I've been enamoured with the idea of the Day of the Dead, since I learned what a calavera was. I would see them in my TV shows (thank you PBS!) and I remember thinking, "How do they make them?" and "I wonder if each color represents a different flavour?" And most importantly, "How can I take part?" But overall, I was just mesmerized by the bright colors, especially in relation to death. It's a word often synonymous with black or white, but never the spectrum in between and I was shook (not shaken, shook). I still am. To my young self, it seemed like the perfect act of rebellion against the invisible force that takes loved ones away from us. It was a way to not vanish from this world like a candle light into thin, wispy tendrils of smoke. It was an opportunity to be remembered leaving the world the way we came in, with lots of noise, joy, and gifts.

Either way, it seemed a lot better than being mummified -- after watching The Mummy and Indiana Jones, 10-year-old me wasn't too fond of the possibility of coming back to life wrapped in (what I mistakenly thought to be) toilet-paper -- and a whole lot more festive than a Viking Burial. I vowed that if I ever got a chance to celebrate El Dia de los Muertos, I would, and I did, and now I can share it with you. I hope you enjoy and that you make sure to check out if your own city has any festivities going on!














In dedication to my papou