Don't Cry for Me, Antigua

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Originally uploaded by lauraespence.

The truth is, I may never leave you.

There are not words (at least words that I have rumbling around in my head, ready for an unanticipated moment) for how beautiful a city Antigua is.

The city gets somewhat of a bad wrap for being the gringo hub of Guatemala. And indeed, there are a fair contingent of buffed and toned first-worlders frequenting comfy cafes like The Bagel Barn; de-Guating, re-Guating, and stocking up on overpriced (by 3rd world standards) jewelry. It is, by my own estimation, a first-world suburb dropped in the middle of Central America.

Saying that, Antigua seems to be a rare exception in a world of combed over, discovered and re-discovered destinations. When in Rome, I found the locals to be rude and spiteful of extranjeros; in Antigua, I found the locals accommodating - I may even stretch to say friendly - to the foreigners who buzz around the city like viruses in a petri dish. The fact is, the Guatemalans might be the most forgiving people ever.

Kevin and I stopped into a few jewelry stores and the Guatemalan workers automatically initiated a conversation with us in perfect English. That is an impact of the tourism industry that has always made me really sad, so I answered them in Spanish. Regularly they complimented me on my Spanish. Which is even more sad. A girl who has just started studying can be categorized in the "competent" linguistic category (which we all know just ain't true).

Our experience there, much like city, was simply magical. One night after dinner, as we were walking back to our hostel through Central Park, we stumbled upon a free concert with the Guatemalan National Symphony. We visited Casa Santa Domingo, a monastery on Conde Nast's top places to visit in the world, strolled through endless art galleries, and shared our last dinner, by candlelight with live Spanish music, at the most incredible restaurant set in a colonial courtyard on the outskirts of the city.

Coming back to Xela was certainly a slow trek back to the real world - and the third world, while we're at it. On the bus ride back, my money and debit card were stolen, so I had to barter my way back by giving up my earrings. Two months ago I might have found that an odd exchange, but the other day it was - in a word - sustaining. The experience didn't spoil my trip, though, or sour my sentiments. I believe that Antigua may always be among the most magical, mystical places I have visited.