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Where I am currently spending a month, in Guanajuato City, offices, the university, and banks are shut down for four days so that everyone can have ample time to party. This is a common occurrance in Mexico and the reason doesn’t really matter, but in this case it’s to celebrate the start of rainy season. Last night we went into the thick of things on what is the main night: when the floodgates are opened up at a small resevoir atop a hill and fireworks go off to mark the event.
I love a good Mexican fiesta because they always throw in everything they can think of to keep people entertained. You can get wasted on cheap beer and micheladas by the liter, you can bring the family and enjoy the rides, you can watch some kind of entertainment,
play games of chance, and eat eat eat.
But wait, there’s more! Darling daughter got her face painted for 10 pesos (about 75 cents these days) while I went and bought another beer—which of course you can drink in the streets. She also got to ride some rides with one of her new friends from where we’re taking Spanish lessons. When you get on a carnival ride in Mexico, you need to commit. Each one is kind of expensive in local terms (usually 10 or 15 pesos), but the guy running the contraption makes sure you get your money’s worth. It’s not unusual to be on the ride for at least five minutes solid. Meanwhile he may go off and talk to his friends, go buy a snack, or take a smoke break. If you’re about to barf by minute number three, too bad! Eventually he’ll come back and turn it off so you can stagger out and off.
When your stomach recovers, you never have to walk more than a few steps for something to eat. The full range of Mexican street food is laid out in all its glory, from pozole to gorditas to flautas. That $ sign in this picture at the bottom means pesos, not dollars. Trust me, it’s cheap.
When we made our way through the throngs to one of the two entertainment
areas, there was some kind of women’s boxing tournament going on. I headed to the nearby open-air bar, where a wrestler with his mask on asked me, “What time is it?” in the world’s thickest accent. I told him in Spanish than I didn’t know and showed him my bare wrist. “Salud,” and I was off.
When we returned later though, it was time for lucha libre—Mexican wrestling. The local guys (including the one who had been at the bar earlier) were not too good at selling the moves and making it look real. The masks make it a little more fun though.
Always check the calendar somewhere to see what’s going on where you’re heading in Latin America. Nearly any month of the year there will be some kind of festival going on. It’s a great time to comer, bebir y disfrutar.
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