A tale of two Central American cities

Some travelers tried to convince me that a trip to either city, Antigua, in particular, would be disappointing. “So touristy,” they said. Already smitten with the grace and ambiance of other Spanish colonial towns in the region, I looked forward to my visits.

Traditions die hard in cities, particularly where indigenous peoples meet modern amenities and tourists. Consequently, I knew unaffected cultural experiences would come second to wiling away a few days admiring the architecture, dining well, and sleeping soundly. The stops also proved welcome respites along the road between Quetzaltenango, Guatemala, where my journey began with intensive Spanish lessons, and Panama City, where it ended two months later.

Sensational architecture is arguably the only admirable legacy the Spanish conquistadors left behind. The ugliness of their politics, missions, and subjugation aside, no one denies their penchant for beauty. Theirs was an architectural commitment that has withstood five centu-ries of rebellion, civil war, and earthquakes.

Old buildings have been transformed into sleek offices, cozy restaurants, and alluring shops. Some are now homey hotels filled by more visitors in the recent few years than perhaps all of the last thirty combined. Indeed, the region is again being invaded, but this time, by tourists.

Both Antigua, declared a UNESCO World Heritage Site in 1979,
and Granada were founded in the 1500s. Antigua served as the Spanish colonial capital of the Kingdom of Guatemala for more than two centuries and Granada long flourished as an important trading center. Their importance demanded city planning and the best architects were employed. They started drawing from the center outwards, placing public squares at each city's heart.

Today, as yesteryear, no one can resist the magnetism of these informal gathering places. By day, leafy trees provide refreshing shade. By night, they form a canopy for mariachi and marimba bands.

I spent hours on the benches in Antigua's Parque Central and Granada's Parque Colon listening to free tunes, watching ice cream men, shoeshine boys, flower girls, animated friends, political rallies, and villagers selling handicrafts. I often chatted with locals.

Antigua's and Granada's plazas are punctuated by cathedrals. Antigua's Catedral de Santiago was originally built in 1542. Badly damaged by earthquakes over the years, restoration efforts have never rejuvenated its baroque splendor. Granada's cathedral, by contrast, dates to the 20th century, erected on the foundations of an earlier church. Both are worthy attractions.

Roman Catholicism is Central America's principle religion but Baptists, Mennonites, Mormons, Pentecostal Christians, Seventh-Day Adventists, even Shamanists, pray here too. Thus, it's hardly surprising to find a church on nearly every street.

Antigua's prize church is Iglesia y Convento de Nuestra Senora de La Merced (1548), a stunning, yolk-yellow edifice with a gorgeous, baroque facade dating to the 1850s. Granada's gem is Convento y Iglesia de San Francisco (1585) and is heralded by a sky-blue, baroque face. Both are adorned with raised, white floral patterns. Like most first-time visitors, their majesty left me breathless. But other buildings were equally compelling.

In Antigua, the stately double-tiered columns of Palacio de los Capi-tanes (1543) and the stone columns of Palacio del Ayuntamiento (1743) march around the plaza. The former once housed the Spanish colonial government offices. Today it's quarters for local administration and a tourist office. The latter contains the town hall and the Museo de Santiago, featuring colonial furniture and artifacts.

Each city is best explored on foot and map-less as most attractions are within six blocks of the central parks. I always chanced upon some-thing colorful: a luminously painted terra cotta house or an ornate facade; a noisy market; a cafe tucked away in a flower-filled courtyard. I often paused to photograph windows and doorways. Locals stopped me just to speak English. There were times I simply forgot where I was going. It didn't matter, though, because something enchanting was always around the corner.

With all the visual and atmospheric treats accenting each town, I paid scant attention to the three volcanoes towering above Antigua or Lago de Nicaragua, Latin America's third largest lake, just minutes from Granada's center. When I wasn't in the central parks, I was drinking coffee brewed with local beans, shopping for handicrafts, appreciating colonial mansions, churches, and houses, or running out of film. But mostly, I spent time chatting.

For instance, in Antigua, I passed an afternoon at Cafe Condesa, positioned at the back of a book- shop just off the plaza. Though every table was occupied, the opulent 500-year-old courtyard still felt like the home it used to be. The garden setting was itself a flavor I could taste in my cheese sandwich on home-baked bread.

In Granada, I observed the plaza from Cafe de Don Simon, which spills onto the porch adjacent to the beautifully restored Banco de America Central. With the world at my feet, I admired horse-drawn carriages and savored freshly-squeezed orange juice. I had arrived alone. I left with a strolling companion.

I was surprised by how quiet the streets were after dark. By 8pm, I could hear a coffee bean drop. With nightlife limited mainly to a drink or viewing a film in a video cinema, I normally turned in by 10pm and rose around 6am.

Watching a town yawn into day feels something like peeking into a secret kitchen. (Antigua's kitchens are, in fact, signaled by peculiar conical, lantern-like chimneys known as linternas.) The deliveries, the newspaper vendors, the long sha-dows all season these pots which boil with activity by 9am. Those early, almost private, glimpses are tastes from the chef's spoon. Put the ages, and, dare I say, the quaintness, of Antigua and Granada in the mix and the flavors are irresistible.

Both cities have their kaleidoscopic markets. Antigua's is a sprawling orgy of fragrance, color, and babble just three blocks west of the plaza. It competes with the stink and groan of the adjacent bus station and the sterility of the just-opened Mercado de Artesians. Here, everything from A to Z is on offer. I left with some B and S: bananas and slippers.

Figuratively speaking, Granada's Mercado Municipal is further removed from the plaza than its three blocks. Whereas most of the town's streets appear placid and inviting, the lanes surrounding the market teem with filth and fishy characters. Irresistible! Inside is a scruffy tangle of passageways. There was a lot of raw meat and colorful piles of hand-spun fabrics.

I squeezed out of both markets with a pop. But whether emerging from a market scrum or a civilized coffee bar, gravity always brought me back to the central plazas. Remarkably, the founding architects of these cities would still recognize their work.

Text & photos: Jono David