<p>A Catrina and Catrin pose before an <i>ofrenda</i>, an altar set for deceased loved ones. Ofrendas display portraits, crosses, candles, flowers, incense, and water, a refreshment for the spirits who have made the long trip home from the hereafter.</p>

A Catrina and Catrin pose before an ofrenda, an altar set for deceased loved ones. Ofrendas display portraits, crosses, candles, flowers, incense, and water, a refreshment for the spirits who have made the long trip home from the hereafter.

Photograph by Austin Beahm, National Geographic Your Shot

See beautiful photos of Day of the Dead

These vibrant Día de los Muertos traditions honor the dead and remind the living of our fragility.

Día de los Muertos, or Day of the Dead, typically begins on All Saints Day, the first day of November. While most festivities combine indigenous and Catholic traditions, the Mexican holiday predates Catholic influence, originating from ancient Aztec festivals that venerated gods like Mictēcacihuātl, the powerful lady of the dead. Today there are as many places to celebrate as there are interpretations of the festival’s “new” signature lady, the feather-boa skeleton, La Catrina, originally painted by José Guadalupe Posada and reimagined by Mexican artist Diego Rivera in his 1947 mural “Dream of a Sunday Afternoon in Alameda Park.”

While every place incorporates different traditions (spicy rum in Haiti, baby-shaped bread in Ecuador) all festivities have one thing in common—a joyful and rich celebration of those dearly departed. This is a time for sharing funny stories about those who have passed, for eating your great-great-grandma’s favorite soup, for cleaning the graves, for dancing in the streets. Markets across Mexico spill over with sugary candy, copal incense, pricked paper banners, and mountains of bread. Everywhere, everything is flooded with marigolds.

If there is one festival motif it would be calacas and calaveras, skeletons and skulls. Children in skeleton face-paint chew sugary skull candy. Bone-shaped bread and skull maracas balance on tables between stacks of tiny ceramic skulls. Skull-shaped balloons are paraded through town behind costumed skeletons who dance their skeleton marionettes. Even the poems written for the festival are called calaveras, satirical little verses that joke to remind us that everyone, rich or poor, famous or unknown, is headed to the same fate—back to the soil, to bone, to ash.

These photos were submitted to Your Shot, our storytelling community where photographers can take part in photo assignments, get expert feedback, be published, and more. Join now to submit your photos.
Cait Etherton is a Virginia-based writer and frequent contributor to National Geographic Travel. Follow her journey on Twitter.
Book your next trip with Peace of Mind
Search Trips

Read This Next

Enjoy Father's Day? Meet the woman who fought for it.
The surprisingly sordid history of Germany’s Christmas markets
The meaning of the cross of ashes on Ash Wednesday

Go Further

Subscriber Exclusive Content

Why are people so dang obsessed with Mars?

How viruses shape our world

The era of greyhound racing in the U.S. is coming to an end

See how people have imagined life on Mars through history

See how NASA’s new Mars rover will explore the red planet

Why are people so dang obsessed with Mars?

How viruses shape our world

The era of greyhound racing in the U.S. is coming to an end

See how people have imagined life on Mars through history

See how NASA’s new Mars rover will explore the red planet

Why are people so dang obsessed with Mars?

How viruses shape our world

The era of greyhound racing in the U.S. is coming to an end

See how people have imagined life on Mars through history

See how NASA’s new Mars rover will explore the red planet