In Puebla, the men and boys easily blend in, with their modern clothes, but the Tsotsil women wear their native blusas—blouses of handwoven fabric, laboriously embellished with heavy black wool and fine, colorful metallic threads—over long black embroidered skirts, secured by woven cummerbunds, which are worn from the time the girls are very young. The extensive handiwork in a woman's clothes is her pride and often her most valuable possession. Outside Puebla these garments could be treasures, but here the bright colors are a tell that the wearer is a migrant worker, rendering her invisible in many situations. Not all locals are kind, or open to trying to communicate with women who struggle with Spanish. Taxi drivers refuse them rides. Even shopping for groceries can become a nuanced cross-cultural dance. But as a unit of blue and purple, with several children in tow, the women of Yo'on Ixim moved through the giant Mercado Hidalgo at the southern end of the neighborhood, inspecting stall after stall of avocados, chiles, pineapples, nopales, or cactus paddles, and the prized pollos rancheros, yellow-skinned long-necked farm chickens that hang with heads and feet intact. After the group conferred and carried out some mandatory haggling with the shopkeeper, they bought several chickens for soup. Then their shopping bags quickly grew heavy: 37 pounds of fresh ayocote beans for tamales, 11 pounds of tomatoes, 11 more of onions, a bag of green peppers and chiles for salsa, and a bulging sack of dark green chayotes—small, dense squash—also for the chicken soup.