Yesterday we took a tour with six other people, all Mexicans, to several Mayan villages.
This is a view of San Cristóbal from the van as we went up, up, up to Chamula, where we were not permitted to take pictures of any natives:
A typical house made of mud bricks. The tile roof is not traditional:
Black sheep, originally brought here by the conquistadores, are like "members of the family," according to our guide, who spoke tzotzil, the language of the locals. Women here (and in San Cristóbal) wear hair skirts made from the hides of the sheep. They wear long blouses tucked in to avoid chafing from the sheepskin. Surprisingly they do not eat the meat of the sheep. Nor do they drink the milk since they are lactose intolerant.
Corn is everywhere, in every nook and cranny and up and down the sides of mountains. We took this photo because there's a tobacco plant in the front. We know our tobacco since
The non-Catholic Mayan church. The residents here (and elsewhere, I suppose) were not very fond of the conquistadores and their religion and, in more modern times, they have kicked out Evangelicals who tried to gain a foothold in the town. So what goes on inside this church, where a priest shows up only occasionally to perform baptisms? The floor is strewn with pine needles. Hundreds of candles burn on the floor. People gather on the floor in front of their particular Shaman for answers to their physical and emotional problems. There is a baptismal font in the "negative" (western, where the sun sets and darkness reigns) side of the church. Baptism is the only sacrament the locals accepted, probably just to get the Dominicans out of their lives.
Then we went to Zinacantán, where we were given the opportunity to purchase local handicrafts:
Julia made us each a tortilla to get us in the mood:
This structure is a traditional house of mud brick with a thatched roof. Cool in summer, warm in winter and resistant to damage from earthquakes:
Yes, we spent some money here.
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