My consummate vacation includes a chic place to stay, strangers who become friends, and possibly some physical exertion. Ideally, I do as little planning as possible. So, when my friend Diego Arzú texted me and my husband Paul to join his “Highlands to Lowlands” adventure, a weeklong arc from volcano-fringed Lake Atitlan and Antigua to the lost city of Tikal, I said yes before asking who else was coming.
Diego, the son of former Guatemalan President Álvaro Arzú, has a background in political science and a deep love for his home country. Possessed of an ability to bring the right people together in the right place, Diego assembled an exotic crew: a mix of Brazilian royalty, fashion designers, plus a decorator (who tended to style everything in sight like it was being shot for Italian Vogue), a handful of American travel journalists, entrepreneurs and artists. Booked through Diego’s collaborator, Sofia Paz (Sofia operates local travel agency Studio Paz), there was, of course, access to a shaman.
THE HIGHLANDS
Chopper-ing in from Guatemala City—over verdant mountains that open onto Lake Atitlán—we landed on a grassy helipad at Casa Piedra Santa, a three-story house carved into the cliffs, owned by the textile designer Mitch Denburg. Mitch is a legend: his rugs are the stuff of decorator lore, and his houses in Guatemala are temple-like, open to the elements but spiritually edited.
Our group split between two houses on the lake. Paul and I shared quarters with Diego, Sofia, the Brazilian decorator, and a dazzling travel planner named Sabrina. Within minutes of arrival, cocktails appeared, and eventually a chicken tortilla soup was served that still haunts me.
Lake Atitlán, with its blue expanse and volcanoes, is rumored to sit on an energy vortex. The following morning, in search of cosmic realignment, we navigated through pines and boulders for a shamanic ceremony with a local healer. The ritual was high on clarity in that the shaman lady identified Sabrina as “emotionally unsettled.” Sabrina seemed jolly to me, but in fact revealed that just the day before she had endured a breakup: “he only makes coffee for himself.”
Neither the vortex nor the shaman tapped me that day, but I resolved to stay open. That afternoon, the Brazilian decorator and I dove into the lake’s cold waters and floated on our backs while Mayan women crossed the ridge lines high above in their centuries-old costumes. There was a slowness to everything that felt rare. And yet, time is an elastic commodity (Peter Mayle said, I believe), thus we managed to pierce the slowness with a rapid succession of Instagram posts.
The next day, we met up with the rest of the group for lunch at Kinnick, a Pinterest-dream of a restaurant at the hotel Casa Palopó, where meat and seafood arrived on hibachis, alongside charred vegetables. By the time we finished dessert, a helicopter had landed in the garden to pilot us back to Antigua.
This, I would come to realize, is how things work on Diego’s trips. One moment you’re drinking rosé at lunch, and the next, you’re flying over volcanoes (with Mitch Denburg at the wheel—what can’t he do?).
ANTIGUA
Antigua itself feels like New Orleans. The cobblestone streets are hell to drive over, but rich in atmosphere. A UNESCO world heritage site, Spanish colonial architecture is painted in cheerful hues of ochre, coral, and soft blue. The city is cosmopolitan, accessible and surprising. Of course, Guatemala comes with a nasty backstory, but show me a jewel of a country that doesn’t.
In the historic center, we shopped like truffle pigs. Luckily, an expert was in our midst, Nazaré Metsavaht—co-founder of the Brazilian fashion brand Osklen—who quickly became everyone’s free personal shopper. I dared not make a purchase without Nazaré weighing in. I have her to thank for an excellent pair of ribboned sandals hiding in plain sight at Wayil. Meanwhile, Sabrina (who seemed unaffected by her recent breakup) and I hit Jade Maya for matching animal necklaces. To satisfy our tablecloth obsession, a journalist in our group sniffed out a fine shop called Colibri.
Later, at La Nueva Fábrica, Mitch Denburg’s curator daughter walked us through the gallery’s contemporary art collection and the textile factory next door. Denburg’s spot is hard to miss. Just look for the two restored Guatemalan buses fused together into a café.
After so much shopping and gallery-ing, our group hit the French fusion restaurant Clíos, for a leisurely two hour lunch. Our hotel, Villa Bokeh—formerly the Denburg family city house, now a Relais & Châteaux hotel with staggering gardens—was exceptional. But the real highlight of Antigua was Diego’s dinner party at his own chic house, Casa Vista Volcá (pre styled with the help of the Brazilian decorator) which included an assortment of Antiguan and expat tastemakers.
