Weekends Only Please! Monterrico

While in Monterrico, you must enjoy the coast, of course! It's breathtaking. The sand is sparkling black and the surf, while generally unsafe to swim in, creates huge waves that boom onto the shore like thunder claps. You must also see (and support, by doing so) the Monterrico Nature Reserve, a haven for endangered species from the region, and hopefully witness precious baby turtles hatching. You might even be up for a tour of the mangrove swamps offered by Iguana Tours, located conveniently in Monterrico.

Quick Tips:

I didn't title my journal Weekends Only for a reason. Besides allowing yourself time to shop around for a nice place to stay, make sure you don't go mid-week unless you're looking for some serious solitude. I'm talking, you'd better have food rations in that pack of yours; the whole place turns into a ghost town!

Best Way To Get Around:

You should be able to catch a shuttle to Monterrico from any of the many travel agents in Antigua for . They leave 8am everyday, or at 8am and 1pm on Fridays.

Once you're in Monterrico, expect to be hoofin' it. And that black sand is hot, so either tough it out with sandals or wear your not-so-beachy tennis shoes.

I had my double room all to myself, with two twin beds, both with lilac-colored mosquito nets, and cement floors. The roof was thatched palm with a mosquito netting underneath. On the walls beside some decorative carved masks, there was a faded NASCAR poster, a map of the world indicating where exotic animals could be found, and some possibly delicious recipe. My bathroom was clean and included a cool-water shower (no one could want hot water in that heat!). Outside, on my patio, there was a nylon hammock to relax in and a small, clean swimming pool. Since I was the only guest there, I had the whole place to myself, and it wasn't just quiet--the place was entirely silent. The hotel had a nice lounge area upstairs, under a thatched roof, with lots of hammocks and beautiful views of the black-sand beach and thundering surf. It was not luxury, but it was a wonderful place to relax and be alone... very alone.

Dining? I wouldn't call it dining. I'm no food snob, but this 'dining' experience takes the cake. Once the weekend crowds left Monterrico, I hiked up and down the beach in search of food. According to my two guidebooks, there were restaurants--real restaurants--somewhere in this town. I could see evidence of the open-air restaurants, but they were dark and empty, and not a soul moved within.

So I hit Calle Principal. On my first day there (a Sunday), music was booming and people were swarming in and around these local comedores. But on that day, a Tuesday, one after the next, it was the same. The whole town seemed evacuated. Not a soul was in sight, and all the tables and chairs of the comedores were empty.

Finally, I saw a light coming from a kitchen behind an open-air comedor decorated with Gallo advertisements. I shyly approached the light. Then, among the tables and chairs, I heard a cough, a murmur, and something slurred in Spanish. Some man was half passed-out in a hammock among the tables. Whatever he said, it called out the cook--a large woman who sat me down with a look that said "You're eatin' here or you're not eatin' at all." The tablecloth was dotted with flies eating bits of red sauce.

"Hay pollo, hay carne, y hay camaron" she gruffed. ("There's chicken, there's beef, and there's shrimp.")

"Camaron," I said, with a gulp. I hadn't seen anything but dogs and pigs in Monterrico--no chickens or cows--but I suspected there were indeed good, fresh shrimp in that ocean.

She seemed put off that anyone could have come there and ordered food. I watched her cook away in the shadow of kitchen firelight as she scolded a whining toddler and whapped him with a stick. The drunk man spat all over the floor.

Eventually, my camaron meal arrived: whole fried shrimp in a basket of glistening french-fried potatoes.

I dared to dive in, pulling the heads and feet and poop-shoots out of each tender sea creature and munching the greasy potatoes as I worked.

The cook at last came out to the patio to sit in a plastic chair and scold the drunk man and the toddling boy and count her money.

My hands were a nightmare of grease and body parts, but I handed la senora an extra Q20 note and made her promise me I could find her again for lunch tomorrow.

At a place that would break every sanitation rule I can think of, I begged for more. Monterrico was an abandoned town, it seemed, and I would just have to make do with la senora, the strange drunk man, and whatever deep-fried menu del dia was offered.

