Day of the Dead: It’s the Most Wonderful Time of the Year

Expect  a lot more photos from me in the following weeks, as this is my third time to celebrate Noche de Muertos (or, alternately known as Dia de Muertos, De de Los Muertos, Day of the Dead) and I LOVE IT.

Today I went to the Mercado Jamaica — Mexico City’s gargantuan flower market — to pick up some zempasúchitl (marigolds) and the brain coral-like flores de terciopelo (cockscombs?)  Total cost: 30 pesos, or about $2.20. Check out this great photo slideshow to get an idea of show sprawling this mercado is.

When I got home, I made 5 bouquets from the two big bundles of flowers, including the centerpiece to my ofrenda, or altar:

You know you live in Mexico when you have spare calaveritas (mini sugar skulls) in the pantry, and whip them out for the altar.

Each marigold bloom is huge. I bought the type with more shredded like petals, but they have many varieties for sale. This weekend the flowers will bedeck altars, the cemeteries, and the entrances to peoples' homes, a way to welcome and guide back their dead loved ones.

I had two quesadillas at the mercado after buying my flowers. One had huitlacoche (corn fungus -- it's delicious!) and the other, continuing with the flower theme, was stuffed with squash blossoms.

These exquisite flores de terciopelo look great juxtaposed next to orange. Fuchsia and orange: so Mexican.

Of course, Halloween is popular here, too. Costumes and themed pinatas were for sale, like this witch, who waited on a bench while her owner had lunch.

Come With Me to Patzcuaro, Michoacan

So, I’ve got a new favorite place in Mexico: Patzcuaro, in the state of Michoacan. It’s about a 4 to 5 hour drive west of Mexico City, located just south of Morelia, the capital of Michoacan (which is supposed to be lovely, too, but we didn’t have time to visit).

Normally, I’m a beach girl and most of my favorite Mexican places involve the ocean and the creatures that inhabit within. But Patzcuaro takes the cake for:

1. Best little Mexican town, for architecture

I’ve been to a lot of “colonial era” cities in Mexico, meaning they were built soon after the conquest and still have a lot of traditional and very old Spanish architecture. They’re adorable, by and large, but after you’ve visited a few, they do start to look all the same (what’s that? Another Italian Coffee Company in a historic hacienda building? Great). Not with Patzcuaro, with its supremely maintained architecture. It’s also relatively flat, so it’s not a killer city to walk around, like equally cute but incredibly steep Taxco. We stayed at squee-worthy La Casa Encantada, which, btw, has half-off their room rates through July, so get it while it’s cheap.

Every street in Patzcuaro looks like this.

Our room at La Casa Encantada (included a kitchen).

2. Best little Mexican town, for arts and crafts

Patzcuaro and its nearby small towns operate under a unique system set up by a Spanish priest hundreds of years ago. He taught the local indigenous communities to individually specialize in specific trades, a practice that exists today. Many of these crafts are for sale in the stores that line Patzcuaro’s main plaza, but it’s also fun to get out and explore the actual towns where the products are made.

In Santa Clara del Cobre, as just one example, you can find copper galore:

At the National Copper Museum

More shopping:

Pottery for sale in Tzintzuntzan -- which means 'place of the hummingbirds' in Purepecha.

3. Best climate, ever?

Simply driving around the countryside is gorgeous. It’s hilly, green, and because of the elevation, not too hot, and not too cold. I’ve heard Michoacan contains many areas considered “most hospitable to human life” and you really feel it when you’re there, because you don’t want to leave.

Blue skies, green trees, the open road...

4. Fantastic bodies of water nearby!

Rare for Mexico, this is a lake-filled region. The most popular is Lago de Patzcuaro, which contains several islands, all swarmed by visitors come Day of the Dead, especially Isla Janitzio. Instead of visting it, we took an off-the-beaten-path tour of two other islands, Pacanda and Yunuen, where the indigenous Purepecha people live.

After spotting a sign for "eco-turistico" stuff, we turned left and headed to shore.

Gregorio talked us into a boat tour, and we visited two islands. We were the only people out.

It was so quiet here we almost heard our brains thinking.

(If you’re interested in a very unique lodging experience on Pacanda, contact Gregorio Campos who operates tours of the island and has new cabanas on the island, too, at 43-4104-2511. He’s already booked for Day of the Dead but the rest of the year he’s less busy.)

Besides Patzcuaro, there are several other lakes that are supposed to be better for swimming — deeper, cleaner, etc.

