In the mountains
We've left the beach behind for the mountain town of San Cristobal de las Casas in Chiapas, the southern-most state in Mexico. Ben is working on a story about the town, so he has been (and is currently right this minute) working hard at researching the town and surrounding region. Here's the prelimary report:
It's a lot cooler here; the weather almost feels like a Colorado mountain town, chilly in the morning and evening, suddenly hot if you're in the sun. The town itself has a pretty, old Spanish colonial center, but spreads out into a pretty big city of nearly 150,000. There is a university here, a lot of European tourists (we havn't run into any Americans!), and plenty of cultural festivals ranging from Jazz to musical troubadors to foreign films.
Outside of the city are dozens of villages populated by indigenous peoples who are descendents of the Mayas and still keep to many of the traditional ways. This includes speaking Tzotzil instead of Spanish. They dress traditionally, practice a form of religion that is part Catholic and part pre-Hispanic traditions, and believe that being photographed steals their soul. Yesterday Ben and I went on a tour to two of these villages. The church in Chamula (pictured here) is one of the most interesting things I think I've ever seen. The floor is covered with pine needles, the walls are lined with statues of saints, and the offering tables are so full of candles that they generate an uncomfortable heat. People go in for traditional healing, which involves a ceremony with small taper candles directly stuck to the floor with wax, drinking soda and a traditional alcohol, posh, circling a bag of eggs around the distressed person, then breaking the eggs and sometimes sacrificing a chicken. (We saw all but the chicken.) I'm simplifying of course, and there is more to these peoples' lives, but I'm struck by how small their world seems. And I wonder what they think of us, tramping through their church.
We'll try to upload some pictures soon-since we're in a place to do it, but there won't be any of the indiginous people. If you try and take a picture in the church, the religious authorities will come and break your camera. Let's just say we weren't about to risk it.
It's a lot cooler here; the weather almost feels like a Colorado mountain town, chilly in the morning and evening, suddenly hot if you're in the sun. The town itself has a pretty, old Spanish colonial center, but spreads out into a pretty big city of nearly 150,000. There is a university here, a lot of European tourists (we havn't run into any Americans!), and plenty of cultural festivals ranging from Jazz to musical troubadors to foreign films.
Outside of the city are dozens of villages populated by indigenous peoples who are descendents of the Mayas and still keep to many of the traditional ways. This includes speaking Tzotzil instead of Spanish. They dress traditionally, practice a form of religion that is part Catholic and part pre-Hispanic traditions, and believe that being photographed steals their soul. Yesterday Ben and I went on a tour to two of these villages. The church in Chamula (pictured here) is one of the most interesting things I think I've ever seen. The floor is covered with pine needles, the walls are lined with statues of saints, and the offering tables are so full of candles that they generate an uncomfortable heat. People go in for traditional healing, which involves a ceremony with small taper candles directly stuck to the floor with wax, drinking soda and a traditional alcohol, posh, circling a bag of eggs around the distressed person, then breaking the eggs and sometimes sacrificing a chicken. (We saw all but the chicken.) I'm simplifying of course, and there is more to these peoples' lives, but I'm struck by how small their world seems. And I wonder what they think of us, tramping through their church.We'll try to upload some pictures soon-since we're in a place to do it, but there won't be any of the indiginous people. If you try and take a picture in the church, the religious authorities will come and break your camera. Let's just say we weren't about to risk it.
posted by Laura at 5:37 PM
2 Comments:
It was two vans full of people... most backpacker types, but some Mexicans. People were eager to snap photos in the places where it was okay, but were overall pretty respectful. The two guides divided up into Spanish and English speacking groups, ours was an anthropology masters student. The locals were NOT doing to the healing for our amusement. I was actually a little uncomfortable in the church because I felt like we were just gawking at these people in the middle of their intimate space. There's not a lot of interaction between the Chamulans and the tourists because they speak very little Spanish.
After the main stop in the city, we went to another village where they did have a more "staged" set up... It was almost like going to a recreated Wild-West Fort. The women there were still dressed in traditional clothing, but they spoke some Spanish, demonstrated weaving and cooking, etc. When we were in Chamula, the first place, there was no doubt that many people didn´t give a damn if we were there or not. So I guess you'd call that authentic!
I've asked a couple people how the indigenous people feel about us, and no one seems to really know. At the least, they're not trying to impress us or adapt to us, except in the handicrafts they sell. They seem to tolerate tourists at best. Which is great, but your neighborhood travel writer wishes he could get a few more photos without being jailed, stoned, pelted with fruit, or having his camera confiscated. All of these things have happened, but not to us, luckily. But I'm careful with the camera.
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