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March 25, 2025

Mellow Xela: Guatemala days 1-5

Hi hi, it’s me again!

I’m having a hard time understanding how it’s been 9 months since I last left the country. I guess that’s what happens when you go back into the working world- time slips by ever so quickly and before you know it months have come and gone.

In that time period, I seem to have lost all knowledge of how to travel stress free, because other than booking my flight, I’d planned none of this trip up until 6 days before I was planning to leave. I had a general idea of what I wanted to do, but actually booking it? I couldn’t be bothered.

This bit me in the butt when I looked at the Acentenago overnight trek that allows you to sleep next to an active volcano, El Fuego, and watch it erupt overnight, and the trek was completely booked for my entire 16 days in the country. Cool cool cool.

I reached out with a minor plea to the company, asking for information about the length of the waitlist for my desired day, and instead they just let me join! Oh the joys of asking for what you want, and the benefit of traveling solo! People are almost always so willing to help out and accommodate a solo traveler, especially a woman.

Once the most important part of the trip was handled, I created a loose plan and figured if that had worked for me in New Zealand and Australia that it would be fine in Guatemala.

The final Friday before spring break happened, full of complaints from my students about not seeing me the entire week after break and filling me with guilt. But not enough to make me alter my plans! This teacher needed a break, bad.

Departure day came, and Molly graciously drove me to the airporter. After an uneventful flight to LA, followed by a shorter than expected, also uneventful flight to Guatemala City, I landed and was presented with my first minor problem- no way to get cash. The man who tried to use the only ATM in the airport before me had gotten his card stuck before he got cash. And I mean really stuck. That sucker wasn’t coming out and it was 11 pm so there was no one around. That’s a thing of travel nightmares, and I felt for him.

My normal SFO bathroom photo!

I cleared immigration, and then quickly realized I wasn’t going to clear customs because I had brought an avocado, banana, and come carrots to snack on during my journey and hadn’t eaten them. I declared them immediately, apologizing profusely and quite fearful of the consequences, but they smiled, bagged the produce and let me go on my merry way. Phew.

I snagged an Uber to my hostel, realizing that I really should have brushed up on my Spanish before coming. I barely could put sentences together when I’d left Argentina last January, and found myself unable to put together more than two coherent words. This was especially problematic when I got to my hostel and the receptionist spoke zero English.

He got me to my room, and it turns out past Ally really had future Ally’s back, because I’d booked myself a private. How wonderful it was to have my own space and be able to just crash after a long day of travel.

I woke up the next morning, found myself an ATM, and rushed to the bus station to catch my 3.5 hour bus to Xela. I nodded on and off for most of the ride, waking up to see vast hills and forests out of the window and then promptly falling asleep again.

We arrived in Xela and the city seemed pretty small, despite it being the second largest city in the country. I was a little confused by this, but enjoyed that its smaller size made it quite easy to walk from the bus station to my hostel. There was a lot of hustle and bustle, but it was Sunday and I knew that meant everyone was out and about. Notably, the women were all quite dressed up in what appeared to be traditional outfits of an embroidered and beaded blouse (huipil), thick embroidered belt (faja), and a long skirt (Corte). The streets were mostly cobblestone, and not the cleanest, littered with pieces of garbage and the occasional dog dropping.

A street of Xela
Kasa Kiwi hostel in Xela

At my hostel I was once again met with a pretty severe language barrier, but made do and was shown to yet another private room. It would appear I’ve suddenly become pretty keen to splurge on my sleeping arrangements after a few too many sleepless nights with unfavorable dorm-mates in Argentina, New Zealand, and Australia.

I set my things down, changed out of my now sweaty and much too hot travel clothes, and set out to explore Xela and find real food. This is always my favorite thing to do immediately after arriving in a place. I wander to a location, usually food related, learning what turns and sights I need to remember in order to make my way back to my hostel in future excursions.

Not two blocks from my hostel was Parque Central, which has the major church and some monuments. This day, a Sunday, it also had what appeared to be a street fair mixed with a small carnival. Multiple streets were blocked off for food stands, carnival games, miniature fair rides for children, and various vendors. It was loud, full of smells and colors, and made me wonder- was Xela like this every Sunday?

Wandering through all the food smells and sights made me realize that I was significantly more hungry than I had realized. My plan had been to walk about 15 minutes away for a well rated pupusa place, but it became clear I needed something before then. Overwhelmed by the sights, smells, heat, and hunger, as well as afraid of the potential consequences of eating street food as a full meal, I opted for Guatemalan churros. They did not disappoint; They were mildly crunchy outside, but soft and buttery inside, with the perfect amount of sugar. I sat in the middle of the park and people watched as I munched away.