All this, gleaned in just TWO DAYS I spent there! Suffice it to say, I’ll be back.

Death on Stilts

The municipal cemetery in Puebla Mexico. Note the crooked yellow little grave-house on the left -- common in earthquake-prone areas with loose soil.

Last Saturday night, a group of friends and I ventured from the downtown area of Puebla, Mexico, to the outer edges of the city to visit the Panteon Municipal – the municipal cemetery.

As part of the city’s Dia de los Muertos festivities, the cemetery was going to be the center stage for some sort of event. Details were scant, but not wanting to miss out on a potentially amazing blog post, we went, via taxi, to the Panteon.

The four of us piled out of the taxi and onto the front steps of the cemetery, which had a grand columned entrance like a Greek ruin. At the top of the stairs was a group of hard-core bicyclists clad in bike pants, tight shirts, and fancy shoes, posing in front of their expensive looking bicycles.

They were also covered in make-up to make them look dead. They soon spotted us. “OOOHHHH” one of them said in a spooky pretend ghost-voice “GUEEERRRRROOSSS!” Gueros: white people. The true ghosts of the party had arrived.

Undeterred, and in fact, by now, quite used to be calling gueros, we headed into the cemetery proper. A long central walking path divided the huge cemetery, and all the graves were above-ground, like a mauseolem. The oldest and first graves, closest to the entrance, were the most grand, almost like small houses. In places, the ground had shifted, making some of the graves off-kilter, as if they were riding on a wave, or, more likely, had survived hundreds of years of seismic shifts we call earthquakes.

We continued down the long path. I, of course, immediately whipped out my camera and tried to take photos: I am walking in a cemetery in Mexico on Day of the Dead and therefore I must immediately visually document this experience! Was my basic train of thought.

Alas, as soon as my flash went off, a security guard told me: no photos, por favor. Damnit.

After a long walk, we reached the back of the cemetery, where a stage and tent had been erected. All the rows of seats were full of families, and so we stood in the back, perched upon an unmarked grave. Yeah, true story.

What unfolded was a three-act performance, first led by a Catrina, then a mariachi in scary skeleton makeup and lastly, Death himself.

Prior to Death’s debut on stage, I had unknowingly already been watching him. While Catrina performed I noticed a lanky grim reaper slowly wobbling way back, behind the stage. Back and forth, back and forth, the reaper swayed endlessly. I assumed he was some sort of “live” decoration.

But, after the mariachi wrapped up, death stopped wobbling, and started walking around and in front of the stage. On stilts.  Ah, the wobbling was making sense now.

He was nearly twice as tall as all the standing audience members (us), and his long black robe covered the stilts. He wobbled, slowly and ominously, among the crowd, pointing and poking at little kids, which, in a country that has such a different relationship with death than my own, only elicited giggles. Had I been a child witnessing this, I very likely would have wet my pants and had nightmares for years.

Death, after a long, dramatic entrance (and funny, too: he pretended to trip on some kids at one point) walked in front of the first rows, and started lifting up his black robe. Slowly.

I suddenly wondered if the actor playing Death might be insane, and suddenly about to flash the entire audience. But no one seemed alarmed, and he performed a little strip tease, removing his robe, gyrating his torso, and revealing that he had on only small black bike pants, and stilts. The audience started catcalling him. I was suddenly experiencing one of my most surreal moments in my many surreal moments in Mexico.

The more naked he got, the more vulnerable he got, too — and it hit me: Death is vulnerable, death is not something be feared, it’s something to laugh at. A very Mexican moment indeed.

He took off the stilts and climbed on stage, pulling a random man from the audience. He then forced the young man to mimic whatever he did. Of course, Death was a gymnast, a pantomime and a comedian all in one. The random dude could only haplessly perform cartwheels, or backflips, or advanced yoga poses, mimicking death as best he could, but failing, making the audience roar with laughter, as Death stood near by, enjoying his superiority.

Trick-or-Treating – for Pesos and Peanuts

Halloween and Dia de Los Muertos occur at the same time (by the way: not a random thing — the Spanish forcibly moved the Aztec death celebrations from August to All Saints’ Day as part of their whole conquering bit).

Although Day of the Dead still appears to be the predominant celebration, Halloween has definitely been at least partially adopted by Mexican kids. As in, trick or treating. And not just for one night – but an entire weekend of trick or treating, since Day of the Dead is actually several days long, and why limit trick-or-treating to just one night?

And while we’re at it, why limit it to candy?

DIEZ PESOS!

