San Andrés Mixquic: How a Small Mexican Town Keeps the Day of the Dead Alive

San Andrés Mixquic: A Corridor Between Worlds

The path from the land of the dead to San Andrés Mixquic, a small town just outside Mexico City, is strewn with marigolds. Ángel Jiménez del Aguila, who died in 2010, would need only to follow the trail of petals, the scent of burning copal and the pulse of danzón music to reach his old front door, where his family waits.

A family ritual

Mexican belief holds that each year the barrier between the living and the dead opens on the first two days of November: Día de los Muertos, the Day of the Dead. For the Jiménez family, the celebration is an intimate, carefully tended ritual. A marigold path leads to an ofrenda—an altar piled with flowers, bright fabrics, fruit, sugar skulls and photographs. Martha Jiménez kneels to break chunks of copal into a censer, lifts a plate of pan de muerto, and calls aloud, "Dad, welcome to your home."

"It is an act of faith, of love, of peace," says Martha Nashieli Jiménez Bernal. "A magical moment where life and death come together."

Tradition and change

While the Jiménez family preserves time-honored practices—cleaning headstones, sourcing fruit at the local market and gathering marigolds by hand from the family chinampa—modern influences also shape celebrations. Large public parades in Mexico City, introduced after the 2015 James Bond film Spectre featured a Day of the Dead procession, and the international popularity of films like Disney•Pixar's Coco have brought new attention and imagery to the holiday. Some locals in even traditional towns now adopt Halloween-style costumes, though many families keep observances private and family-focused.

Roots, regional variation and scholarly perspective

The festival blends indigenous practices predating the Spanish conquest of 1521 with Christian observance of All Saints' Day. Historian Héctor Zaraus of the Mora Institute explains that indigenous calendars included a period dedicated to the dead and that Spanish colonizers adapted those observances to early November. Many visible elements—marigold-laden graves, pathways of flowers and symbolic offerings—trace back to pre-Hispanic customs.

But scholars also stress regional diversity and recent inventions. María del Carmen Eugenia Reyes Ruiz of the National Autonomous University of Mexico notes that colorful altars and flower paths are not uniform across the entire country and that some features commonly associated with an "ancient" Day of the Dead are comparatively recent. She also highlights parallels with other cultures' ancestor rituals, such as China's Qingming.

Night in the cemetery

On the final night in San Andrés Mixquic, the cemetery glows with candles, music and conversation. Families decorate tombs, share food and raise mezcal toasts. Though tourists often visit, local families like the Jiménez invite respectful participation rather than spectacle—seeing curious visitors as partners in keeping the tradition alive.

"It becomes a kind of communion," Martha reflects at her father's grave. "A bond is formed… They come with respect and a desire to learn about our traditions."

Passing the tradition on

Young family members are taught the ritual details: how to prepare an ofrenda, the significance of marigold trails and how to care for graves. Martha, who has no children, trusts that nieces and nephews will carry the custom forward, welcoming her in the same way she welcomed her father.

Respectful tourism and cultural continuity: While modern media and tourism have introduced new forms and audiences, San Andrés Mixquic’s observance remains centered on family memory, reverence for ancestors and the deliberate passing of ritual knowledge to the next generation.