Monterrico y el mar

After spending a day and a half in Antigua, we were headed to the beach. Steven likes to visit a beach in all of the countries he travels to, so I added Montericco to our itinerary, a beach that we had heard was chill and untouristy - our kind of beach. I had read that there were direct shuttles to Monterrico from Antigua for $8 USD, but when I began to ask around, I found that many did not run on Sundays, the day we had hoped to leave. Not one to give up, I persevered and found a shuttle with a travel agency quite near our hotel that offered service on Sundays.

Sunday morning, we were up early, packed and waiting at the door of the travel agency at 7:50 a.m. By 8:15, I was beginning to get worried and began mentally constructing plan B. We decided to hang out until 9:00 and then decide what to do. Luckily for us at 8:30 we were approached by a man who asked us if we were waiting for the bus to Montericco and explained that the bus could not come down that street because the streets were blocked off for the procession, but that he would lead us to the bus. Relieved, we headed off after him.

The ride to the beach was blissfully comfortable (with only five of us in a shuttle meant for many more) and we were able to sit back and enjoy the scenery as the fields and volcanos of Antigua gave way to the plains of the south and a variety of fruit trees the likes of which I have never seen.

The shuttle dropped us off on the main street of Monterrico and Steven and I trudged out to the beach complete with hiking boots and packs, unaware of the alternative road along the beach at which we had been dropped. When we reached the beach, we were greeted with the site of hundreds of Guatemalans enjoying their Sunday afternoon on a wide beach of dark black sand peppered with what seemed like months of garbage. We made our way through the trash and the hoard of families and soon found ourselves, not far past, on a very clean, but very black, stretch of beach. After dismissing the first room we were shown, we found a great room in a tropical looking hotel with a restaurant on the beach, hamocks, a pool and a room with a window to the sea, where we settled in for a two days of relaxation.

I had read that the water in Montericco was rough, but I had not been prepared for the constant barrage of six foot waves, a few of which I thought would take me to an early grave. During the time we spent in Montericco, I spent a few hours each day in the water braving the waves, but spent more time watching Steven brave the sea from more prefered perches on the beach or lazing in a hammock.

One morning, we rose early for a boat ride through the local mangroves and I practiced my Spanish, alternatively listening to the guide and translating for Steven. I probably understood about 70% of what he said, but I think we got a good idea of the conservation efforts in the area as well as a lot of information about local plants and birds.

After Sunday, the beach was deserted and on Tuesday, even our hotel was deserted (by the owners and all the other guests) so we spent the days relaxing in the sun and the evenings enjoying the local food, the stary skies and the constant roar of the restless waves.