So my current adventure of interest is to celebrate Day of the Dead with my Chinese relatives. This usually involves 8-9 of my chinese relatives all crammed into a pickup truck from six or seven in the morning touring the various cemeteries where our recently (or not so recently) deceased are buried. Whiskey is handed out freely and either drunk or sprinkled on the graves of our ancestors, cigarettes smoked, and incense and paper money burned as an offering to appease the spirits. Mind you, I have had more than my fair share of interaction with supernatural beings recently.
To date I have not actually attended one of these gatherings since no matter who I called nobody seemed very interested in actually doing what you're supposed to do on the día de los difuntos. What kind of crazy person wants to go party at the cemetery when you could be partying at the beach? Who in their right mind would want to spend a morning paying respects to the dead, even in the traditional catholic way with fake flowers, cotton candy, atol (hot sweet maize beverage), elotes (corn on the cob) and all that? Cemeteries basically turn into fair grounds. It is the one day that thousands will flock to burial grounds to gather and be merry, visit family as well as of course pay respects and remember the dead. It is the Maha Shivaratri of Latin America, but unlike Maha Shivaratri, I was unable to participate. Clearly, I associate with the wrong circle of friends here.
At one point my grandmother took pity on me and we compromised. So instead of going to Ilopango and visiting Mama Amable (Mexican great-grandmother) and three of her Chinese sons with a whole parade of relatives like I wanted, we went to the Chinese restaurant round the corner for lunch. Not the best of compromises, but like a good Chinese merchant's daughter, Abuela drives a hard bargain.
Happy day of the dead.
To date I have not actually attended one of these gatherings since no matter who I called nobody seemed very interested in actually doing what you're supposed to do on the día de los difuntos. What kind of crazy person wants to go party at the cemetery when you could be partying at the beach? Who in their right mind would want to spend a morning paying respects to the dead, even in the traditional catholic way with fake flowers, cotton candy, atol (hot sweet maize beverage), elotes (corn on the cob) and all that? Cemeteries basically turn into fair grounds. It is the one day that thousands will flock to burial grounds to gather and be merry, visit family as well as of course pay respects and remember the dead. It is the Maha Shivaratri of Latin America, but unlike Maha Shivaratri, I was unable to participate. Clearly, I associate with the wrong circle of friends here.
At one point my grandmother took pity on me and we compromised. So instead of going to Ilopango and visiting Mama Amable (Mexican great-grandmother) and three of her Chinese sons with a whole parade of relatives like I wanted, we went to the Chinese restaurant round the corner for lunch. Not the best of compromises, but like a good Chinese merchant's daughter, Abuela drives a hard bargain.
Happy day of the dead.
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