In 1994
Zapatista Army of National Liberation under Subcomandante Marcos (below, riding stag beetle) seized control of San Cristóbal de las Casas.
Their reign of terror was brief but that mountain city still bears the scars: cosy wine bars, a thriving arthouse cinema scene and, most cruelly of all, mountains of unexploded cuddly Zapatistas:
Earings:
Weapons grade Zapatista pencil. With googly eyes:
"Marcos, the quintessential anti-leader, insists that his black mask is a mirror, so that ‘Marcos is gay in San Francisco, black in South Africa, an Asian in Europe, a Chicano in San Ysidro, an anarchist in Spain, a Palestinian in Israel, a Mayan Indian in the streets of San Cristobal, a Jew in Germany, a Gypsy in Poland, a Mohawk in Quebec, a pacifist in Bosnia, a single woman on the Metro at 10 p.m., a peasant without land, a gang member in the slums, an unemployed worker, an unhappy student and, of course, a Zapatista in the mountains’. In other words, he is simply us: we are the leader we’ve been looking for." Naomi Klein, Founder, American Apparel.
He is also a man in a balaclava smoking a pipe and as such pretty recognisable. Show a hundred people a photo of a man wearing a balaclava smoking a pipe and most would say "Subcomandante Marcos". The others would probably be unable to decide between "single woman on the metro" or "Quebeqois Mohawk". Which is understandable, in the current climate.
Sadly, I suspect that Marcos' use of the pipe to subvert the anonymity of the balaclava and his subsequent celebrity may have
irked some of his comrades. Or it might just be because they got jealous when he came up with a second (even cooler) nickname for himself: "Delegado Zero". It really isn't very hard to tell when someone chooses their own nickname is it?
Anyway as a final note, heed the voice of experience: "Subcomandante Marcos: worst fancy dress costume ever. Really, really hot and no-one wants to talk to someone wearing a balaclava indoors".
Only the toughest cowboys go on the guided tour of the Entho-botanical gardens in Oaxaca: Carol the guide was VERY informative and Kate even managed to get some photos of the plants in between me posing for her.
I got first dibs on the rental hats so I got the one with the pink rim. YEEEEEE-HAW!
Blow him up to fill the whole screen and just be glad that, no matter how bad things get, no-one is going to try and eat your menudo.
That's the hardest cartoon owl I've ever seen, bar none. I wonder if any of his raps are about how he can swivel his head through 180 degrees and echo locate insects?
Their reign of terror was brief but that mountain city still bears the scars: cosy wine bars, a thriving arthouse cinema scene and, most cruelly of all, mountains of unexploded cuddly Zapatistas:
Earings:
Weapons grade Zapatista pencil. With googly eyes:
You could meet an explorer who really loves you:
But you go on the boat on your own:
And you leave on your own:
NHS specs fixed with a plaster, "Alas" brand cigarettes and an antique typewriter: why not stick a hearing aid and bunch of gladioli on it and have done with it eh, explorers?
Handheld crossbow:
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