By coincidence, I arrived just in time for the biggest fiesta of the year: 16 September is  the Mexican Independence Day, celebrating the events of 16 September 1810.

In the little town of Dolores, the Grito de Dolores (“Cry of Dolores”) marked the beginning of the Independence War. It lasted until 1821, when local Spanish representatives signed up to the inevitable, and the war ended.

Even though it took the authorities back in Spain until 1836 to recognize that they had, indeed, lost Nueva España.

The exact words of the Grito are lost, but it is the central event of the festivities, when the Mexican President repeats the cry from a balcony over the Plaza de la Constitucion, the Zócalo, in front of half a million people, ending in Viva Mexico! Viva Mexico! Viva Mexico!

I wanted to go there and see the festivities, concerts, hear the speech and watch the fireworks, hear the gun salut.

Even though a few friends already warned me: don’t go, it will be crazy. Too many people, becoming too drunk, throwing their little personal fireworks.

Well, I thought it was worth a shot, and took my first Metro ride.

But indeed, they were right. I arrived there at about 9 pm, way too late to get onto the Plaza, or even near it.

There were so many people, lining up at several control points (bags were checked for weapons and glass…).

I could see the Plaza from far and look at a giant video screen, but I was stuck in a huge line. No idea how long this would take, and what to expect once the fiesta really started.

On top of that, I still felt my cold. I was sweating and feeling to weak to face all this. So in the end, I didn’t go in.

I just walked around and looked at people, all dressed up in the national colors green, red and white…

 

Street vendors were out by the hundreds, trying to make their luck and some pesos by selling everything from various street foods, drinks and snacks to wigs, patriotic dog costumes and fake mustaches to cans of spray foam; which people happily used to stage foam fights in the streets.

The buildings in the center look amazing: very old colonial houses and more modern, end-of-19th-century buildings like you see them on the grand boulevards in Paris or Buenos Aires. I can’t wait to stroll through this at day.

For me, the night ended in a local bar close-by with a Corona, watching Mexicans in cowboy hats and with fake mustaches dance around. I was in bed at midnight, while the fiesta was only starting.

However, I feel much better today, and so I’m glad I listened to my body, for once.