El Grito, the call for independence, was an enormous celebration, and it was impressively orchestrated for families. Having recently attended Carnival in London, and seeing the crowds and metal detectors and uniformed people assembling, I was initially concerned about what I was getting myself into. I noticed only a handful of people drinking alcohol and no belligerent people in the streets. Instead, I saw people having a nice time with generations of their families, people with tremendous pride in their country and culture.
When it came time for The Grito, the governor uttered phrases including: Viva Oaxaca, Viva Mexico, and so on. Each time he offered one, we responded with: Viva.
There was music everywhere all evening, and the Zocalo had fuegos artificiales (fireworks) in every corner. At one point there was a cascada (waterfall) of fireworks pouring from the cathedral.
On my walk home, I noticed that people were chasing each other with eggs filled with confetti and shaving cream. It seemed fitting that an evening with fake mustaches should conclude with shaving cream.
shewhodaresnothing 