The Search for the Great White Buffalo

It was the first day of spring, or maybe early December, and Sue was busy in her room after school.  She packed a book, a sweater, and a cheese sandwich, then     together with her friend Odelia, hiked for a mile, or two, or ten, across the RR tracks and through farming fields.   They were headed for the local hills, or the San Gabriel Mountains, in an earnest search for the Great White Buffalo.

It got late and they were lost. Then it was dark and they got scared.  And if not for the kindness of some local bikers, the story might have had a much different ending.

Such is the memory of a 7 year old child.

Millenials often refer to the Great White Buffalo as “the one that got away”.  Boomers may remember how Rin Tin Tin saved a boy named Rusty who had wandered too far.  For us though, it’s a search without searching---expecting to find our better selves in the people and the places we encounter.

Prepping for the third White Buffalo

It's months in the making, but Carlos and I have zeroed in on where, when, and how we are going.  For us a good White Buffalo is the exploration with unknown expectations. 

The quiet energy of observing

Chamulan family

Zinacantan family

The last few days of this trip, like almost all trips, is bittersweet.  I've met some interesting people I would never had had contact with and been to places that give me a glimpse of another life, but simultaneously I'm ready to go home and see how I can incorporate the liberty I've had here. I like traveling alone.  I love traveling with Carlos, but I appreciate how different it is alone... from how people approach me, to the quiet energy of observing.

This is the trip and time I needed for the next phase of my life.  Retirement sounds so permanent but it just may be the phase that is more liberating.  I don't have much to prove to others.  I'm exploring what I put on hold and revising it to accommodate knowledge and interest acquired during the first two phases. I thought I would be going through an informal school, learning and filling in gaps.  But the gaps aren't wide right now.  I want to use what I have and focus on being present.

My friend, Marcella, sent an email about appreciating life and it put a tear in my eye.  There is nothing more precious than seeing what's in front of me and accepting and enjoying the moment.  I know this. You know this. But it's so difficult to remember when there are beds to be made, birds to feed, lessons to write, students or patients with demands, wheelchairs to be fixed.  That's the difficult part. Being present is always easier outside of your comfort zone. It often takes a trip away from home to look and act upon home.

I met a couple who have been traveling for 3 years. They stay for 2-4 months and then move on. They buy nothing that they can't carry for they don't have a permanent home.  That's not me. I like permanence even if it's temporary.  I like a home...whether it's a house in SF or a VW bus. I need to hang photos and fabrics on walls before I'm comfortable, even in hotel rooms, offices or classrooms.

I'm looking forward to today for it will be another day of exploring the Orchid Garden, saying hello to Citlali (a new teacher/artist friend I most likely will know in 10 years), buy some macadamien nuts from a kid with a cart who will take a hammer and hit the bejeebees out of them to break the nut, stop by the textile museum again, wander through the market, buy some inconsequential item from a street vendor that I don't know at the time that I will treasure for years to come, take lots of photos, squirrel away time to write, go to my favorite bakeries (yes, that's multiple of course), and end my day by skyping with Carlos.

And my first day in SF, I want to look forward to that day as well.

Thank you so much for reading my wanderings.  I have a true need to write and knowing that someone is reading it inspires me to look deeper. So thank you.
Hasta pronto-
Susana

Sent from Chiapas with a slow internet connection

Sra marie teresa and the scoop in town

Zinacantán girls wearing everyday clothing---embroidered capes, skirts, blouses

I'm meeting Sra. Marie Teresa Santiago in front of our compound for she has a strong background in Tsoltle and Mayan customs.  We're walking off to the colectivos, but within one block Sra Marie sees someone she knows and conversations flow. Another block and she's noting who lives in which house and which foreigner or Chamulan has bought which house.  She spots new construction, and the next thing I know we're having conversations with the contractor and he's showing us the 8 apartments being built by a French owner who appreciates small-designed architecture.   He leads me upstairs to the best and says the loft above has the best views.  He's right.  It's an  outstanding view of tiled roofs in San Cristobal de las Casas. I'm already fantasizing about moving here, but then again it's been 30 degrees, and it's cold I tell him.  Wait, he says, the French have put in a chimney. A chimney?

