Sunday, Octiober 10, 2010 San Juan Chamula village, San Cristobal de las Casas

Today is TEN TEN TEN (10-10-10)! I nearly didn't realize it except that I checked Yahoo news, and that was the top story. Go Yahoo. Breakfast at the hotel was bomb; fresh guava juice, my favorite. I walked around for a while looking for a shared combi to the nearby village of San Juan Chamula, and finally got one, but it was fuming gasoline and I probably lost as many brain cells as at a good frat party. Today was the village's weekly market, which was awesome. The town is the capital of the Tzotzil people, a Mayan group who are poor and fiercely independent. I got there early enough to beat the crowds of tourists who always fuck up markets because they get in the way of commerce, and more importantly, my discreet photos. They do take some of the focus off my Gringo ass, though. There were some amazing photo opps. The weather was sunny, the women were all wearing colorful shiny blouses and had kids in cloth wrapped around their backs, and the men were wearing these woold gorilla suits with white cowboy hats. Since everyone was Mayan, I was super tall and super light skinned in the crowd. The Mayans, as in Guatemala, are poor, oppressed, quiet, and mostly resent having their pictures taken (minus one point for the Mayans). For example, I got into trouble by trying to take a picture of a group of weird-looking guys in white tunics and gorilla vests and gaucho hats. Everyone was speaking Tzotzil around me. People were pushy but reserved, it was weird. They are very suspicious of outsiders. Understandable, because the Spanish, the Mexican army, and Gringo tourists are their interaction with the outside world, all of whom in some way have definitely exploited them. I went around taking covert photos (this is why I don't have a SLR), and then got a tourist ticket to go into the main church. They worship all saints, whose statues were flanking the main area inside, culminating with Saint John the Baptist at the altar, who is their patron saint. But this was far from any ordinary Mexican Catholic Church. The floor was covered in pine needles, it was dark and smoky, and groups of poeple circled around barefoot on the floor, lighting candles for the saints. Families were crying, chanting in native Mayan languages, and offering gifts (such as soda, food, flowers, and LIVE chickens... I saw a girl wring a writhing chicken's neck until it was no longer flapping around). After that completely different experience, I took a walk around the little town, which was boring; just some of the same old houses, corn fields, and women and kids who shooed me away just for looking at them. I took the bus back to my base, San Cristobal de las Casas, and had lunch (ten tacos for $5) at a busy taqueria, before checking out the big market, where I felt a little less awkward taking photos. I walked through the nice pedestrian walking streets filled with rich Chiapans enjoying their Sunday afternoon. I walked up to two churches on different hills, San Cristobal and Virgin of Guadalupe, which both had pretty good views of the city. I met some Spanish people who were traveling in a van around the world over the course of ten years. Is that supposed to be some feat? Because I'm pretty sure Magellan did that 500 years ago in a motorless sailboat without a map, and it only took him a year. Some kids came up to me asking for money for a school thing, and one kid accidentally spit on me, so I pretended to get pissed so he went away. The other one was persistent, but then I figured out they hate pictures so I'd just point my camera their way and they left me alone. Gotta always see the positives! I checked the weather and there is a hurricane forming in Honduras heading straight for the Yucatan, where I'm suppposed to be in a couple days. Great, just great.