Guatemala City bookended our nearly three-week stay in the Land of the Eternal Spring. Although friends who know the city well advised me to budget my time elsewhere, we ended up spending a few nights in the city. Here’s where we stayed:
HOSTAL DONDE REGINA: We landed in Guatemala City around midnight and had an early flight to Flores in the morning, so I didn’t want to venture too far into the city. I opted for this no-frills but sweet place within walking distance of the airport. It was about $40/night, home-cooked breakfast was complimentary, and the hotel hung on to our luggage for a few days while we went to Tikal.
Definitely recommend for brief stays.
HYATT CENTRIC: This is where we stayed on Dec. 30, the tail end of our trip, and it was one of the nicest Hyatts I’ve ever had the pleasure to visit. The employees were warm, our room was spacious and comfy, and my son ended up with a bunch of free perks (coloring pages, free ice cream, cookies, a special holiday punch).
As an added bonus, there was a lovely rooftop pool.
Here’s where my ambitious planning went awry, though. Our flight was at 1 a.m. Jan. 1. So I didn’t want to book an entire night’s stay if we were just going to check out at 9 or 10 to head to the airport. We definitely did not need to pay for another night’s stay.
Since we had stayed at the Hyatt the previous night and I have Hyatt status, our late checkout was 3 p.m. I figured it would be easy enough to find something to do in the city, have a long dinner, and waste time until 10 p.m.
I didn’t expect to hit a wall of exhaustion at the end of the trip. I also did not consider how many things would be closed on Dec. 31. We wandered around a little bit, had a sad dinner at a chain restaurant, and walked loops around an empty mall — and then I gave up and tried to book another night at the Hyatt. Alas, it was New Year’s Eve. Everything was either sold out or priced out of our budget. So I used credit card points to book …
Why didn’t I stay an extra night somewhere else in Guatemala and use Dec. 31 as a travel day to get to the airport? That’s a good question, and I probably should have done that. But there had been some protests in Guatemala around the time of this trip, and that included road blockades, so I allowed plenty of extra time (a whole day!) just in case. Luckily, we didn’t run into any travel issues.
My dad died three months ago. I haven’t found the words to write about it, and I don’t know if I ever will. Some painful things surrounded his death; I’m having trouble sorting through that.
So here are some things that are not entirely related to that loss but not entirely unrelated either.
• I began attending a Death Cafe a few months before my dad died. It’s a place where you can go to talk openly and honestly about death, a topic that’s often taboo. I knew my dad’s life was coming to an end — although I didn’t expect it to happen as quickly as it did — and I wanted to approach it from a healthier place than when my mom died.
I told the group about a picture book my son has, in which a fox is hit by a car and runs into the woods to die, the animal’s body then feeding the earth and other creatures. In this book, death is not an ending but a continuation. It’s a vital part of life.
• Shortly after my father’s death, I climbed Acatenango, a dormant volcano in Guatemala that is joined with Fuego, an active volcano.
My family camped there overnight and sat around a fire as the earth shook, nearby Fuego belching black smoke and fire into the air. Sometimes a rain of ash followed, soft and fine as talcum powder. Other eruptions covered us in soot. I relished that violence, the topsy-turviness of it. Everything seemed upside-down, the black rocks falling from the sky.
Meanwhile, my son saw hearts in the smoke.
• I used to have dreams that my teeth were falling out. Dream interpretation books told me this symbolizes a recent loss or transition. The night I returned from Guatemala, it actually happened in real life. One of my molars crumbled on New Year’s Eve. It was a loss I couldn’t fathom until it happened, a pain I thought I somehow deserved.
• We went to the animal shelter to meet a dog named Milo, but another dog, a mellow, slow-eyed puppy, caught our attention instead. I fell for her immediately. “Let’s wait and think about it,” said my 9-year-old.
That night, my son confessed he was still bereft over the loss of grandpa, and he didn’t want to risk loving anything else that might die. I explained that’s what love is. It’s the everyday bravery of making your heart tender. It’s knowing that you’ll feel pain and loving anyway.
The next day we adopted the dog.
• I had a massage recently and sobbed on the table. The therapist was afraid she had hurt me, but the hurt was already there. She only released it.
When we talked about the upcoming holiday season, there were plenty of activities to put on our calendar: Light parades, breakfast with Santa, baking cookies, ugly sweater parties, touring neighborhoods with decorated houses.
But my 9-year-old wanted to do something entirely different. He wanted to learn how candy canes are made.
It was a humble request, but it seemed about as possible as making reindeer fly. Where in the world would I find a place to make candy canes?
Turns out I didn’t even have to go to the North Pole. Logan’s Candies, a small, family-operated shop in Ontario, California, has been hand-making candy canes since 1933. Tickets to attend a candy-making demo are just $5 per person.
Nearly everything about the process has remained the same since 1933: Same recipe, same stove for boiling sugar, same marble block for pulling and stretching the candy.
Even sweeter than the candy were the kids, pressing their faces against windows to watch the seemingly magical process.
Owner Jerry Rowley stretched and pulled the warm sugar until it turned stark white.
Then he added stripes of color, used to achieve their signature candy cane look.
Afterward, everyone received a warm candy cane to shape however they wanted. We opted to make hearts, since ours were so full.
If you go
Logan’s Candies is located in downtown Ontario, 125 W B St, Ontario, CA. Street parking was free.
When: The shop does candy-making demos year-round. This time of year is more crowded and chaotic, but it would be a fun activity for someone who enjoys Christmas year-round or for celebrating Christmas in July.
Also good to know: The shop sells 31 flavors of homemade ribbon candy, and it’s also home to the world’s largest candy cane!
Planning a family trip to Universal Studios Hollywood felt like a Choose Your Own Adventure where every option was somehow the wrong choice and would lead me toward doom.
To spend hundreds of dollars for one day at the park, but skip the ride lines, turn to page 17.
To spend slightly less and get a nine-month pass to the park, but waste your one wild and precious life waiting in all the lines, turn to page 23.
We opted for the latter. Instead of trying to cram everything into one day, I figured we could go a few times and focus on a different area each visit. Even though this meant we’d have to wait in line for the rides, it wouldn’t matter as much, since we wouldn’t be on a tight timeline. And who knows? I thought. Maybe we’d luck out and there wouldn’t be any lines.
Alas, that was the strategy of a much more naive version of myself — the Maggie I was before I waited 2.5 hours to get on Mario Kart: Bowser’s Challenge.
Here’s how the day went, where we went wrong, and what I’ll do next time.
What it costs
That’s not so easy to answer. Regular tickets start at $109, two-day general admission tickets start at $159, express passes start at $209, and various other passes go from $179 to $639.
Why do I keep qualifying that with “start at”? Because the price varies wildly by day. Peak times, like weekends, holiday breaks, and more desirable days are significantly more expensive. So while I tried to find that elusive $109 ticket price, it never aligned with our work/school schedule.
Instead, I found a discount on the nine-month California Neighbor Pass, bringing it down to $150/per person. That is still expensive, but I can justify the cost by making multiple visits.
Note: I don’t want to tell you how expensive parking is. I can barely admit it to myself. But you should know that parking is my second-least favorite thing to pay for, because it’s just GROUND that my car is borrowing. Stupid.
Food and beverages
That brings me to my least favorite thing to pay for: Water.
Thank goodness Universal Studios allows you to bring in refillable water bottles. (Maximum of two liters).
The regulations also say you can bring snacks and small food items, and I did that too. But I didn’t bring enough. Later I saw people pulling hoagies the size of Buicks out of their backpacks, so I could’ve packed more substantial items. Next time.
Instead, we ate at Three Broomsticks in the Wizarding World of Harry Potter. I had the vegan shepherd’s pie, which was food. It kind of looked like someone started to make shepherd’s pie, then got tired of it halfway through.
Everest plowed through whatever he ordered — a platter of cabbage and mashed potatoes and tomatoes and sausage and peas and some spare change, I think. Jason had a salad, which he regretted because he hates salad, so I’m not sure why that order was ever made.
The real winner was butterbeer, something I’ve wanted to try ever since I first read Harry Potter. It was delicious, like a butterscotch cream soda, and I think I could happily live on a butterbeer-only diet. It would be a short life, but a satisfying one.
The rides
It’s been a long time since I’ve been to an amusement park, so I had forgotten what it feels like to wait in line for a ride. And everything in the new Super Nintendo World required a wait. We waited in line to enter that section of the park (sometimes there’s a virtual queue, but it wasn’t an option when we visited). Then we waited 2.5 hours for the Bowser’s Challenge ride. We waited for the interactive games. We were about to wait in line for photos with Mario, but Mario went on a break. Bless you, tiny plumber.
There was another ride in the Super Nintendo World area, but I could actually feel my soul leaving my body, so at that point we left.
Then we waited 45 minutes to ride Revenge of The Mummy.
Later, we waited for the Flight of the Hippogriff ride.
That’s it. THREE RIDES. But those three experiences topped our priority list for the day, and we accomplished that.
The other stuff
Yes, I visited Ollivanders Wand Shop. I was curious how it would compare with what I imagined long ago, when I first read the Harry Potter series. And it was, in fact, pretty darn magical.
The whole point
A few months ago, Everest said he wanted to ride his first roller coaster, and I wanted E to love roller coasters the way I do.
I remember going to King’s Island with my family when I was growing up — devouring hot, greasy funnel cakes, posing for keychain photos in front of a fake Eiffel Tower, riding the Beast and then hurrying to get back in line — those are some of my most treasured memories.
That was the impetus for this Universal Studios trip. The exhilaration of being THIS TALL TO RIDE, the lap restraint pressed a little too tight, the click-clack of cars chugging up a steep hill, and finally, taking flight.
I wanted to give that to my child.
Well, he hated it. On the two coasters, Everest clutched my hand until my fingers turned blue. He murmured, “No. No. NO.” His eyes were as big as saucers, and those saucers were full of terror.
So he’s not a roller coaster kid. At least not right now, and that’s fine. It just means that when we return to Universal, we’ll be the folks enjoying the shows instead.
The other day my 9-year-old son asked what exactly people celebrate during a “celebration of life.”
I thought it was a great question — something I hadn’t thought about, even though I’ve attended many such celebrations before.
I explained that it varies depending on the situation. If the person believed in an afterlife, we’re celebrating their passage to a better place. If the person had been ill or injured, we can celebrate their freedom from pain. And if the person had cultivated a life full of loved ones, we celebrate the impact that person made in their world and what they meant to everyone in it. Sometimes it’s an amalgam of all these things.
That’s what was on my mind Saturday when I attended a celebration of life for my friend Steve Vericker, a desert radio host and local personality.
When I moved to the Coachella Valley in 2005, I worked for the daily newspaper. My job was in the features department, writing lifestyle stories and my own weekly column. I worked hard to make a good impression; this had been a big move across the country, and Palm Springs both awed and intimidated me. I desperately wanted to carve out my own little place in it.
However, there was a popular morning radio show that eviscerated my column every week. Absolutely ripped it to shreds. And the more I pushed myself to be cool or impress readers, the more it altered my voice. Months after my arrival, I was mocked, miserable, and wracked with self-doubt.
An email from a stranger
That’s when I received a message from Steve Vericker (known on the radio as Steve Kelly).
“I want to get you on my show,” he said. “Let’s talk about some stories you’re working on and show people who you really are.”
Keep in mind, I didn’t know Steve. I hadn’t yet met Steve. But somehow Steve knew everything. He understood I needed a life preserver, and he made a point to be one for me. So I went on his show. I chatted about who I am and what I write, and it restored a lot of my confidence.
To this day, I’m still touched by his gesture. It was a generous use of his platform and a real gesture of kindness at a time when I didn’t see much of it elsewhere. Not only was Steve great at helping out fellow journalists and creating valuable networks, he was very good at being kind.
Many years later, our friendship well established, Steve popped into my inbox again. This time it was to say he was proud of me for getting quitting alcohol. He told me that he’d been dry for decades, and he credited sobriety with saving his life.
“I promise you, life only gets better,” he wrote.
So that’s what I celebrated on Saturday during Steve’s celebration of life — the gifts he so freely gave, the way he reached out whenever life was hard, and the promise that things always get better.
•••
Steve’s ashes will be spread by his family and close friends in Ireland. If any of you are ever in the Emerald Isle, I hope you’ll think about his generosity of spirit, and it’ll inspire you to pass along a small kindness.