Last Friday night, Jeremy, Nancy, Brendan and I were having a few beers out on the leafy central plaza in Puebla, Mexico. Being that it was Day of the Dead weekend, there were many elaborate altars set up in the plaza, and hundreds of families milling about.

It didn’t take but a few seconds before we heard “calaverita???” We turned around to see a small child, dressed in a costume, holding up an orange plastic pumpkin.

Calavera means skull in Spanish, and sugar skull candy is one of the main decorations that adorns altars. But a calaverita (little skull) means something entirely different. In some instances, it can mean a little poem about death. And, more important to this story, it’s what kids here say instead of “trick-or-treat.”

AND, well, once you’ve been asked to give a calaverita, don’t expect to hand out candies in return. Kids here want money. Pesos. Thank god we’ve been in Mexico long enough to be aware of this “cultural difference” or else it could have gotten really awkward really fast.

It’s brilliant, really. Why mess with Smarties or Snickers when you can collect cold, hard cash?

Many of the kids that night who approached us were dressed in costumes, polite and accompanied by their parents. Perhaps because we were obviously tourists (no kids with us, and one of us is a 6’4” white guy) we got approached more than other diners around us.

As you can imagine in a country that is struggling so much with poverty, and in a situation where money is literally being handed out, street kids also make grand efforts for calaveritas, regardless of whether they have a costume. We had one such young boy approach us.

You’d assume that when faced with a street kid, you’d immediately feel a melting sensation your heart and feel compelled to give, right?

Wrong. He was a tough, old street kid, not interested in making any effort to elicit sympathy. You could tell he had dispensed with that long ago and replaced it with straight-up aggression.

He was maybe five years old, and clad in dirty clothes. He ran up to our table demanding “DIEZ PESOS! DIEZ PESOS” (10 pesos, which is similar in value and size to a dollar coin). Because of how brazen he was, we all laughed — “what a great opening line,” “this kid’s funny,” we thought.

We normally gave even the most polite children a peso (about a dime’s worth), and so, we did the same for him. Each time one of us plunked a peso into his pumpkin, he’d hold the pumpkin up to his face, peer deeply inside, and then look up at us with a pissed-off face. He kept demanding more, and so we gave him a few more pesos but had to eventually cut him off.

Finally, seething at us for not forking over sums of money he considered adequate, he (without asking) grabbed at a plate of peanuts on the table, took a huge handful, and started eating them, in front of us. After one big swallow, he did it again.

Again, you’d think this would immediately cause us to have a heart attack of guilt – he’s so hungry!!! — but this kid was 4 going on 45. He was arrogant about it, laughing defiantly and checking closely to see if it would piss us off more — a goal you could tell he was clamoring to achieve. His attitude was basically: We should be grateful he was eating our peanuts. Jeremy finally shooed him off (gently) and we resumed drinking our beers, a bit floored by the whole event, but not having much time to really think about what it meant to be this kid, and act that way, since after he left, it didn’t take long before more kids approached, Halloween pumpkins in hand.

The Afterlife According to Aztecs

So part of the elaborate display in downtown Mexico City devoted to Dia de los Muertos is an exhibit on the afterlife as perceived by the Aztecs and smaller tribes who lived in peace with them or were eventually conquered by them. Last night, I was in the Zocalo with a friend, Jesica, who is a tour guide and Mexican art historian expert. She explained it all to me. It is truly lovely hearing about a different concept of the afterlife — it’s intentional that I don’t use terms like “heaven” and “hell” because many of the traditional groups in Mexico did not perceive life after death as a place where you go either to be punished or revered. It had more to do with how you died and what your social status was, than what sort of moralistic-based “sins” you committed on earth. As an agnostic, I appreciate that.

Here are four layers of afterlife (there are roughly about 13), as followed by the Nahuatl speaking Aztecs (many, if not most, modern-day Mexico City residents are descended from this group; Nahuatl is still spoken here in outlying areas). Mexico City was originally a great Aztec city as late as the 1500s.

This is a depiction of where the majority of people went after they died. It’s crowded and you’re anonymous, but there are gods nearby.

A close-up of what the afterlife was like for most people.

If you died a water-related death, you went to this layer, which was presided over by the god Tlaloc, who you can see there in the back. As you can imagine, water played an important role in the valley of Mexico: Tenochtitlan, the former city, was surrounded by water.

A special layer of the afterlife was reserved for two heroic groups of people: Aztec warriors and women who died in childbirth. She is giving birth here. I especially love how warriors are grouped with women giving birth. Beautiful.

