wandering Guatemala with zero sense of urgency.
I forced us up this hill for the view. Bryce survived. Barely.
Finally Reaching the Coffee Plantation
After what felt like hours (because it was actually about two), we finally reached the coffee plantation.
We were sweaty.
Exhausted.
Dehydrated.
Confused why we hadn’t just taken an Uber like sensible adults.
Inside, the staff told us we had two options:
a walking tour
a truck tour
We instantly knew:
Walking tour? Absolutely not.
We had already walked enough for the entire day.
Truck tour, please.
But… they needed four people, and there were only two of us.
They told us to wait an hour and see if anyone else showed up.
So we waited.
And waited.
And not a single person showed.
Arrived at the plantation, proud of ourselves… until we realized the main square (with the actual tours) was still 15 minutes further. Off we go.
No Tour. Wine Instead.
So, instead of learning how coffee was grown and roasted, we browsed the souvenir shop.
We’d walked all that way. We had to at least do something.
We wandered through the shop, bought some wine, and took our time before finally accepting that the tour just wasn’t happening.
The Walk Back (But At Least Faster)
Thankfully, the walk back felt quicker — probably because we didn’t detour through random neighbourhoods this time.
We made it back to Antigua still alive, still slightly hungover, and still making fun of ourselves for the ridiculousness of it all.
We stopped in little souvenir shops, so Bryce could buy things to take home. He even bought a local outfit to wear.
Nothing says ‘cultural experience’ like giving up and ordering wine at 11 AM.
Wrapping Up Antigua — Rum, Gatorade & a Sensible Bedtime (Finally)
By the time we got back from the coffee plantation, we were done — emotionally, physically, spiritually.
The combo of Bryce’s birthday chaos, the endless walk, and the failed tour had fully humbled us.
We grabbed dinner at the hostel restaurant, showered, and for the first time in days… we actually had a proper chill night.
Well… chill for us.
We still poured the last of our rum into whatever Gatorade flavours we had left (mostly because we didn’t want to carry them to Lake Atitlán the next day). We played a few of our usual drinking games, talked about life and travel and all the ridiculous things we always laugh about.
But instead of staying out until 3 a.m. again?
We went to bed at a reasonable time.
Yes — miracles do happen.
Because the next morning, we had a shuttle to catch.
We may have skipped the coffee tour, but we did NOT skip the souvenir hunt. Balance.
Heading to Lake Atitlán
We booked our shuttle through the hostel — way cheaper and easier than ordering an Uber — and it was leaving first thing in the morning.
So, we packed up our stuff, made sure nothing was left behind in our little nook, and went to sleep excited for the next chapter.
Lake Atitlán was waiting.
Final Antigua vibes before setting alarms, repacking everything, and getting ready for our morning shuttle.
