Photos from Mexico

Here's a set of my favorite photographs from my Mexican experiences. I've linked caption to relevant articles or blog entries I've written for those curious.

Also, click here for a sweet photo gallery of these images if you'd like.


A Zapatista woman and her child. The reason I came was to study current conflicts and how local indigenous people participate in reshaping their world.


Some Zapatista women presenting themselves for our research team.


Caving with some Zapatistas after interviews.


Your humble narrator checking out some local crafts near Oaxaca.


One of the last of the Lancandon indians surviving.


Subcomandante Insurgentes Marcos


Comandante David speaking at Tierradentro.
Suite101 article
Blog entry


Preparing for ceremonies in Santiago Atitlan.


Psychedelic Jesus on the cross on Easter in Santiago Atitlan.
Blog entry
Suite101 article


In the markets of San Cristobal.





Traditional back strap weaving. The folks in the background are the group I came with last year and were never forgotten this year.


Rice and beans on the boil. One of my favorite meals.


Typical landscape in the Maya communities of Chiapas.


Between serving beers, this guy was lighting fireworks off from his hand.


Mi peligrosita serving me my first cow brain.


Visiting a women's weaving co-op to teach a little English.


A Mac attack in a the community of Zinacantan .


Getting into the ring at a lucha libre match! Come get some!




Flame river snails in pox! A truly inspired recipe if ever there was one... Not all of my recipes have been quite so out there though.





Lago Tziscao is one of the most beautiful places I've ever been!

A young Chol fella cooling off in the Lagos de Montebello.
Suite101 article
Blog entry

Local indigenous gal from San Juan Chamula.

In a Zapatista community researching paramilitary activity.

Here's to the end. As with a bottle of mezcal, this trip too ended with a bit of a nasty surprise, but also a warm tingly feeling.

On Endings

Many things have ended recently. My six month work stay in Mexico, my three year relationship, and my ten year journey with Harry Potter.

I cannot yet see the beginnings these ends will reap. I expect they will come.

Each of these endings deserve due reflection.

On CAPISE, the organization I've been working for. I've learned a level of compassion and dedication I've never seen before. It has ignited my desire for the fight. Not for the reasons presented to me here, but towards the end of these reasons. The problems of poverty, oppression, destruction, and war are dwarfed by the fight for open communication and collaboration, the only way these problems will find endings.

On relationships. Nature's forces on a lone ship at sea cannot be denied nor buffered. Any attempt to do so smashed both the ship and the dock. The safest place during a tsunami is at sea. So too must this ship sail despite the weathering.

On Harry Potter. His continued resistance against all he sees wrong in the world should be an inspiration for all. Especially the next generation.

I hope my next entry will be on beginnings. I expect they will come.

A Touristical Weekend

Maya ruins in the jungle, all you can eat steak houses, Chamulan religious ceremonies, Latin American soccer cup, movies, drinks, friends. That was my weekend.

Anything particularly exciting? Not really. That's what made it so nice.

I wore the hat of the tourist which made me think about tourism and what I'm doing here.

A "tourist" is someone who "tours": to go through various places of interest for business, pleasure, or instruction.

A "traveler" is someone who "travels": to go through various places of interest for business, pleasure, or instruction. But it is also to proceed or advance in a way.

The differences are subtle but important. Traveling implies a transformation or evolution. This progress in traveling is the focus, rather than the place one visits in touring. That transformative experience is the elusive destination of all travelers. It cannot be planned fo. Transformative Experience is on no map I've seen.

The quest for the next experience is what drives travellers forever on to the next place. In the same way adrenaline junkies and xtreme sports enthusiasts look for the fastest speeds, the perfect waves, or the most dangerous stunts, so to are travellers compelled.

The travel bug bites hard and once again I've been injected with its intoxicating venom.


Am I a tourist? Obviously.

Rather than an ecotourist, or a sex tourist, or a health tourist, or an adventure tourist, I'd like to think I'm a investigative tourist. Investigative tourism focuses on learning, answering specific questions, and molding experiences to meet these goals.

Long Wait

It's been a while since I've written anything. I've received a few concerned emails as to my whereabouts. I'm still here.

June played with my head a bit. After spending a week in some remote communities, where I had to go to the bathroom in a hole smaller than my foot, I left almost immediately to Marin County in California, one of the wealthiest counties in the wide United States.