Yum!

Post churro appetizer, I wandered in the general direction of the pupusa place, climbing up the steep cobblestone hills of the city and watching cars squeak and bump their way slowly down the same hills. For being the second largest city in Guatemala, Xela felt relatively quiet and small and that made it pretty effortless to explore. I finally stumbled upon my destination only to devastatingly find it was closed. My stomach and my heart were quite disappointed. Not wanting to waste the trip "across" town, I decided to find the office of the trekking company I would be doing my 3-day trek through the mountains of Guatemala with. According to my map it was quite close, and sure enough, I'd found it in minutes and gave myself permission to get back to the hostel and find real food.

By the time I'd made it back to Parque Central I was famished again; as delicious as the churros were, sugar and carbohydrates don't exactly stay in my body long. Paralyzed with hunger and a decision in an unfamiliar place with a language barrier, I went for street food at the fair in the park. For 20Q, the equivalent of $2.50 or so, I got 5 garnaches, which are small tortillas crisped up and topped with some sort of meat and then pickled cabbage and carrots. The stand I chose seemed quite popular and therefore safe in my very hungry mind. They were delicious and gave me enough time to then get myself to the supermarket to buy food to cook for the rest of my 4 day stay in the city.

Granaches
Xela street art

Shopping at a supermarket in foreign countries is always so interesting to me, as you can see the value placed on different products. Fruit produce in small markets on the street was relatively inexpensive (except mangos, my goodness), but in the supermarket fruit seemed somewhat pricey for the country. Eggs and vegetables seemed quite inexpensive in both places, but toiletries, particularly skincare products were excessively expensive, likely because they were all imported brands.

Once back at the hostel, I settled in enough to be social. While reading a book on the rooftop, some locals came to talk to me. I started to feel a bit uncomfortable not too long into the conversation, partially because of how they'd singled me out and approached me, but also because one was expending a bit too much conversational energy telling me about the land he owned up on the hill, the houses he was building on it, and the restaurant he had up there. He was quite insistent on taking me there, and though it may have all been very generous and well intentioned, my gut was screaming at me and I excused myself. I've learned by now that my body tells me everything I need to know, and even if it's wrong in a scenario like this, it's better to not test it.

In my escape, I found myself in the hostel kitchen where I was immediately asked by an incredibly tall man with the thickest of Scottish accents if I knew where to buy weed. I don't feel as though I give off a particularly stoner-like vibe and therefore found this to be quite comical. I told the gent I’d soon know as Blair, that I had no idea but that one of the men upstairs I'd been chatting with likely would. He trodded off, and an hour or so later we ran into each other again in the kitchen where I got a full rant about how he thinks he got scammed buying weed. I sympathetically listened to the saga, during which a curly haired young man with glasses arrived. When Blair finished he turned to the young man and asked about dinner, then turned to me and invited me to join in on thus communal meal they were making. Turns out Blair and this young man, Daniel, had met not minutes prior and Blair is just exceptionally extroverted and giving. I contributed some onion and green beans from my prior grocery run, but otherwise Blair used all his own food to make us a dinner of beans, seasoned rice, eggs, and veggies. As Blair cooked, we all got to know each other and Daniel and I made a plan to hike Chicabal, a volcano with a sacred Mayan crater lake at the top, the next day. I had been somewhat apprehensive to do hikes by myself, as there are mixed messages about if it’s safe or not, so I was very grateful to have made a hiking buddy so soon!

While hanging on the balcony, I got to chatting with a British couple, Connor and Jem, who invited me to play cards. I said yes, obviously, because I love nothing more than a game in a hostel. They asked if I knew Cambio and I squealed with joy; Cambio is the game Will and I played endlessly and that I spent my year off teaching people everywhere I went.

As the games and the night wound down and we sat chatting, the sky in the distance began to occasionally light up with brilliant orange lightening. It was the strangest phenomenon, as there wasn’t an actual storm and didn’t appear to be any impending rain. We stayed up much later than intended “ooh”ing and “ahh”ing at the constant ominous and yet beautiful flashes of light.

Lightening from the balcony
Other vantage point from the hostel rooftop/balcony

The next morning I met Daniel and his roommate, Maude, a girl from France, in the courtyard to journey to Chicabal together. Both of them were running a bit behind our 7 am departure time, which ended up being problematic when we got stuck in horrendous commute traffic trying to get out of the city. It turns out Xela is significantly larger than I thought, extending for quite some time to the northeast and northwest of Parque Central. Eventually, we escaped the bumper to bumper city traffic and made it to the trailhead of Chicabal. At the entrance you have the option of taking a truck most of the way to the top and then finishing the walk to the lake. If you know me, you know that I ALWAYS will opt to walk. I want the exercise. I want the suffering for the reward that is the view at the top. With Chicabal specifically, the walk up is part of the experience, as it’s the pilgrimage that, theoretically, Mayans took to get to the sacred lake.

