Probaditas de Morelia

We just celebrated Mexico's Independence day. Every year, on the night of September 15th, the Mexican President repeats the cry for independence or "el grito" that was first yelled by Miguel Hidalgo in 1810. As I understand it the grito includes a lot of "viva this" and "viva that" and a little bit of "die you spanish scum." (Translator's note: Slight artistic license taken to aid the understanding of modern readers.) This same tradition is also repeated in all(?) or maybe only the largest cities of each state which, luckily for us, includes Morelia.

We made our way down to the city center to join the sombrero laden mob of people who came from the surrounding pueblos to enjoy the grito. It was absurdly crowded but we squeezed in on one side impossibly far from the main stage but still close to the cathedral which donned festive green and red lights for the occasion.

Now, people from lawsuit obsessed societies, such as myself, are used to a certain amount of safety precautions when attending a large, public event. But when the the fireworks began at 11pm it became clear that Mexicans aren't such a litigious bunch because these fireworks were neither safe nor distant. They were instead being launched from what appeared to be the middle of the crowd. I say launched but given the heights they attained, thrown is probably a more accurate descriptor.

The resulting pandemonium was thrilling. Industrial strength, 4th of July style fireworks were exploding everywhere and then falling, still ablaze, into the packed mob. The crowd lurched and ebbed as we jumped frantically to and fro to avoid the burning, red and green pieces of festive projectiles falling from the sky. We screamed in terror, we laughed, a few unfortunates probably cried, but for the rest of us, wow, what a show. I'm just glad we weren't closer.

After the smoke cleared, there were some cheers and whistling, and then for no reason that I could tell, the crowd knew it was done – the grito had been issued. I'm told someone official gave the shout but everyone admitted they hadn't really heard anything. Perhaps the official was all yelled out after his brief encounter with a premature, fiery death. Or perhaps, this year, it was left to the masses. We weren't exactly clamoring for independence, but we were screaming at the top of our lungs.