When I walked into the mass and saw twenty mariachis in the middle of the crush of parishoners I chuckled to myself, wondering what I had been thinking. I know Mexico well at this point. Not so well that cultural quirks like Candelaria don't still draw me in, but well enough to know that no Mexican holiday is ever complete without music, dancing and of course, fireworks. Sure enough, there were workers setting up the firework tower outside and a fair-like atmosphere in the street. I was drawn to Candelaria, or in English, Candlemass, by way of the Merced neighborhood, a crisscross of working class streets deep in Mexico City's Centro Historico that, despite warnings from Middle class Mexican friends, had become my favorite city haunt.
The Merced neighborhood has this particular clash of gorgeous neoclassical building that ooze with the thousands of street stands and shops that sell any item you could ever possibly want. Wandering vendors offer ice cream and cleaning rags, women delicately inspect dried chiles and fake eyelashes, and a sea of people milling about seem to move in a single coordinated wave.
Ancient history and the latest electronics, the smallest church in the city and one of its red light districts. It is, all told, a fascinating place.
If you're there often enough, you will one day find yourself on Talavera street and if the shops selling Baby Jesus dolls don't catch your eye in the off season you will be unable to miss the chaos from Christmas to February 2nd. Having not grown up Catholic I was at first befuddled by the fair and over the years have gathered little morsels of knowledge to complete my picture of this tradition. It goes something like this:.
Candelaria is the celebration of 40 days after the birth of Jesus on the 24th of December. This was the period, according to ancient Jewish law, that the Virgin Mary must wait before she presented herself, once again "purified," after giving birth, in public.
