What’s the Big Deal with Día de Muertos?
Día de Muertos is a unique celebration, but it looks different depending on where you are in Mexico. I was born and raised in Monterrey, a big city in the northeast, just a couple hours’ drive from Texas. Monterrey is well-known for its strong American influence — sometimes it feels like a bit much, to be honest. Growing up, we celebrated Halloween way more than Día de Muertos. Every year, at school we’d do one Día de Muertos altar for a famous person who passed away that year, but that’s about it — everything else was Halloween decorations. Kids in my city loved Halloween; costumes, trick-or-treating, candy — it was the dream! Día de Muertos, on the other hand, was a much quieter thing. We’d just head to the cemetery during the day, drop off some flowers, and go home. We learned a bit about Día de Muertos in school and maybe saw a few decorations around town, but it never really had an impact. We knew it was a bigger deal down south, but that’s it until Coco showed up.
But before I dive into the Coco sensation, let’s take a detour for a laugh. Did you know that Mexico City has a massive Día de Muertos parade? We’re talking streets packed with people dressed as catrines and catrinas. And who do we have to thank for this traditional parade? James Bond. In the James Bond movie Spectre, they filmed this epic Día de Muertos parade scene in Mexico City, and international audiences loved it. Tourists started going to Mexico City asking, “Hey, when’s the parade?” The problem was — there wasn’t one. The whole thing was an invention from the movie! But the local government saw the potential and started holding the parade every year. So now, every November, people from all over go to Mexico City thinking they’re getting the real Día de Muertos experience.
The Coco Phenomenon
Then came Coco. If you don’t know the movie Coco, please stop reading right now, find the movie, and watch it. Trust me. Coco is an animated movie from Pixar that nails the meaning of Día de Muertos. Pixar worked with a Mexican consulting team and even took trips to Mexico to make sure they got it right. And they nailed it! Coco isn’t just accurate; it’s amazing. Mexicans loved it, even though it’s mostly an American movie. The movie captures Día de Muertos down to the tiniest detail, from the altars to the family dynamics. There’s even a real-life inspiration for Mamá Coco — a woman from Michoacán, where Día de Muertos is particularly popular.
As a Mexican, Coco reminded us of everything we learned in school but never truly embraced about Día de Muertos. It made us see the magic of the holiday.
Día de Muertos in Pátzcuaro
Ever since I saw Coco, I always wanted to visit Pátzcuaro, Michoacán — the heart of Día de Muertos celebrations. It took time to find someone to come with me, but last year I finally managed to convince a friend to join me.
Now, here’s the thing: anytime I’m abroad and say I’m from Mexico, the first question I get is, “Is it… safe?” I always tell people the truth — there are definitely places you don’t want to visit. Even Mexicans don’t go there. But if you stick to tourist places, you’ll be fine! Well… Michoacán happens to be one of those places where you shouldn’t go. It’s what you might call a “narco-state,” since a certain group pretty much runs things and has a heavy influence on the government there. So while I was beyond excited to go to Pátzcuaro, I was a little nervous about heading straight into the lion’s mouth.
Our plan was to stay in Pátzcuaro from October 31 to November 2, and I figured I’d be responsible and book accommodations a month ahead. I know my people, Mexicans aren’t exactly famous for booking months in advance. But turns out Pátzcuaro is a tiny town, and Día de Muertos brings tourists from all over the world. By the time I started looking, everything was taken — hotels, hostels, B&Bs, you name it. Even the nearby towns were fully booked! The only option left was a camping area. Lucky for me, we were going by car, and my friend owned a tent. In the end, camping turned out to be the perfect choice. It was affordable, comfortable, and we met lot of other travelers there for the same experience.
On November 1st, Día de Muertos, we decided to head to Tzintzuntzan, a nearby town known for having the biggest cemeteries. The tricky part? Transportation becomes pure chaos. Tzintzuntzan has a population of about 10,000, but on that day, hundreds of thousands show up. The best advice is to arrive early and leave late. After 2 a.m., people start leaving, so if you’re lucky, you might get a spot on one of the shuttles to come back to Patzcuaro.
When we got to the town, we just followed the crowd, which eventually led us to the first cemetery. Crowds were everywhere, and there wasn’t really a system in place — no official control of who goes where. The flow of people created two gates: one for entering, and one for exiting. As we approached the entrance, I started to hear live music. The closer we got, the more I could hear it coming from every direction. Finally, we managed to get inside and see the place — it was incredible. Every grave was decorated with candles and cempasúchil, the traditional golden flower of Día de Muertos. Some graves were decorated more elaborately than others, but each one had its own vivid, colorful touch. People were carefully walking along the narrow paths between the graves, making sure not to step on them.
It was far from a quiet gathering — people were dancing, laughing, and yes, even drinking! Drinking in a cemetery! The whole scene felt more festive than a regular party. Usually, a party has one source of music, but here there were dozens of Banda bands playing. Banda is a loud, hard-to-ignore music, with sousaphones, trumpets, drums, trombones, and many other noisy instruments. A banda band can have over 10 musicians; there’s definitely a bit of a “the bigger, the better” vibe. Normally, I’m not a fan of banda, but in the cemetery, it was spectacular. The vibrant music and the celebratory atmosphere made the whole place come alive. And by party, I don’t mean drunk youngsters; it was the whole family, all ages. Some were sitting around their family’s grave, sharing stories and laughing, while others were dancing to the banda they’d hired just for the occasion. And they stayed there all night.
The joy, celebration, and togetherness in a cemetery — that, I realized, was the true spirit of Día de Muertos.
By that point, I was already more than satisfied with the whole Día de Muertos experience, but there was still more to come. As the hours passed, the crowds thinned, making it easier to walk around the cemetery and admire the graves. My friend and I were sharing a drink, taking in the sights, and the best part? Sometimes the families of those who had passed invited us to share their food and drinks, eager to tell us about their loved ones. Just like in Coco, they believed that keeping someone alive in the afterlife meant keeping their memory alive in ours.
I met a woman who told me about her father, a lawyer in Tzintzuntzan nicknamed the “Abogado de los Pobres” (Lawyer for the Poor) because he would take cases defending people against those who tried to take advantage of them. Often, he didn’t charge a cent because his clients couldn’t afford it. He was known as the lawyer who protected vulnerable people from bullies, and she was proud of him. When I asked how long ago he’d passed, she told me it had been 19 years. Yet, every year, she came back to celebrate his life.
Later, as we were wandering through another cemetery, a guy offered me a shot of tequila. He was there with his brothers, drinking in honor of his father, with his dad’s favorite tequila. We were both a little tipsy, which helped spark a more open conversation. When I asked him what he thought of Día de Muertos, he admitted that while it sounds silly, he decides to believe that his father is there and he doesn’t see any wrong with it. He and his brothers came every year, hoping they could still have a drink with their old man. I’m not superstitious, but with the energy and atmosphere around me that night — and probably the alcohol — I believed it too, if only for a moment.”
Día de Muertos is about celebrating the lives of those who’ve passed, honoring them with the things they loved. It’s a happy day to remember them and pass down their stories — whether to family, to friends, or even to some random drunk guy in a cemetery — so their memory lives on. I’m grateful I had the chance to experience it, and I definitely want to come back with my own family. It’s a powerful tradition, one that deserves to keep thriving.
