Voyassitude

Despite its almost daily rains this time of year, Antigua granted me the mornings to experience its warmer, more colorful side, the one that offered a radiant blue sky topped off by volcanoes wherever I looked. Added to these dreamy landscapes were the similarly dreamlike encounters I had with people from all over the world during the week I spent in Guatemala.

In my latest trips, I’ve longed for epic scenery and memorable sights just as much as I’ve wished for special connections with other travelers crossing my path. I’ve even come to fear new destinations if there’s no spark, no bond with an adventurous soul climbing volcanoes or discovering rainforests at the far corners of the world. Landing in a new city means to arrive packed with uncertainties about whether I’ll manage to connect with someone, trying not to force things but without wasting the serendipities of life that end up, almost out of nowhere, leading to a new French friend or an Irish acquaintance.

I was ready for Antigua to amaze me with its natural landscape, but I wasn’t ready at all to feel overwhelmed by the quantity —and quality— of travelers I met with their stories, their love, their knowledge, their passion. I mean, I hadn’t even finished settling into my hostel when I was already talking to one of my ‘neighbors’ in the dorm. She was an American teacher with a sharp mind enjoying her one-month vacation in Guatemala, and we ended up at a rooftop drowning our sorrows about today’s American Nightmare with beer.

Next day, just twenty-four hours after landing, I was sharing coffee and anecdotes with some travelers I met at one of those popular “free” walking tours. They were a couple (the girl from Brazil and the guy from Greece,) and a girl from France, all of them displaying a profound love for my Colombian land; the couple because they met in Cartagena, and the French girl because that’s where she was captivated by Latin American people, their warmth and ways of life not usually seen in the old continent. We shared iced lattes and hibiscus tea at Fernando’s Kaffee. The Greek guy was the quiet one, discreet but attentive, and you could see in his eyes the infinite adoration he felt for his partner every time he looked at her. She was a cheerful Brazilian who would blush when telling the story of how they both met in the Colombian coast during one of their trips. As digital nomads, they are now used to living for long periods of time in different places, but it was clear that their safest refuge, their true home, was one another.

As for the French girl, she has been wandering the American continent for many months, fascinated by the history and joy of Latin Americans. Her Spanish is so good that she knows the meaning of words such as “trapiche” or “sincretismo.” When we were on the walking tour exploring Antigua’s historical center, the tour guide bombarded us with endless architectural information impossible to memorize. I can’t explain how or why, but during this overload of data in the midst of festive squares and invaluable, partially damaged monuments, the most striking scene was seeing the French girl drinking water. She was wearing black pants and a carmine tank top; the scorching sunlight bathed her naked arms and lightened, brightened her blond hair, which was wrapped in a bun that left some locks falling to her shoulders. When she drank water from the bottle she carried around, with the ruins of a church arising in the background, I was awestruck. There was something hypnotic in that scene, a rare and fleeting spark that I knew I had to capture with these words.

And what about the painter I met at Mercado Central, who left a brush of his art in my travel journal; or the Colombian comedian who took time from his business trip to make some Guatemalans laugh with his jokes about soccer and Ricardo Arjona; the Mexican ophthalmologist who accompanied me exploring the towns surrounding Lake Atitlán, someone with a life story as surreal as the famous soap operas from her country; the Salvadoran girl (and her American friend) who captured with both drone and professional camera some amazing images from the Acatenango Volcano hike; the guy from Cartagena and the girl from Bogotá who took selfies with me to immortalize our Colombian Power feat at the top of a volcano. Guatemala dazzled me no just with its rich nature but with the multiple opportunities it provided me to connect with extraordinary people fulfilling their dreams in week-long trips or seventeen-month odysseys.

Though solo traveling might be my natural habitat, there are some occasions in which even the most splendid of views can appear dull unless there is someone to share it with, someone to enhance the scenery with a joke, a whisper, a revering silence. Because the grand mysticism of a New Zealand rainforest is just as important as the German girl you fall in love with while touring the muddy area under the rain; the magic and mystery of Edinburgh arise not just from its labyrinthine alleys but from the English friends welcoming you into their gang as you discover the wonders of a pub crawl. And sometimes, the majesty of Antigua resides no just in its volcanoes arising as millennial guardians around, but in the people wandering its colonial streets. The French Girl wrote it best in my travel journal:

“Perhaps, luxury is appreciating the simple moments, sharing a beer, a smile, or one of our stories.”