¡Viva México!

It’s no secret that Mexicans like to party. Any excuse to skip work and stay up late and they’ll be there with friends, relatives, and an obscene amount of mariachi. Now imagine, if you will, this predisposition coupled with September 16, 2010, the centenary of their revolution and the bicentenary of their independence from Spain. The final product? Sheer pandemonium.

This particular celebración has been a long time in coming, and ever since the new year México has slowly and steadily become overrun with patriotism. Whether in the form of a cheesy, government-sponsored commercial or a tiny, toothpick flag embellishing your sandwich, the glory of the red, white and green is inescapable. The bloody battles and oppression that characterize this country’s history haven’t resulted in much political efficacy, but they have resulted in a shared love for the tierra natal.

The festivities for Día de la Independiencia actually begin on the 15th, the day in which Miguel Hidalgo gave the grito, the famous war cry that rallied his compatriots to throw off the Spanish yoke. The morning of the 15th found Oaxaca filled with dyed pan dulce and rackety noisemakers, not to mention free cerveza distributed by scantily-clad mamacitas that paraded the streets on the beds of beer trucks. As the day passed the roads grew thick with honking cars and the sidewalks packed with partiers, mexicanos and gringos alike, all of whom eventually made their way to the Zócalo. This was where the real action was, so I walked down with Samantha, a fellow estudiante from the Instituto, to watch. Live music blared from huge stages around the Catedral, the gazebo and every surrounding restaurant. Banners and lights adorned the Palacio de Gobierno and every other available façade. Hundreds of policías strutted around trying to look intimidating. And all over the asphalt, personas; teenagers, elderly couples, babes in arms, they were all there and they were all having fun. The plaza had a great vibe; bustling but not overcrowded, noisy but not deafening, exciting but not intimidating. Samantha and I found some familiar gringos who were people-watching from a sidewalk café and joined them until 11 pm, the hour at which Hidalgo’s grito was delivered from the main balcony of the palacio. It was at this point that I launched myself into the central fray to be surrounded by repeated cries of “¡Viva México!” As soon as the governor finished the war cry there was a massive swell of sound. People blew air horns, rattled noise-makers and screamed at the top of their lungs while showering each other with confetti and shaving cream. Then the air was filled with the national anthem and dazzling fireworks that were launched way too close to the crowd. It was quite the fiesta.