San Cristobal de las Casas is an ethereal colonial city in the center of Chiapas, the state with the largest population of indigenous people in all of Mexico: 12 federally-recognized groups. Known for jaguars, cloud forests, coffee, chocolate, marimbas, amber, jade, Zapatistas, textiles and Mayan ruins like Palenque, we came looking for adventure and we've found it. We love the food, the markets, the climate, the landscape, the history. But the best part of being here, and indeed this whole time traveling in Mexico, are the people we've met.
Where to begin? There are so many people we've met briefly who stop to comment on our children("Muy Hermosos! Preciosa! Princesa!"), kind vendors at stores and markets, proprietors and servers at restaurants, strangers on the street quick to smile or answer questions. And so many more wonderful interactions:
Margarita de la Pena, the artist whose home we are renting here (I could live in her house forever), sold me one of her prints I can't wait to frame back in Seattle.
Gabriel, the owner of a restaurant who invited our family to his son's birthday party the next day, which was so much fun.
Enzue, an artist who told me all about the symbolism of the animals in her work and invited me to come play in her studio.
The taxi driver who picked up his smiling wife to join us on an outing to shop in another village nearby, all of us laughing as we shifted seats in the rickety car to ease the bearings, me holding my breath and my babies tightly. All our taxi drivers have been so friendly, full of recommendations, helpful and polite. And they always know the best taco stands.
Vincente, the 13-year-old boy who showed Xavier how to solve a Rubix Cube in 24 seconds and gave him one of the three he had with him.
A man at the orchid botanical garden who gave us an impromptu tour, enthusiastically showing us plants and speaking in rapid-fire Spanish about botany with such gusto and totally incomprehensible to me.
And, possibly my favorite moment of the entire trip, in the small village of Tenejapa during their Thursday market, a crowd of women and girls who speak Tzeltal and not Spanish, gathered around me smiling and laughing as they showed me how to tie the simple wrap everyone uses to carry babies or goods. We were the only gringos in town and Christian towered over everyone. Afterwards, a family observing from the door of their restaurant ushered us in and fed us tacos as if we were family guests, introducing us to their daughter Georgina (her nickname is Geo, pronounced "Hey-o").