Babies and children also had their own layer.

When the babies died, they were surrounded by fruit trees that had fruit shaped like breasts that they could eat. Maternal figures watched.

Dia de los Muertos for City Commuters

Getting around Mexico City is complicated — there’s subways, buses, taxis, cars and more. The average Chilango spends a lot of time just trying to get somewhere, so it’s no surprise that the transit department sponsored a few altars and exhibitions at this week’s Dia de los Muertos Mexico City festivities. As a resident, it’s fun to see a subway car or bus turned into a makeshift altar/cemetery.

(I think the underground trains make for great symbolism — much of the great ancient Aztec city of Tenochtitlan is still remaining to be unburied, and during excavations for subway expansion, more ruins are often found. The Aztecs believed in nine circles of an underworld (not the same as hell — people didn’t go there to suffer after they died) and several layers in the sky too (more on their concepts of “afterworld” in a post later today).)

Also, because this is a big and chaotic city, it’s not unusual for someone to die because of commuting. Bus accidents are common, and I’ve lost count of the taxi accidents I’ve seen.

This guy's had a long day at the road construction site!

Where this subway car stops, nobody knows.

A very patient lady waits for the light to change.

I board the bus to....the afterlife.

Friends Jesica and Erik are not so sure about the bus driver.

A straphanger holds on.

Not your typical bus ride.

Day of the Dead for Olympians

I took a lot of amazing photos last night in Mexico City’s zocalo, or main central square. There’s a huge display of altars from various neighborhoods and community groups (and a few commercial displays). If you’re here, do check it out.

I’ll be posting several photos throughout today. First up, the Olympians:

(A gymnast)

Oh, I Love Shopping in Mexico: Recent Bargain Aquisitions

It’s been awhile since I posted the cool stuff I buy in Mexico. Here ya go, with a noticeable “Dia de los Muertos” theme to it…

This is a reproduction of a Mexican Colima dog. The real ones are housed only in museums and by savvy collectors. I found this guy in Queretaro, Mexico. He cost around $7 bucks, I think. He’s holding an ear of corn in his mouth – ’cause they like their corn down here, you know?

This is a hand-blown glass heart. I bought it in Tlaxcala, Mexico. It’s from the state of Jalisco. It cost $120 pesos, or about $10.50 in U.S. dollars. I still haven’t figured out where (or how) to hang it, but I know I want the light to hit it — it really sparkles beautifully. In Tlaxcala, the store that sells these created an entire tree out of these, which I couldn’t take my eyes off of.

This is a skeleton driving a donkey cart that’s carrying a coffin. It cost about a dollar. From Toluca.

The Virgin de Guadalupe with tons of glitter surrounding her. Also about a dollar and from Toluca.

I keep this little lady under my computer monitor to remind myself to not spend too much time at the computer. To see a squirrel/veterinarian version of this, go here. She was cheap ($1.50) and from Toluca.

I found this glass candle votive at a little flea sale at the beauty salon right by my apartment. I now own about 5 pieces of blue glass, and I plan to keep collecting more. This cost $1 as well.

Do You Like My Sugar Skulls?

Sugar skulls for sale in Toluca, Mexico.

For the second year in a row, I visited the fantabulous Alfenique (sugar skull market) in Toluca, Mexico. This weekend I had the pleasure of going with a great group of friends — all of whom we’ve met only in the past year! Because of my extensive *cough* experience with Alfenique (I went for four hours last year), I played Tour Guide to Toluca. It’s a job I could get into, especially this time of year.

Enough about us, though, the market is the true star. Candy vendors from all over Central Mexico set up booths for Dia de los Muertos goodies, from ornate sugar skulls to chocolate lollipops. You can get high blood sugar just by walking the aisles of the mercado. I, of course, heard the call of the sweet tooth and started snacking while shopping.  It was all over when my friend Dyana convinced me to try a coffee-cup-sized marshmallow dipped in milk chocolate and nuts: Death never seemed so tasty.

Ah, Mexico. Never fails to make for a good set of photographs. Let’s take a look!

Creepy Portraits of Tlaxcala, Mexico (and some not so creepy)

OK, so only some of these are just downright creepy.

A traditional dancer's mask before the paint job.

After the paint job. Still kind of creepy.

A skeleton enjoying some pulque. Salud!

A re-creation of Diego Rivera's "A Dream of a Sunday Afternoon in Alameda Park" -- but in frijoles.

A wood carving of the Virgen de los Dolores.

Aztec or Olmec (?) god of war.

