It turns out ‘The Stowaway’ probably isn’t a stowaway after all. I wasn’t stalking him, but I just happened to end up on the same monastery roof…

Captain’s Log – Cunard Ship Queen Anne – this is now the 22nd day of our voyage…

Our visit to the old capital of Guatemala was to be a ‘non Farmer tour’ trip this time, which took the edge off the stress about getting back to the boat in time – we just had to find our way back to the coach.

It was however called “Antigua on your own” – so the local guide stayed on the bus! We’d heard about the beautiful cobbled streets, but even in trainers they were a little treacherous with huge holes and dips at every turn. On one street the cobbles were even being dug up by a band of workmen, causing further chaos.

The morning heat had begun to ramp up, even at 5,000 feet and at 9am in the morning, so we dodged the guides with their numbered paddle signs and headed for the famous Arch of Santa Catalina. Apparently, it was built to allow the reclusive nuns to cross from the convent to the school without being seen. Through the archway we spotted people on the roof of what looked like a cathedral – that would be a cool place to see the city, we thought.

Ten minutes later we were climbing the steps to the roof of La Merced Church and Monastery, which gave us spectacular views of the city set against a backdrop of the three volcanoes which frame the town. The dark grey mountains were capped with white clouds, that could be mistaken for smoke, but we understood that only one was currently active.

People were posing for shots on the roof with the twin peaks of two volcanoes behind them. One was a man with a rather sunburnt nose, who I recognised immediately. He was looking for someone to take his photo, now was my chance! I stepped in and smiled, taking the camera ( which is one of the oldest digital ones I’ve seen) and getting him into position in front of both the rooftop wall and the volcanoes. I asked if he was enjoying his visit and if he was going right round the world… it was a yes to both these questions, but he was more concerned that the photo was right so we tried again… I wanted to ask his name so that I could google it to satisfy my curiosity, but I chickened out. He trailed off happily to another corner of the roof and we headed up to the next level.

“That was the stowaway,” hissed my travel buddy.

“I know! That’s why I offered to take the photo – to find out more… only it didn’t feel natural to ask his name..”

She nodded and shrugged.

I’d failed! But we both agreed, he couldn’t be a stowaway, he was just a little unusual, but seemed to be having a ball. Maybe we’d never know more… but the cruise isn’t over quite yet.

One mystery sort of ‘parked’, we wandered through the grid of rather weather beaten buildings, where churches and hotels combined ancient ruins with their current accommodation. We managed to find the loveliest rooftop cafe selling coffee and delicious banana and chocolate loaf, which set us up for the journey back down to the port.

As we made our way back, we peeped through doorways and passages to catch glimpses of beautiful plant filled courtyards with fountains and pools, like a mini oasis from the dusty cobbled streets. And the most surprising of these was, wait for it, Starbucks!

The guide had told us we must all call in, and he was right, because it was like no Starbucks I’ve ever been in before. There were huge brightly coloured murals on the walls, and old ceramic tiles on the floor, which blended with the dark wood panels of the counter.

Then just past the counter an archway led into an inner courtyard where comfy wicker chairs and low tables were interspersed with trailing plants and trees and I’m sure there was a trickling fountain somewhere. The only thing to let you know it was Starbucks were the white and green carton mugs and the staff aprons! What I want to know is, why aren’t all Starbucks like that?

Once we’d located coach number 23, which we both thought was white, but turned out to be green (nil points for observation), we were relieved that the heavy traffic wasn’t our problem, because we knew the ship would wait for one of their own coaches.

In the end, there were just a few minutes to spare when we got back on board… next stop Mexico.