Finding my Rhythm in Antigua

It’s hard to put into words how it feels to be in Antigua. There’s a sense of calm here that wraps around me like a blanket—well, except when I’m trying to cross some of these calles, where cars, motorcycles, tuk-tuks, and stray dogs seem to obey their own philosophical version of “right of way.”

But aside from that?
My nervous system has finally exhaled.

I’m not in a rush to see or do everything. I don’t feel that pressure I normally do when I arrive in a new country—the frantic, “must-explore-everything-immediately” energy. Instead, I’ve fallen into a routine that I genuinely love.

Settling Into a New Rhythm

From 8:00 a.m. to 1:00 p.m., Monday through Friday, I’m in one-on-one Spanish class, and every day feels like a small, private victory.

Five months ago, I started studying with an online tutor back in the States—just an hour a day, four or five days a week. At the time, I didn’t feel like I was making much progress. Now?
I am wildly grateful to past-me.

Because here, in Antigua, I’m actually able to keep up.
Here, I understand more than I expected.
Here, the words don’t hide from me.

Learning to Speak Without Fear

The first half of class is grammar and vocabulary; the second half is pure conversation—me stumbling through stories, questions, opinions, and whatever else I can piece together. My goal is simple and strangely motivating:

Be able to call my friend Gaby back home and have a real conversation—about something other than the weather.

And something strange has happened since arriving:

The nervousness I used to feel speaking Spanish in the U.S. has completely disappeared.

Here, I stumble through my sentences without embarrassment. The locals encourage it. They listen patiently, offer gentle corrections, and seem genuinely happy that I’m trying. It feels like learning is allowed here. It feels safe.

No English, No Exceptions (Almost)

There are plenty of English-speaking bars and restaurants in Antigua, but I’ve intentionally avoided them all.

…Well, almost all.

I accidentally wandered into a bar showing the UT football game, sat down, and found myself next to a group of guys from—of course—Austin. The universe has a sense of humor.

But outside of that slip-up, I’ve stuck to my promise:

No English shows
No English music
No English conversations unless absolutely necessary

Full immersion.
It may sound extreme, but I know myself—I need the deep end if I want to swim fluently.

And the truth?

I am deeply, thoroughly, surprisingly enjoying the journey so far

Falling Into Daily Life

When I finish school for the day, I head back home to have lunch with Hector, Adolfo, and Odilia—my adopted Guatemalan family. Adolfo has quietly proven himself to be an incredible cook, and over each meal we chat about the day so far. Their warmth is as comforting as the food itself.

After lunch, I grab my backpack and find a café with either a rooftop terrace or a cozy courtyard—Antigua has an endless supply of both. I pull out my notebook and get to work on the tarea (homework) that Carmen assigns me. I usually spend a couple of hours studying and reviewing the day’s lesson, letting the new grammar settle into place.

Eventually, my brain turns into linguistic mush and I know it’s time to call it for the day.

That’s when I wander the calles for a few hours, getting lost among the brightly colored buildings, the bougainvillea-draped walls, and the constant hum of conversations happening all around me. More often than not, I’m enjoying a warm pan dulce, a cup of horchata, or a perfectly ripe mango as I make my slow journey back home.

We enjoy dinner together again as a family, sharing stories and laughter , before I head to my room to unwind.

During my first few days here I spent every evening tucked away in my room, overwhelmed in the best way. But as I settle into my surroundings and routines, I’m starting to venture out more—joining free salsa and bachata classes around town, meeting up with other students for a Gallo or an atol, and, if I’m lucky, catching a glimpse of Volcán Acatenango putting on a show in the distance.

There’s a moment every evening, usually when the sky turns that soft Antigua pink, where I catch myself thinking: This is it. This is the life I was meant to step into. Not the rushed one, not the forced one, not the “hold-your-breath-and-hope” one. This one—where I walk slowly, listen closely, speak bravely, and let myself be changed. If the rest of my time here continues like this, I have a feeling I won’t leave the same person who arrived

-A