While they were essentially buried behind all of the booths that were vying for people’s attention, the memorials to those who had recently (or not so) was quite moving.
There was no shortage of items to fill your bag so that it could make it the day of the dead all year round.
The female form was on display in great abundance. Well, at least the face was and, next to the virginal types, Frida reigned supreme. I wonder if her estate gets a cut?
The DJ was spinning, but he couldn’t compete with the melodious sounds that came from the Mariachis. While there were several singers who took solo turns, there was one young guy who could really belt it out. I had no idea what he was saying, but it sure sounded good to me.
There were naturally plenty of folks keen to immerse themselves in the festival culture. Some went to great effort to adorn themselves from head to toe in morbid splendor.
I didn’t stick around to see the native dancers do their stuff, but I was given a substantial glimpse at one of the more imposing performers.
It certainly was a tchochke-filled event. They ran the gamut from tasteful mirrors and jewelry to the, unfortunately, militaristic.
Always a fan favorite at the Taco and Muerto festivals, the wrestling was highly choreographed, but the kids ate it up.
© 2026 Carl Fisher