Upon exiting the Uber, Maude almost immediately asked if we wanted to take the truck, to which Daniel replied that he was fine with it. Internally I was deeply feeling no, but people pleaser Ally said why not. We loaded into the back of a pickup that had seats and a metal protective cage of sorts welded around it, and took the exceptionally bumpy ride up an unbearably steep road. Honestly, it was pretty fun and reminded me a lot of the Indiana Jones ride at Disneyland.

Jungle truck ride

It wasn’t until we passed two girls from the sister hostel who looked pained and were drenched in sweat that I felt pretty guilty for cheating my way up. I felt even worse when we got to the stop and realized the truck had taken us to the top. We had to make zero effort for the view. I can now say with certainty that I do not like not having to work for a view; it changes how much I feel I can appreciate it and in this instance I felt as though I had missed out on the pilgrimage connective piece. The view of the lake was beautiful, but I was missing the connection with the experience Mayans have had and continue to when they visit.

A silver lining of taking the truck is that when we looked out on the distant view of Santa Maria volcano and its little buddy, Santiaguito, we got to watch Santiaguito erupt! It was beautiful timing, particularly because the clouds then came and shrouded both volcanos from view.

Santiaguito erupts on the right
Maude and I after the clouds covered Santiaguito

After losing our minds over our lucky timing, we made our way through the cloud forest and down the 600 or so stairs to the lakeside. Along the shore of various parts of the lake stood bouquets of flowers placed by families, some fresh and some that had clearly been set as an offering weeks ago. We silently meandered around the lake, taking in the serenity, the spiritual pulse, and enjoying the fresh air. Though it was nothing remarkable to look at, you could feel the importance and spiritual significance in the surrounding area.

Chicabal lake
Offerings

Post-lakeside snack, and full of appreciation for a beautiful and serene morning, we began the grueling walk back up the 600 stairs (at 8900’ mind you) and back through the town to the main road. The sun was hot, the road was steep, but the quiet forest and then town was a joy to walk through. Daniel, Maude and I remarked and wondered at the grand houses compared to the buildings and homes we’d seen in Xela. We found out later that these more luxurious and elaborate houses belong to Guatemalans whose families have made it to the US and send remittances regularly.

At the main road we caught a collectivo, a small bus that locals use for transport. A man hangs out the sliding door and lets the driver know when to stop so people can hop on, regardless of if there’s seats or room. When we got on, Maude and I didn’t have room to sit, so we stood, holding onto bars screwed into the ceiling. Within a few minutes a few locals disembarked and the man at the door offered me a seat. We’d stop every few minutes to pick up passengers, varying from women in traditional Guatemalan wear carrying large bags full of goods for the market, to farmers with machetes wrapped in tarp for safety, to children in uniform on their way to school. Soon enough the collectivo was packed, primarily with uniformed school children. I spent the better part of the 45 minute ride with the backpack of the person standing next to me smashed against my face and trying to not lean too hard into the poor kid sitting next to me.

We made it back to town, met up with Blair, Connor, and Jem for some catching up about our days, and I rallied a group to get pupusas for dinner. Daniel had never had one before, nor had this guy Felix we’d met when we got back to the hostel. I was stoked to share the joy of yet another cornmeal based food with them! During dinner Felix and I made a plan to do a hike up to an abandoned park in the morning before our crew headed to the local hot springs in the afternoon.

Pupusas

Bright and early, to beat the heat, Felix and I set out. The first part of the walk was through town and we got to see another side of Xela. My favorite part of the walk was the variety of animals, especially the dogs on the roofs of houses.

We made our way uphill through town, and then uphill through the forest, finally emerging at an abandoned cafe and a viewpoint overlooking Xela. It was a beautiful view for not too much effort and seemed to be a popular local spot; There were many couples walking, mountain bikers, road bikers, and a few families out and about. Connor and Jem had been up here the day before and said to wander until we found the massive slides, so wander we did. I appreciated Felix so much as a buddy for the day, as he wholeheartedly leaned into playing on every piece of park equipment we came upon. First was a very old metal teeter-totter that was immensely steep. We launched each other a few times, giggling more and more each time, then switched to the monkey bars, and finally came upon the holy grail of the park: massive concrete slides nestled in the trees. I’d come prepared with a paper bag, as Connor said the slide had burned his bottom and I was worried I’d ruin my shorts. As I prepared for my maiden voyage, a small group of locals stood and watched, intrigued and excited.

