Antigua / Volcan Pacaya

“Antigua! Antigua! Antigua!” Early this morning I rode a bright red Bluebird bus from Guatemala City to Antigua. A handful of locals occupied the remaining seats and samba music was the driver's choice today. “Antigua! Antigua!” The driver called out again to fellow Guatemalans waiting on the side of the road. Several of them pulled open the exit at the back of the bus and piled in, as a few more entered the traditional way. “Antigua! Antigua! Antigua!”The samba music blasted louder through the speakers. I was now sharing my seat with two other men and we were streching the limits of the number of people that a former US school bus is physically capable of holding. “Antigua!” The bus rumbled out of the city and through misty green hills as myself and the hundred-or-so other passengers headed towards Antigua.

If there are Spanish colonial towns in heaven, they'll look like Antigua. Antigua is so perfect and picturesque that my Lonely Planet book poses the question, “did they get somebody in to do all this stuff?” After dumping my stuff off at a hotel and having a quick breakfast of “Huevos y Salsa”, I was off to explore Antigua.

Antigua was the colonial capital of Guatemala for 200 years until it was razed by an earthquake in 1773. The capital was moved to Guatemala City, but many of the former structures were rebuilt and the result is a whole lot of prime spots for sightseeing. It was easy to enjoy wandering around the town with absolutely no agenda. After visiting a Spanish colonial cathederal or a giant 16th century ruin, I would look down the street one way and something would inevitably catch my interest. Then I'd look down the street the other way and there was another sight that was equally good. So I spent my time in Antigua being led through the streets by one amazing sight after the next, always with intentions of returning to the “equally good” sights that I left behind.

A few of the places I visited included a Spanish cathederal called “Catedral de Santiago”, a monestary called “Iglesia y Convento de Nuestra Senora de La Merced”, and a former university called “Universidad de San Carlos” that has since been moved to Guatemala City. My favorite sights though were all the store fronts in Antigua. All of the newer structures are painted bright colors - either red, yellow, or blue, or pastel variations of the primary colors. It really was surreal to wander through endless streets of colorful storefronts filled with flowers and covered with the classic plaster-falling-off-bricks look. I got so caught up in snapping pictures of storefronts that I had to consciously tell myself to get a few pictures of something else.
The town was amazing, but the reason I originally came to Antigua was to visit the still-active “Volcan Pacaya”. While I was in Belize my traveler friend Mark showed me pictures of dramatic black lava rock and red-hot rivers of flowing lava from his visit to the volcano. It took me only a few seconds to decide I had to see it and my itinerary had officialy been adjusted.

Pacaya did not disappoint. After a two hour drive out of town and a steep hike with a Guatemalan guide and a few other travelers, I reached the crater of Pacaya. Mist and clouds obscured everything at first and I thought I was just on the top of a tall mountain. Slowly, as my view cleared, I saw a massive black crater below me with a peak of lava rock towering hundreds of feet above. I rested with the group for a few minutes before our Guatemalan guide led us down the edge of the mountain and into the crater. I found out that climbing over lava rock is quite a challenge. I took slow, deliberate steps over giant, shaky masses of unsettled lava rock until I finally reached what I really came for.

Red, blazing lava oozed out of openings in the rock and I gathered with the others to watch. It really is amazing how captivating lava can be. Each of us stood just close enough so that we were uncomfortably hot, but not so close that the hair on our arms would cinge. Our guide explored the crater in the distance as I took turns taking pictures with the other travelers. I'm sure the poses we made have all been done before, but they were fun nonetheless. I stood from a distance and positioned my finger just right so that in a picture it would look like I was sticking it in the lava. I also made faces in front of the lava, straining to express (and embellish) the pain that came with standing only a few feet away from the molten mess. Our guide called out to us. We followed him around a mound of rock until we saw his discovery. Oozing lava was entertaining enough, but now we had a small river of it to keep our attention. I must have taken the same picture of the river of lava ten different times, but each time it felt worthwhile because the sight was still so spectacular. After more poses and many more pictures it finally was time to go. Our guide hiked to the edge of the crater and called to us over and over until each of us pulled ourselves away from the lava. A short hike to the top of the crater revealed another incredible view: silhouettes of three volcanos in the distance surrounded by clouds and the orange and pink light of the sunset.