As much as I enjoy writing, I don’t know if descriptive words can do Antigua justice. It is a colonial-style haven for vacationers: broad cobblestone streets, bright with white and pastel walls draped in fuchsia bougainvillea, birds of paradise and roses heaped in centuries-old fountains, yellow-tinted churches, complete with a temperate climate and 360 degree views of hills and volcanoes capped by fluffy clouds. In a word, it is picturesque. 

Wafting through the streets are scents of pure cocao from adorably named shops like ‘Chocolala,’ the sweet perfume of flowers, and delicious aromas drifting from one quaint restaurant to the next. Throughout the weekend we would have drinks in one, peek into the courtyard of another, cross the cobblestones to touch vibrantly colored Guatemalan striped cloths displayed in doorways, amble into the prettiest Parque Central I’ve ever seen, and watch (depending on the time of day) babies, wrapped in colorful cocoons, bouncing as they swung from their mothers’ backs, salsa hip-hop dancers, impassioned open-air preachers shouting about what Jesus would do, a fire twirler accompanied by guitar, or paper lanterns with yellow flames being released into a dark sky, all beneath elegant, light purple jacaranda trees.

Unintentionally, and best of all, we were there for Cuaresma (Lent), when purple flags line the square and flowers fill even the most ordinary fountains. Throughout the country, every Sunday, leading up to Easter, there are processions where mournful statues of Christ, the cross, and displays of sins are carried through the streets by purple-robed men. Led by boys and girls spreading incense smoke and followed by a band playing grand, solemn tunes, the relics travel through towns almost all day. In Antigua, where everything is pretty, they offer up ‘alfombras’ (carpets) in intricate designs made of individually-placed flower petals and berries, and others of elaborately patterned neon-colored wood shavings. The minute detail and rioting color were inspiring. For hours before, it is like a carnival, with vendors selling fruity drinks and ice cream while people admire the alfombras and await the procession. We watched the grand purple parade pass through, shuffling through the colored sand and crushing the petals that were offered. 

Half an hour later we were packed cheek by jowl into a chicken bus, on our way back to Xela. Antigua is perfect for a weekend with visiting friends (!), but I’m happy to call this view home for one more month.