Uncovering the Real Antigua

Antigua, hermosa Antigua. Literally translated as the ancient city, it was a city of past splendors filled with ruínas and scars of past earthquakes, filled with history and stories. With its arches, churches, and a certain stated charm to its cafes and streets to revel any of Latin America but also reminiscent of old school European rough glamour. It is truly a beautiful city, encompassing some of the best of Guatemala, siempre with its resplendent colors and nestled between three volcanoes. It might even be the only place where you can watch as sunset colors filter through regular cloudlike puffs from one of the three surrounding volcanoes, still very much active.
And as inviting and charming (and expensive!)* as all the cafés, bake shops, and restaurants with roof-top terraces and tinkling courtyard fountains were, they felt and resembled those any other nice city. Their sole uniqueness lies in the fact that we were still in Guatemala, and after so many chicken bus rides a return to civilization was civilized culture shock indeed. I loved exploring the ancient ruínas of the city—walking through columns no longer supporting the grand roofs now just bricks and dust under my feet. The plazas, arches, and doorways of a city whose allure was always peeking through some doorway or glimpsed just around the cornert. But here it was too easy; I soon forgot the taste of Guatemala, the rugged beauty and the challenges endured to uncover that beauty (ahem, 8 hours in a pull-man bus with no air conditioning to get to Semuc Champey). Despite all Antigua’s antiquated beauty, I was missing some connection to it. And then it hit me.
More like passed me on the street, looking darn good. I wanted that popsicle! I couldn’t help but narrow in one two girls and a small boy with undoubtanly the best popsicle I had ever seen, was that strawberry with banana chunks? There were definitely whole banana chunks. Without thinking, I scrammbled after the woman I had just seen licking my popsicle. “Compermiso, donde puedo encontrar esto paleta?” The girl did a double take. Her sister and her son, stopped and gaped at me open mouthed, forgetting their popsicles for a split second. They could tell I was foreign. The girl gave me a sheepish smile while her sister laughed and gave me directions. I thought I misunderstood, knock at the yellow carpenter’s house? I would have knocked at every yellow house and building on that street. Luckily for those inside, the girl came with me and directed me towards the, I was right, carpenter store. She knocked decisively on the wooden door, eyeing me curiosuly. “Si?”, answered the woman peering around the unmarked, heavy wooden door. They want paletas the girl explained and took off, glancing back once more grinning. The lady eyed us, and gave us her best smile when I asked what flavors she was offering. to be honest I couldn’t understand most of them, (leche (milk) was a flavor?).
“Which one’s the best?”
“ Fresa con crema, porque tiene pedasos de anana y fresas.”
“Quiero dos de esos porfavor.”

And they were the best. At 2 pesos apiece (25 cents cada uno), they were freshly made full of sabor and fresh, juicy chunk of bananas and strawberry. We sat on the stoop to concentrate at the task on hand, and as I waited for mine to melt I noticed several people walking around with the standard Sarita chain ice cream, glancing at our prizes enviously. I think it’s safe to say we were the only extranjeras who had discovered Antigua’s secret: good, homemade food is hiding behind closed doors and carpenters stores. Here was the treat, and the connection with the city I was craving. It just proves the old age advice ask the locals, do as the locals do to get the cremé de la cremé without the added foreigner disadvantage tax.

*Cultural Note: Nothing in Guatemala is really expensive, some of the nicest meals at the nicest restaurant in smaller towns, not Antigua, cost $10-12 US dollars, a normal, not even great meal in the States. Cost is all relative, but what goads my goat is when things are expensive because of tourism. The quality goes down, prices go up, and you’re left wondering exactly what you paid for and where you are because it’s just like home. Some travelers like that, but I go out of my way to find my own dirt track off the beaten path. I’ve rarely been disappointed, hey even diarrhea is an adventure when you’re far from home.