NOTES FROM GUATEMALA.
FEBRUARY, 2026
The journey begins with the volcano. On Day 2, it was time to summit fuego. Along the way, I noticed the ground beneath me change. The rocks became finer, grayer. The elevation also changed the vegetation. You can tell that these plants thrive on less oxygen and an intense, almost unfiltered, sunlight. The ascent allows for one to become one with the land.
to see the flame , firsthand, emerging from raw earth. it does something to the psyche in the immediate, intensity of the moment. but with implications long lasting and far reaching. its no wonder Guatemala provides the fertile soil for growth, not just in a physical sense, but perhaps more so a mental one. to live in a land, surrounded by volcanos. would I get used to this? would I take it for granted? I dont think so.
Antigua is full of life. Saturated by muted tones of the primary colors in the facades, it feels like a place of its time, and somehow more relevant now than ever. A respite from verticality, from urban density. There always remains the visual anchor of the main 3: Fuego, Agua, and Acatenango. They serve as these sort of coordinates, and a reminder of place.
the people. I've been thinking for the past 2 weeks about them. why does it impact so deeply, this culture? there is a leisurely pace. there’s no deadlines, there is no rush, and yet life frees purposeful in the patience. digging to the core though, I can’t help but see my own grandparents in the older ones that are walking by slowly. or these 2, saying so much in the silence. “don’t rush”, I kept telling myself.
it was late afternoon when we arrived at Finca de Azotea, one of two major coffee farms resting on the outskirts of Antigua. for just a few quetzales, we gained access to all of the grounds. to see this amount of coffee in one go, felt like an arrival I hadn’t experienced before. It was all leading to this. Everything was golden. the lighting, the wind, the air. it all was right.
we roamed deep into the field, down the rows of coffee plants. there is a constant current, a breeze, unceasing. A coolness in the air, with pockets of light dancing to and fro. There are taller trees planted among the coffee plants, which provide a natural shade. When their leaves fall and dry, it provides a compost for the soil below. one of the many cycles in this process. A truck of young guys drove past us, they harvest the beans. This is their daily life. I can only imagine. The further we went, massive concrete forms, covered in beans that have just been washed and were drying in the open air. Where willl these end up? Will I be drinking from these at some unknown point? It’s fun to imagine.
every cup that I had in Antigua carried this intent. it carried the hard work, the sun, the rain, the soil, the moisture. a freshness, richness, and full bodied nature that was so unique to this area. to quite literally be at one of the meccas of coffee in the world is something im going to take with me for a while. its the taste of time passed.
many lessons learned for Mira. the first would be, there is no rush. allow the time to pass, let it do its work. it will pay dividends. the second, quiet hospitality. when I was served, it was done so in this near silent manner. the drink itself is the focal point. everything is in service of the moment, and even the server does not detract from it. the third, the roots really are everything. I realize that I’m only part Guatemalan, but to tap into the roots, to strike this internal nerve that I didn’t fully realize was there. more time is needed to let it rest, to let it absorb. but for now, im allowing it to be the anchor for Mira, as it already has been. except now, to have seen this land with my own eyes. both the peaks, the valleys, and the stone streets in between, adds validity, adds weight, and gives it true shape. I have looked. I have seen. I will keep on.
-Jonathan
