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Undead, undead, undead

Reaching Mixquic, we found an authentic, if not traditional, Dia de Muertos celebration. Authentic, as this seems to have been kept a secret from foreigners (the LP Mexico mentions it without detail in three lines) while thousands of Mexicans fill the streets around the cemetery, with markets selling all manner of in-theme or random items. Not traditional, as the open houses and vigils seemed to be, while present, the exception rather than the rule, though we were a day early for the cemetery vigil and too late for the coffin parade through the main drag.

Entering the town, we came to a river that had been cleared of its dense carpet of aquatic plant life so that small canopied boats, adorned with jack-o-lanterns, may make trips several hundred metres up and back. Getting out own charter, we thoroughly enjoyed the ride and the conversation with local chap Manuel, while his uncle propelled by pole. Manuel, maybe seven years of age, quickly grew tired of our inability to work out what he was saying, but he has two dogs, two cats, four fish, and five somethings, and he reckons the river stinks.

Sitting down to get the beer-crime that is so common here: perfectly good beer tainted, nay, perverted with tabasco, lime juice and salt, we were set on by forty million kids with little pumpkins begging for lollies or money. We had none of the former and only large denominations of the latter, but these damn kids wouldn’t take no for an answer, because, after all, we were gringos and probably loaded. Vowing not to sit down again, we found a stall that sold lollies and loaded up Jimmy P’s pocket. Being that I had been looking for a black cowboy hat to keep the tropical sun of off my head with no luck (the omnipresent blanco just ehn’t my thing), when they were available I had to get one, as did James, and with it being dark but our hands being full, we looked even more obvious with the damned things on our heads. Thus, the tone was set: groups of younger kids chasing us down the streets for lollies, and crowds of older kids following us laughing and throwing the word gringo all about, like maybe we didn’t know what it means. Though I had it on good authority from some kid’s mum that lollies were good enough, while some of the kids were delighted, some others reacted with less than complete enthusiasm. Stingy gringos.

After finding a giant puppet skeleton with pig-tails dancing to live music, we headed to the cemetery, where people were more or less just milling about, and after loafing ourselves, we decided to move off at about 2 in the am, to find transit adventures not unlike those of our way in.


( 2 comments — Leave a comment )
Nov. 6th, 2009 07:53 pm (UTC)
Ahhh those kids... those kids were fun :) I'll never forget the look of glee on the younger ones, and the masked disappointment on the older when they realised they'd received candy and not pesos!

Why do the Mexicans insist on molesting the beer? I mean their lager is fairly generic, but still, it's cold and refreshing... and then they dump chili into it!

Gotta get that hat out for some more action in London...

- JP
Nov. 6th, 2009 09:30 pm (UTC)
I was speaking to my German boss on this very issue. One of his sons likes this Michelada
travesty, and he feels he has failed as a parent. But then, he also feels lime in cerveza is wrong, Reinheitsgebot and all that.
( 2 comments — Leave a comment )

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