OUTDOOR SOUTHWEST - Desert Magazine of the Southwest

ZINACANTECAN CORN VENDOR
chaser, the girl affectionately stroked
the glossy feathers on the hen's head
and neck, and now and again leaned
down to whisper to the bird. What
emergency, what tragic circumstance
or great need, was prompting the sale
of this fowl, so obviously a family pet?
# * *
CHIAPAS IS A BIT GAYER: Even
the people of this far south land of
Chiapas seemed conspicuously different
in character. Everyone was spontaneously
friendly, openly exuberant.
When traveling in Mexico, Mom and
I make it a practice to wave to virtually
everyone we meet or overtake
along the highway, whether afoot or
horseback or only standing beside the
road. Almost invariably the persons
to whom we wave respond to our
little gesture of friendliness and seem
pleased by it. But here in Chiapas
we found the tables turned. The
natives waved first! Many times, as
we passed along the road, we heard
small boys shout happily, "Buenos
dias, senoras!" or even "Buenos dias,
senoritas!" To us old musketeers, of
74 and 51, it was the height of flattery
to be called the equivalent of
"miss," and the greeting made a
great hit with Mom. Once, as we
passed a roadside group of young
men, our ears caught the familiar
two-note whistle of the Hollywood
wolf-pack, and one young fellow
threw us a kiss!
IGUANAS FOR SALE OR LEASE:
Soon after lunching at the edge of
Taxco, we began winding sharply
downgrade; and right in the middle
of one of the steepest pitches three
children dashed out in the road, directly
ahead of us, in the same manner
movie highwaymen dash from
hiding to hold up the Deadwood
stage. But, instead of brandishing
six shooters, each of these Guerrero
youngsters was brandishing an iguana!
Leaping out of harm's way, the
three children began pounding down
the road beside us, the repulsive lizards
cradled in their arms.
Each iguana was wearing around
its middle sort of a leash, or halter.
When I tried to prevail upon the
children to remove these ropes so
the creatures would look more natural,
they refused—shaking their heads
violently even when I offered five
pesos for a single picture without the
halter.
Continuing down the grade we
were accosted by possibly a dozen
more youngsters, each with haltered
iguanas, offered for sale, lease, or
photographic purposes. After the first
experience, however, the novelty sort
of wore off and we did not stop again.
# • #
AT THE MONTE ALB AN RUINS:
One well-dressed Mexican appeared
to be completely captivated by the
place. He was alone and obviously
wished to remain so. In our wanderings
over the plaza, and around the
pyramids and terraces facing on it,
we ran across this chap on several
occasions—possibly staring intently at
some huge carved stone, hands locked
behind his back and his entire attention
concentrated on the object before
him. Next we would see him
studying some other part of the ruins,
still lost in his own private world of
wonder and fascination. He respected
our privacy, we respected his; and in
the nearly two hours that the three
of us were in close association, we
exchanged a total of only six words.
This abbreviated conversation took
place when the three of us unexpectedly
came face to face in an underground
chamber of one of the smaller
pyramids centering the plaza.
"£5 mucho grande!" offered Mom,
as an ice-breaker.
For a moment we thought the
Mexican hadn't heard her, or wasn't
going to answer. Then he shook his
head, slowly and wonderingly.
"Si!" he said, softly. "Pensar . . .
pensar . . ." (To think ... to think).
MOM AT THE TEMPLE OF QUETZALCOATL, PYRAMIDS OF SAN JUAN TEOTIHUACAN
October, 1961 / Desert Magazine / 13