Antigua is absolutely dripping in charm. I spend hours every day wandering down the calles, admiring the ruinas, the churches, the colonial houses painted in colors that shouldn’t make sense together but somehow do. I inhale (and exhale) more moto and camioneta (chicken bus) exhaust than is medically advisable, and I’m sure my future lungs will have something to say about it — but right now, there’s nothing better.
Spanish school is going really well. Gracias a Dios, la bombilla en mi cerebro se ha encendido– the lightbulb in my brain has been turned on — or at least that’s what my teacher, Carmen, says every time I surprise her with my retention, my recall, or my ability to hold conversations that bounce from the Amazon, to the state of U.S. politics, to the guerra in Guatemala (a topic in which, to no one’s surprise, the U.S. played a not-so-small role). But I digress.
I walk down the street with more confidence than I had a week ago. I speak with more ease to bartenders and baristas. And if I can find the right verb in the tangle of vocabulary bouncing around in my brain, I can now tell you what I did yesterday, what I’m doing today, and what I plan to do mañana.
The Beauty of Slow Travel
There is something to be said about slow travel. Yesterday marked three weeks in Guatemala — all of them spent in one city. Never in my travel life have I stayed put this long. And when I think about the months ahead, I honestly struggle to imagine pulling myself away from Antigua.
I get now how people “get stuck” in a place.
(Hi, it’s me. I’m people.)
This is the luxury of time — a luxury I’ve gifted myself. And there’s so much here to discover: cafés tucked behind bougainvillea-laced courtyards, small pueblos just a short walk away, and streets that feel different every time I wander them.
Right now, the idea of starting over in a new city or a new Spanish school doesn’t appeal. Sure, there’s a lot more of Guatemala I want to see. But in this moment, I love feeling like I’m becoming part of this place.
Becoming a Local (Sort Of)
I love that the barista at Siena Luz recognizes me, even when I’m not stopping in.
I love that the same fruit vendor sets aside mangoes for me.
I love that the woman selling tacos and doblados knows my order before I open my mouth.
I love that my suitcase is actually unpacked, and I’m not repacking it every three days like I used to.
There is something deeply comforting about having nowhere to be and all day to get there.
A Life With No Regret (Not Now, Not Ever)
Sometimes I wonder why it took me so long to make this jump — but I know it happened at the exact right time, when I was ready, and not a moment sooner.
What I do wonder, though, is how many people are still caught in the relentless “work more, buy more, earn more, spend more” cycle. I’ve always felt like the outlier among my peers, my family, the masses. But being on the road, meeting travelers who get it — who are doing this for similar reasons — makes me feel seen in a way I rarely felt back home. And I see them, too.
My friends and family in the States understand this lifestyle only on a surface level. That’s okay. This path isn’t for everyone. But it is for me.
And I know, without question, that when I look back on this chapter of my life, I’ll feel zero regret — only pride, gratitude, and the sweetest kind of freedom.
-A
One Life One Encounter 
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