I dined with bluegrass superstar David Grisman, hung out with my girlfriend after months of not seeing her, went surfing, sunning, and ended my trip by seeing the Giants in San Fransisco.

Back in Mexico, my head spinned.

I enjoy the spinning. I'm going to induce it more.

I've decided to end my trip within the month. My last week is planned: remote jungle, remote desert, largest city in the world, home.

That aughta give me the spins.

Research Brigada: Parte Tres

The days starts with everyone just as excited as when we went to sleep.

We sit and wait after a quick breakfast to be "presented" to everyone before we begin the interviews.

The main lawn is empty besides our small group and no one is really sure what to expect.

Then, from our right, marches out a masked Zapatista followed by all of the children of the community wearing handkerchiefs and masks. They march around the lawn and stop in a line facing us.

The men come out next. The community leader who was wearing a grin and a "Vacation Club" ball cap yesterday, now looks rather intimidating in a mask and black leather cowboy hat. He directs the group through a few maneuvers and and then lines the group up facing us.

The women follow shortly afterwards, many with small children.

A color guard retrieves the Mexican flag and both the Mexican and Zapatista anthems are sung. After the anthems the groups disperse and food is served.

After interviews, I go caving with a small group of locals. What fun!

We go to three different spots and climb around through caves, check out huge cave spiders, and bang on stalactites which make sounds like a marimba.

Afterwards, more river, more food, more work. We finally go to sleep and are up again at 3:30AM to start trekking to the next spot.

Research Brigada: Parte Dos

I currently find myself surrounded by about 9 local kids all looking over my shoulder trying to figure out what I am doing. They don't seem to lose any interest in us as they have kept post at our windows since we have arrived.

9 has increased to 15 now and they are discussing what I could possibly be doing in their native language of Chol. But I've gotten ahead of myself here.

Yesterday progressed with a quick breakfast followed by a meeting with the junta, the leaders at the Zapatista capital. Plans were made and after a few failed attempts at catching a truck out of the community we finally made it out on the "school bus" with a couple of fellows who would be our guides.

The bumpy ride in the back of the truck was made even more enjoyable by the giggling and bantering of the young adults watching us unsuccessfully try to keep our footing.

From the city, we took a small collectivo to a local tourist destination. From there is was a half an hour hike through the forest. At the trail head, a sign warned tourists not to progress because of frequent attacks. Good things we weren't tourists...

[It must be noted that a herd of 9 piglets just ran by]

We hiked through the jungle, across crude bridges, and finally to a river edge. A wooden sign announced that we had entered autonomous land.

The crystal blue river was broken up by short, but dramatic waterfalls.

A small boat was poled over to us and we made it across in two trips. On the other side we were openly greeted. My bag disappeared as all the children were so excited to carry our things for us.

We set up camp in the school. After we explained our purpose for being there, it was time for a river bath. Suddenly every child was ready for a bath! We swam and dove and played for about an hour before coming back to a simple but hearty meal of beans, tortillas, and spaghetti.

Tired. We went to bed early.

Research Brigada: Parte Uno

First day in a Zaptista capital completed. After a winding, sleepless 4 hour bus ride, I unrolled my mat in the back of a pineapple truck and grabbed a few hours of sleep.

A long drive into the forest, including a part where road and pond were the same. The site of grass thatched roofs finally came into view.

The first thing I saw was a sign reading:

"Esta usted en territorio Zaptista en rebelda aqui manda el pueblo y el gobierno obedece."

Next to the sign stood two masked figures. Behind them a brightly painted building with Zapatista murals. These two masked individuals are the ones we need to convince to let us stay.

We explain our motives for investigation and hand over our passports. We are told to wait in a cabin across the street while a final decision is made.

After some time we are invited in the official government building to speak with the local leaders. Four people, three men and a woman sit behind a desk. Black masks.

The afternoon was spent catching up on sleep, swimming, and then playing basketball with the Zapatistas. While playing basketball, I couldn't but help compare this place to my Aunt's campsite in Massachusetts: sign-ins, latreens, swimming, cooking by fire, and fun activities for the kids at night! The only difference is that this campground is the result of an insurgency and has been declared autonomous territory.