We Did It Again

A pre-planned guided tour is a wonderful way to become introduced to a new city or country.  They usually hit the high points and deliver a quick dose of history and culture in a short period, which is especially nice when travel time is limited.   For infrequent travelers, a tour can reduce stress about security, local transportation, and lodging, plus making friends with others on the tour can be a big plus.  The downside of group tours is that your time is not your own, and their fast-paced schedule can be exhausting.   

Stan and I do not travel tour-type any longer. We have the luxury of time . . . or at least we think we do.  At our age, that’s certainly not guaranteed.   Occasionally we sign up for transportation-included daytrips on Viator, but otherwise our time is our own.  We have become our own tour guides. 

Our day-to-day life is ordinary.  We are not on “vacation” every day.  Just as we did in elementary schoool, we “play house,” cooking, tidying up, doing laundry, and shopping for groceries. But we make a point to get out of the house and do something every day.  For example, if we need batteries . . . that can become an outing. Finding and having lunch at the farm-to-table restaurant and garden we heard about can become an outing.   Our activity might be just wandering through the many ruins here or museums, climbing a hill for an overlook of the city or a valley, or having lunch at a place all the locals say has the best, most authentic Guatemalan food.  The greater the challenge and the farther the destination, the better.  We love good food but burning it off takes work! 

This week, we headed out to the Caoba Farms restaurant.  In about 2004, Alex Kronic,  a Swede born in Guatemala, recognized that chefs in Guatemala’s budding restaurant industry needed food items not typically grown in Guatemala, for example, there was no Romain for Ceasar salads.  Just outside Antigua, Kronic converted a farm previously used for growing coffee and roses and began growing specialty lettuces.  Now, twenty years later, Kronic’s plan for a simple lettuce farm has evolved into an organic farm growing “exotic” produce crops for restaurants. There is a plant nursery, a butterfly conservatory, wood-fired ovens for making specialty breads and pizzas, and a fabulous, farm-to-table restaurant.  There is nothing about the menu at Caoba Farms that is Guatemalan, but the dining and the setting are fantastic! Pleasant and intimate al fresco dining areas are scattered throughout the zen garden. Some tables are under vining arbors and some are under canvas sails but all sit on the ground covered by a thick carpet of wood chips. Rich with lush plant life and flowers, it is a quiet, natural setting for a lovely meal of just harvested foods.  While we love Guatemala’s rich soups and salsas, this was a welcomed change in taste and a refreshing change in pace.

Yes, we are guilty.  It seems we just cannot get enough. We did it again.   

Our alarm was set at 4:30 am.  I was in the midst of a good dream.  I was buying a whole set of self-help books at Borders.  My body jumped in shock when the alarm abruptly sounded!  Sometimes I hate that thing! 

Our pick-up was scheduled between 5:50 and 6:20 am. Yeesh!  Fortunately, our driver was right on time waiting for us at 5:50.  It could have easily been a different story.  We might have stood outside our apartment entrance in the early morning fog for 30 minutes before our car arrived.  Thank goodness there was no wait; the trip didn’t begin with someone I know in a grumpy mood! . . . We celebrate our 50^th wedding anniversary in March.  After all these years together, we know each other pretty well.  We know each other’s ups and downs, our triggers, and most importantly, our limits.  Oh, we each still test them from time to time, but for two people who spend every minute of every day together, we are good. Stan Weeks is the man in my life, my partner, my greatest fan, and my best friend.   And he’s still cute!  He knows our girls are my heart, my everything but he also knows he is the one I want to walk with, talk with, and wake up with for the rest of my life, even when he’s grumpy. 

We picked up five other travelers and headed to Pacaya . . . yes, another hike on another volcano.  This volcano does not spew fire and sparks, but it is active and hot enough to vent steam in places in the lava field.  The tour brochure said we could roast marshmallows in the vents at the top. We signed up.

At the park entrance, guests chose between walking 2 miles up and 2 miles down with an altitude gain of 1300 feet or engaging a local handler and a horse for the ride up and down.    Stan and I opted to walk.  So did everyone else.  Some folks said they were afraid of horses, and some said they came for the hike, but by the time we reached the top, only three of us and a few village dogs were still hiking while the other four were riding horseback.  Bah-ha-ha! 

It was a rare clear day for Guatemala with only a few clouds.  We were glad we took the early morning hike instead of the afternoon option because as the day went on, more and more clouds moved in.   From spots along the Pacaya volcano hike, there were clear, panoramic views of the three mystical-looking volcanoes, Agua, Acatenango, and Fuego, with the broad valley below.  The scene seemed to tell a story.  In the spectacular landscape of volcanoes, green fields, and blue skies, Fuego was puffing its tireless eruptions of fire and smoke, while in the pueblos below people busily followed their life’s daily routine of working, carting, tending, and cooking and washing seemingly oblivious to the magic around them.  

Hell yeah, we did it again! 

We hiked the 1350 feet elevation gain in the almost 4-mile in-and-out hike.  The hike was hard!  Even the AllTrails App agrees that it is “difficult.” It was dusty, rocky, littered with fresh horse dumplings and dog poop.  We huffed and puffed and stopped for frequent breaks, reminding ourselves to go slow and steady, putting one foot in front of the other.  We are stubbornly stubborn but that day rewarded us with views and a sense of accomplishment. At about the 6,500 foot elevation, we found ourselves in vast black lava fields with steam piping out of hot spots there.  We looked forward to roasting marshmallows over the hot steam vents but since only three of us made it to that spot, that novel little event did not happen, besides it was windy and quite brisk.

Deja vu . . . In Southeast Asia a few years ago, we finally declared no more temples; no more Buddhas—we had visited far too many.  In Italy, we finally said, no more duomos, no more cathedrals, and now until we visit Mount Etna in Italy next year, no more volcano treks.  Check! Completo!