Mexico City’s Creepiest: Santa Muerte and the Mercado Sonora

This weekend we ventured to the Mercado Sonora — the witchcraft market — and to the nearby Mercado La Merced, the city’s biggest food market. The former was exceedingly creepy — with caged animals, potions, herbs and statues of Santa Muerte for sale. The latter was quite lovely — giant stalls of bananas, banana leaves (for tamales), watermelons, pineapples, chiles, etc.

Santa Muerte, with her skeletal smile, is not an image that will quickly leave your head. She is worshipped by many of impoverished people here, and as the New York Times explains “Shrines to Santa Muerte have been erected in public spaces from Tijuana to the southern tip of Mexico. Merchants at the open-air Sonora Market, long known for selling amulets and healing potions, do a brisk business selling images of Santa Muerte in all sizes, wearing tunics of all colors.”

Santa Muerta in Mercado Sonora:

A Trip into the Aztec Underworld on Dia de Muertos

If I had any doubts that Dia de Muertos was a big deal in Mexico, they were erased last night. We went to the spiritual center of Mexico — the Zocalo of Mexico City — to check out the festival “En el corazon del Mictlan,” or “in the heart of Mictlan,” the lowest level of the Aztec underworld. It was amazing.

When we first got there, we were completely overwhelmed by the crowd — it was wall-to-wall people, people, people. We couldn’t see any of the altars or displays. So, we headed over to El Nivel – the country’s oldest cantina! — and had a few beers. Our friends Jeremy and Nancy showed up, and so we headed back into the Zocalo.

There were displays from each colonia (neighborhood) in Mexico City, and displays from every state in Mexico. There was also some really off-the-wall sights, such as a huge Lucha Libre wrestling ring, complete with wrestling skeletons, and a panaderia (bakery) staffed by skeleton bakers.

Here’s the Lucha Libre ring, with a hot skeleton girl in a bikini advertising the match.

To see more photos, check out the full photo album:

Dia De Muertos

The Bizarre But Tasty Flavor Combos of Mexico City Food

I created this little altar (ofrenda) from some of the stuff I’ve been buying these past few weeks.

In the center is pan de muertos – a delicious, lemon-infused pastry doused with sugar. The top of each pan has a design that looks a bit like a skeletal spider. They are for sale all over the place right now. If you’re a bit shy of trying new “ethnic” foods, it’s a good one to try — it’s a simple pastry. Just make sure to get fresh ones.

If you didn’t like pan de muertos, but were craving pastries (who doesn’t crave pastries??), you’d be out of luck in a lot of bakeries and grocery stores right now. It’s basically one of the few things for sale.

Which brings me to my point: When you go grocery shopping in Mexico City, or when you eat out at a restaurant, you’re often treated to a whole new way of eating, and you have to be ready for anything.

Last night, for example, we ate at a restaurant that served their little tiny pastor tacos in corn tortillas, with shredded radishes, onions and hot thin slices of pineapple. That’s right — hot thin slices of pineapple. How was it? Incredible! Once you’ve had it, you wonder why wasn’t it always served with grilled pineapple.

And, right now, I’m drinking “flavored” diet water — there are more flavors of diet water than you could possibly imagine. This bottle, at first glance, looks like lemon-lime flavored water. But once I took a sip, I thought “is that cucumber?” and I checked the label more closely and spotted the tiny cucumber slice.

How does it taste? Also incredible. Brendan and I also have become big fans of jamaica (hibiscus) flavored water and tea. Who knew that hibiscus — which grows all over the place in tropical areas — was so delicious?

Photos: Shopping for Art at Bazar Sabado in Mexico City

This weekend I visited the Bazar Sabado (Saturday market) in San Angel, a cute neighborhood in Southern Mexico City. In one word, the bazar is FANTASTIC, and has the most amazing array of Mexican artwork and handicrafts.

Photos of the Sugar Skull Market in Toluca, Mexico

Next week is one of Mexico’s biggest holidays — dia de Muertos or Day of the Dead. For a long-time American like me, it can be hard to separate it from Halloween, but the two holidays are quite different. Dia honors and celebrates the passing of loved ones, by having an annual funeral of sorts for everyone you’ve ever loved, topped off with a festive tone.

Today I visited one of the country’s largest markets for Muertos goods and handicrafts in Toluca, Mexico, about 50 kilometers from Mexico City. It’s called the Feria del Alfeñique y Dulce Tradicional de día de Muertos.

And, yep, I took lotsa photos: