Colorful. 

This was my first impression of Antigua. I knew we had arrived in the city when the smooth roads suddenly turned bumpy (since they were paved using rough cobblestones centuries ago). We passed rows of houses, tightly connected and extending from both sides of the street. Arriving late at night, the streetlights were dim and the colors of the walls appeared faded and indiscernible. But by morning, the place is a totally different piece of artwork.

The first ray of sunlight, the crowing of a rooster from nearby quarters, and the breeze rustling through the trees... Walking out of our Airbnb, everything was drenched in vibrant color. Looking east, a massive volcano rose from beyond the rooftops, its peak shrouded in drifting clouds—partly hidden, partly visible.

Houses here have two common characteristics: a modest entrance but unexpectedly spacious inside, and they are rarely fully enclosed. From the outside, every house is a different color from its neighbor, with iron railings across the windows and flower pots blooming beneath. Many restaurants we ate at appeared to take up just a square inch of space, yet were huge inside. Our Airbnb had only a small door set into a flat wall. But stepping in, it opened to a small yard planted with grass, a corridor leading to the bedrooms, and a large dining and living area behind a set of glass sliding doors. During the day, beams of sunlight poured through the open ceiling, casting mottled patches onto the ceramic tiles. Guatemala turns dark early, and by six or seven, looking through the opening, the view of the white-tipped roof frame against the deep navy sky is stunning. 

One morning, we had the chance to paint the walls of one of these colorful houses. We put on old clothes and sandals, picked up our paint buckets, and walked two streets to our destination. The owner supplied us with brushes and rollers. We laid down a black plastic sheet and got to work. After three hours of effort, the faded blush walls became a rich scarlet, and we repainted the iron railings with a rust-resistant black coating. Mrs. Anzaldi took before-and-after photos—the transformation was deeply satisfying.

But if you think Antigua is simply a city of color, you'd be mistaken. There's so much more beneath the surface. 

After we finished painting, the owners of the house invited us inside, and only then did we realize it wasn't residential; it was a school. The organization is called Sueños, meaning "dreams" in English. Founded in 2014, it’s dedicated to educating children from the Mayan community in both Kʼicheʼ (their native language) and Spanish. The goal is not only to preserve their heritage but also to prepare them for broader communication and opportunity. 

The school hosts students from kindergarten through middle school. Antigua is a popular area where Mayan families migrate to in search of better living conditions, but due to poverty, limited education, and language barriers, many end up working as street vendors. At Sueños, the children receive two nutritious meals a day. The administrator emphasized that one of the things they do is teach the kids to eat everything on their plates, since many share one plate of food between four people at home. They showed us the classrooms, designed differently from traditional layouts. There were circular spaces for group interaction and quiet corners for independent meditation. When we circled to the middle school classroom, the administrator shared another sobering reality: there are strong gender stereotypes within Antigua, and that many Mayan girls are married off at 13 or 14 and have children by 15. The existence of Sueños strives to prevent this. 

Antigua, a city built in the 16th century, still retains its charming architecture today. Its culture is preserved not only through its historic buildings and artifacts, but also through the language and dreams kept alive by the efforts of its people. 

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