Doing the Things that We Have Put Off

Now that we are in our last week, we can no longer put things off until later.  Later is here.

Yesterday, Monday, we went up the other hill in town with a church on it.  The first week we went up the hill on the east, yesterday we went up the hill on the west.  Once again, we took a taxi up and walked back down.  It was sunny, pleasant in the shade and very peaceful, with few others there.  The church of San Cristobal , the Martyr, has clean, simple lines.

The "other" church on a hill in the distance

Looking back up the stairs.  That's why we
took a cab up.

Next to the church there was a series of exercise stations.  Let's see those Curves ladies in Portland do these at 7000 feet!

In the afternoon yesterday we went to visit the Taller Lenateros.  This is an organization that produces hand-made paper and books of amazing quality.  It is mostly indigenous people that work there.  They encourage visitors to tour their facility and they have a sales room filled with their work.  I would have loved to have brought home several posters if we only had wall space.  I encourage a visit to their website, which is in both Spanish and English.

 Taller Lenateros

Ever since we arrived here I have wanted to take some photos of the cathedral after dark; however, every time we had gone to the zocalo at night, the lights that illuminate its facade were not on.  So, when we walked downtown last night and it was lit up, I was very excited.  I also did not have my camera with me.  So I left Sara sitting in the plaza while I hurried back home to get my camera and tripod.  Here is why I wanted to photograph it.

After shooting the cathedral, I walked to the other end of the plaza to take a picture of the small chapel down there.  I sat down on the sidewalk and set up the tripod; just as I was about to snap the photo, this couple walked into my field of vision, stopped and began smooching.  They didn't even know I was there.  After taking the picture, I got up and walked over to show them what I had taken.  They thought it was great!  Ay!  Los enamorados!

Today, Tuesday, Sara and I got a taxi to take us back to the town of Chamula and then to the town of Zinacantan.  When we visited Chamula during Carnival, the first week here, we were not allowed to take any photos.  I wanted to get some pictures of the town and its unique church.

It was on the porch under the restaurant sign that we
sat and watched the sea of people, and the bulls, when we
were here for Carnival.

This entire open space in front of the church was packed
with Chamulans in traditional dress the day we were
here before.

We only stayed in Chamula a short time, then the taxi driver took us on to Zinacantan on the other side of the mountain.  I had him leave us there; we would take a combi back to San Cristobal when we were ready.

The people of Zinacantan speak the same tzotzil Mayan as those in Chamula; but, their dress and traditions are very different.  They are also a more open, friendly people.  The women from Zinacantan are the ones who wear the beautiful lavender-purple-blue capes and blouses.  When we got out of the taxi, a girl with a toddler ask us if we would like to visit a co-operative of women who weave and sew the traditional clothing of Zinacantan.  We said yes and followed her to their workshop.

The workshop was down steps off the street in very
humble accommodations.

After spending time with these humble, sweet and very talented women and their children, and after buying a beautiful table runner, we walked back to visit the center of town and the church there.  As with the church in Chamula, photography in the church in Zinacantan was prohibited.  The inside of this church was much more orthodox than the one in Chamula, with pews and no pine boughs on the floor.  There did not seem to be the mixing of the old religion with Catholicism as much as in Chamula.  It was filled, though, with masses of flowers everywhere.  Zinacantan has a thriving flower-growing industry with many large greenhouses around the edge of town.

When we were getting ready to find the combi back to San Cristobal, we ran into the girl who originally took us to the women's co-op.  As we talked to her we discovered that the little two-year-old was not her little sister.  She was her daughter.  We we asked her how old she was she say, seventeen!  She was how old when she had that baby!  How old when she got married!  She said her husband works in the greenhouses.