After spending some time in the DF, we all met up in the colonial mountain town of San Cristobal de las Casas. The journey was not easy, least of all because we spent an hour heading towards Oaxaca (the wrong way). Our hostel was located in an old house. Here again the view gets great ratings, and the noise the worst. Not because we were near the zocalo or any markets, but because the owners like to play, no, blast techno from 8 in the morning until midnight, every day. This is not what I wanted to hear after arriving at 3 AM after being lost for 2 hours on windy, lonely mountain roads.
Nevertheless, it was great to be back with my friends in the streets of these magical new town.
It would seem the city must get a lot of rain (or maybe snow?), as most of the vernacular architecture has pretty generous eaves, something I haven't seen too much of in Mexican urban architecture. Also, I think the di-color horizontal banding typical of many of these buildings is a decent response to the topography.
A flavor of the local churches, which taste a lot like like cake. The flashy baroque (or maybe rococco) style is pretty common in areas where the church had and continues to have an especially hard time eclipsing local religious traditions. The interiors, while not without indulgences, are fairly reserved in comparison to the convention of many other towns in this country. The tension members below the ceiling, a common element of many of the churches in San Cristobal, is like a choir screen rotated twice and placed this time between heaven and the congregation. 
The materials utilized run the whole gamut from simple to grand. 
Another church, less pastel and more shamelessly wedding-cake. 
Some other scenes.
And I'll never get enough of this optical illusion stuff. 
We rode horses from San Cristobal to a village called Chamula, but I did not bring my camera as we were warned robberies were known to happen in the woods between. This warning is pretty common everywhere in Mexico, but the only place I've ever been held up was right in front of my house, smack dab in the middle of Mexico City. The ride was gorgeous, as was the village. It is populated overwhelmingly by local indeginous sheep herders, who have there own language and show a distinct preference for wearing black sheepskin. The Church of San Juan Chamala is where Catholocism and the local traditions meet. Pictures are strictly forbidden, largely because the crowds here are remarkably engaged in their rituals, moreso than any other religious site I've seen. There are no pews, the perimeters is lined with tables each with it's own saintly vitrine, and the floor is covered with a carpet of pine needles. Some of the faithful contribute to the 100 or so candles in front of every saint, while others clear a spot in the needles, kneel down, and place maybe 30 candles or so in front before they begin a kind of prayer chant. Some place bottles of soda along side their candles, which I hear are pretty common features of many native religious rituals these days. Once they are finished, they scrap away whatever wax may have dripped to the floor, and replace the needles they have disturbed. As the only outside light comes from two openings in the thick south wall, there is an incredibly ambiance which makes for a very moving sight. It makes me wonder how some people can believe so strongly in something beyond themselves while others seem wholly lacking.
More from Chiapas to follow.
1 comment:
YUM! I want some cake.
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