My favorite person at the party, Molly Berry, founder of Luna Zorro, realized she and my husband Paul had gone to the same high school in Napa Valley, and together shared a Proustian level of detail regarding its underage drinking hangouts. The whole thing felt like a fever dream version of diplomacy.
The following day at FUNBA (Antigua’s answer to the Barnes Foundation), we ogled the architecture and famous paintings by blue-chip artists like Efraín Recinos and Marco Augusto Quiroa. While the rest of the group fell into a champagne-fueled chat about how time isn’t linear, Paul and I snagged a deal on a painting at auction by mid-century conceptual artist Carlos Merida (unknown to us). Time does feel slippery when you’re bumping up against vortexes and volcanoes and frenzied internet shopping.
Eventually, Paul and I snuck off to the National Archives housed in a romantic building where all Guatemala’s historic papers are kept. Instead of poring over the archives like good students, we wound up sunbathing around the gorgeous courtyard fountain instead. One of the pleasures of Diego’s itinerary was the freedom to opt in and out of group activities.
As the sun slipped lower and Volcán de Fuego smoked in the distance, we finally hit Molly Berry’s workshop, Luna Zorro, nestled in the middle of a picturesque 150-year-old coffee farm. Luna Zorro is much more than a stylish repository of sought after stuffs, it is a shady compound serving fresh juice (have never tasted such delicious elixirs), with an event space and weaving operation, where we lingered for hours snapping up rugs, textiles, bags, hats, dresses and jewelry.
Our group had become quite close by now. I won’t soon forget our family dinner that night at a popular wedding venue, Casa Troccoli. Under a canopy of stars, Casa Troccoli’s matriarch and her daughters had us in stitches regaling us with the highs and lows of their ancestor’s journey to Antigua hundreds of years prior.
THE LOWLANDS
Via a small plane and the cutest boat ever, we travelled from Antigua to the lowlands, landing at La Lancha, Francis Ford Coppola’s jungle idyll on Lake Petén Itzá. A blend of bougie luxury and Apocalypse Now ruggedness, the hotel has a cold pool and breezy open-air lodge with a perfect view. It’s hot, though. So hot that Sabrina and I didn’t bother climbing the 300 stairs to our rooms for swimsuits, but rather opted for immediate gratification, taking out paddleboards in our underwear (which is where I heard the more detailed story of her breakup).
Still searching for that energy vortex, I braved the temazcal sweat lodge hoping for a vision. It seemed like one was on the verge of coming when a bright light appeared, but it was merely Sofia delivering fresh coconut water through a tiny door. All things considered, that coconut water itself was some kind of small miracle.
TIKAL
Practically unanimously, the group decided on a 3:30 a.m. departure from La Lancha to Tikal, the heart of ancient Mayan civilization and a LiDAR lover’s paradise.
At the ungodly hour of the middle of the night, with just the stars overhead and howler monkeys roaring, we hiked up through ruins. Many of us were grumpy. But eventually, perched atop the apex of Temple IV with dawn breaking, the lot of us were stunned into a reverential silence that, to me, revealed how much we still don’t know.
Naturally Diego had arranged for a private tour with Guatemala’s lead Indiana Jones, Edwin Román, through an active dig site, off-limits to tourists. Only a few members of our group, including myself surprisingly, dared venture downward. There, buried under layers of jungle and dirt, history is being rewritten.
With the help of LiDAR technology—lasers that emit pulses measuring the amount of time it takes for light to return after bouncing off objects—archaeologists have created 3D models revealing a complex swath of undiscovered cities. Structures and causeways, distinctive of the Teotihuacan people, and belonging to all strata of socioeconomic class—including an imperial enclave of homes, artifacts, and altars suggest that the Mayans weren’t the only ones here.
As it stands, the Teotihuacan may have migrated here from much further North than we ever knew, porting their gods, gold and furniture with them. How they got there and what wiped them out is yet to be determined. The implications are enormous.
We ended the trip the way all good ones end, slightly altered, with a new set of friends and a sense that we’d shared something private and powerful. Maybe I never accomplished vortex bliss, but to quote Timothy Leary, “In the long term, the quest for fulfillment is more important than that of accomplishment”.
To book this insider itinerary, or any other Guatemalan journeys, contact Likizio Travel: booking@likizotravel.com
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