The town of Chichicastenango us nestled high in the hills of Guatemala. On any given night in the summer, it is so cold you can see your breath as you walk through the cramped cobblestone streets.

On the nights before big market days, vendors begin assembling their stalls in the hours before dawn, in anticipation of the throngs of tourists who will clog the city’s corners and alleys looking for trinkets of Mayan lore.

The market spills out its wares onto the church square -– flowers and parrots and a collection of Spanish silver coins. Ancient-looking Mayan women crawl up the steps of the church on their knees, chanting in a guttural Indian tongue. The old stone church is only 400 years old, but it is sitting on a Pre-Colombian religious site that draws indigenous worshippers from miles around. A pair of women strew rose petals and pass a small cauldron of burning incense in front of the door leading to the altar, as more old ladies crawl on their knees inside.

On one of the side streets leading off the church, women in traditional dress go about their daily business. They are a cacophony of color –- wearing red floral huipiles, their hair braided with fabrics in deep blue and gold. They are doing what women everywhere do -– carrying groceries, buying fruit, tugging the hand of a dawdling child. But their clothing gives off romantic notions of an age long past.

It’s a visual reminder that they are descendents of the ancient Maya -– a family of indigenous groups linked by a common language from Honduras to Guatemala, Belize and Mexico.

I learned during my interviews with street vendor Genara Lopez how important huipiles are for Mayan women. These garments are not just a piece of their heritage. They are also a modern expression of cultural identity in a rapidly changing world.

This street vendor story is my attempt to understand this magical aspect of Guatemala.