It was late October when I returned to Puerto Vallarta, and something felt different. The air was softer. The sunsets, deeper. And everywhere—from market stalls to hotel lobbies—I saw the same vibrant symbols: marigolds, sugar skulls, papel picado dancing in the wind.

It wasn’t Halloween. It was something older. Something sacred.

It was Día de los Muertos, the Day of the Dead. And in Jalisco, this tradition isn’t just observed—it’s lived.

I had always admired the colors and aesthetics from afar. But that year, I stayed in town and experienced the celebration firsthand. It changed the way I understand memory, love, and how we say goodbye.

🕯️ It’s Not a Mourning, It’s a Welcome

If you’ve never celebrated Día de los Muertos, you might assume it’s a somber event. It’s not.

In Jalisco—and throughout Mexico—it’s a joyful reunion with those who’ve passed on. Families build altars (ofrendas) to invite their ancestors home for the night. There’s food. There’s music. There’s laughter. There are candles lit not to mourn the dead, but to light their path back to us.

As one abuela told me in the market: “Los muertos no quieren lágrimas. Quieren fiesta.”
The dead don’t want tears. They want a party.

💐 The Altars: Stories in Flowers and Flames

The first altar I saw was in the lobby of Barrio Vallarta Boutique Hotel. It was beautiful—layers of cloth, cempasúchil petals, candles, a framed photo of someone’s grandfather, and his favorite bottle of tequila.

Then I wandered into town and found more: in storefronts, schools, homes, even parks. Some were elaborate. Others were simple. But each one told a story.

Here’s how they’re built:
• Photos of loved ones – Always at the center. The faces we’re inviting back.
• Cempasúchil flowers (marigolds) – Their scent and color guide the spirits home.
• Candles – One for each soul being honored.
• Favorite foods and drinks – Tamales, mole, tequila, pan de muerto.
• Personal items – Maybe a hat, a book, or a trinket the person loved in life.
• Papel picado – Bright tissue-paper cutouts that represent the fragility of life.

Standing in front of an altar, you don’t feel sad. You feel connected. The line between here and there feels thinner, like love is reaching across worlds to say, “I remember you. Come sit with me again.”

🎭 Vallarta Celebrates in Style

Puerto Vallarta has embraced Día de los Muertos with heart and creativity. Every year, from October 28 to November 2, the city fills with events, parades, and installations.

One evening, I joined the crowd at the Malecón, where massive catrina statues lined the promenade—some 10 feet tall, dressed in lace, feathers, and glittering skull makeup. There was a live mariachi band, vendors selling face paint and pan de muerto, and dancers moving through the streets like living poetry.

It was theatrical. It was heartfelt. It was unforgettable.
And everywhere, people painted their faces not as skeletons, but as celebrations of life.

🌺 A Visit to the Cemetery

On November 2nd, Día de los Fieles Difuntos, I visited a cemetery in Ixtapa, just outside Puerto Vallarta. Families gathered beside the graves of their loved ones, cleaning the stones, lighting candles, and sharing food.

I saw children playing near headstones. Teens laughing while arranging flowers. Grandmothers sitting quietly, whispering to the wind.

There was no fear. No sorrow.
Just presence.

It struck me that in Mexico, death isn’t an end—it’s a chapter in a longer story. One we keep telling, year after year, with love, marigolds, and music.

🕊️ A Living Philosophy

Día de los Muertos isn’t just a holiday—it’s a philosophy. A reminder that memory is an act of love. That food, music, and family are bridges that reach beyond the grave.

So if you’re lucky enough to be in Puerto Vallarta during late October or early November, don’t miss it. Ask us at Barrio Vallarta Boutique Hotel where to find the best ofrendas. Visit the Malecón at night. Light a candle. Maybe even build your own altar.

Because even if you’ve never celebrated before, we all carry someone we miss. And there’s something incredibly healing about making space for them—welcoming them back, if only for a night.

Photo by: freepik.es