On Sunday 18th December we took a taxi over to Antigua (the town, not the island), which is about an hour away from Guatemala city.
Communication complications meant that we accidentally missed meeting with Wicho and Liz, and after arriving at their hotel had to wait, surrounded by the parrots and foliage of the stunning Hotel Santa Domingo courtyards, and were forced to partake in a number of drinks in the early morning sun…
After checking in to our pretty (and slightly less impressive) hotel we began our early afternoon recovery from this alcoholic hardship with a hearty steak (with tortillas, re-fried beans, longaniza sausages and plantains) lunch at La Fonda de la Calle Real restaurant.
Fortuitously, a cigarette break coincided with an almighty roar going up from around the corner in Parque Central. Wandering over to investigate I found the centre packed with people, all watching a big screen showing football.
A penalty was being taken and saved, which, the eruption of the crowd signified, was the moment that the Antigua football team had won the Copa Liga Nacional (the equivalent of the FA Cup). Much shouting, dancing and the lighting of huge streams of firecrackers broke out among the mass of people. The night was certainly going to be a festive one!
We dropped our bags off at our room in the pretty, simple and convenient Hotel Antigua, just off from Parque Central and took a walk around the less touristy bits of the town before wandering back and stumbling upon the Terrace Hostel which, as the name would suggest, did indeed have a lovely terrace where we were able to sit in the sunshine, looking over the nearby Antiguan roof gardens whilst quaffing 20 Quetzala (£2!) pints of cerveza Gallo. 
After a change of clothes into some slightly less daytime walking clobber (yet still shorts and tee-shirt weather) we stopped in to the trattoria Casa Troccolli where I enjoyed a restorative spaghetti and ragu while Ani attacked a stunning duck and plum sauce dinner.
The footballing victory celebrations were continuing in force all evening and streams of people were filtering past the restaurant’s open-shuttered windows. Another cigarette break outside and as I watched the people lining the streets for the team’s victory tour through the town I was asked by a mum and her three kids to take pictures of them, before being asked to join them in the photos. “I will send this to my ex-boyfriend!” the mum told me as they took a picture of me and her alone. They were lovely and friendly, as was every Antiguan and his dog (literally, the dogs were walking around in little Antigua FC shirts) as they thronged the streets in celebration.
The central square was packed and resplendent with lights and people, as well as a main stage with a Latin big band, playing to the masses. They opened the event, oddly, with New York, New York before moving on to more typically popular Latin (and far more impressive) songs. It was wonderful to be on the streets amidst such a night of boisterous fiesta-ing and, needless to say, we got very drunk.
The following morning we again managed to wake early, and went for breakfast at Café Condesa, where Ani had a healthy-human breakfast of eggs, tomato and onion with re-fried beans, bread and papaya jelly while I complemented my habitual pre-conscious coffee injection with a monstrously huge gourd of blackberry, strawberry and orange smoothie.
After this we took a walk to visit the Antigua market, in search of a hat and sandals, respectively to protect my gringo visage from the sun and release my gringo feet from the heat of it, although we found neither. The market itself was huge, and labyrinthine, with all the stall owners and produce sellers accompanied by their children, working and bustling together busily. All manner of impressively proportioned produce, vegetables, meats and foodstuffs were available, alongside vendors selling locally made hats, clothing, souvenirs and knick-knacks, as well as some of the more typical plastic market tat you’d expect. The charm of the market lies in its scale and the throng of people, the vast majority of which are locals trading their wares, allowing it to retain its sense of culture and community purpose. It was a pleasant change from the commercialised, tourist-targeted and homogenised markets that are so common across Europe recently. We didn’t take photos inside the market, but here’s a lovely store showing off some of the amazing craftwork on offer.
A post-market melee beer seemed in order and so we visited the terrace of the El Barrio for a smattering of beers, but in this case no smoking. Antigua is, in many areas, heavily regulated to promote tourism and protect the area at the same time. However, for us dwindling groups of smokers (many admittedly desirous of quitting though still not yet able to resist the joys of a beer and a fag) this does mean that many of the rooftop terraces nearer the municipal centre are zero tolerance smoke-free zones, denying us panting smokers our post-breakfast/lunch/dinner puff and pint. Ah well. To the rest of you non-wheezing lung-breathers, well done; you’re winning the battle of the bars!
Wicho and Liz drove down to join us for lunch (and drinks) at restaurant Café Frida’s. The bar is festooned with paintings of the famous artist and we got tipsy on mescal cocktails (I chose, of course, La Revolucion!) and dined on tacos al pastor, kebabs and for me a pollo spectacularo (I can’t remember the name of the dish).
After rolling out of Frida’s we made our way to visit Ani’s aunt and uncle, Rosa and Derrick, at their spectacular home. And when I say spectacular, I’m doing it an enormous injustice. After bread, cheese and a bottle or two of the old vino tinto, Derrick took me for a tour. They had taken seven years planning how they could use their plot of land, just outside of Antigua centre (only a ten-minute walk, the town is very small) and the result is amazing. The centre is a home and a business, catering (both figuratively and literally) for groups using the conference centre, the meditation room, spa and offices.
From the entrance to the pool to the buildings and rooms, each new arch or door opens onto the next purpose-built and built-for-purpose new rooms, revealing the next discrete area seamlessly. Each part, section and every small detail is addressed with excruciatingly refined attention and class. It was stunning. We retired to the pool area to consume some more wine and express our admiration for the endeavour. Needless to say, we got very drunk.
We were going to feel rough for our 8am, two and a half hour shuttle journey to Lake Atitlan…
…or so we thought, however after dragging ourselves out of bed at 7am, packing and crawling outside for coffee while awaiting our shuttle… it didn’t arrive. The receptionist called and reported that it had blown a tire, and that she would book us onto the 12:30pm shuttle instead. It wasn’t ideal to be travelling in the midday sun but this did give us time to walk around Las Capuchinas, a beautiful old monastery now turned into a tourist location and offices.
As you can see from the photographs, it was very pretty and a pretty damn peaceful place for remedying a hangover.
Mildly recovered, it was time to leave Antigua and head off to Lake Atitlan and to the village of San Pedro La Laguna.