Guatemala Blog #7 — Back to Antigua: Slowing Down, Solo, and Closing the Chapter
I came back to Antigua for one last hurrah — to slow down, hike a volcano, get lost in crowds, and figure out what was next.
Back to Antigua — This Time on My Own
After Río Dulce, I headed back to Antigua.
It’s not something I normally do. I usually prefer to keep moving forward — new destinations, new routes, new stamps in my passport. But this time, going back made sense.
Antigua is one of Guatemala’s biggest travel hubs, and I knew my next country was going to be El Salvador. Logistically, it was the easiest place to reset, plan, and catch a shuttle to Santa Ana. There’s a strong backpacker scene, reliable transportation, and enough infrastructure that figuring things out doesn’t feel overwhelming.
But there was another reason too.
I’d already been to Antigua once on this trip — and that version of the city was loud, social, and chaotic. I’d experienced it with my best friend, Bryce: drinking games, rooftop bars, late nights, and very little structure. Fun, yes. But not exactly calm.
This time, I wanted something different.
I didn’t book accommodation ahead of time. I’d been told by enough travelers in Río that you can often find cheaper places in Antigua just by showing up, and I had a rough idea of where I wanted to stay saved on my phone. I wasn’t looking for anything social — in fact, I specifically wanted the opposite.
I found a small guesthouse with a private room, which was exactly what I needed.
This part of the trip wasn’t about meeting people or going out. I knew if I stayed somewhere social, I’d drink more, spend more, and undo the budgeting I was trying to stick to. I wanted space — somewhere quiet where I could research, plan my next move, and slow my brain down a bit.
The journey from Río Dulce to Antigua took most of the day. Between boats, buses, waiting around, and more waiting around, I arrived late — tired, dusty, and ready to stop moving for a while.
Antigua felt familiar the moment I arrived.
Same cobblestone streets. Same volcano views. Same energy — but this time, I was experiencing it alone.
And honestly? That was exactly what I needed.
I didn’t book ahead. I just showed up. Somewhere on this street was my guesthouse — and five days of slowing down.
Catching Up with Gabriel — Rooftops, Rum & Not Letting Him Bail (Again)
After a full day of researching routes, budgets, and shuttle options — the less glamorous side of travel — I finally met up with Gabriel.
We originally met years ago in Rome, Italy, a chance travel friendship that stuck. He’d popped up again in my Guatemala plans this time around, and earlier in the trip he was supposed to meet Bryce and me for Bryce’s birthday.
He bailed.
Then there was talk of meeting again… and more hesitation.
This time, I made it very clear: I was down to my last few days in Guatemala. No more “maybes.”
To his credit, he showed up.
And honestly? He was glad he did.
We wandered Antigua together, properly catching up for the first time since Italy. The city was busy — tourists everywhere, backpacks brushing past each other on the cobblestones — but it felt different seeing it with someone who actually lives there. Less rushed. Less chaotic. More grounded.
Gabriel took me to a rooftop bar I never would’ve found on my own. Antigua is full of them, hidden behind random doors and staircases you’d never think to climb unless someone tells you to. We grabbed drinks, watched the sun sink behind the volcano, and talked — about travel, life, and how strange it is when friendships stretch across years and countries but still pick up easily.
At one point, the volcano started erupting in the distance — small bursts of lava glowing against the darkening sky. It wasn’t dramatic or loud. Just quietly powerful. The kind of moment that makes you stop mid-sentence and just watch.
After drinks, we went in search of food. I was still hungry — shocker — so when dinner didn’t quite cut it, we grabbed fried chicken to properly fill the gap.
Gabriel had to head home since he was driving, so we didn’t stay out too late. And honestly, that was fine. This wasn’t about partying. It was about finally spending time together, walking through a city I already knew — but experiencing it differently this time.
Before we split, he admitted he was really glad he’d come out after all.
So was I.
Travel has a funny way of looping back. Rooftop drinks with Gabriel — first met in Rome, reunited in Guatemala.
The Flower Festival — Crowds, Chaos & Knowing When to Retreat
Gabriel had mentioned the flower festival the night before while we were having drinks.
I remember nodding along, vaguely registering it, but not really thinking much of it. In my head, I pictured something festive but manageable — maybe a bit busier than usual, a few decorated streets, some flowers here and there.
I was so very wrong.
The next morning, I stepped out of my little hotel and immediately realized just how much I’d underestimated the situation.
Antigua was packed.
Not “busy.”
Not “lively.”
Packed.
