Life's a Beach | Expat Life in Playa del Carmen

On day seven of our adventure it was the girls turn to sleep in. Rob and Cole had breakfast at the organic coffee shop, BioMaya, right next door to our hotel and then ventured over to the zocalo to watch the vendors setting up for the day. Birdie and I woke up late and I took advantage of the internet in our room, a welcomed first, to catch up on email and do a blog entry. Internet has been hard to come by in our accommodations and I have given up trying to maintain any semblance of a schedule.

Lots of burning and clearing going on in the hills

Our plan for the day was to catch a boat tour of the Sumidero Canyon located about an hour west near the capital, Tuztla Gutierrez. In contrast to Palenque, this part of Chiapas experiences true seasons. Many of the trees were just starting to sprout leaves after a cold winter. We even saw road signs advising caution in the event of snow! In order to save time, we took the cuota road, shaving twenty minutes off of our drive time and preserving our nerves. Unfortunately, the signage for the canyon was limited and we ended up being directed toward the “miradors” at the top of the canyon rather than the loading area for the boats far down below. Disappointed as I was, I must say the views were spectacular and I can see why this is such a popular attraction. On our way out of town, we did find the boat docks, well marked and easily accessible, right off of the free road.

Sumidero Canyon

 

 

The memory of our delicious “parillada” with Edgar and his family still fresh in our minds, we stopped at a colorful, clean restaurant just below the canyon and ordered a similar platter. The food, while plentiful, was a far cry from the fabulous grilled fare we had enjoyed in Palenque. I guess you really do have to know someone to find the really good places.

 

 

We finished up and continued on along another twisting, winding mountain road to our next destination, the village of Zinacantan. Not much is written in the guidebooks about this village and it seems to often take a back seat to neighboring Chamula de San Juan in regard to cultural interest. It is known for its textiles and more recently its thriving flower industry which supports the village but seems to draw skepticism from travelers who would prefer to see the villages stay culturally authentic, no matter how poor the residents. The hills surrounding the village are covered with plastic greenhouses of various shapes and sizes, each cultivating cut flowers and plants for export. We saw everything from calla lilies to roses being cared for but, strangely, no flowers for sale in the village save the chamomile and carnations used for religious ceremonies.

Check out the trek to this hillside chapel!

Greenhouses in the Zinacantan Valley

Typical building construction and materials

The traditional “trajes” for this area are among the most beautiful we have ever seen and are worn by both women and men. The women wear heavy black skirts woven from the wool of the black sheep that dominate this mountainous region. Some are of a traditional weave and decorated with bright blue and purple floral appliqués. Others are more rustic looking, looking almost furry like the sheep themselves. The tops are brightly colored satin blouses, long and short sleeved with decorative banded embroidery or the same floral appliqués. This region being quite chilly for most of the year, both women and men wear a heavy woven shawl or tunic, again in vibrant shades of blue, purple, violet and green with long decorative tassels. This group of Maya is particularly sensitive about photos being taken as they believe that a part of their soul is taken with each photograph. I have managed to sneak a few and a woman in the weavers’ cooperative even offered to let me take a few shots of her working. We purchased several striking pieces to display back home as well as a shawl to keep Birdie warm as the afternoon air was becoming quite crisp.

Our last stop in this tiny village was the church in the center of town. Not much is written about the Iglesia de San Lorenzo which is surprising considering the cultural experience it offers visitors, most likely because photography is strictly forbidden in the church or even the church yard and is punishable by steep fines and jail time. While I took these warnings to heart, if you Google "Zinacantan" you will find quite a few images of the church and the villagers. A sign just inside the church welcomes guests, after making a small donation at the tourist booth. Another sign reminds parishioners that killing chickens is not allowed inside the church. Good to know.

The tourist information booth was closed when we arrived but we entered the church quietly and stood in the back, off to one side, to observe the proceedings. This day, Good Friday, was one of great significance in the town. Everyone in the village and the surrounding areas had gathered to pay homage and respect and make offerings to both Christ and San Lorenzo and this bizarre mix of Catholic and traditional Maya religious ceremony. The church was of a conventional structure and layout, nothing out of the ordinary on the outside save the strange effigy in modern western garb, trousers, suit coat, tie and hat hanging over the entrance. This was recognizable to us after our visits to the homes and chapels housing Maximon or San Simon in the indigenous villages in Guatemala. Inside the church, the floor was strewn with pine needles and hundreds of small lit candles. In the center of the church, where the pews would normally be, two effigies were laid out, with 8 church elders, creating a perimeter and holding poles that supported large fabric banners overhead. The bodies were surrounded by piles and piles of flowers brought by the worshipers and arranged carefully by more church elders.  Along the sides of the church, benches had been placed where parishioners could sit and pray. At the entrance was a steady stream of worshipers, each wearing the traditional “traje” and bearing a small bouquet of flowering chamomile and tiny red carnations. They would kneel for a few moments before entering and then take their place in the long line to view the effigies. After making their way around, leaving flowers and giving thanks, the parishioners would make stops at the more traditional Catholic figures, stopping to rub a foot or the hem of a robe and give prayers. All this time a group of church elders in their strange traditional garb, sat by and watched over the proceedings seemingly oblivious to our presence.

Before we overstayed our welcome, we took our leave of the church and Zinacantan and wound our way back up the mountain and back to San Cristobal.Night had fallen by the time we arrived in historical centro and every street and plaza was buzzing with activity. The Cathedral of San Cristobal was open to visitors and so we stopped in to see how Good Friday was recognized in a more traditional church setting. Strangely enough, two similar effigies were placed up near the front of the church and a similar, albeit less colorful, procession of worshipers was making their way through the church and up to the altar.

 

On our way through town, we happened upon a religious procession reminiscent of those we encountered in Antigua. It was much smaller but equally somber. The hooded figures, I must confess, were a bit off-putting. Funny how one's own cultural biases sneak in every now and then as I am quite sure they had nothing to do with white supremacy.

 

After the short procession had passed, we wandered up to the crafts market at the church of Santo Domingo and picked up some great Zapatista figures to add to our growing collection of culturally inappropriate dolls. The one with the masked Zapatista baby on its back is my new favorite! Too funny!