October 29, 2002 - page 2

things before she left. We asked her if she wanted something to eat; soon, she was joined by three of her fifteen grandchildren who also sold handmade articles, such as head scarves, wallets, and purses. Through our dinner conversation, we found out that no one in the family had ever attended school; if they are lucky they bring in $15.00 a day.

Tuesday, we spent traveling on roads so curvy they make Kentucky roads look straight. However, the landscape was gorgeous with its rugged mountains, beautiful flora, and the bright dress of the indigenous people. We went to Zanacatan and San Juan Chamula small towns near San Cristobal de las Casas, our domicile for the night.

Our first stop, San Juan Chamula was perhaps the most interesting place that I’ve ever been to. The people believe that photographs steal the soul of the subject so all photography is prohibited. One of the main attractions of the town, besides its handcraft market, is the church. Upon entering it, I immediately felt transported to a completely different time and place. The air was foggy with incense; the floor was covered in fragrant pine needles. The only light came from the hundreds of candles that covered the floor and the altars. There were no benches. The walls were

filled with effigies of saints; everything was decorated with flowers and ribbons. There were people praying in their native language, most likely tzotzil. A worshipper alternated pouring alcohol in front of the candles as she was praying and drinking it. A procession entered burning copal, incense used since the Ancient Maya, playing songs and chanting prayers. Seeing that church and its worshippers emphasized the fact that although we are in the twenty-first century, there are traditions that continue from thousands of years ago.