Yes, it's an electric stove. This might be the only place in all of San Cristobal with potential heat during the winters.  We're talking 7000 feet. The air is thin and the cold is deep within the bones at night.  Oh yeah, now I remember why I can't live here.  So we say good bye and make our way through the market.

I had been in the market, but Marie Teresa sees things I miss. She stops at an herbalist and notes remedies for arthritis with salvia and ... got to get her treatment plan for C.   She says hello to people along the way and asks after a husband, a child, how the treatment she gave Donellia is working.  She stops for aguacates, for her youngest grandchild has a fondness for them. The vendor is still living on the hill but her neighbor's children are off for the semester.   And yes, please try this fruit.  Marie Teresa says wash it off first for this vendor is part of an organic cooperative, so it's safe to eat. But I choose not to look at the water. She guides me through a few more blocks, noting that this house must be housing many, many families for she sees 7 utility cells on the outside wall.  Rural families come to San Cristobol and share the rent of two floors of a building paying for the utilities of only one apartment.

The conversations don't stop for a moment with M.Teresa. While sharing the back seat of the colectivo with a Zinacantán woman and waiting for one more rider and the driver, she notes everything.  "Ah," she says, "are you the cousin who has a comedor/small restaurant in el centro/ And you are married now?" They know some of the same people and "yes, the festivities were lovely last week" with people attending St. San Sebastian's church which brought in money for the comedor.  "Money was good then but this week, not so good," she replies.

The driver and other gentlemen passenger are engaged in conversation with M.Teresa as well, as she knows the mother of the man and is surprised to find out that one of the brothers has died, but his mother's house is doing well, etc.  While all this is going on she keeps an additional conversation with me about who lives in the houses we pass, the Hollandaise folks who are making a strong impact within the community, the new shopping center that is going to open in 2015 and how she has a small stand there already. They are just waiting for all the permits and construction to occur.  This is a growing city.  We drive another 14 km out of the city into a very rural setting.

Passing 50, 60, maybe 100 greenhouses explains why so many of the Zinazantán families are doing well.  The flower industry is a worldwide industry and the Dutch visit annually to contract and obtain the best. The variety is incredible, from iris, lily, roses, petunias, gardenias, gerbana, to gladiolas and more.
But this is a conservative culture and the Zinazancan's chose to keep the same rituals, clothing, and remain as religious as their Mayan grandparents.  Our first stop is at the church. And yes indeed, the offerings of flowers, platanos, bananas, fruit, bouquets grace the inside of the church from last week's San Sebastian festival.  It is absolutely not allowed to take photos within any of these Mayan churches.  While they allow entry, photos in any sacred setting is forbidden.  There have been repercussions for foreigners (non-Mayan Mexicans and others) with cameras or camera cards taken.  This is verbotin. So I can only share that the ceiling and altars are covered with arrangements that any florist would love to say they had created.

Part 2 hiking through the Zinacantán hills to meet with weavers

Orchids in Sumidero canyon

 

Boating in Sumidero cañon you can't miss the 600 feet Xmas tree-like structure -- part  waterfall with vegetation clinging to protuberances making mini-climatic environments for orchids and bromeliads. Thinking of Orchid Vuong.

Bakeries and smiles

                                                 Cross-stitched clothing from El Bosque
So I'm standing in the cashier's line at my new favorite bakery on Guadelupe.  I have the round Mexican pizza-like tray and tongs in hand. I had noticed two girls, about 7 & 9, roaming the shop and quietly giggling behind their fists.  By their embroidered dress, they must be from San Juan El  Bosque about 55 km from San Cristobal and this may just be their first trip to the big city.

The oldest misses the concept of placing cookies on a tray and is balancing two large cookies on the end of the tongs. The younger has her palm stretched out with a 2 peso coin (about 16 cents) I pay for my rolls and while the cashier is placing them in a bag, I say I'll pay for theirs too. They say not a word but accept their wrapped cookies. We say goodbye at the door and that's it.
Today I'm walking Real de Guadelupe and someone pinches me.  I mean a real pinch on the arm.  I look over and it's the girls. They don't speak Spanish but smile and run off giggling.

Sent from my iPad

Waking to bird calls in San Cristóbol de Las Casas

My home for the next week. My roommates include...grandmother, 4 grandchildren, adult daughters and husbands and 4 cages of very melodic parakeets