The last two weeks I have been taking you on a tour of my initial visit to Chiapas, Mexico. We have visited Nuevo Yibeljoj, Union Majomut, Agua Azul, Palenque and Ocosingo. The reason for this tour is I wanted to contexulize my experiences during this phenomenal study abroad trip. I also wanted to share this amazing journey in the hopes that you would understand the strong connection I feel to this extraordinary country.! Sometimes, the decisions and experiences we choose weave a completely different life for us.!
We have a few more places to visit in Chiapas. But today, I want to talk about Zinacantán. San Lorenzo Zinacantán is a village in the southern part of the central highlands in Chiapas, Mexico. As with the residents of Nuevo Yibeljoj, most of the population are Tzotzil Maya, an indigenous people with linguistic and cultural ties to other highland Maya peoples. Zinacantán translates to “land of bats” and comes from the Nahuatl language. In Tzotzil, “land of bats” is spoken as “Sots’leb” which is what the residents call Zinacantán.
Our class took a bus up the central highlands to reach Zinacantán from our home base in San Cristobal. The scenery was breathtaking – blue skies, clouds and hills dotted our excursion. When we arrived, the beautiful church with streamers greeted our arrival. However, so did three very excited teenage girls.!! They were there to meet us and take us to three separate artisanal homes. The group quickly divided itself into three parts and each group followed a very energetic girl through the town’s streets. Mostly uphill, I might add.! hahaha….
My group landed at Artesanias Alcatraz. We met an amazing weaver who lived and worked out of her home. Unfortunately, I cannot recall her name. I wish I could remember it because she was a very interesting woman. She worked with other women in her village through Artesanias Alcatraz. Every week, the women would go into San Cristobal to sell their handiwork to tourists and stores. They managed to make a decent living, but far from what you and I would consider ‘normal’. The scarves the women made typically cost about 100 pesos which is currently not even $10 USD. I would have expected that they could have sold their scarves for more since they were unique pieces. But after bartering, $10 would usually end up being the negotiated price.
At the weaver’s home, we had two people with us who spoke Spanish and one person who understood Mayan. So we communicated with the weaver through translators. She had two daughters who we saw at the house. She was married, but her husband was working. I loved the fact that she asked questions about us.! Not because I think we were important. But because it was nice to be engaged in a reciprocal question and answer conversation with her. I remember her being confused about me because while she knew about the United States, she had never heard of Croatia. It was fascinating watching her absorbing the information about a new country. Similarly, to me finding out about all the different Mayans living in Mexico.!
After the question and answer session, we learned a little about weaving. We also looked at the finished scarves, dresses and hats. A few of us also tried on some of the traditional outfits.! The pieces were absolutely gorgeous.! I ended up purchasing a lovely purple scarf that could also be used as a mini blanket. I loved it.! The weaver, as busy as she was, also provided lunch for us. We sat around on the floor and some boxes eating tacos filled with ground meat and salsas. It was delicious.! It ended up being a great afternoon.!
When it was time to leave, we took a leisurly stroll downhill (yay!!) to meet the rest of our group by the church. This is when I noticed that I had lost the scarf I had been carrying around throughout my trip to Chiapas. It was a prettly little pink and brown piece I had picked up when I had been in Dublin the year before. In fact, I had initially been planning on moving to Dublin after my graduation. However, unbeknownst to me at the time, my trip to Chiapas would alter all those plans. But I should have known. Because while I was standing by the church feeling upset about my lost Dublin scarf, I noticed that I was still carrying the scarf I had purchased from the weaver. In that moment, my own life had weaved a different path.