Dia de los Muertos

Dia de Muertos consumed my entire weekend.

The festivities begin on October 31st and contain an obvious Halloween influence. Kids Trick-or-Treat at houses or simply walk around with their hands out. Instead of saying "trick-or-treat," however, the door-to-doorers simply say "Halloween!" After exhausting our entire supply of two chocolate paletas, we headed to the corner tienda to buy the whole box of Kinder Eggs. They were gone in a flash, and instead of going for a re-up we decided to get on with the night. We had heard reliable rumors of a costume party at a bar called Mama Mia's but for that, as for the trick-or-treaters, we were unprepared. In a house with four women and one man, the logical option was to dress me up as a woman. Apparently, despite my wide frame, stubble, and hairy armpits, I made a convincing mujer... several people poked my arms and then my fake breasts (a bra stuffed haphazardly with washcloths) to see if either or both were real. One group of girls realized I was born male, but asked if I prefer men or women... sexually. Another guy went as far as to ask Nastja and Petra if I was hombre o mujer. I'll post the pictures when I get them from Amanda's camera and you can judge for yourselves. The prizes for the contest turned about to be huge... the second place winner got a trip for two to somewhere in Canada... and with the pathetically low costume turnout the odds were in my favor. Unfortunately places one, two, and three went to a group of friends dressed in elaborate Wizard of Oz costumes. I suppose they deserved it, but they could have at least invited me to Canada.

On Saturday we explored the center of town which was filled with colorful commemorative altars, of which I have muchas fotos. We spent a good chunk of the day searching out Catrina dolls; the female skeleton dolls with beautiful clothing and headdresses that some of you may have seen before. I never would have thought I could find a skeleton to be such an attractive piece of art, but I wanted to buy every single one I saw. Another tradition is to make borreguitos; figures of skulls, animals, Mexican foods, and anything else imaginable... all made out of a mixture of powdered sugar, lime, and egg whites. People placed these, along with pan de muertos (a sweet bread), Catrinas, and real food on altars as offerings for the dead. Luckily dead people have limited stomach space because the bees claimed most of the sacrificial rations. Later that night we attempted to rescue Michael from the date he won (in a dance contest) with some Mexican girl (winner of the female group) the Thursday before. The floozy didn't show up and he was left having dinner with Hidalo and a couple of her friends. He was happy about it, but I still maintain that they bring absolutely nothing to the table.

On Sunday, the official day, we went to the cemetery. It was easily my best cemetery experience ever. This is partially because the only times I've been in a cemetery for something other than a recent family death were late at night and absolutely frightening. The cemetery was packed. Every grave, tomb, urn-cubby was covered in flowers, pictures, and borreguitos. Mariachis played to some graves, people adorned in amazing tribal costumes picnicked on others, and a few gringos took pictures. There's even a section in the cemetery for white folk. As far as we could tell this was the only section with Americans, jews, and urns. There was an enormous variety of graves and tombs in the cemetery. Some had huge, white sculptures with windowed openings where flowers or other offerings could be placed. Others looked like someone dug a small hole, threw in some body parts, covered them with dirt last week, and pulled some branches off the nearest tree to make a cross on top. Still no grave went flowerless. There were quite a few people wielding shovels and pick-axes to plant bouquets, and kids ran to and from the fountain filling buckets of water for people for a peso or two. I had to consciously keep myself from displaying the somber expression that the American attitude toward death associates with cemeteries. The celebratory aspect of Dia de Muertos (and the fact that I'd never witnessed one before) is why I think it picks up Halloween by the witch hair and swiftly beats that ass.

BERG'S EYE VIEW

-Mexican guys, by American definition, are extremely disrespectful of women. I'd have to live here for a long time before I could get used to the whistles and cat calls.

-Speaking of whistling, every Mexican can whistle extremely loud. If I could have any souvenir, it would be that ability.

-The Mexican diet is full of extremes. The salsa is hot as sin, the sweets are pure sugar, and they dump salt on everything. It's no wonder Mexicans have lots of kidney problems, urinary tract infections, and weight issues. Luckily it's all optional, so I still can't get enough of the food.

-Michael knows every single English-speaking person in town.

-It's amazing that a city with so many Americans could assume so freely that gringos don't speak Spanish. At a restaurant yesterday, a woman came up and said she would be the translator for us. Only one person was eating, and she actually still translated "un pozole, nada mas" for the waitress. Since we said it in Spanish, the translation was more like an echo.

-Although I will be having a traditional Thanksgiving with Michael's family, the next holiday for the Mexicans is Christmas. They erected their 30-foot Christmas tree on Wednesday of last week and stores should be ready for Navidad any day now. I love it.

-I read Catcher in the Rye, which I may or may not have read at some point for school. I was thoroughly unimpressed. Obviously the writing style was on purpose, but the words and slang and dialogue were so repetetive that, if given the main plot points, any teenager could have written it. Of course, of course... it was some kind of breakthrough when it came out... "ahead of its time." Well it's not ahead of my time, and I wasn't alive for the time that it was ahead of, so if highschool English teachers still consider it a must-read, I think it's about time they get a new curriculum. Call me unsophisticated/unappreciative if you want, but I thought On The Road (with the same soul searching themes) was way better. On the other hand, The Hound of the Baskervilles (my first Sherlock Holmes book), is a timeless classic.