Festival Cervantino

Guanajuato is an old colonial city nestled in the crevices of the rolling hills about 370 km northwest of Mexico City. From October 3rd to October 21st, it is host to one of the largest arts festivals in the world, the Festival Cervantino - a celebration of Miguel de Cervantes (of Don Quijote acclaim) and a tribute to theatre, dance, music, and culture from all corners of the world and dating back several centuries.

The festival coincided with our día cultural for the month of October (one Friday per month we get a free day off from work to participate in a cultural event), so all of the business Fulbrights, many of the research Fulbrights, and friends we met along the way made a long weekend out of it. For me, the weekend started off on a positive note. Others weren't so lucky.

I left work early on Thursday, hopped on a luxury first class bus (seats extra wide, plenty of leg room, reclining all the way, foot rest, pillows, "free" lunch, the works...) and made my way to Guanajuato to meet up with friends. Unfortunately, I didn't have tickets to a show that evening like the two other groups of people that I was hoping to meet up with. Coincidentally, Femke, Neeti and Veyom bought tickets to the Ballet Folklórico de Amalia Hernandez (which my sister had just seen performed 2 days earlier at the University of Connecticut, go figure!) and had one extra ticket. Without knowing it, however, the show was performing that evening in León, about an hour away. With the grace of a little good luck, we all met up at the bus station, perfectly synchronized, caught a bus leaving 3 minutes later, got to Guanajuato 15 minutes before the show started, picked up our tickets, and were seated just as the curtain went up. It was an amazing show filled with beautiful indigenous dances from all regions of Mexico. To the right is one of the scenes at the end of the first act. I wish it could convey all of the emotion it evoked in me.

So, as previously mentioned, others didn't have quite such luck. The theme of arrivals was: accidents. One group's taxi got in an accident when a truck was attempting a multiple-point turn in the middle of a one-way-street (not surprising at all) and the taxista lost his patience (also not surprising). They were ok, and hailed another passing taxi hoping for better luck. Two other girls who were driving from D.F. were in one of the subterranean tunnels for which Guanajuato is famous, when a bunch of young, idiot chilangos with a massive dent already in the front of their car tried to brush up alongside of my friends to try to blame them for an obviously previous accident. After a long chase through and around the city by the boy and all of his chummy friends in several cars, my friends stopped, denied the accident which never actually happened and refused to pay them or get the police involved. Igniting teenage rage, the boys followed them through the city and found them on 3 occasions. The terrified girls sought refuge up a one-way hill in front of a church, left their lights on by accident, and waited 30 minutes for the rest of the Fulbright posse to arrive. Once we calmed the shaken girls, we all piled into the car to head for the hotel. Except it didn't start. Long story short, with the help of a nice viejo who opened up his garage for us to try turning around, a tall British ex-pat, and the Fulbright force, we attempted to manually maneuver the facing downwards. Just when it looked like there was no hope, a 10-piece mariachi band came rushing out from behind the church, granted themselves permission to help, tucked their instruments under their arms, and with sheer brute force, all 16 or so of us got the car up over the sidewalk, turned around facing downwards and in perfect position to pop the clutch. To the sound of a trumpet proclaiming our triumph, another mariachi thrust his violin at Zac, jumped in the car, and executed a perfect downhill start. This threw the mariachis into a frenzy and us into happy gratitude, as we earned a quick serenade, a no hay de que, and a few hugs from our new friends. I love Mexico.


Thankfully everyone was safe and the rest of the weekend was uneventful in this sense. We went to several other espectáculos, including a Brazilian modern dance troupe called Rota, and an American brass quintet, Meridian Arts, at the Ex-Hacienda de San Gabriel de Barrera. Afterwards, we walked around the gardens of the ex-hacienda, before going back into town for lunch in the Plaza Mayor and a ride up the mountain in the funicular to the Monumento al Pípila and a great view of the city. The city itself was completely full of young and old alike, families, teenagers, and enterprising individuals who were selling whatever they had for a peso or two (one of my friends got involved in a "toka mis nalgas, $1 peso" (touch my butt for a peso) venture, and he walked away with a pretty penny).

On our way home, three of us passed through Dolores Hidalgo and San Miguel de Allende (at right). We had a late lunch in the Plaza at San Miguel and left 2 hours later. It was not nearly a long enough stay and I can't wait to go back! It ended up being a fun and beautiful weekend.

El Grito de la Independencia

[This post has been in the works for over a month. I am catching up on my blog so I thought I would post what I have written so far, so just pretend it's September 16 and not a month later...]
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When I arrived in Mexico City over a month ago, I thought that the patriotic decorations hanging in the Zócalo and along some of the main avenues in the Centro Histórico were standard. As the weeks passed, more and more decorations went up – massive Mexican flags hanging from buildings, green, white and red lights all the way up the Torre Mayor, paper cutouts in the same colors hanging in every restaurante and taquería. And then, last week, several taxistas had asked me if I had seen how beautiful they made the city center, and I finally realized that it was all in preparation for La Independencia, the celebration of Mexican Independence.


Similar to our July 4th, September 15th and 16th are dedicated to the patriotic celebration. The Mexicans spend the better part of a month preparing their city to commemorate the day on which they gained their independence. The beauty of this celebration is that it last for two days. September 15th is the Grito de Independencia, followed by the actual Día de Independencia on the 16th. The grito might be the most visceral way to proclaim patriotic pride that I have ever witnessed - the word itself means "shout." From the balcony of my friends' apartment overlooking the main plaza in Coyoacán, we observed the pre-independence day festivities with awe. Contrary to my expectations (an outdoor party scene of drunken fools shooting off guns into the air from the Brad Pitt/Julia Roberts movie, "The Mexican" comes to mind), it was actually a very well-planned. We observed from above the festival going on down below, listened to the many musical acts ranging from opera to pop to mariachi, and watched fireworks shoot up over our heads. The mayor of the delegación proclaimed the Grito, and everyone responded with a heartfelt enthusiasm that I haven't quite experienced before, "¡VIVA MÉXICO!" I have a video of it below:




Youtube also has a version of the Grito as proclaimed by the President in the Zócalo: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xkSErOBJpto. Needless to say, it's a little more than some flags and a barbeque; it's actually quite similar to New Year's Eve in Times Square...

There is also a parade the following morning in the city center. In a fine display of military force, every uniformed service person of the what seemed like the whole country marched through the Zócalo for about 2 1/2 hours, with frequent fly-bys of the air divisions. We had been asking the resident Mexicans what time the desfile militar began for the better part of a week. In true Mexican fashion, we got answers ranging from 8 AM to 11:30 AM, and decided to err on the side of caution, waking up at 6:30 the morning after the Grito to get a prime spot in the Zócalo to watch everyone pass by. The parade ended up starting around 10:00, so from that point forward, we began taking the average answer to any question about time or distance, because although one person may not be correct, the masses are. It ranged from military engineering cadets to the special armed forces, followed by a finale of the finest traditional dancing horses. An elderly couple standing next to us graciously shared some tomales, both spicy and sweet, and a 5-gallon bucket to stand on to gain a better perspective. It was a very cool experience, and there will be photos on my website, which you can check out at the link up top on the right.