Day 29 – Mexi-go and a Blink-and-You’ll-Miss-It Tour of Antigua

It was time for a sombre(rero?) Mexican wave goodbye. My flight from Cancun to Guatemala City was scheduled for lunchtime with my transfer booked for a 9:30am pickup. Plenty of time for a final visit to the breakfast buffet with its omelette flipping and plantain delights. I’ve described this buffet in the past three posts. There was nothing new. Although I don’t think I ever lamented the total absence of bircher muesli on it which, to me, is always a buffet breakfast staple. So fill er up with more huevos, more platanos, more cafe – frankly I was unsure about when the next food window might open. My previous aviation horrors with Interjet had trapped me in a queue at the airport forever. Today, I was flying with Volaris but didn’t want to repeat the experience of a blood sugar drop in the line. I was prepared to queue with a fat gut and a full stomach this time.

After thanking my friendly servers, it was time for the dreaded final pack. The airport pack is a time of ruthless brutality. Volaris had been trying to upsell me additional luggage allowance via email for weeks. I was expecting to to be accosted in the line by a Con the Fruiterer type with a luggage weigher. ‘100 grams over, Miss! That will be $200 American dollars unless you upgrade to our special Volaris deluxe package now before you reach the check-in desk.’ So I had to leave some things behind. The maid surely made out like Pancho Villa with a thank you package of abandoned goodies!

Sacrifices had to be made. (At least they weren’t traditional Mayan ones.) My Bluetooth keyboard and a semi-dinged Jack Reacher novel that I never got around to reading had to go to make way for the booty from the Cancun museum shop. It was like reverse cultural repatriation. I had legitimately purchased my own pieces of cultural heritage and was taking them to be revered in another country. I wrapped the precious things in t-shirts and protected a couple of sketches in the bottom of my bag with a dodgy but useful Oxxo bag.

Then I opened the fridge … It was 9am … Time to get rid of the free coconut with straw – easy. Only a mouthful in there. Generous. There was also a full 500ml unopened beer can I bought from the Oxxo, miraculously untouched. (Well, I had been busy filling my gob with so much other crap that a simple can of beer was low on the list of priorities.) Now it was there next to the remaining half a litre of post-binge surviving chocolate ice cream. No way could I risk that can exploding in my luggage and I couldn’t carry it in the cabin. (I was already stashing a small bottle of tequila from the so-called Tequila Museum in my hand luggage.) It was Indio. It was a good beer. It was Mexican. I was leaving for Guatemala, where Indio was extinct and other beverages freely roamed the bar taps.

There was only one thing to do. Crack it open and chug half a can to retain some civility.

Hooray! So I was in a happy mood as I checked out and paid for all my meals and tips and the laundry and that pizza I ate the other night and god knows what else I charged to the room. The best part was getting rid of the big fat US notes I’d been lugging around from Australia and asking for the change in smaller bills – the Cancun resort was like a delightful international house of banking where the service was great and yet you witnessed acts of terrible abuse on the staff from the other customers. One guy was being a total pain in the ass, rudely complaining about the resort’s app not integrating all of his family within the same villa. Boo hoo. I was there four days and didn’t bother even downloading it. Maybe get out of the villa or, god forbid, leave the gated community of the resort and live life, asshole. I would miss Mexico but I would not miss the entitled Americans of Cancun treating the staff of the resort like their own personal slaves. I saw it many times and it was truly appalling.

With heavy heart, it was off to the airport. I was feeling a bit antsy because the flight was scheduled to arrive at 3pm and I was meant to meet my new Intrepid tour guide and mates at 6pm. If this had been an Interjet flight, I would probably have been at the airport bar on my third mezcal by 5pm. But a pleasant surprise awaited me. Volaris was no Interjet. The staff were at the desk, information was on the screens, and the flight was on time. Nobody tried to upsell me on the luggage allowance and nobody tried to test the weight or size of my red carryon backpack which was now a flagrant violation of the ‘Your Luggage Must be This Size’ box. (My policy was now to always keep it on my back so check-in staff couldn’t see it. What bag?? No, I’m just weighed down by the burdens of life.) This was easy! No worries or de nada!

I quickly popped into the mobile store for a new phone cover since the glue was gone on mine. (You may note a dark smudge on the corner of some of the other photos – that’s the cover slipping over the camera lens.) Then it was through the gates again. I was getting to know the Cancun airport well now, given that this was my second visit in the international departures area. (It was also the route I took to Cuba a few weeks prior.) I checked my watch. Plenty of time. It was only a short flight of about an hour. No way I was going to get fed. I knew that I’d shovelled down a big breakfast but I wasn’t going to get lunch on that flight and there would not be any opportunity to eat until dinner time. I wolfed down three tacos from the food court. A few explorations around the shops and the flight was called. Nothing eventful to note.

Guatemala City is the capital of Guatemala. (You’d never have guessed.) I had no intention of visiting it though. After the usual fun and games of customs and passport control, I left the airport with my pre-arranged Intrepid transport. (After my transport in Cuba failed to turn up, it was a huge relief to see the sign with my name on it). I settled in for some Spanglish banter with the driver for the next couple of hours.

My destination was Antigua, the picturesque city that has had some seriously bad luck. In 1541, the nearby water volcano (Volcano de Agua) erupted and the resulting mudslide destroyed the town. The inhabitants decamped and moved to the current location. Antigua then became the capital of Guatemala for a while, before a huge earthquake destroyed much of it in 1773. Its history is dotted with earthquakes but this one was terrible. It killed approximately 600 people outright and then a further 600 from starvation or disease. The capital then moved location but the city of Antigua Guatemala (meaning old Guatemala – like ‘antique’) remained. Many of the old buildings (mostly churches), proudly demonstrate this heritage with cracks that no Selley’s spakfilla will patch. Antigua is known for its brightly painted buildings, cobble stones, quaint feel and scenic location nestled between three volcanoes. El Fuego – the fire volcano – actually blew its top in 2018.

