swing. There were lots of people wandering around, and the shops and stalls were selling skulls made of candy, and toy skeletons. There were decorations, tombstones with funny epitaphs, and more skeletons dressed up in fancy costumes, and strolling musicians. There were signboards in Spanish and English, explaining what the Day of the Dead was all about.
It turned out the holiday goes back to the Aztecs. It started in Mexico and is still a big deal there, but it has spread to some other Latin American countriesâalso the Philippines and parts of the United States.
It happens at about the same time as Halloween, All Saint's Day, and All Soul's Day, but the mood is happy rather than spooky. The living people celebrate the lives of the dead and decorate their graves with orange marigolds, also known as
flor de muerto,
or "flower of the dead." The whole thing is upbeat and happy, and there are toys for dead children, aka
los angelitos,
or "little angels," bottles of tequila for dead adults, candy left for the dead, and little trinkets. At home,
the people make shrines and offer candied pumpkin, and
pan de muerto,
or "bread of the dead," and make those sugar skulls with the names of dead friends and relatives decorating them. The idea is to invite the dead into the homes so they can enjoy the "spiritual essence" of the foodâI suppose they sniff it, like Billy the Phantom Bellboy does. They also put out pillows and and blankets so the dead can have a rest. And they write funny epitaphs, and make funny dressed-up skeletons, and draw funny cartoons of funny dressed-up skeletons.
What I got from reading all the signboards and observing all that was going on was that the dead love a good party, and on DÃa de los Muertos, everybody makes sure it's the best one possible.
What I liked best were the little mariachi bands, usually two or three guitars and a trumpet, maybe an accordion. They walked around playing, and would stop and play for people, and sing these Mexican hillbilly songs. The musicians all had Mexican cowboy suits, and big sombreros, and had bushy mustaches. They were great, and they seemed to be having the most fun of anybody.
Except this one bandâthe Mexican guys looked slightly bugged. It was also the only band that had a bongo player, and the bongo player was Bruce Bunyip! He had a set of bongo drums hanging from his neck on a string, and
a cheap souvenir sombrero he had bought, or probably stolen, from one of the stands. He was drumming up a storm, but what he drummed didn't necessarily go with what they were playing. You could see the band wished he would go away but weren't sure of how to politely get rid of him.
"Bruce!" I said.
"Babe!" he said. "Did you come down here to hear me make the scene with these Mexi-cats?"
The mariachis took advantage of Bruce's stopping to talk with me to move away, swiftly.
"You sure were doing a lot of drumming," I said.
"They're a little square, but I showed them a few things,"Â Bruce said. Then he saw Neddie and Seamus. "Hey, man! Hey, man! Are you taking care of my chick?" Meaning me.
"She's your chick?" Neddie asked.
"What can I say? The babe digs me," Bruce Bunyip said.
"Amazing!" Seamus Finn said.
"Fascinating!" Neddie Wentworthstein said.
"Oh, crud!" I said.
"You like him?" Seamus asked me.
"I'm ambivalent," I said.
CHAPTER 28
That's It?
"So what was it that Melvin expected us to learn at the DÃa de los Muertos celebration?" Neddie asked. We were having crullers and coffee at the Rolling Doughnut, our usual Sunday-morning hangout.
"That the dead love a good party?" Seamus guessed. "What does that tell us about ghosts disappearing? Isn't that what we were asking him about?"
"But are ghosts really disappearingâI mean, permanently?" I asked. "We thought Billy had vanished, but he turned up at the restaurant the other night."
"Yes, and he knew about the disappearing ghosts but refused to tell us anything," Seamus said. "Said he was
It turned out the holiday goes back to the Aztecs. It started in Mexico and is still a big deal there, but it has spread to some other Latin American countriesâalso the Philippines and parts of the United States.
It happens at about the same time as Halloween, All Saint's Day, and All Soul's Day, but the mood is happy rather than spooky. The living people celebrate the lives of the dead and decorate their graves with orange marigolds, also known as
flor de muerto,
or "flower of the dead." The whole thing is upbeat and happy, and there are toys for dead children, aka
los angelitos,
or "little angels," bottles of tequila for dead adults, candy left for the dead, and little trinkets. At home,
the people make shrines and offer candied pumpkin, and
pan de muerto,
or "bread of the dead," and make those sugar skulls with the names of dead friends and relatives decorating them. The idea is to invite the dead into the homes so they can enjoy the "spiritual essence" of the foodâI suppose they sniff it, like Billy the Phantom Bellboy does. They also put out pillows and and blankets so the dead can have a rest. And they write funny epitaphs, and make funny dressed-up skeletons, and draw funny cartoons of funny dressed-up skeletons.
What I got from reading all the signboards and observing all that was going on was that the dead love a good party, and on DÃa de los Muertos, everybody makes sure it's the best one possible.
What I liked best were the little mariachi bands, usually two or three guitars and a trumpet, maybe an accordion. They walked around playing, and would stop and play for people, and sing these Mexican hillbilly songs. The musicians all had Mexican cowboy suits, and big sombreros, and had bushy mustaches. They were great, and they seemed to be having the most fun of anybody.
Except this one bandâthe Mexican guys looked slightly bugged. It was also the only band that had a bongo player, and the bongo player was Bruce Bunyip! He had a set of bongo drums hanging from his neck on a string, and
a cheap souvenir sombrero he had bought, or probably stolen, from one of the stands. He was drumming up a storm, but what he drummed didn't necessarily go with what they were playing. You could see the band wished he would go away but weren't sure of how to politely get rid of him.
"Bruce!" I said.
"Babe!" he said. "Did you come down here to hear me make the scene with these Mexi-cats?"
The mariachis took advantage of Bruce's stopping to talk with me to move away, swiftly.
"You sure were doing a lot of drumming," I said.
"They're a little square, but I showed them a few things,"Â Bruce said. Then he saw Neddie and Seamus. "Hey, man! Hey, man! Are you taking care of my chick?" Meaning me.
"She's your chick?" Neddie asked.
"What can I say? The babe digs me," Bruce Bunyip said.
"Amazing!" Seamus Finn said.
"Fascinating!" Neddie Wentworthstein said.
"Oh, crud!" I said.
"You like him?" Seamus asked me.
"I'm ambivalent," I said.
CHAPTER 28
That's It?
"So what was it that Melvin expected us to learn at the DÃa de los Muertos celebration?" Neddie asked. We were having crullers and coffee at the Rolling Doughnut, our usual Sunday-morning hangout.
"That the dead love a good party?" Seamus guessed. "What does that tell us about ghosts disappearing? Isn't that what we were asking him about?"
"But are ghosts really disappearingâI mean, permanently?" I asked. "We thought Billy had vanished, but he turned up at the restaurant the other night."
"Yes, and he knew about the disappearing ghosts but refused to tell us anything," Seamus said. "Said he was
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