In November of 1997, I turned 30. I was living in New York and like a lot of people, I felt like this was a monumental moment in my life too. I didn't know then, but on doing some research, I learned that my birthdate fell on All Souls Day.
Day of the Dead in an annual festival in which the living honour and pay respect to the dead. Vigils are held at the gravesides and many build elaborate altars at home. Food, flowers and alcohol are kept at the graves for the deceased. There is a huge celebration on the 1st and 2nd of November and everyone is welcome to visit the graves and celebrate with the families who keep vigil.
I flew into Mexico City and then a domestic short flight to Oaxaca airport and finally a short bus ride to Oaxaca city. I spoke very little Spanish and communication was a struggle but I managed. The hotel was quite central and I figured out places to go eat and drink. I spent many evenings by the Zocalo eating Oaxacan cheese with bread, Chapulines, fried grasshoppers and drinking Micheladas- a spicy beer cocktail.
In the day, I wandered around the city, revelling in the energy leading to the festival. The indoor markets were vibrant with vendors selling sweets, flowers and local biscuits. There was music playing everywhere with performers on stilts walking on the streets. In the afternoons I would go have lunch, usually mole chicken and a cold beer and then a short nap before heading out again.
On the two main nights, I caught a bus to the cemetery, spent my evenings there eating and drinking mezcal with the families. The cemeteries were packed with families and tourists. Music was playing and the energy was frenetic. I felt like i needed to be in five different places at the same time for I wanted to see and experience everything simultaneously.