People everywhere — locals, tourists, families, tour groups — all moving in different directions at once. Shops were fully decorated with elaborate flower displays, and everyone seemed to be trying to photograph everything at the same time.
I tried to escape it.
I ducked down side streets, hoping to find something quieter — somewhere to breathe — but there were no quiet side streets. Everywhere I turned, the crowds followed. The entire city felt like it was pulsing.
It was beautiful, don’t get me wrong. The creativity was impressive. Some shops leaned into traditional floral arches and religious displays. Others went completely unexpected. A McDonald’s covered in flowers. A Nike storefront decorated in a way I wouldn’t have thought possible.
It was fascinating — and exhausting.
Taking photos was almost impossible. Even getting a clean shot of the famous arch felt like a losing battle. Every time I thought I had a moment, someone stepped directly into the frame. Eventually, I stopped trying to capture it perfectly and just let myself experience it instead.
By late afternoon, I hit my limit.
I retired back to my hotel, shut the door, and spent a few quiet hours researching again — routes, transport, budgets, and what El Salvador was going to look like. After all the noise and movement, being back in my little room felt grounding.
About an hour before sunset, I headed back out.
Gabriel had suggested a rooftop bar the night before that we hadn’t gone to, and I decided to check it out on my own. The rooftop was busy — mostly backpackers, with a few locals mixed in — and once again, there was no magical quiet corner waiting for me.
I barely managed to grab a seat, right in the middle of everything.
No clear view.
No edge spot.
Just people.
So, I did what felt right in that moment.
I people-watched.
Rum and Coke in hand, I watched conversations overlap, backpacks pile up, and phones rise toward the sky as the sun dipped behind the volcano. I caught the sunset in fragments — between heads, shoulders, and raised glasses — and honestly, that felt fitting for the day.
Once the sun disappeared, so did I.
Back to my guesthouse.
Back to quiet.
Back to my temporary hiding space.
The festival was intense, overwhelming, and not something I could’ve handled for days on end — but I’m still glad I saw it.
Even if only in pieces.
The Flower Festival in full force — beautiful, chaotic, and absolutely everywhere. I tried to watch the sunset from a rooftop… keyword: tried.
My Last Full Day — McDonald’s, Postcards & One Final Volcano
On my last full day in Antigua, I did something deeply un-travel-blog-worthy:
I had McDonald’s for lunch.
Sometimes you just need it.
After weeks of local food, long days, and constant movement, it felt weirdly comforting to sit there with fries and a Coke and not think about anything for a bit. No decisions. No navigating. Just familiar food and a mental reset.
After lunch, I slowed things down even more. I sat down, wrote postcards, and finally mailed them off — one of those small travel tasks that always feels more important once it’s done. It was a quiet moment, but one I really enjoyed. A pause before moving on again.
Later that day, I headed out for the one thing I still really wanted to do before leaving Antigua: hike a volcano.
One of my favorite travel rituals — writing postcards on the last full day, trying to fit an entire country into a few sentences.
Choosing the Volcano (and Knowing My Limits)
Originally, I’d been seriously considering Acatenango.
The big one.
The overnight hike.
The one everyone talks about.
The one that promises incredible views, freezing temperatures, and a level of physical suffering that people somehow describe as “worth it.”
The more people I talked to who’d done it, the clearer the pattern became. Every single person said the same thing:
“It was the hardest hike I’ve ever done.”
“But the view was incredible.”
And honestly? I believed them.
But I also knew myself.
I didn’t feel the need to prove anything. I wanted to hike a volcano — not destroy myself right before heading to a new country. So instead, I chose Pacaya.
Still a volcano.
Still a hike.
Just without the overnight misery.
I booked a sunset tour and ended up hiking with another couple. From the start, it was obvious I was the slowest one — not because I was struggling, but because I just move at my own pace.
They kept stopping to check on me.
“Are you okay?”
“Do you need a break?”
And every time, I answered the same way:
“Nope. I’m good. I’m just slow.”
There was an option to ride a horse up or down the volcano for extra money, but I was already watching my budget closely. So, I walked. Slowly. Steadily. Exactly how I wanted to.
A pause on the way up Pacaya — not because I needed it… because I’m just slow.
The terrain eventually changed, turning into hardened volcanic rock — a reminder that this volcano was once very active. You could clearly see old lava flows frozen in place. People used to roast marshmallows directly on flowing lava here.
That part doesn’t happen anymore.
But our guide made it work.
