Being back in Mexico is feeling like a “home away from home” . . . . the smells, the bright colors and warm smiles, its all so lovely, AND (as a bonus) my Spanish is slowly improving. My daughter took me to an area in Ciudad de Mexico where large alebrijes lined the street. “Alebrijes” are wonderfully strange, brightly painted animal sculptures that have blossomed in popularity since the mid 1940’s. Originally conceptualized by artist Pedro Linares who said these wild creatures appeared to him while unconscious during an illness.
Last year I was in Sayulita, Mexico for Día de los Muertos. This stunning celebration touched me in a profound way that’s hard to explain. I kept hearing that to experience it fully, I needed to go to Oaxaca.
If you’re not familiar with “Dia de los Muertos”, in Mexico they believe the veil between this world and the next is thinnest on Nov 1st and 2nd. Deceased relatives find their way to this world with the scent of flowers leading the way. Getting together with loved ones that have passed results in this multi-day celebration.
Before getting into the amazing experience of the celebration, I have to mention the “colectivo” taxis because it was the first time I’d experienced them. They are kind of a hybrid between a bus and an uber. A placard on their windshield displays which direction they’re headed so we hailed one going towards the center of town and got in. Further down the road it stopped to let another gentleman get in. This really surprised me because I wasn’t expecting it. Along the way we picked up two more passengers and, even though they didn’t know each other, they squished into the front passenger seat. I have since found out that these exist in lots of other places, it was just new to me.
In the center of town we attended an Aztec ceremony with Ernesto Olmos, a friend of a friend. He makes his own traditional instruments and used them in the ceremony. He also had a variety of other instruments including a rain stick and tortoise shells. I didn’t understand a lot of it but the smell of the burning copal was different and familiar at the same time. I closed my eyes because the smoke became thick. As the beating of the drums grew they led my heart and soul to a different place altogether. I could almost feel the wind over low hills with agave and desert brush whistling in response. Within his song I could hear the voices of many ancestors join him. He had a male dancer wearing a jaguar mask and bells on his ankles. His head and body movements visually melded him into an actual animal. The experience conjured images of my own ancestors and relatives.
After the ceremony we walked around town. If I could paint a picture of the night with words I would start with the bright orange of marigolds. It would include the Catrina’s, the calaca painted faces. It would somehow describe the cacophony of salsa bands, pops of fireworks, brass horns and laughter. It would taste like spiced coffee and clean Mezcal. It would smell of sulphur, flowers and midnight street tacos. Mostly it would feel like a celebration, a reminder that this life isn’t just the surface of what we see everyday. It includes our ancestors and magic.
