Celebrating Day of the Dead on Halloween: San Miguel de Allende, Mexico (Video)
Oh those cathedral bells, flagellating my guilt. Wake up, its 6am! I’m not good enough. I don’t rise from bed when God calls me. Same with the rooster. I’m not good enough. I don’t arise to feed the chickens and make hay. Dong, cockadoodledo. But, after a night of tequila shots, I manage to claw my way up through Dante’s Inferno, though nine cycles of hell, and am ready to greet the morning in San Miguel de Allende, Mexico, on Dia de los Muertos, Day of the Dead.
Last year I celebrated Halloween in San Miguel, far from acquisitive goblins and action figures that march through my neighborhood. Halloween here is a tepid warm-up for Dia de los Muertos, when kids and grownups alike don elaborate face paint and skeletal costumes, dominated by that of a skinny skeleton lady. The streets are lined with makeup artists to engineer the makeovers.
Celebrants lay bouquets on shrines festooned with marigolds (flores de los muertos). The Aztecs believed that their strong scent would guide the spirits back to us. Also, objects that were important to the dearly departed: plates of food, bottles of tequila and beer, skulls molded of sugar, in one instance, two motorcycles, tributes written on gift boxes, There is a shrine honoring Frida Kahlo.
As for the skinny skeleton lady, artist Jose Guadalupe Posada, created La Cavalera Catrina (the dapper skull) in 1910 to satirize upper class women.
Diego Rivera appropriated this stylish bag of bones for a mural. Looking like a family picture, Catarina is posted next to images of himself and his wife Frida Kahlo. Now catrinas wander the streets shooting selfies. Symbolically, skeletons send the message that we are all the same inside.
The Night
At night, the city roars to life for the Dia de los Muertos parade: bands, floats, and mojigangas, gigante paper mache puppets with huge heads that fit on the shoulders of dancers who wildly swing arms stuffed with cloth so they do not dangerously whack someone in the head. Mojigangas were brought from Spain in the 17th century. As a form of street art, they can satirize public figures and depict beings ranging from devils and angels to Madonna and Einstein. They are not spooky. Some have the enigmatic expressions of, perhaps, a child who has found the keys to his dad’s liquor cabinet.
Anyone can join the parade, even ex-patriots from the US and Canada who have lived here for decades.
San Miguel has a large expat community,which began with artists enchanted by its narrow cobblestone streets and Spanish colonial architecture. An art school, the Escuela de Bellas Artes, founded in an old monastery in 1938, attracted artists from all over the world, is still in operation. One longtime resident laughed at what she called the “invasion of the braless women,” referring to the hippie types who arrived in the 70s. Then, Mexican authorities forced young men to chop off their lengthy locks. The art scene is still vibrant in San Miguel, with numerous galleries, some of world-renowned artists.
Some complain that San Miguel is suffering from a wave of foreign money building luxury second or third or fourth homes which lie abandoned most of the year. On a home trade, we stayed in a house down a quaint, narrow alley with a fading mural. To our surprise, our door opened up into a spectacular three story hacienda with a towel warmer in the master bath. Standing on the roof patio, next to the hot tub, we looked down on old San Miguel, a traditional home with a courtyard presided over by the aforementioned cocksure rooster, which, along with cathedral bells, taunted us every morning. We looked up and waved to a well-dressed couple on a balcony of an ultra-modern home nearby. Fortunately, you can’t see all of the development going on behind the walls because the streets are too narrow.
As night fell and Dia de los Muertos ended, we watched the fireworks finale light up the sky before all went quiet.
Next morning, the streets were practically empty and life got back to normal. We wandered. Yes, there were a few tourists, but it was mostly the everyday lives of the natives who lived there.
We went to dinner at Antonia’s Roof, a lovely, friendly restaurant which has become a fave. Like several places we visited, it had world-class cuisine at prices that we, who live in the US, can only dream of or travel to. How about a multi-course dinner at a table with a view, with drinks for $80 a couple? Some luxury hotels, however, have prices that are through the roof with attitudes to match.
The Puppet Master
Sated, we sauntered out to see a man walking up the street lugging a giant mojiganga on his back. He led us to Casa de las Mojigangas, the workshop of Hermes Arroyo, the world’s most celebrated mojiganga puppet master. He and his associate were disassembling his Dia de los Muertos collection, undressing them, hanging their torsos and stacking their heads on shelves for next year, or perhaps, some wedding or other celebration. Hermes let us explore his workshop and collection while he went on working. He seemed happy.
Yes, San Miguel is a tourist town, but for now, tourism hasn’t ruined it, at least in its historical district. But development, small and large, is creeping, and the buzz among locals is that building permits can be had with a bit of palm greasing, what the Mexicans call soborno. The historical district, a World Heritage Site, is still an oasis of wonderful.
Favorite Restaurants
Dinner Antonia Rooftop
Breakfast – Garambullo Fonda Gourmet
