Guatemala doesn't do quiet. Tuk-tuks buzz around Lake Atitlán, markets spill into the streets, and a wedding can simply take over a corner in Antigua — everyone approves. We drifted between lakeside towns, found hippie yoga in San Marcos and an artist's studio I left three paintings richer, then climbed Acatenango for seven relentless hours. That night Fuego erupted over and over, like the mountain had something to say. At sunrise, above the clouds, it stopped feeling like a view and started feeling like a blessing.

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Fuego, mid-eruption. This one moment is why I climbed uphill for seven hours.

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The mighty tuk-tuk — undisputed king of transport around Lake Atitlán.

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The basin never wobbles. I don't understand the physics. Respect.

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Our first Guatemalan meal. That beef in the middle — the sauce alone justifies the flight.

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Another tuk-tuk, lol. They really do run this place.

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San Marcos La Laguna, the lake's hippie capital — you can feel it. The yoga and meditation are the real thing, too.

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Living the life I aspire to.

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A local painter whose lake scenes were so good I surrendered and bought three.

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Kitty, kitty. So cuteeeee.

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Saint James the Knight, keeping watch over Antigua.

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A wedding on a street corner. Antigua does romance casually.

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Step one of several thousand, straight up a volcano.

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Above the clouds, chasing the sunrise. It felt sacred — like being let into heaven a little early.

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The summit at last. A stubborn heart, paid in full by this sunrise.

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Fuego erupted all night, tireless. Honestly? I want that energy.