After I arrived, I only had about an hour and a half before the group meeting so it was time for a walk. Dear reader – are you wondering why I am not devastated that I only had an hour a half to explore this historical wonderland? You know I love the 16th century, Spanish architecture, historical stuff and new places! It’s the spirit of HockTales! Well, the thing is, I’d been here before so there was no FOMO for Jojo. If I’d had a day spare, there would have been a full-scale HockTales assault on the town. But with so little time, there was no point getting upset about what I wouldn’t see and I just enjoyed what I could shove down my eye sockets.

I didn’t even need a map. I was staying in the same hotel from a previous Intrepid tour. So I knew the neighbourhood too and was confident from the get go. Right around the corner from the hotel was this.

Iglesias de La Merced. Stunning. Not many ladies can pull off yellow but the Our Lady of Mercy sure can! The design incorporates some earthquake proofing with low height and wider columns. The church was originally a male monastery for the Mercederian order. It opened in 1767 and that big earthquake hit in 1773. Surely somebody was deservedly smug that the building was still standing.

Literally across the road is Antigua’s most famous landmark – the Santa Catalina arch.

This arch was basically built to keep nuns off the street. In 1694, the two buildings on either side were convents. The arch allowed the nuns to cross from their dorms to the schools they taught at on the other side of the arch. These nuns were seriously black ops. Hard core incognito. So off the grid they didn’t even know where the grid was. They had taken vows of seclusion which meant nobody was allowed to even see them (other than during their teaching duties, I guess). Jesus would be on everybody’s case if anybody on the street caught so much as a glimpse of one of these women. The arch completely hid them from the world. Nuns? What nuns? We’ll be having nun of that! (Incidentally, the clock on the top was added in the 1800s and needs to be wound every three days. It’s French. Sigh.)

The main square is about a five minute walk from the arch. I began to notice changes from my last visit here in 2017. A craft brewery, a Subway, more shops in general. Commerce and entrepreneurship was booming. What was in these spaces before? Unsure. At least the killer coffee shop was still there. In Guatemala, the currency is the quetzal. Like the bird. It’s cool because the bird is on the notes. But I didn’t see much point in changing my US into Qs for only a few hours, knowing that the tour itinerary saw us leaving Guatemala first thing in the morning. So I paid in US for an awesome cold brew Americano at the killer coffee shop.

I did do one thing that was new in that I visited a jade shop. Guatemala is famous for its jade. The Mayan royalty and elite wore all over their bodies and even drilled it into their teeth. Mayans from the region traded it all over to other areas that didn’t have jade deposits. The shops are impressive affairs with reconstructions of famous Mayan masks, animals and all kinds of expensive jewellery constructed from jade. And not just the dark green stuff like you would think. I think there are about 15 different kinds including lavender and blue. Those are extremely unique to the region, but they do remind me of Mrs Slocomb’s hair. (Are You Being Served? Look it up.) The gentleman following me around hoping that the backpack and the travel garb didn’t rule me out for the purchase of a $10,000 jade ornament was quite impressed by my knowledge of the masks and which sites they were from. I did capitulate and buy my own little piece of jade with my birth month on it. Remember in the last post I pointed out that my birth glyph was Ceh? Well, the calendar here had me as Toj and Ceh wasn’t an option. I’ve been Toj before so I suspect a variety of calendars are used depending on interpretations. Bizarrely though, I opened his book of dates to show him my birthdate and it was already underlined!!!! The only date underlined in the book that I could see!!!! Weird and bizarre coincidence. With the Toj pendant purchased, it was time to return back to the hotel to meet the new Intrepid crew.

Upon my return to the Intrepid hotel (which provided free coffee and water in the lobby – winner!), I performed the very important task of swigging a couple of sips out of that mini tequila bottle. Tomorrow we’d be crossing the border into Honduras. I’d crossed a few of these borders before – AK47s and total obedience were the norm. I didn’t know how a bottle of alcohol was going to go down. So, as a result, it had to all go down today …

It was a large group indeed. 16 people! There was only 6 on the Cuban tour. A broad mix of English, Aussies, American and European with people both older and younger than me. We went out to dinner at a soup place where I reunited with an old flame of mine, Gallo beer!!!! Gallo means rooster in Spanish. Gallo beer is the only acceptable avian version of an actual gallo to me unless I am eating it. I even have a giant Gallo beer t-shirt that I gave my dad that he rejected because it was too small so I now sleep in it.

It was never going to be a big night. Pamela, our new guide, informed us that we were leaving at 4am sharp to beat the traffic on the road out of Antigua to Copan, Honduras. So it was an early night for everybody. I decided to get the jump on showering the night before, having been burnt (or the absolute opposite actually) by this hotel’s hot water service in a similar situation. We had left at 5am on a previous trip and I remembered freezing my butt off waiting for hot water that never kicked in. Not this time buddy. I made use of the world’s most bizarrely shaped shower before I retired for the evening.

The room was hot as hell for some reason. This was great news because my bathers still hadn’t dried from the cenote swim the previous day and had wet some other things. So I set up a drying station with all the hangers. Everything else was packed and ready to go for the morning. Just one more thing left to do – a final swig on the mini tequila bottle to knock it off. It was a sad farewell to tequila. The last I would sample on the entire trip actually since we were leaving the land of the agave plant. That night, it was a bit of a sedative, putting me to sleep just before the horrific 3:30am alarm …

Join me next time for HockTales and the Curse of the Dreaded Honduran Hot Springs.