After a teary goodbye to my host mum Nydia, I was soon in a shuttle winding my way through the mountains headed in the direction of Lago de Atitlán – Lake Atitlán. A comfortable ride soon cut short when the driver said to 3 of us that we were to take the rest of the journey is that tuk tuk and pointed out the window. We were crammed into this one tuk tuk with all our luggage and bumping along the dirt road, we must have been quite the sight. One of the girls lived here and said this was normal and not to worry, the other was from Wellington, of all the places to bump into another kiwi.

Lake Atitlán is a magical, mystical place surrounded by mountains and volcanoes and home to many indigenous communities spread along its shoreline. Each village has a unique vibe and locals are friendly and welcoming making it hard to leave one and explore the next.

San Marcos La Laguna was my first stop on the lake and is known as the hippy town. A perfect spot to reflect and get amongst nature again. The village is tiny with only one road that leads you in and out of town. Off this road little pedestrian only pathways crisscross leading to the lake, cafes, yoga meditation centres, holistic healing rooms. Small hand painted signs haphazardly point the way and the walls are adorned with incredible art.

If you follow one particular path all the way to the end you find yourself at the entrance to the Cerro Tzankujil Nature Reserve. I paid my 15Q entrance fee and explored the nature trails. Some wind along lake front and there are plenty of places to take a refreshing dip. However I headed up hill to get some spectacular views across the lake.

I only spent a few days in San Marcos and most of this time was spent enjoying a coffee down by the lake front and enjoying the view, the comings and goings of the lanchas (ferry boats) and the friendly locals.

I had incredible weather while I was here and it was a good few degrees warmer than Xela so was a welcome change. However within 10 minutes one day the weather changed dramatically so I quickly went back to my hostel only for it to be bright and clear within 30 minutes.

Having walked the same paths more than once and tried all the different cafes with their chai lattes and nut milks, it was time to head across shore to another village with a completely different reputation. San Pedro La Laguna is known as a more popular hangout for backpackers with a bit more livelier party scene and a popular place to study Spanish.

To get from village to village everyone travels across the lake by a lancha – a small  ferry boat. With no specific schedule I just headed down to the wharf with my bags and waited for the next one and for the guy to shout ‘San Pedro,’ as they were all zipping in different directions, bound for other villages.

Soon I was zooming along getting splashed and within 10 minutes was safely back on solid ground in San Pedro. As I came up the wharf, the buzz here was already completely different with people yelling ‘tuk tuk’, ‘where you going’, ‘need a ride’. Luckily I knew the place I wanted to stay was just up around the corner so I politely declined.

Mr Mullets was the hostel I hoping to stay at and with a name like this I really had no expectations. However it exceeded them all, it was super friendly, clean, powerful hot showers, cheap food and drinks and some good staff that helped you relax and get involved with the beer pong (won this) and pool comps (lost this -first round) and quiz nights.

I had a bit of time before some of the girls from Xela arrived to celebrate Emmy’s birthday. However it was easy to spend a few days exploring this side of the lake and a few nights at the bar – talking with the bar guy who just so happened to be from New Zealand, Greymouth of all places. 

One of the nights was Whiskey’s birthday (the dog of Mr Mullets) so it was 5Q whiskeys all night ($1), however there are pretty strict noise controls in all the villages on the lake so it was a start early finish early kind of fun. 

Noise control got quite serious when all us girls returned back to the hostel and thought we were being nice and quiet. Can you imagine? We were on our final warning about being kicked out in the middle of the night. We felt like teenagers and decided to get an Airbnb for the next night so we could relax a bit more. Katie managed to find an incredible place, a bit out of town but with absolute views to die for.

During the day we explored with some kayaks but got stuck in the algae so decided swimming wasn’t an option and after making it safely back to the shore, we would walk to the next small village on the lake called called San Juan. Delicious coffee, street art, artisan shops, so nice!

We also went back over to San Marcos and really nailed the self-timer we think

As much as we were busy trying to figure out where on our journeys we could meet up again, our time in Guatemala together had sadly come to an end.  So grateful to have been able to meet back up with these incredible girls and have one last hurrah. Megs and I decided to get a shuttle back to Antigua where I’d get another one onwards to the Pacific Coast to El Paredon.

Another 3 or so hours and I arrived at the Driftwood Surfer, arriving with no booking I was grateful to hear they still had a few beds left as the surf hadn’t been that great and a big group just left today. Great, just what I wanted to hear, a far flung beach town with no suitable surf.

However the hostel was right on the beach and they had delicious family dinners every night, there was no wifi, and there would be baby turtles released in the next few days. Gosh you just can’t have it all.

A few stormy days had me invested in a couple of good books and when the weather got better I explored the sleepy town. Not much going on so I managed to get out into the surf a couple of times in the last couple of days. I was stoked even though I was pretty useless.

I’d heard of a mysterious pool party back in Antigua that is in a secret location each Saturday night so thought I’d head back to the city and see if I could recruit Meg, who was spending some time in Antigua to join me. The night starts off like any other night, a few drinks, some dinner, some more drinks at a bar. When the bar shuts at about 1am everyone comes onto the street and looks for a shuttle that is heading to the secret party. We jump in, another couple jump in with us and we are off. Shuttle taxis head out of town for about 30 minutes to a not so secret location – because I learn it’s the same ‘secret’ location every week. But still, it’s mysterious alright. We are dropped off, we walk through a couple of paddocks, we pay the entrance fee and then see that the night has only just begun. The DJ and bar are setup in the massive empty pool, people are chilling on the edges, legs dangling over, and we are climb straight down the ladder ready to get amongst until the sun comes up. Sorry no photos of this party …