Fiesta!...... Peligroso!!

September is the month of fiestas in San Miguel. It includes: El Grito, the celebration of the start of Mexican Independence from Spain; the San Miguelada, a running of the bulls in downtown San Miguel; and the Fiesta of San Miguel, the patron saint of our fair town.

El Grito was a wonderful wave of pariotism that swept over the town, and the country. Mexican banderas fly everywhere and red, white and green decorates many shops and windows. At 11pm, a local government official steps up to a high balcony overlooking the square and reads the same speech given by Father Hidalgo in to get the locals riled up to push the Spanish conquerors back to the sea. Then, it is fireworks and shouts of “Viva Mexico! Viva Hidalgo! Viva San Miguel!” And the party continues the rest of the weekend.

The San Miguelada was essentially moved from San Miguel this year to a smaller town about 1.5 hours away. Although the local restaurants and bars loved the infusion of young drinkers and “bull targets”, the townsfolk were not so fond of the drunks making a disgusting mess of the town, including very lewd behavior. So, I really don’t have much to say about this celebration.

This past weekend was the Fiesta of San Miguel. Natives from all over Mexico danced in parades every day that wound through town for hours on end. The proud colors, feathers and shells made for impressive displays. Other crews had half of their group in native dress battling the other half in Spanish army gear with realistic steel blades clanging up and down the parade route. Flatbed trucks displayed dioramas, using real people as statues, of monks or St. Michael reading bible verses to Indian maidens.

But the dangerous part (the peligroso part) was the crazy fireworks. On Saturday morning at 4am the “battle of good and evil” gets going en masse. The gates to the Parroquia, the main church, are closed. Inside the gates are 50-100 people and outside the gates in the square are hundreds of others. At 4am on the dot, those inside the gates begin heaving large bottle rocket type fireworks onto those outside the gates. (Not sure which side represents good and which side is evil.) This goes on for an hour. My friend, Dave, and I figured that at least 15,000 of these babies are tossed into the square. Minor burns and singed hair are common. But it has the appeal of walking on hot coals – for those of you that find that appealing. On the opposite side of the square, more fireworks are lit and, luckily, directed to the heavens.



But here is the COOLEST part. The castillas. These are large steel or iron scaffolds towering up 60’ or more, wobbling to and fro and tied down with ropes or cables. At night, they are ignited, one at a time, with a fuse that crackles, sparks and jumps. Then the fireworks on the tower whirr or spin or scream or spell out “Viva San Miguel”. Oohs and ahhs are whispered from the crowd or laughter breaks out as one of the wheels refuses to spin despite the efforts of the rockets spewing sparks to move it. All of this culminates in the anticipation for the top of the castilla. The top section may be an iron wagon wheel or a rocket or smaller rings. They light forming a heart or a star and start spinning wildly around. And then, another set of rockets fire and the whole top lifts off and flies 200-300 feet in the air. It can then explode into a bunch of fireworks. Or the entire wagon wheel piece and simply burn out and then fall to the ground. As in, pending where the wind blows, it can fall back into the crowd (Lookout!) or onto a roof or into a garden blocks away. THAT is NUTS!