As I flew down the slide, gathering more speed than I was comfortable with, I screamed. It was exhilarating and terrifying and everything I wanted in a slide. I shot off the end and had to catch myself with a half-flail, half-run. Felix and I took turns going a few more times, and eventually convinced one of the men watching to go as well. Once we’d had our fill, we made our way back to the hostel, stopping to swing at another park, and to get my favorite lunch, Taiwanese empanadas for 5Q ($0.65). I’d found them the day prior and they were the perfect blend of spices, veggies, tofu, and dough. I was obsessed.

The view
The slide
Taiwanese empanada

Connor, Jem, Felix and I then took the 45 minute ride to Fuentes Georginas, the local hot springs. We traveled through yet another cloud forest and found ourselves in the most lush, tucked away sanctuary. At the hot spring we found the more public pool, which was a concerning brown color, but seemingly the only option. I hesitantly got in, finding the water to be warm, not hot, but brown because of the clay bottom (thank goodness). We floated and relaxed, staring up at the lush ferns and leafy trees above, celebrating the small hot spots we’d occasionally find.

Blair had told us there were private pools that were much cleaner and quieter, so we ventured down through the forest to find them. Sure enough, away from all of the other people were three much hotter pools with crystal clear water. We spent the rest of our 3 hours there, soaking in the heat and the misty, serene surroundings.

Felix, Connor, Jem, and me at the pools
Public pool
Private pool
Cloud forest serenity

That night everyone was set to leave the next day. Felix to the beach, Daniel to the mountains, and Connor and Jem to El Salvador. We made a family meal enjoying our last night together, and then got news that protests were meant to start the next day and they would block all exits to the city. The president and legislature wanted to require insurance for all vehicles and the people were not happy about it. Because of the blockages, buses and shuttles were likely cancelled and leaving would be almost impossible. Felix, Jem, and Connor all just decided to stay (yay!) and Daniel made a VERY early morning escape plan, hoping to get out before the action.

I too made an early morning plan, but not to miss the protest action. I was hoping to do Santa Maria volcano to get a good view of Santiaguito erupting. I was set to join some people from our hostel at 5:20 am in hopes that we’d get there early enough to not have clouds covering our view.

Before heading to bed, Felix, who had tried to do Santa Maria a few days before and had only seen clouds, gave me a “lucky duck.” It was a tiny plastic ducky that is his parting gift to everyone he meets and it filled me with so much joy. He gave it to me early in hopes it would help me see more than he saw when he attempted the same hike a few days prior. I hoped so too!

The volcano hiking group set out early as planned and hiked in the early morning light up through more forest. It became clear quickly that this group didn’t want to do the actual Santa Maria volcano hike, but just a mirador next to it that overlooks Santiaguito. I was mildly disappointed, as I’d wanted a good workout, but sticking with their plan turned out to be the best thing I could have done.

We got to the mirador at 7:35 and the only view we had was of the thickest clouds. We heard the volcano erupt through the cover, and hoped that a miracle would make the clouds disappear and the volcano appear. Over a 20 minute period the clouds waxed and waned, but mostly waned until they’d almost completely dispersed! We kept joking that they’d part to reveal Santiaguito and it would erupt at the same time.

Sure enough, a few minutes before 8:00, the clouds revealed Santiaguito and in that same moment it erupted. Our group shrieked and celebrated, watching in awe as a plume of ash and smoke billowed much slower than I thought it would from the crater. Once it was done, the clouds closed upon the volcano again and it disappeared for the remaining hour and a half that we sat waiting for another opportunity to witness it’s magic.

Lucky duck from Felix, featuring so many clouds
Less clouds! You can almost see Santiaguito on the left
The eruption

Feeling so grateful, we headed back toward Xela. For the ride back, we took my first chicken bus, which is an old American school bus painted and outfitted however the owner sees fit. It’s the most common form of local transport it would seem. Once back I stuffed my face with a cookie croissant from a bakery (shoutout to Connor and Jem for finding this delicious piece of heaven), took my second nap of the trip- I’m getting so good at resting! - and then headed to a meeting for the 3 day backpacking trek I was starting the next day! My time in Xela was coming to a close, and though hard to leave the friends I’d made, I was ready to go see the more rural parts of Guatemala.

Chicken bus
Daniel and Blair (he was riding from the US to South America on his motorcycle)

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