A visit to Antigua Guatemala, where Zacapa gives Port an inside look at its blending techniques, altitude-aged barrels and the women behind its handwoven bottles
The first thing you notice about Antigua Guatemala is a ring of towering volcanoes – one of which, Fuego, puffs smoke into the sky every 20 minutes. The second thing is the colour, the kind of hues that cling to memory like sugar to the rim of a glass. Sun-bright yellows, faded teals, deep clay reds are plastered on buildings chipped with time, cradling cobbled streets worn by centuries, and a kind of light that seems to catch everything mid-sigh. It’s a city painted, quite literally, into history.
Antigua Guatemala, originally founded as Santiago de Guatemala in 1524, served as the capital of the Captaincy-General of Guatemala, encompassing much of Central America under Spanish colonial rule. After its initial establishment, the city faced destruction due to an indigenous uprising and was re-established in 1527. However, in 1541, it was entirely buried by earthquakes and an avalanche. The city was then relocated to its present site in the Panchoy Valley in 1543. Built 1,500 metres above sea level in an earthquake-prone region, Antigua flourished for over two centuries, acquiring numerous monumental structures. In 1773, a devastating earthquake largely destroyed the city, leading to the relocation of the capital to present-day Guatemala City. Despite this, many of Antigua’s principal monuments were preserved as ruins, signposting its colonial past. It was also declared a UNESCO World Heritage Site in 1979.
It feels apt that Zacapa – Guatemala’s most celebrated rum, crafted from first-press sugarcane and aged high above the clouds using the solera method – would choose Antigua as the entry point into its story. Both are shaped by layers of history, craft and a relationship to the land. Founded in 1976 to commemorate the centenary of Zacapa city – a town in eastern Guatemala named from the Nahuatl words zacatl (grass) and apan (river), meaning “place on the river of grass” – the rum was created in a region with fertile plains and the warmth of the Motagua Valley. The area’s climate, rich volcanic soil and abundant sugarcane fields supplied the raw materials that underpin Zacapa’s signature style, which myself and a cohort of journalists flown in from London to Singapore, were invited to experience firsthand.
Lorena Vásquez is Zacapa’s master blender. Born in Nicaragua and now a proud Guatemalan, Vásquez has spent nearly four decades at the brand. With a background in chemistry and food technology, she began her journey in quality control, eventually rising to become one of the few female master blenders in the spirits industry. Vásquez once described her role as that of a “guardian angel” of Zacapa’s production process, emphasising the care she invests in every batch. Her spirit led to the relocation of Zacapa’s aging facility to the ‘House Above the Clouds’, situated 7,500 feet above sea level, where the cooler temperatures and decreased oxygen levels allow the rum to age more slowly, developing its unique flavour profile. Beyond this, Vásquez is also a trailblazer for women in the industry. She has been instrumental in creating opportunities for other women at Zacapa, fostering a culture where female talent thrives.
One of many memorable moments from the trip was a visit to Villa Bokéh, a two-hectare property with lush gardens, twinkling lagoons and views of the Agua Volcano. Like many revelations, lunch began with a cocktail. More specifically: a Zacapa espresso martini taken al fresco, in the kind of location that feels halfway between a Wes Anderson film set and a dream you don’t want to wake up from. After a long, lingering lunch and several “just-one-more-sips”, we were ushered into a blending workshop, which was far more than a passive swirl-and-sniff session. Under the guidance of Vásquez herself – who greeted us like a host welcoming old friends – we were given a masterclass into the process of Zacapa rum-making. Each of us handed a pipette and a series of barrel-aged components like puzzle pieces, ready to be reassembled into something uniquely our own. As Vásquez explained: “The process of making rum is like painting.”
My painting began with a generous 12.5% of virgin sugar cane distillate – sweet, bright and redolent of fresh-cut cane, it’s rum in its purest form. From there: 12.5% ex-sherry wine for richness and roundness; 21% cognac cask for those sultry notes of orange zest, sandalwood and a whisper of chocolate; 31% smoked American whiskey for depth and drama; and 23% French oak for structure – the backbone. The final result was unexpectedly complex: fruit-forward, slightly smoky, a hint of festive spice. Cloves, pineapple, a little peppery. Vásquez took a sip, paused, and nodded approvingly with a grin.
Unlike most rums, Zacapa’s process starts with the first press of virgin sugar cane – known as ‘miel virgen’ or virgin honey – a syrup so sweet it sets the foundation for the rum’s smoothness. It’s then fermented using a strain of yeast derived from pineapples, which gives the liquid its aromatic lift. After distillation, the rum is taken on a literal ascent, travelling from the tropical lowlands to 2,300 metres above sea level, where it rests in the cool air of the House Above the Clouds. Amongst the shifting temperatures and mist-laced mornings, the solera system comes into play – a Spanish-inspired aging method in which rums of various ages and styles travel through a sequence of barrels. As Vásquez described it: “In my world, rum goes into the soul of the barrel.” And in turn, the barrel gives something back. Smoke, spice, warmth, depth.
After the workshop, we were then gifted our creations in a bottle, encased with its signature handwoven band of dried palm, known as a petate. For generations, indigenous Maya women have practiced backstrap weaving, a technique where the loom is anchored to a tree or post at one end and wrapped around the weaver’s waist at the other. In 1976, Zacapa introduced the petate band to its bottles, crafted by women from El Progreso. By 1999, the initiative expanded to include women from El Quiché, many of whom were displaced by conflict and seeking new livelihoods. Later, women from Jocotán, affected by severe droughts that devastated their agricultural income, joined the weaving program. Today, over 700 women across these regions contribute their skills, ensuring that each bottle of Zacapa carries with it a piece of their heritage and craft. And by doing so, Zacapa offers these women sustainable income, and helps preserve traditional weaving techniques that might otherwise fade away. The next evening, back at Hotel Casa Santo Domingo, a group of local artisans demonstrated how they created the petate band, each strip of dried palm knotted by hand.
In the same way Antigua’s streets reveal centuries through stone and colour, Zacapa’s rum tells its story through balance: the brightness of cane, the depth of oak, the subtle trace of smoke or fruit or spice. But there’s also a richness that you can’t quite pin down, like a memory you never made but somehow recognise. Maybe that’s what Vásquez means when she called it “the soul of the wood” during her workshop. Because in the end, Zacapa is a composition, a painting.
Photography Nirvana Nungaray