I met my friend Juan Carlos on my first of three days in Monterrico. He was younger than me and worked selling fish to my hotel. We saw each other often; his house was right outside my bathroom window. After a few conversations, he invited me to go looking for sea turtles with him in the evening. We agreed to meet at 8pm, after it got dark. I was nervous about my decision to go off with a strange man in the dark, but I considered how amazing finding an actual nesting sea turtle would be. Before I left, I put on a one-piece bathing suit beneath my clothes and slipped something sharp into my pocket "just in case".

The beaches of Monterrico are arguably more beautiful at night. There were thunderstorms on the horizon, the surf was higher and louder than it had been during the day, and twinkling lights from shrimp boats off the coast were the stars of the evening. Best of all, the daytime heat had cooled to a comfortable night breeze.

Juan Carlos immediately picked up on the romantic possibilities a night like this could offer. He started hinting that I might like to move to Monterrico to stay with him—but it was too bad I wasn't at all interested in living what he called the 'good life' with him. I did, however, learn a lot from Juan Carlos. We saw crabs and lightening bugs and the huge home of the man who owns Gallo beer, whom Juan Carlos told me apparently is a huge supporter of sea turtle conservation and raises them himself for release. Other people passed us silently on the beach, also looking for the elusive turtles.

We must have walked more than a mile before we gave up and headed back towards my hotel, El Mangle. It was then that Juan Carlos's trained eye spotted an irregularity in the sand that was a huge sea turtle's tracks emerging from the ocean. He used his flashlight to follow the tracks farther inland than I would have guessed, where another couple was already with the turtle herself.

He made me wait while he asked them if this gringa he picked up could sit with them and witness the turtle make her nest and lay eggs.

It turned out this local couple wasn't interested in the amazing act itself. They wanted the eggs to sell, knowing they'd become soup in the fancy restaurants of Guatemala City. Juan Carlos assured me it was the law to hand over a portion of their captured eggs to CECON's hatchery for conservation, but I had a feeling this wasn't true. I wondered if I could offer them enough money so they'd give the eggs to me, but I reasoned that a gringa walking around with a huge bag of turtle eggs would either be in danger or big trouble. Juan Carlos explained that many people in the village had to resort to this during turtle season as there weren't many ways of making money. Looking around, I understood that part of it.

The sea turtle, a huge beast and bigger than any dog I've ever owned, was bewildered at our presence. She was exhausted as she laboriously scooped sand with her flippers to cover where she thought her eggs were, even though they were already being toted away. I patted her and said I was sorry for how she had just been robbed.

Juan Carlos let her work for awhile, but he finally pushed her off her nest with his foot. She struggled to keep on covering and hiding her nest, but he knew what she didn't and helped her back into the sea. She waited patiently at the water line for a wave to come and carry her off. As soon as the water touched her, she became an entirely new creature: elegant, quick, and alive.

I expected to see an endangered creature give miraculous birth to a nest of babies that would all count in helping the effort to save their species. I had no idea I would encounter the illegal and silent abuse of a scared and helpless animal, done openly but under the cloak of night. Juan Carlos wanted to be kind, and maybe he wanted something romantic, and I wanted to see sea turtles. I think both of us were sad that the night didn't turn out the way we had expected. We walked back to my room and said goodbye.

Monterrico is an up-and-coming destination in Guatemala. Therefore, it's easy to find transportation there through the many tourist offices in Antigua. For a private and direct minibus (or shuttle), the price should be about $10. Any less than that is a bargain, and any more, go ahead and move on the next agency. A word of caution: be sure that you talk with the tour agency before you buy your ticket. Monterrico is situated on an island, and there isn't a bus service to get you off the island any earlier than you'd like. Arrange, or at least be aware of, the times the return trips from Monterrico leave. Over the weekend, when Monterrico is very popular, it should be relatively easy to find a way back to Antigua, even if you pay a driver at the last minute to take you. But, during the week, it can be difficult to leave.

In my case, I arrived on a Sunday and was told there would only be transportation leaving again on Wednesday from the island. I became sick while there and couldn't leave the island, which ended up being a real problem since I had pneumonia and sat around for 2 days with a high fever without medicine. This sickness ended up cutting my entire trip short by 2 months. By the time I got back to Antigua, I was so sick, all I wanted to do was get home and get better. Obviously, it is probably rare to fall ill immediately after arriving in Monterrico, but since it's possible to get "stuck" there, as I did, arrange a return trip with your tour office and be aware of any other methods of transport available to you.