Because it took us (aka: me) a while to get up there, we didn’t reach the marshmallow spot until it was fully dark. Headlamp on, night air settling in, our guide found a geothermal vent still hot enough and pulled out the marshmallows.
Roasting marshmallows in the dark, on the side of a volcano, by headlamp light — not exactly what I pictured when I booked the tour, but somehow better.
By the time we reached the top, the sky had softened into evening. The air cooled, the light faded, and the views opened up quietly. Nothing dramatic. Nothing explosive. Just expansive and calm — and completely worth it.
Somehow, we ended up being the last group on the mountain.
Slow, steady, and still made it to the top. Antigua behind me.
By the time we started heading back down, it was completely dark.
Not “kind of dark.”
Not “end-of-sunset” dark.
Fully dark.
The only light on the trail came from my headlamp, which suddenly became the most useful thing I owned. Everything outside that small circle of light disappeared — volcanic rock, uneven paths, and darkness stretching out in every direction.
The hike down went surprisingly fast.
No photo stops.
No lingering.
Just steady steps and watching where I placed my feet.
At some point, it became obvious we were running late.
The tour had definitely gone longer than planned — not that anyone seemed stressed about it. I’d like to say it had nothing to do with my pace on the way up… but let’s be real.
It probably did.
Totally not my slow ass.
(Okay. Maybe a little.)
Still, no one rushed me, no one complained, and it never felt like a problem. We laughed about it, kept moving, and before I knew it, we were back at the bottom.
Dusty.
Tired.
And very done — in the best way.
That night, there was nothing left on my agenda.
Pizza.
Packing.
Netflix.
The next morning, I’d be leaving Guatemala and heading into a new country — but it felt good knowing I’d ended my time in Antigua exactly how I wanted to: on my own terms, at my own pace, and with one last volcano under my belt.
Pizza, Netflix, and packing — my kind of last night in Guatemala.
Closing the Chapter on Guatemala
Guatemala surprised me in ways I didn’t expect.
I arrived thinking I had a loose idea of what this month would look like — temples, lakes, jungle, maybe a little partying — but what I actually experienced went so much deeper than that.
It started in Flores, where plans shifted immediately. I didn’t make it to Tikal, but I still found myself standing among ancient ruins, learning about Mayan history, and realizing that sometimes the alternative plan is the plan. From there came Semuc Champey, where I willingly crawled through caves and questioned my life choices more than once — and somehow came out the other side exhilarated instead of traumatized.
Then came Guatemala City, picking up Bryce, and the shift from solo travel into shared chaos. Late nights in Antigua, rooftop bars, drinking games, and the kind of laughter that only happens when you travel with someone who matches your energy. Lake Atitlán followed — getting lost, getting pushed, getting hangry, and watching a lightning storm roll across the lake in silence. Then back to the city, where I accidentally fell asleep in a movie theatre and spent the next day learning about Guatemala through textiles and everyday life instead.
After that, things slowed down.
Río Dulce taught me that I am not, in fact, capable of kayaking for hours without consequences — no matter how confident I feel at the start. It gave me quiet mornings, jungle adventures, monkeys overhead, and one of the best hot “showers” of my life under a waterfall. Livingston challenged my expectations completely. I went looking for nightlife and found rain, quiet streets, long walks, and moments of solitude instead. It wasn’t what I imagined — but it was still worth going.
And finally, Antigua — again.
This time alone.
This time slower.
This time intentional.
I researched. I planned. I walked. I ate McDonald’s without shame. I wrote postcards. I met up with a friend I’d first met years ago in Rome and saw how travel friendships can stretch across continents and still feel familiar. I experienced the chaos of the flower festival, learned when to retreat, and ended my time in Guatemala hiking a volcano — not the hardest one, not the most dramatic one, but the one that felt right for where I was at.
Guatemala wasn’t just one thing.
It was loud and quiet.
Chaotic and calm.
Social and deeply solo.
It pushed me, surprised me, humbled me, and reminded me that travel doesn’t need to look a certain way to be meaningful. Sometimes it’s about caves and volcanoes. Sometimes it’s about rum and Coke on a rooftop. Sometimes it’s about knowing when to stop, slow down, and listen to yourself.
The next morning, I packed up once more and boarded a shuttle bound for Santa Ana, El Salvador.
A new country.
A new pace.
A new chapter waiting just across the border.
Guatemala was done — but it left its mark.
And I wouldn’t change a single part of it.
From ruins to rivers, chaos to quiet — Guatemala gave me exactly what I needed.
