Guatemala, 30 Years Later

Thirty years after my first visit, I found beauty unchanged and history impossible to ignore.

The thick green canopy closes in and engulfs me as I walk through the dense humid air. Birds chirp, insects hum and howler monkeys hoot in the distance. Just when the jungle seems ready to engulf me fully, it miraculously clears. As if transported backward in time, two towering temples stand before me. It’s exactly as I remembered—down to every last detail—from when I last visited 30 years ago as a 9-year-old, scrawling notes in a notebook.

A pdf document link with my week-long Guatemala itinerary is available at the bottom of this post for paid subscribers.

Tikal, a sprawling complex of ancient Mayan ruins in Guatemala, is a sight to behold. Built over a span of 1500 years, the excavated complexes reveal an expansive city. But it’s not just the ruins worth traveling for, the jungle itself—a UNESCO World Heritage site embedded within the 2-million-hectare Maya Biosphere Reserve—is enthralling.

I was extremely fortunate to have parents who took me on adventures when they could. At the time, hopping on a small propeller plane flying over the never-ending green of the Guatemalan jungle, Tikal seemed an entirely different world. I expected to return finding more gift shops, hordes of tourists and an absence of green, but the Tikal of my nine-year-old memories was almost identical to the reality of my thirty-nine-year-old experience. Now, I was sharing the magic with my husband.

Our guide through Tikal was only 19 years old and studying to be an entomologist. He noticed every insect, bird and leaf. The Ceiba tree, national tree of Guatemala sacred to the Maya, he pointed out, connected the underworld to the heavens. The Mahogany tree, exploited for its wood, much like the country’s resources have been, stood strong beside the path. It’s here at the Mahogany tree our guide shifts the conversation: “You know Guatemalan orphans were stolen to be sold by the government. Well, it wasn’t only orphans.” I’m left standing there, awash in the memories of my nine-year-old-self thinking of fellow children being sold—the same age I was when I visited. Guatemala’s reality—poverty, civil war, and exploitation—crashes through the green canopy.

Guatemala does not let you stay suspended in beauty for long. Take travel to popular Lake Atitlan, home of crystal-loving healers, gurus and wellness-trend travelers who have no idea of the army massacre that happened there years earlier. Or take driving through Guatemala City, where certain zones exist that the police won’t even visit—residents are trapped in a web of gang warfare and extortion. Push and pull everywhere.

Lake Atitlan is arresting in its beauty. A volcanic caldera where colorful boats move between villages, the waters are serene—almost deliberately so. The civil war reached here too. After the massacre, the region became the country’s first military-free zone. Today there is little mention of those years. Everything is awash in a luminously colorful performance for visitors.

In San Juan La Laguna, the village has embraced Instagram photo shoots with its colorful murals and vibrant street colors, yet authentic women’s weaving cooperatives preserve tradition with natural dyes, organic cotton and the continuation of Mayan traditions. While the murals may be a tourism draw, they began as youth-led efforts to preserve culture.

San Marcos, the gringo-crowned spiritual hub of the lake, offers perhaps the best views of the active and dormant volcanoes surrounding the shores. Sound baths, yoga, and dance retreats, line the lakeside paths. At night, the narrow pedestrian streets near the lake reek of patchouli and marijuana. But wander up the hill, and cross the main vehicle thoroughfare, head toward the basketball court and you’ll find local food vendors. Wander further up the winding streets and you’ll encounter an authentic Temezcal, or Maya Sauna—small, dark, wood-fired saunas for spiritual cleansing. Your hotel probably has one, but up here they’re lit by hand, wood-fed, and silent.

Antigua, once abandoned after repeated earthquakes, now feels meticulously preserved. Above the cobblestones, the volcano breathes ash.

Arriving at the airport to return home, swarms of vendors with every kind of souvenir imaginable crowd the sidewalk in defiance of the posted signs: “No se Permite la Venta Ambulante”, or “No Street Vending Allowed.” Tourists are the future here.

Emerging from the thick, encroaching jungle of Tikal like Indiana Jones, my nine-year-old self felt like a true adventurer. My fourth-grade teacher (whose class I missed a lot of, thanks to my parents) immigrated to Canada from Guatemala. He encouraged me to write about what I was passionate about, not what the curriculum dictated. I spent hours in his class drafting cruise ship deck plans and mapping the world. On my trip to Guatemala, he gave me one task—write each day. Write about the trees you see. The people you meet. The food you eat.

Returning to Guatemala, 30 years later, I’m reminded why I travel. The seed was planted early, nurtured. And now, it continues to grow—still scrawled in dog-eared notebooks.

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Wondering where to visit in Guatemala? The linked guide takes you a thoughtful week-long itinerary with my personal recommendations and tips. My PDF guides are for paid subscribers and includes everything you need to start planning your own adventure.

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If we haven’t met yet, I’m Richard Philion. I traveled the world during my dance career and continue to explore with the same passion. If you love adventures to both new and familiar places, I’d love to connect and share our mutual love for travel. Through the Travelling Troubadour, I hope to inspire and inform with stories, tips, and itineraries.

Feel free to message me directly—I’d love to meet you.