Chichen Itza, the site of famed Mayan ruins on Mexico's Yucatan Peninsula, was once a bustling metropolis. Today it is home to monkeys, turquoise-browned mot mots, and flocks of tourists. We arrive hours before the tour buses. I am under the impression we will have the place to ourselves. I am wrong.
Mexican vendors, most of Mayan heritage, are setting up shop for the day. They push carts, haul bags, set up make-shift tables, and hang hand-stitched smocks, white cotton skirts, and brightly colored mobiles in the trees. All along the old walkways they display silver jewelry, onyx masks, jade ceremonial knives, carved depictions of Mayan calendars, hand-made lace table cloths, and a dizzying array of Mayan souvenirs.
Turquoise
As we study the magnificent ruins we are accosted on nearly every side by citizen trying to sell us something. I am not too bothered by it. This is how these citizen make their living. It occurs to me that this is Chichen Itza today. It is being bit by bit reclaimed not only by archeologists, but by the descendants of those who built its limestone pyramids and pillared temples. I am in fact glad to see artists, citizen proud of their heritage, populating the streets of this foremost religious center once again. But slight do I know the vendors are there illegally.
Apparently there is a war waged daily in the middle of those who want to safe the historical site and those who feel the right to make a living from it. When I study this, I do not know where my allegiance lies. I am a slight put off by persistent salesmen at every turn, but then again, these citizen are poor and I wish I could buy something from each one of them.
Then I study a slight old lady sitting among the ruins under a ceiba tree. She ignores the performance surrounding her as she thought about embroiders a handkerchief. She is short and brown and round and has smile lines at her eyes and wrinkly cheeks. I dump out all the change I have in my pocket and buy a hanky stitched with spirited yellow flowers.
"Commo se llama?" I ask her name.
"Yo?" she questions, pointing to herself, seeing confused.
"Si," I nod my head smiling as she looks up at me.
Her whole face lights up and she answers brightly, "Silvia!"
I leave there that day glad I saw the spectacular ruins, but also thankful I came into feel with what Chichen Itza is today; a place where life is once again beginning to flourish and old ladies with near- toothless grins sprout from the ruins. I hope the two warring factions can find middle ground and while, history is thought about protected, the history owners will be allowed to remain.
Chichen Itza - A Mayan City AwakensRelated : The Bests Rings
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