The few days we trekked through southern Mexico into Oaxaca and the Chiapas region mostly comprised the following:
A soporific (thanks SAT vocab flashcards) photo shoot of Annie and I as sleep-deprived bar wallflowers on Mexico's independence day, a bittersweet (spicy I'd say) love affair with chiles in all its gastronomical versatility and gastrointestinal volatility, sweaty hikes through Mayan ruins, and pondering a couple differing but not necessarily opposing opinions of the 1994 Zapatista movement and legacy by new friends who were there.
Coffee, cacao, and indigenous social justice programs flourish in these parts. You can smell it.
A soporific (thanks SAT vocab flashcards) photo shoot of Annie and I as sleep-deprived bar wallflowers on Mexico's independence day, a bittersweet (spicy I'd say) love affair with chiles in all its gastronomical versatility and gastrointestinal volatility, sweaty hikes through Mayan ruins, and pondering a couple differing but not necessarily opposing opinions of the 1994 Zapatista movement and legacy by new friends who were there.
Coffee, cacao, and indigenous social justice programs flourish in these parts. You can smell it.
Oaxaca, Oaxaca:
tired, sleepy and silly on Independence Day
San Cristobal de las Casas, San Juan de Chemula, Chiapas:
Palenque, Chiapas:
banana-totin' guerilla...
and her army of ants
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